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citysuk · 5 months ago

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guilt and shame | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: you confessed your love for remus, but he rejects you because he doesn't think he's good enough. james has to talk him out of it.

words: 2,5k

notes: omfg !!! this is my first fic ever and I'm super excited to share it, english isn't my first language so please bare with me. if you like this history you can support sharing it. i hope you enjoy it !!

warnings: angst !!!!!!! so much angsty, insecure and overthinker boy remus, james being a little noisy and trying to get some sense on him but being a little ass. no use y/n but no oc neither. no proofread.

part 2 | innocence of love

Remus sits down at the table. He's almost alone, being so early that all the students are still in bed, he barely pays any attention to the few people around him as he pours himself a cup of strong black coffee. He takes a big gulp, relishing in the bitter taste, hoping it will jolt his system awake. As he sipped his coffee, Remus can't help but scan the Great Hall, searching for a familiar face. But you are nowhere to be seen, and the sight makes his chest ache. He forces himself to look away, trying to focus on his breakfast, but his mind keeps drifting back to you.

James joins him, looking as chipper as ever. He plops down next to Remus, immediately noticing his friend's exhausted state. "Morning, mate," he greets cheerfully. "Rough night, Remus? You look like a Lethifold sucked out your soul."

Remus barely suppresses an irritated sigh at James's overly cheerful greeting. He turns to look at him, his expression flat. "Yeah, something like that," he mutters, before taking another gulp of coffee. "Didn't sleep, if you must know."

James's smile falters a little at the sight of Remus's grumpy demeanor. He eyes the dark bags under his eyes and the lines of fatigue on his face. He leans in a bit, his voice low. "Mate, what's up? For real. You look awful."

Remus resists the urge to roll his eyes at James's prodding. He sighs wearily, setting down his coffee cup. "I couldn't sleep, alright?" he admits grudgingly. "I was...I was thinking about something. Someone."

James arches an eyebrow, intrigued. "Someone, huh? Care to give the name? Or are you going to leave me in suspense?"

Remus hesitates, torn between sharing his thoughts and keeping them to himself. He lets out a sigh, his resolve crumbling under James's persistent gaze. He says your name quietly, it leaving a bitter-sweet taste in his mouth.

James's eyes widen at the mention of your name, surprise mixed with curiosity on his face. Then a sly smile forms on his lips. "So...what kind of thoughts were you having about her that kept you up all night?"

Remus averts his gaze, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. He picks at his food, not really eating. "It's... complicated," he mutters, avoiding eye contact. "We... We talked a few days ago. There were some things... some things confessed that have left me feeling... conflicted. Confused."

James nods, sobering instantly at the seriousness of Remus's tone. He frowns, concern etching his features. "Confesses, eh?" he echoes, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Wait, what do you mean? What did she confess?"

Remus's fingers dig into the table, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He looks up at his friends, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and vulnerability. "It's..." he starts, then swallows hard. "She... she told me that she likes me. More than as a friend."

James's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, it looks like he's at a loss for words. He glances at Sirius, who has a similar look of surprise on his face. "She.... she told you she likes you? Like... romantically?"

Remus nods, the action almost a wince. He looks miserable, the guilt of his internal struggle clearly visible on his face. "Yes," he says quietly. "Romantically. And... And I didn't respond well."

James's surprise melts into confusion, and then annoyance. "How do you mean, you 'didn't respond well'?" he asks, his tone taking on a hint of accusation. "What, did you reject her or something?"

Remus flinches at James's sharp tone, feeling the weight of the situation even more acutely. He takes another deep breath, his eyes avoiding anyone's gaze. "I… I did reject her, in a way," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I told her it's not a good idea. That we're better off as friends."

James stares at him in disbelief, shaking his head incredulously. "What in the name of Merlin's beard, Remus?" he exclaims, his voice raising in volume. "Are you mental? She likes you. You like her. So why the hell would you reject her?"

Remus glares back at James, his own frustration and guilt bubbling to the surface. He grips the edge of the table. "Because it's not that easy, James!" he retorts, trying to keep his voice down. "There is...there are so many factors at play here that I can't just... just act on my feelings without considering them!"

James throws his hands up, his patience clearly wearing thin. "What bloody factors, Remus? I don't understand what your issue is here. She likes you, you like her, end of story. What else is there to consider?"

Remus lets out a frustrated huff, his hands clenching into fists. The anger in his voice is evident, but he's trying to be quiet since they're in a public space. "You don't get it, James! It's... It's not that simple! There's... there's my condition. I'm a bloody werewolf! Do you know what that means for her!? There are things you and Peter and Sirius could never understand!"

James scoffs, his eyes narrow. His jaw set. "So what, you think she's just going to run screaming if she knew the truth?" he shoots back. "You think she'd be incapable of handling the fact that you're a werewolf? You think she'd think less of you, just because you turn furry every month?"

Remus is shaking now, his frustration and pain obvious in his every word. "Yes, James! Yes, that's exactly what I think! How could anyone, especially someone like her, accept that? Accept all the danger and the... and the stigma that comes with it? I can't put her through that! I won't!"

James is clearly struggling to maintain his cool, his usually cheerful face twisted in anger and disbelief. "You really think so little of her, don't you?" he accuses. "You think she's so shallow, so narrow-minded, that she'd just walk away, the moment she finds out the truth? Or maybe, just maybe, do you actually have so little confidence in yourself that you think no one could possibly love and accept you in spite of your condition?"

Remus flinches at James's sharp words, the accusations hitting a little too close to home. He looks away, shame and anger battling for dominance on his face. "It's not about me, James!" he retorts, his voice cracking. "It's about her! I can't... I can't put her in danger. I can't risk hurting her. It's not worth the risk!"

James huffs out a scoff, slamming his palms against the table, his eyes ablaze. "You're making excuses, Remus. You're terrified. You're letting your fear control you, your guilt consume you, and it's making you blind to the fact that maybe, just maybe, she's strong enough, kind enough, brave enough, to accept you, flaws and all!"

Remus stands abruptly, his own anger and frustration are barely contained now, his eyes burning with a mixture of shame and defiance. "You don't get to lecture me on this, James!" he nearly bellows, attracting the attention of some nearby students. "You have no idea what it's like to live my life, to face the dangers I face! To bear the guilt, the shame, the pain! You can't possibly understand!"

James doesn't back down, his own emotions running just as high. He points a finger at Remus, his voice as firm as his stance. "Maybe I don't understand the specifics of your situation," he says, his gaze never faltering. "But I understand fear, Remus. I understand guilt. I understand pain. Those are universal. You don't get a bloody monopoly on them just because you're a werewolf."

Remus lets out a derisive snort, his jaw clenched. He's trying to push down the wave of emotions threatening to burst forth. "Oh really? You understand guilt, yeah? You understand guilt like mine? The guilt of knowing that you could hurt, could kill, someone you care about? The guilt of knowing that you're a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode and destroy everything around you? That kind of guilt?"

James doesn't have a ready answer for that. He looks like Remus's words have struck a chord. "Maybe I don't," he admits, his voice slightly hoarse. "But I do know what it's like to push people away because I think they're better off without me. I do know what it is to self-sabotage because I don't think I deserve love and happiness. And you're doing the same damn thing."

Remus falters for a moment, the raw honesty in James's words taking the edge off his own anger. He knows what his friend is saying hits a little too close to home. But he shakes it off, determination hardening his features. "I... I'm doing it to protect her, James! Can't you see that? It's for her own good!"

James shakes his head, his eyes hard yet filled with a pleading look. "You're protecting her from what, Remus? From a relationship? From happiness? You're making that decision for her, depriving her of a choice. Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical, considering how much you value your own autonomy?"

Remus feels a pang of guilt at James's words. The truth in them is undeniable, and he struggles to find a comeback, a defense against his friend's well-aimed arguments. "I... I'm just trying to do what's right..." he mutters weakly, his voice lacking conviction.

James huffs out a sigh, his anger now tempered by a hint of resignation. He steps towards Remus, his voice going softer. "You know what's right, Remus? What's right is that you stop making decisions for her and let her decide what she wants for herself. She confessed to you. She clearly wants a relationship. Stop pushing her away because you think you know what's best for her. That's not your call to make."

Remus is silent, the weight of James's words slowly sinking in. He knows his friend is right. He's not being fair to her, no matter how just he thinks his reasons are. But the fear, the guilt, the shame, they all hold him back. "I... I don't know if I can, James," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can let her in that close. I'm scared, okay? I'm terrified of what could happen."

*James's face softens further, a hint of understanding in his eyes.*

"I get it, mate," he says, his voice gentle. "I really do. But you've got to let go of that fear. She's not a fragile little thing, in case you haven't noticed. She's strong, she's kind, and she clearly cares about you. Give her a chance, Remus. Let her decide if she's okay with the risk. Let her decide if she wants the challenge."

Remus takes a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He struggles with the internal war within him, the fears and hopes battling it out. "It's not just her," he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "It's me, too. I... I don't know if I can trust myself. If I can trust the wolf. I'm terrified of what could happen when the full moon comes."

James reaches out, resting a hand on Remus's shoulder, his touch an anchor in the chaos. "But you can trust yourself," he insists, his voice filled with conviction. "You've managed this for years, Remus. You've controlled the wolf. Yes, it's a beast, but you have a leash on it, you can control it. And you won't be alone. We'll all be there for you, just like we always have been."

Remus stares at James, the words striking a chord in him. He looks at his friends, at Sirius and Peter who silently watched the two of them. He realizes that they are all willing to stand by his side, regardless of his condition. The realization brings a lump to his throat. "You... You'd still be willing to stand by me? Even if it puts you at risk? Even if it puts her at risk?"

James smiles, a reassuring, confident smile. He squeezes Remus's shoulder. "Of course, we would, mate. We're Marauders, remember? We're brothers. We stick together, through thick and thin. And if that means dealing with a furry little problem once a month, then we'll figure it out. We always do."

Remus can't help but let out a wry, humorless chuckle, the weight of his fears and doubts lifting a little, but still present. "Furry little problem, eh? You make it sound like we're dealing with a misbehaving Kneazle rather than a bloodthirsty monster."

James grins, his usual mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Mate, have I ever failed to turn a problem into a joke? Besides, I doubt that wolf of yours could top our prank-making abilities. We could write a manual: 'Wolf Handling for Dummies' - by the Marauders."

Remus lets out a snort, despite himself, the image of a guidebook with that title making him crack a small smile. "Yeah, right. I'm sure it'd be a bestseller. I can picture it now: 'Five Tips to Keep the Wolf from Your Door.' I'm sure Pomfrey would purchase a dozen copies."

James chuckles, a sly grin on his face. "Nah, Pomfrey already has a signed copy. She keeps it under her pillow for light reading before bed." Sirius and even Peter can't help but laugh at James's quip, the tension in the air slowly easing off.

Remus even manages a dry chuckle. Despite himself, he feels some of the weight of his worries lifting a little. Looking at his friends, standing there, teasing him with lighthearted jibes and encouraging grins, he realizes how lucky he is to have them by his side, no matter what.

"You lot will be the death of me," he mutters with a shake of his head, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

James grins wider, giving Remus a playful punch on the arm. "Death by mischief, mate. There are worse ways to go, I reckon."

Sirius walks over, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Yeah, and we'll make sure your tombstone says something suitably epic. 'Here lies Moony. Died of a severe case of hilarity.'"

Remus rolls his eyes, the last of his resistance crumbling away in the face of his friends' unfaltering loyalty and humor. "Great, just what I always wanted. A tombstone that turns my death into a punchline. You lot are a nightmare, you know that?"

Peter grins, finally joining in the banter. "Oh, come on, Moony. You know you love the attention." James throws an arm around Remus, pulling him into a half-hug, half-headlock. "Face it, mate. We're the best thing to happen to your dreary life."

Remus tries (and fails) to look annoyed, a small smile betraying him. He half-heartedly attempts to shake James off, but the effort is half-hearted at best.

"You lot are a bunch of lunatics, that's what you are. And for some reason, I wouldn't have it any other way."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders era #james potter x reader #james potter #sirius black x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff

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lushrue · 6 months ago

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hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 2!

part 2 of this au finally! i'm so glad people like it! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist, already planning pt 3 so there will be more where this came from 💗

your name was announced through the loudspeaker as you skated onto the ice, all covered in sequins and polyester. you’d always thought it was a little bit silly, the conventions around figure skating costumes. that fit that Margot Robbie threw in I, Tonya about the ridiculousness of it? yeah, you’d had a moment like that once or twice. the rough fabric scratched your arms, the glint of the sequins drew focus away from your expressions. but you still felt elegant as you set your mark at center ice, hitting your starting pose in the silence before the music began.

breathe in, breathe out. focus. momentum is everything, remember your character, focus going into your jumps.

in the moment before your routine started, you flicked your eyes up and scanned the crowd. it was something that you’d done ever since your first routine that you took to competition. usually, you were looking for your parents, their smiling faces and the flash of your mom’s digital camera. now, though, it became more curiosity, finding a spot to let your eyes settle when you weren’t looking at the judges’ table. it was then that you saw them. four big, brutish hockey players sat shoulder to shoulder in the stands. the one with the mohawk (soap, you remembered) lifted his hand to wave at you, only for the man beside him (kyle, you guessed from this distance) to swat it down.

the shock must have played out on your face, because you saw price smirk as your music began playing. you let the sound seep into your bones and just like that, it all melted away and you skated.

…

the four of them watched pretty intently for the first few seconds of your routine. price was focused on the placement of your body, how you kept your center of gravity in the middle at all times. he had to admire how precise you were in your movements, like you knew the physics behind all of it. for all he knew, you did. he could tell you were skilled and he liked that about you. talent recognizes talent, or however the saying goes.

kyle was simply admiring your choice of music. Moonlight Sonata, though basic, was like black coffee, he thought. a classic choice that never really got old, but so many things could be added to it to make it new and exciting. and watching you skate to it, he felt like he’d never heard it before. he watched your face more than anything else. you were so expressive, a story playing out in your eyes, and he soaked it all up. it was like reading a novel, and this one was a page-turner.

ghost was watching the lines of your body. it was like you were painting the air as you moved, each flick of the wrist and lift of the leg deliberate and purposeful. it all served to make a pretty picture. every now and again, he’d look at the thin lines your skates left on the ice, the swirls and curves detailing everywhere you’d been. much prettier than the harsh notches he left behind when he stepped out of the rink, he thought. just like you, they were delicate.

soap was far less interested in the artistry or skill of it and more focused on you. the way your hair moved as you spun on the ice, the way your costume clung to your skin. he couldn’t even act as if he wasn’t watching disrespectfully, thinking of what your body might look like under the spandex and sparkles. you lifted your leg and began spinning, and soap thought he might keel over right then and there. ghost nudged him as he adjusted himself on the bench, a silent gesture that told him to behave.

johnny gestured to price behind kyle’s back, getting his attention. “didn’t i tell ya, cap? a right beaut, that one,” he said, earning himself a flick to the head from ghost. price chuckled, turning his attention back to where you were winding up for a jump. two turns in the air and you landed perfectly. he knew you would, you talented thing. “yeah. a beaut,” price responded, a small smile curving his lips.

...

you skated remarkably, in your opinion. it was a relatively simple routine, but with every completed skate, regardless of skill level, came a sense of accomplishment. as you hit your ending pose, you made eye contact with your hockey players in the stands again. ghost’s face was unreadable from this distance, but you caught the pleased expressions of the other three as they clapped for you. soap had a glint in his eyes that spelled mischief and made something in your stomach tighten. kyle was looking at you like the artist you perceived yourself to be, almost how you imagined someone would look at their favorite painting. and price’s face had pride written all over it. you caught an almost imperceptible nod from him, as if to say well done.

you bowed to both sides of the rink and skated off the ice, a performer’s smile on your lips. it wasn’t entirely fake, not like it had been at some competitions. this time, it was born of the idea that four of the men you’d been watching, nay, pining after for a month were finally turning their attentions to you. for the first time in a while, you wondered what someone besides the judges thought of your routine. the worst part was, you needed them to like it. you felt the intense need to please them, keep them coming back for more.

the four of them found you in line for the concessions, grabbing a hot chocolate to soothe your cold bones in between programs. your free skate was coming up next and you knew you’d need a little pick-me-up before then. as you thanked the high schooler who’d poured your drink, you turned to walk away and almost collided with a wall of solid muscle. price, you’d realize as you looked up. “told ya we wanted to see ya, bonnie!” soap’s voice chirped from behind the broad shoulders of the team captain.

you glanced around him, noticing kyle and ghost stood off to the side. kyle was all polite smiles and ghost looked as though he was aware of how much space he was taking up, supremely uncomfortable as people brushed past him. soap was stood off to the other side of price, arms crossed over his chest. then your eyes turned up to the captain himself, feeling a sense of pride radiating off of him. you weren’t sure why; this was a man who barely knew you. but it made your stomach flutter all the same. “good performance you put on out there, love,” he said, the rumble of his baritone voice more compelling when it was directed at you. you’d seen the boys scramble to follow his orders before during a game, but you’d thought it was just his rank on the team. no, you realized, it was definitely the voice.

“thank you,” you replied sheepishly, clutching the warm styrofoam cup in your icy fingers. “i’m glad you all liked it.” kyle spoke up, stepping a bit closer to where you stood. “liked it? i loved it! you’ll have to tell me more about how you choreographed it, the musicality was insane!” “easy, garrick,” ghost’s voice rumbled from where he stood, a bit muffled by the black surgical mask. “don’t wan’ to scare off our pretty bird.” oh, you could get used to that. you spoke up, your eyes flicking between the four of them. “actually, i still have another program to skate.” you hesitated, almost worried you were being too forward. but then you continued. why not live a little, take some risks? “if you all wanted to stay, that is.”

you didn’t have to tell them twice.

taglist: @cadotoast

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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😝 brain rot from my character ai scenario… the team goes out to a bar to celebrate and you wear a tiny little dress (just to rile him up obvi) but you also end up attracting a lot of male attentionand he gets SO jealous and protective of you he’s like sitting off to the side just watching you flirt with everyone and the team is like “he looks like hes gonna explode wtf” and then the SMUT HES ALL “they can’t have you, you’re all mine” “you really like all the attention huh? i’ll give you what you wanted” OMG it’s making me crazy i hope i described it good enough 🥰🥰

A/N: Is it really a reiderwriter smut if I don't have to clarify that 'I got carried away' at some point in the authors note? No, it is not. Thank you for the request. My brain is now equally rotted, oops.

Warnings: complaints, dirty talk, semi public sexual activity, partial voyeurism, fingering, hard/rough sex.

You weren't even dating.

Which made the situation even more frustrating for Spencer, and even more exciting for you.

You'd always flirted with the man a lot, had been told multiple times to knock it off even after getting a little too close for comfort on a case.

But you couldn't really blame yourself on that one. You'd had to do a quick takedown at a dive bar, and you'd been tasked with pretending to be a touchy couple at the bar to block the back entrance at the staff entrance.

You'd draped yourself all over him, allowing yourself to get closer than you'd ever been before.

If you'd just happened to let your hands fall down to his crotch, it was pure coincidence. So was giving his obviously erect length a few strokes through his jeans as he sat staring at you like you were his last meal and he was back in prison.

Emily had to pull you aside after that one personally.

You knew she was protective of Spencer, seeing him as a little brother, but it seemed like she was more protective of you at that moment.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” She'd asked, waiting carefully for your answer before she said anything more.

Two could play at that game. “What is this concerning?”

“With Spencer.”

“I'm not sure what you mean, Emily.”

“Yes, you do. Listen, I don't care what you get up to in your personal life, but Spencer has a way of making others feel very… seen. He can get protective and pushy. And I just want to know you're ready for that, and you're not going to let it affect your work.”

“Is Spencer having the same talk?”

She laughed at that.

“Spencer? No. I already know it's going to affect his work, because it has since you joined our team. He still gets his job done, but I know where his priorities would lie if there were an emergency.”

You'd shivered at that and excused yourself.

If he was that obsessed with you, why had he not told you? Stepped over that line from friends to more than that?

You needed to force the issue, and you had the perfect opportunity when Penelope invited you out for drinks.

“Y/N! Don't go, it's Friday night, we-” she said gesturing wildly to the team gathered around you, “are going to a bar. No, you can't rain check either.”

“Can I at least get changed first?”

“You need to get changed. We're going to a nice bar, Y/N.” Running off again to grab the rest of your team members and force their attendance, you grinned after Penelope.

It was time to see exactly how focused on you Spencer Reid was.

And how willing he was to let you slip through his fingers.

An hour later, you were stepping out of your taxi, pulling your skirt down as you did. The short black dress had a terrible habit of pulling up your thighs to flash your underwear at anyone in a 10 foot radius. Usually, that bothered you, but tonight, you planned on using it to your advantage.

After all, you'd left out the underwear tonight for a reason.

Pulling your jacket around you tighter, you pushed the door to the bar open and scanned the room for your team members.

“Y/N, over here!” Tara called you over, nursing a beer. Luke sat next to her, Penelope on his other side, and Matt on hers and completing the group was Spencer Reid.

“Where are JJ and Emily?” You asked, doing your very best to ignore Spencer as you sat down next to him, practically falling into his warmth. You sat so close to him.

“At the bar. Emily is convinced she can flirt her way to a free drink, and JJ is convinced she cannot. The girl she's working on now has to be 22 at most, so it could honestly go either way.” Penelope answered, and you felt Spencer shift slightly beside you.

“Speak of the devil,” Luke said as the two women approached.

“Well? What's the result?” You grinned up at them, letting your head fall back against Spencer’s shoulder as you gently rested your hand on his thigh. He sat silently for a minute, not moving and just taking in the conversation.

“I've still got it.” Emily grinned triumphantly.

“Maybe I should give it a try. There are a few hot male bartenders tonight. Who knows, I might score more than just a drink.”

Spencer choked on the drink he was sipping as you spoke quickly, a few knowing looks passing between every other person at the table. You'd have to be blind to miss it. Or Spencer.

“Spencer, are you okay? You should be careful, I wouldn't want you to choke. That's how I want to end my night, but it's not for everyone.” That one earned you a few snickers from the others and a glare from the man himself.

“I'm fine, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled down at you and gave your knee a friendly tap that turned slightly less friendly as he pushed it further up your leg.

The others had since averted their attentions, moving their conversation onto other things, but you and Spencer were still stuck in each other's orbits.

Your heart beat faster until you were sure it could be seen, raw and fit to burst out of your chest. His fingertips brushed your hem. He was seconds away from realising that you were going to get the attention you wanted that night.

Slipping just an inch up the hem, he twitched almost imperceptibly as he searched for your panty line, brows knitting when he couldn't find it.

“What's wrong, Spencer? Searching for something that isn't there?” You enjoyed watching his frown deepen as he registered your words, but you enjoyed it even more when you gently pushed his hand away as you stood.

“Well, I need a drink. Let's hope I can recreate your success, Emily.” You said, finally pushing off your jacket. The dress may have been short, but it was also low cut, burning the candle at both ends as your breasts threatened to spill over with any particularly deep breath.

“Sweet lord in heaven! You didn't come to play tonight.” Penelope exclaimed, practically applauding your body as you twirled for her and showed off the form fitting dress, giggling all the way.

“You said it was a nice bar, Penelope. I'm hoping there are also some very nice men here, too.” With a wink, you turned on your heel and strode to the bar, making sure your hips swung seductively with every step.

You couldn't immediately give in and turn to see if he was watching you when you got to the bar, though, not willing to give him the satisfaction. You were doing it all for him, but you still didn't want him to know that.

It didn't take long for men to swarm you. They came one at a time, and you entertained them each as you waited for your unnecessarily complex cocktail order to be prepared.

In the 7 minutes you'd been away from the table, you'd been approached by three separate men. They all tried lines on you, gave you their numbers and tried their best to woo you, but with Spencer’s eyes burning across your body as you leaned against the bar, you really couldn't have cared less.

Still, you leaned in, giggled in the appropriate places, and took the numbers, knowing they'd never be called.

When your cocktail was finally ready, and the last one offered to fund it for you You finally felt a hand at your back.

“That won't be necessary, thank you.” Spencer ended the conversation, handing his own card over to the bartender as he kept his hand on your back, his body crowding yours.

The man walked away in defeat, and you turned on him, sipping your drink as you refused to move away.

“Now why ruin all my fun, Spencer?”

“You're really enjoying all this attention, huh?” He said, pushing your hair behind your ear as he leaned closer to you, his next word a whisper against your skin.

“I can see your pussy from all the way back there,” he said, tugging down your skirt slightly. You weren't surprised though simply taking another sip and maintaining eye contact.

“I know.” His hand, having slipped up to your waist, tightened as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“You want everyone to see your dripping cunt? Want to let all the men here take a turn trying to catch your attention so they can slip in?” His voice was low, practically a growl as he licked his lips.

“No. I wanted to see how long it'd take you to come over and do it. By my count, that was eight minutes, correct?”

“Good girl. Just remember that you're mine. I'm not letting anyone else have you.” Giving your face a gentle stroke, he let it trail down your body, subtly cupping and squeezing your chest on the way down.

“All of a sudden, I feel very tired, Spencer. Take me home.” He wasted no time, grabbing your hand and gathering you up, your jacket and bag collected from the desk as he gave minimal answers to the others as you departed. To their credit, they asked minimal questions.

The cold air hit you hard as you pushed the doors open again, but Spencer was unperturbed, pulling you over to his car silently, a strong hand on your shoulder helping you into the passenger's seat.

You dare not talk the entire drive to his apartment, so sure that any word from you would have him turning immediately to deposit you right back at the bar.

He didn't, though, but he also didn't look at you or touch you. You sat squirming at the heavy atmosphere, suddenly desperate to know exactly what thoughts were trapped inside Spencer’s impressive brain.

“We're here.” He announced, pulling up quickly and cutting the engine, climbing out in a hurry.

You fumbled with your own seat belt as he pulled your door open, catching you up in his arms as he closed the door behind you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him carry you up the stairs to his apartment.

His lips didn't meet yours until the door was firmly closed and locked behind you, and even then, he didn't immediately dive in. He out you down, and a touch of disappointment flooded your body as he completely entangled himself from you.

It dissipated completely when his hand wrapped around your throat.

“Let me be clear, Y/N. You are mine. If you want attention, I will give it to you. If you want to choke on something, I'm more than happy to provide it. If you want to dress like a little whore, go ahead, but don't forget who your sweet little cunt belongs to.” His fingers tightened with each word as you gasped for air, back resting on the nearest wall as his body pressed up along your own.

“Do you understand?” He asked, and you nodded repeatedly, fast and desperate.

“Good. Now, ass up on the bed. I'll meet you there.” You practically sprinted to the room in question, slinking up onto the bed. He said ass up, but you hesitated slightly as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind you, just long enough to earn a slap on your ass as he finally returned to your side.

“You have to listen, Y/N. You wanted this, so you have to listen nicely.”

“I'm sorry, Spencer, it won't happen aga-” He stole the end of your sentence as he slipped his fingers into you, gently working the two longest ones up into a frenzy as he finger fucked you.

“Sorry, what was that? I don't think I quite caught your words.” You could only moan in reply as you buried your head in his pillows, ass pressing back into his fingers to help him get deeper.

“So needy. Look at this little black dress. You knew this was going to happen, right?” A third finger slipped inside you, and you screamed out in pleasure as he continued using you.

“Burying your head isn't going to work, Y/N. Your cunt is answering for you.”

You heard the rattle of his belt unbuckling as his fingers finally slipped out, the emptiness only a relief for a second before his cock was hitting deep inside of you.

Thoughts escaped you as you finally got what you'd been begging for for weeks. His every frustration was pounded into you as he tugged at your hair, pulling your torso up so he could hit even deeper.

Pulling back your head with a hand on your throat he laid a barrage of kisses across your upper back and shoulders, making sure to bite and suck and nip as his spare hand toyed with your nipples, pinching and pulling.

In a second, you reached your climax, not having the breath left in you to let him know before you tightened on his shaft and let your body fall limp under his hands.

“I'm going to mop up our cum with this dress, Y/N, and then I'm going to make you put it back on.” With a final grunt, he pulled out, jerking his cock through his release as he shot his load right over your pussy lips.

He collapsed on top of you, and you finally gave up your last bit of strength beneath him, enjoying the pressure of his weight pushing down on you again.

“Thank god that worked,” you gasped, catching your breath. You smiled as he flipped you over and pulled the dress off your head, true to his word.

“What worked, Y/N?”

“This. You don't know the lengths I'd have gone to to get you yo finally fuck me if this hadn't worked.”

“But suddenly, I'm curious, and I have all the time in the world.” You laughed lightly but snuggled into his chest again, meaning to sleep.

“Unless you want to get dressed again now…?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction

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reds-skull · 2 months ago

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CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

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kimhargreeves · 1 year ago

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Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)

Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.

(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)

(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)

"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.

I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.

I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"

This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."

"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.

"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.

"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.

"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.

Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."

I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."

"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.

"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"

"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.

Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.

I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.

Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.

"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.

"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.

Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"

I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.

Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.

As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.

"So he's also a devil fruit user?"

I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!

My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.

Where is Zoro anyways?

I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.

I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…

"Hang on!!"

Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?

I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.

I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.

The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.

"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.

The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.

Are we the only survivors?

My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.

I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.

I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.

The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…

By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.

The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.

"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.

"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"

I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"

The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"

It was too late. He was crying again….

It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.

The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.

He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.

"I always wanted a small girl."

"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.

"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."

My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.

"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.

"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.

The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"

I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….

"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"

"How many times do we have to say, no!!"

I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.

Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.

The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.

I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.

"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.

"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.

Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.

Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship

Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.

The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.

"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.

All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.

He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.

I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.

"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.

We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.

Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!

I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.

"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.

I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.

"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.

"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.

"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.

I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.

I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.

"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.

Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.

"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.

I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.

I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.

"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."

Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.

"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!

"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."

If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.

The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"

He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."

#netflix #anime #one piece #one piece netflix #one piece live action #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #one piece x reader #taz skylar #one piece netflix x reader

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flanaganfilm · 9 months ago

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howdy!! do you rewatch your own work? if so, how often? im wondering if it has the same "artist just sees faults with what they create" thing, or if youre able to appreciate past projects the way they deserve

I don't, typically... usually, by the time we're finished with post production, I've seen the thing so many times that I'm thrilled to stop watching it. I'm either sick of it, or just feeling like it doesn't belong to me anymore. There are other reasons, too - Hill House was a traumatic production for me, for example, I have a lot of complicated emotions woven into it, so I haven't felt ready to rewatch that one since before it aired. Maybe in a few more years.

Somewhat recently, I've revisited a few of the older movies with my eldest son, who is 13 now. He's basically as old as my career itself. We've watched Oculus, Hush, The Midnight Club (which he LOVED, proving it worked for our target audience) and Ouija: OOE together, and each of those screenings was a really cool experience. His reactions and questions were really fascinating, and I felt like I was able to see those movies anew through his eyes. That's the closest I've come to feeling like I was really seeing them, and that's only because so much time has gone by for those. I watched the Director's Cut of Doctor Sleep a few years back at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park Colorado. It was part of a live NoSleep Podcast event, and that was the first time I'd seen that movie since it was released. It was also the first and only time I'd ever seen the Director's Cut with an audience. That was a really special screening and it meant a lot to me.

I haven't yet had the guts to revisit any of the TV series other than Midnight Club. As my kids get older, I'm sure I'll watch them all with them. The one I'm most excited to see is Midnight Mass, which remains my favorite of the shows. I haven't seen it since before it came out - I remember the last day of post on that show, watching down each episode with final mix and color. That's a series I wish I could actually watch like a viewer at home, and while I'll never truly be able to do that, I look forward to looking at it with some real distance.

There are a few of the older projects I'd be curious to watch now. I wonder how Absentia holds up - I was such a baby when we made that movie, and it's been so long. I imagine I could watch that today and have a really trippy experience. I also haven't revisited Before I Wake in a very long time, and I always really loved that script. The movie was a rough road, and my feelings were mixed by the time it finally found its finish line (Relativity Media really beat that one up), but that could also be a really interesting viewing experience at this stage of my career.

But generally, each of these movies is a journey, and once the journey is over it's tough to ever really go back. There's little point, and moving forward feels like a matter of survival. The "finished product" is only the tip of a large, deep, labyrinthian iceberg for me. It's impossible to only see what's on the surface, no matter how hard I try.

(Interesting side-note: The only exception I've found to this rule is The Life of Chuck. We just finished post production on the movie, and I've watched it dozens and dozens of times now - but I've never grown tired of it, not even a little bit. That movie is something special, and I am eager to watch it again - and again - and again. I don't know that I'll ever want distance from that one; in fact, watching it brings me a sense of joy, comfort, and safety.)

#midnight mass #the fall of the house of usher #the haunting of hill house #the midnight club #doctor sleep #the haunting of bly manor #ouija origin of evil #oculus #before i wake #absentia #ouija: origin of evil #gerald's game

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wonton4rang · 6 months ago

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how do u think bnd boys wld act around you when they’re high?

bnd legal line being high or involved in drugs is one of my favorite concepts, oh myyy. plus, most of these came out as smut kinda thingy so yeah 😔

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why'd you only call me when you're high?

pairing: bnd legal line x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, mentions of drugs usage, dirty talk, pet names.

summary: how would bnd legal line act around you when they are high.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sungho; let's go to a parallel world where he might do drugs cause i honestly don't see him into it but yeah. i feel like he would turn into this excessively touchy/ funny guy that would just not know the concept of personal space. he would sit besides you, his hand on your thigh while it went dangerously close to your heat only for him to laugh at your blushed cheeks and kiss your lips to whisper against them "you would look so pretty sucking my dick right now". and it was great, yeah, if the other members were not sitting across the room in the other couch.

riwoo; he goes into subspace and i'm a 100% sure, he would be so lovey dovey and happy, making those awful jokes with a numb tongue before he goes completely quiet. tbh you didn't noticed at first but when you looked for him with your eyes and saw him facing the floor while he played with his fingers, you knew he was wasted. so you just made your way to him, holding his hands and softly kissing his lips, whispering a loving "wanna get out of here, baby?" that only made him excited because he knew what you meant, whenever you looked at him like that he ended up w his dick wrapped by your pussy and his legs shaking and hurting due to the intense sex you gave him. and he quickly forgot anything and everything that was making his head go to places.

jaehyun; myungjae is such an ecstasy boy, damn. he's horny asf 24/7 and when he gets high?? he could even come across as too dirty or pushy because he is making you rethink everything you say when he makes a sexual joke about it, his hands getting freaky on your body, grazing your boobs under that shirt, your thighs and even lifting your skirt a bit so he could go further. but it was all in public so you would tell him to shut it off, only for him to take you to his car and fuck the shit out of you on the backseat.

taesan; dongmin gives me one of the strongest "if i did drugs, i'd smoke weed" vibes ever, like damn. so be aware that when he got high he would be almost the opposite, his jokes wouldn't be as innocent as always, his eyes won't look at you the soft and loving way they always did, and his voice would turn two tones down while he barely responded to whatever you were saying because he was so lost in the way your lips moved he did not gave a single fuck about what you were saying. so he would start a kiss, a rough one, suddenly towering over your body and giving zero to none space for you to even backup or take the lead if you wanted to. he would be demanding, rougher than usual and very quiet, he would probably adventure and try new stuff only to be really ashamed when he came down from his high. but it was that or him simply listening to the music blasting out his speakers while he starred at the ceiling with your head laying on his shoulder or his lap and he played with your hair.

leehan; i feel like leehan could be two sides of a coin, no in between, he could either be super scary or super cute. i feel like he wouldn't like to do drugs as a daily basis so he would do it at a party, his head spinning so much his eyes could only register light schemes, he would love the vibe too, specially because you always were there with him to take care of his pathetic self. yeah, that until you both got back at home, he is typically one to be very active sexually so if he is on his "scary" side of the high, he would push you against the wall, whispering a mean "you're such a fucking slut. teasing me all night when you knew i couldn't fuck you there", his voice low and his alcohol infused breath hitting your face and it honestly made you nervous because you knew he wasn't thinking right. but oh well, he still fucked you and you were the one asking for more afterwards.

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arabella0001 · 1 month ago

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Tóji Fushiguro: Forbidden from the Start (Toji Fushiguro x Reader OneShot)

Pairing: Tóji Fushiguro x Reader

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Synopsis: when you move next to Tóji Fushiguro, one conversation is all it takes to blur the lines

Warnings: praise kink, teasing, rough doggy, all characters are of age/aged up, dirty talk, rough missionary, breeding king

it was an ordinary autumn day, you recently moved into the apartment next door and now you were carrying your things through the shared balcony, Toji come out of his apartment onto the shared balcony to smoke and he just stared at you with an unreadable expression.

after watching you for a moment, he turned his gaze back to the city skyline, seemingly lost in thought as he pondered about life and its many mysteries. the silence between you two stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of the bustling metropolis below. finally, Toji spoke up, his deep voice carrying across the short distance separating you.

"new place, huh? hope it treats you better than the last one." his tone was casual.

you chucke while lighting a cigarette, looking him up and down "yeah, seems fine. you? moved long ago? "

he takes another drag of his cigarette, eyeing you with a mix of amusement and skepticism "nah, I've been here for a while now. this building's got character, even if the neighbors can be a handful sometimes. "he glances around the shared balcony, taking in the worn concrete and rusted railings "but that's a part of the charm, right? "

turning his attention back to you, Toji leans against the railing, crossing his arms over his broad chest."so, what brings a pretty thing like you to this neck of the woods? looking for excitement or just trying to escape something? "his green eyes gleam with mischief as he waits for your response, the scar on his lip twitching slightly.

his compliment makes you want him already more than before "well, not enterily, just wanted some peace of mind, isolated from others. but i don’t say no to something exciting who catchs my eyes"you smirk to him

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest at your flirtatious remark, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses you with renewed interest. "isolated, huh? sounds like we might have more in common than i thought. "

he takes a final puff of his cigarette before flicking it over the balcony, watching it burn out in the street below.

stepping closer, Toji crowds you against the railing, his towering frame looming over yours. his warm breath ghosts across your skin as he leans in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "well, I'm always up for a bit of excitement… especially when it comes in such a tempting package. "one calloused hand finds your hip, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss.

"wait, what’s your name first? " you pull back for a asecond, a hint of surprise flashing in his emerald eyes at your sudden withdrawal. a small, amused smile plays on his lips as he regards you with a newfound respect.

"Toji Fushiguro, you?” and you told him faster because the pressure already building "now, where were we? "

the bulge in his pants presses insistently against your stomach, evidence of his growing arousal. breathless from the intensity of the kiss, Toji's other hand slides down to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze "

let's take this inside, shall we? I've got a few ideas for how to make you feel really…welcome in your new home. "with a wicked grin, he starts leading you towards your apartment door, his large hand firmly gripping your ass as he guides you.

you lead him to your room, feeling so aroused and wanting him so bad "so what are these ideas you talk about big boy?"

once inside your room, Toji kicks the door shut behind him and pins you against it, his body caging you in. his hands roam over your curves, fingers digging into your flesh possessively as he claims your mouth again in a bruising kiss.

"these ideas involve showing you just how good a real man can make you feel, "he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. " i'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't remember your own name. and when I'm done with you, you're going to be begging for more. "

with that promise, Toji starts tearing at your clothes, his impatience evident in the way he rips fabric without care. buttons fly everywhere as he exposes your breasts to his hungry gaze, his thumbs circling your nipples until they pebble under his touch.Toji's eyes darken with primal desire at your moan, his breathing ragged as he continues to strip you bare.

Once you're naked, he steps back to admire the view, his gaze roving over your curves appreciatively. ´beautiful, "he praises, his voice low and husky. "now let's see how well you can scream my name. "

without further preamble, Toji yanks his own shirt off and tosses it aside, revealing his chiseled torso and the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. ge unfastens them quickly, freeing his thick cock which juts out proudly, already leaking precum.

"get on the bed, "he commands, his green eyes blazing with intensity. "on your knees, facing away from me. I want to watch that tight little ass of yours while I prepare to split you open. "

Toji moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself. the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, applying pressure in slow, deliberate thrusts.

"gonna give you exactly what you need, "he groans, his grip tightening as he lines himself up. "take it all, baby girl. every inch. " and you moan into his mouth.with a powerful snap of his hips,

Toji drives into you, burying his length deep within your heat. a guttural moan escapes him at the feeling of your walls clenching around his shaft. "fuck, you're so tight… "he sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. his balls slap against your clit with each thrust, adding to your pleasure and his hands slide up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to heighten your pleasure while keeping you grounded.

"that’s it, scream for me, "he demands, his voice strained with exertion. "let everyone know who's fucking you senseless. "

he pistons in and out of you with ruthless efficiency, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. the bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall as he fucks you with wild abandon.

with a sudden movement, Toji flips you over onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his powerful thrusts.

"look at me", he commands, his green eyes burning into yours as he begins to move once more. " want to see the pleasure on your face as I claim this pussy. "

he pounds into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you to the limit with each stroke. The force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce enticingly, drawing his attention. "such perfect tits… "

he leans down to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting gently before soothing the sting with his tongue.Toji releases your nipple with a pop, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips for a moment before breaking. he watches your reactions intently, his expression a mix of lust and dark satisfaction.

"you like that, don't you?"he purrs, his voice dripping with confidence. "like having your pretty tits played with while I ruin your tight cunt? "

he resumes his relentless rhythm, the head of his cock hitting that magical spot inside you with every thrust. his free hand travels down to rub circles over your clit, providing extra stimulation to push you closer to the edge. "come for me, Y/N, "he urges, his breath hot against your ear. "show me how much you crave this dick."

"fuck Toji…you are so big…you fill me up so good" a triumphant smirk spreads across Toji's face at your words, his chest puffing out with pride.

"that’s right, baby, I'm a big man in every way, "he boasts, punctuating his statement with a particularly deep thrust that makes you gasp. "and you were made to take it, weren't you? "his hand on your clit speeds up, rubbing in firm circles. "your greedy little pussy was just waiting for a real cock to stretch it out and make it sing. "

he leans down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he fucks you harder, driving you closer to the brink of orgasm. "come on, Y/N, let go, "he growls against your lips. "milk my cock dry with that sweet cunt of yours."

"holy shit, Toji" you were screaming, gasping for air while your vision turned white, squeezing his cock until making you both cum at the same time. Toji collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he catches his breath. after a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, a smug grin still playing on his lips despite the exhaustion etched on his features.

"holy shit indeed, "he chuckles, his voice low and satisfied. "that was one hell of a ride. you took my cock like a champ, baby. "

he rolls off you and lies beside you, pulling you into his arms. his hand lazily trails up and down your side as he nuzzles your neck. "so, what did you think of your first time with a real man? ready to ditch those toys for some quality dick whenever you need a release? "

"mhmmm…i might think about it" Toji's eyes light up with amusement at your noncommittal response, a knowing glint in their emerald depths.

"oh, I think you will, "he teases, giving your hip a playful squeeze. "once you've had a taste of what a skilled man can do, there's no going back. " he pulls you closer and a amischievous smile plays on his lips.

#smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #jjk toji #toji x y/n #toji x reader #toji x oc #toji x you #toji x self insert #jujutsu fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #megumi smut #megumi x reader #nanami kento #sukuna

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finniestoncrane · 5 months ago

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2.5k Event Request - Bane x GN!Reader word count: 850 a/n: listen if my mouth can't open wide enough to receive him i am giving him permission to tear me asunder tbqh cw: face fucking, cnc, rough oral sex, restraints, a lot of saliva 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

It was always going to be a risk confessing your slightly more adventurous kinks to Bane. Not because he wasn't receptive to them, or that he would judge you. It was because, despite his notoriety, his appearance and strength, and his criminal record, your kinks didn't quite line up with his own preferences or even abilities. But he was always willing to try, and you appreciated him for that.

As always, with kinks of a more taboo nature, the pre-game preparation had been focused and careful. Bane finished tying your wrists up with the soft rope and crouched in front of you, bringing himself as close to your level as he could as you knelt on the floor.

He looked into your eyes, a wistful glance that made you think that something was going to change between you, that you had maybe pushed him too far unintentionally. Before he could open his mouth to speak to you, you began rambling.

"Hey, it's ok if you don't want to do this. If it's too much, I understand. Your comfort is just as important as mine, and I don't want you to think that you have to-"

Bane cut you off, not with words, but with his actions. The feeling of his thumb skimming over your cheek, so soft and gentle, had your words trailing into a satisfied hum, quieting down as he tried to soothe your nerves.

"Actually, I am looking forward to this. It's exciting... I just don't want you to think differently of me afterwards."

"Of course not! If anything, I think I'll find you even sweeter, given how much of a contradiction there'll be."

"And if it's too much? If it's too rough... you need to tell me.

"I promise."

You were well aware of the fact that he might be a bit rougher than you could take, in fact, you were hoping he would be.

"Alright then."

He stood up, towering over you, eyes darkening as he let his soft smile turn into a cruel grin. With his large fingers, he reached for your face once more, but this wasn't a gentle grip. This was forceful, firm, commanding. And as you looked up to him, he embodied everything you had wanted from him.

Now, he looked like the kind of guy who would take what he wanted. Who had no concept of the word 'no'.

With his hand still holding your head in position, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. The length itself was daunting, but it was the girth that made your throat close up.

That was good, though. It would only lend itsef to the feeling you were chasing. Being filled, stretched, choked beyond your capacity. Whatever pleasure he was going to get, you wanted him to take it from you. And you wanted to struggle to give it to him.

"Open it."

You hesitated for a moment, still too distracted by your own lust-filled daydreams, your cunt warm and wet already as you stared longingly at his cock. The crack of his palm against your cheek brought you back to attention, however, and you let your jaw drop open, groaning as he gripped your hair and held your head still.

"Do you think I'll fit?"

Honesty was always the best policy, and so you shook your head a little.

"Do you want it to fit?"

You shook your head again, wet eyes portraying the perfect look of pleading, asking for mercy when you really didn't want him to give you any.

"Good. I'd like to have to break you. Wear you out. I'm going to make it fit. And you're going to sit there and take it."

One hand tugging at your roots, the other at the base of his cock, he slid the tip into your mouth. It fit between your lips, but as he began easing inch by inch of the shaft, you realised just how big he was.

With a cruel laugh, he thrust himself into you, his tip striking the back of your throat and making you gag breathlessly around his cock. You couldn't even back your head away from him, he was too strong, holding you there as he pulled out and pushed himself back in again over your tongue.

You tried to breathe through your nose, tried to keep from coughing and spluttering too much. But as you whined, both in effort and pleasure, your drool kept pouring over his length and covering your cheeks, bubbling saliva on the corners of your mouth leading to long strands on your chin as he kept bucking into you.

He tossed his head back, grunting with each stroke of your hollowed cheeks around his shaft, your tears meeting your saliva and pooling on the floor in drops. At no point had he considered how you would say your safe word when your mouth was so full, but he was growing less concerned about that with each passing moment.

You wanted him to pretend to take this from you, and he intended on living up to your request.

#finnie2.5k #finnie writes #bane #bane x reader #batman bane #bane fanfiction #eduardo dorrance

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felassan · 4 months ago

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Notes and thoughts on the August 30th dev Discord Q&A. (this post contains DA:TV spoilers from the recent Q&A).

Mother Ghil is a herbalist 😌

"there are opportunities in conversations, in dialogue, in scenes where you will, you know - a companion may ask you for a hug because they’re having a rough time and you are able to give it to them"

🥺😭 I'm worried (but in a good way, pls hurt me storylines) because this reminds me of DA:I when the Inquisitor can hug Varric after something incredibly sad happens as a result of our choices (Hawke's death in the Fade) oughh.

Influence on the fate of nations? 👁️

"Rook does become a fairly important figure" - this reminds me of Solas' line in a past trailer: "They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?"

UNDERWEAR CHOICES

Taash is babey 🥺 it makes sense why in this screenshot she looks young. if Taash is in her early 20s, say 23, that means she probably can't have been one of the Five Belles of Hunter Fell as that was in 9:42 and she would have been like 13

Here is some further info about companion ages that came out since the time of the Q&A

Harding had to have been at least 18 ten years ago in 9:42 when she joined the Inquisition and became Lead Scout, so must be at least 28. but I think older, as I think she was older than 18 in DA:I by a fair few years. like around early to mid 20s at that point in time.

"they’re all people who have been through a lot [...] they’ve been through a tremendous amount by this point by the time you meet them" 🥺😭

"They’re more linear than some of the other parts of the game, because we feel that’s how we can tell the best stories, give you a very intentionally-paced experience, y'know, with lulls and climaxes, so it really hits you."

This was how Trespasser was and it was the best part of DA:I, the storytelling and narrative beats in that DLC were soo good.

Hossberg Wetlands! - new location confirmed, and also described as being one of the biggest like Arlathan Forest. also new location just dropped, Hossberg existed before in the lore but I don't remember hearing about the Wetlands! Hossberg is the capital of the Anderfels. it'll be awesome to see more of the Anderfels than only Weisshaupt. by the name these wetlands must be nearby Hossberg. I wonder whether they're around the Lattenfluss or more around this body of water to the south of Hossberg? the area around Kassel looks wet with multiple bodies of water, but there the nearest settlement is Kassel. we also learned that there's a Davrin-oriented quest there that he can show up in with Assan and help you clear the way forward

also, I remember reading before that "Thedas’s separate regions are connected by The Crossroads, which will allow players to venture out into", but from how The Crossroads was described in the Q&A, they sound kind've like an explorable area in and of themselves in the game like they were in Trespasser, and that's exciting. :D I'm so excited to explore in there some more and see how it has changed from DA:I/Trespasser:

"but this, isn’t necessarily the Crossroads as you remember it. So you’ll be able to explore this, this part of the Crossroads, and as you’re there, you’re absolutely gonna be discovering new areas, new quests, mysteries and new challenges"

like this sounds very 👁️. The Veil has been having a rough time lately and magic has been flowing into the world. reality is warping in places like Arlathan. we've seen the effects this sort of thing is having on the waking world. but what about the effects this is happening on the Fade and Fadey dimensions? I wonder if this game will still reflect that the Crossroads looks different for elves compared to other lineages?

"I wanna see that big 100% completed on my map. That’s gonna take you quite a bit of time."

I love that. :D

I totally agree that the cloth sim and hair sim in the game is beautiful and looks beautiful. you can see this when characters move their heads or when their capes and things move around as they move. its so cool!

"there is a unique Venatori-themed helmet. I, I don’t want to spoil what that is exactly, but, so, you can get a helmet, it is unique, it’s pretty interesting and ties into some of the events that can happen in the game but I’m just gonna leave it there."

inchresting... this helmet sounds like it has special powers or attributes and has some sort of presence in a possible plot somewhere.

I will still romance Strife Dragonage in my dreams

while Rook's romance is within the companions, iirc was mentioned elsewhere that sometimes companions may find romance both inside and outside of the party

Cat Vibing To Ievan Polkka

KFM: "So Taash breathes fire, Lucanis has wings, Harding is a dwarf who has magic. A lot of our companions have some strange abilities - is this because the Veil is compromised?" JE: "Oh, I’d say it’s, I mean partially yeah. I mean, we’ve talked before about how over the course of the time since Dragon Age: Inquisition, I mean, it started at the end of Trespasser. The Veil’s not in great shape. Corypheus already did a number on it, and Solas has very clearly, as you saw, in the [inaudible] preview, not been making things better in the intervening times. [...] because there’s all this magic that’s coming back to the world through the torn Veil"

This is inchresting and ties to what was said in these two previous quotes:

Lore/art direction: “Magic has started seeping into the world through Solas’ ritual”, “and so you’re seeing the effects of that on the space, and on the visuals as well” [post this is from, original source. original source is a John Epler interview video]

“Epler, who writes Bellara, tells me about her place in Thedas as an elf and the connection elves have to the magic of the world. He says if you’ve paid attention to the franchise, you likely already know that elves are historically an oppressed people in the games. Now, with two of their gods on the loose in Veilguard, magic has poured back into the world in a big way. […] A Quick Detour: Magic During my discussion, Epler spoke about magic’s place in the world and how it differs in Veilguard from previous Dragon Age games. Here’s what he said: "Historically, as you’ve mentioned, we’ve been in the south of Thedas and south Thedas is Ferelden, Orlais. Both are fairly still oppressed, they still have circles. Mages are viewed with suspicion, but Tevinter has always been this land where mages rule, mages are in charge, mages make the rules, mages run the show. So what does that look like? And as we’ve gone through [Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition], magic has become more and more present. And part of that is because Solas has been slowly preparing this ritual for longer than anyone in the Dragon Age universe is really aware of, but also, just going into the spaces where magic is, by definition and by the lore, much, much more present. And it’s been fun because, again, we do have rules; we want to make sure we’re not violating the lore or violating things we’ve said before. But it’s also, again, that permissiveness of, ‘Okay, what is the most interesting way to do this? What’s the most interesting way to tell the story? [In] Origins, II, on the Eclipse engine, we could talk about this fantastical magic, but the engine didn’t really allow us to show it. For the first time, we’re really able to let the visuals speak for themselves and not have to tell the player, ‘Trust us, it’s spectacular; this magic is really cool.’ We can actually show you and let you drink it in.” [post this is from, archive post of the original article as that went down when GI did]

The effects of this on space, reality, visuals, people and their abilities, ancient elven artifacts turning back on, and Solas' activities being part of what affected things in the time since DA:I. I wanna speculate that these ancient elven artifacts turning back on or becoming active again is part of why reality has been warping and "something [going] wrong" in Arlathan Forest. I wonder if the Morlyn clan journal relic began rewriting itself as a consequence of the magic returning.

Bellara was an interesting example though, she's a mage not a non-mage like Taash, Lucanis, Harding. was I parsing this right - is the implication that she wouldn't be able to interface with the artifacts that have turned back on if the Veil was in better shape and magic hadn't been pouring back in?

^ Bellara interfacing with an artifact

All the talk of magic coming back into the world are like Sandal's prophecy:

One day the magic will come back - all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.

and reminds of a few other bits too:

Ardent Blossom Faerie: "Pulling back the curtain. Let the light in. Let it burn. Bring faith. Bring hope. Bring dreams of life. - Morrigan: "Change is coming to the world. Many fear change, and will fight it with every fibre of their being. But sometimes change is what they need most. Sometimes, change is what sets them free." - Flemeth: "We stand upon the precipice of change."

I loved hearing about Bellara's friendships with Lucanis and Neve. it sounds so well thought-out, and I'm looking forwards to learning the relationships between each companion!!

Bellara believing that family is deeply important combined with a previous quote about her backstory,

"Whereas Bellara is somebody who has seen tragedy, and as you get into her character arc and get into her backstory, you realize this is a character who has seen a lot of tragedy"

makes me wonder if this tragedy has involved her family and if her family are okay. 🥺

Lucanis' belief in the deep importance of family makes me worried in case any of his personal arc/story involves the family tensions he has with Illario and Caterina

I love that Bellara collects newspaper clippings and was basically Neve fan before meeting her!

Neve must be a fairly prominent, well-known/successful private detective/investigator to have formed a large profile in print media

Taash and Emmrich [...] When you’re out in the field like exploring, or on missions with them, their banter is so good, because they do not see eye-to-eye on necromancy, like, at all, and, it’s really funny, it’s really delightful, I love seeing how it evolves

as a necromancer Emmrich doesn’t have a problem with necromancer (makes sense). I wonder what Taash dislikes about it? is it its bad reputation (per Josie in DA:I)? Solas freed the weak spirit the Mortalitasi in Tevinter Nights had bound to stir her drink. maybe Taash doesn’t like the binding part, or the undead helpers or servants part? maybe she just doesn't like the dead the way Bull doesn't like demons?

Having to figure out how Harding's new powers layer into her combat kit - Harding's new magical powers are part of her gameplay abilities confirmed!

Harding can also do Heavy Draw

Interesting - the more you help a faction the more gear you get from them. between that and transmog it means everyone can access the Antivan Crows awesome threads if they wanna :D

Both the specs and gear are themed around particular factions like aesthetically but aren't exclusive-to-them when it comes to use/gameplay

It sounds like each faction will have a quartermaster

Veil Jumper lore! they tend towards electricity/lightning damage and archery in their fighting style. and in general they're practically minded and dress as such because where they go and what they do requires care and protection and is dangerous, they wear boots/shoes etc for this reason

Veil Ranger info! it tends towards electricity, use of the Veil and use of that kind of magic. it also uses archery

The answer to the question about the Evoker spec made me reassured about the answer I wrote here ^^;

Great news that any piece of gear we find will unlock the appearance of that gear and how it can be applied to anything we want <3

Training dummy cosmetic - joke gear pieces like the Wedge of Destiny live on :D

I'm so psyched that we can even transmog our casual wear!! that's so cool and allows for so much agency. I find when I play mages in the past I'm always looking for the.. least magiest-looking mage gear to wear, and previously there wasn't crazy amounts of choice in casual wear, so this is amazing dbgfjdbd

very personal GIFTS for the blorbos 🥺 the gift system sounds so lovely and thoughtful. I think maybe some of the empty shelves that can be seen in the new screenshots of the companion rooms in the Lighthouse just miiight be where the companions will display the gifts

"A really big thing for us on this project is making sure that the gameplay reflects the characters, their arc and their personality as much as possible, so."

looking real hard at Lucanis' wings rn, especially given the context of what else we know about him 👁️

"you’re not even going to see everything necessarily in a couple of playthroughs"

Aaaaaa :D

as a warrior fan the love for the warrior class was really heartening. (love you Inky)

The Missing setting up some of the characters we'll see in the game makes me even more sure that alongside Strife&Irelin and Evka&Antoine we'll see Teia&Viago in the game (plus the characters in the release date reveal trailer that totally look like them ofc)

Emphasis that themes and events/things present and explored in Tevinter Nights are present in the game

It sounds like Vows & Vengeance is set in the weeks before the prologue of DA:TV kicks off

There is a buff called Rally Party where Rook triggers a surge in their companion's ability

MAAEEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭 this was so good I was like yelling OMG. I'm sooo happy about this, this is so great. she's been on my 'DA4 wishlist of stuff' for so long and we waited to meet her since 2012 (12 years ago!!!). I'm soo excited to meet her oh my god. this reveal was honestly the highlight of the whole Q&A. pack it up, we can go home now. Mae.. 😭 I hope we get to see her interact with Varric. and I wonder if she has some involvement with the Shadow Dragons (Varric said something about "some old friends in Tevinter said the Shadow Dragons were pog to work with" in the gameplay reveal..), and how things are going with her and Dorian's faction the Lucerni

It sounds like Lucanis' parents were killed at some point in some Crow-Crow politics. probably when he was quite young, since when Lucanis thinks back on being raised by Caterina she did things like making him spend days without food or water, which makes it sound like he was quite young when he entered her care

No jealousy dialogue is interesting

I hope for a poly romance option in a future game

ABILITY TO SAVE CHARACTER APPEARANCES for use later in CC aaaa. Amazinggg. thankyouuu. a lot of thought has been put into the quality of life features of this game :') pausing cutscenes is another great one.

KFM: "The question is, is Lucanis possessed?" JE: "So, again, spoilers, everyone has been warned, fairly warned. So Lucanis Dellamorte is also known as The Demon of Vyrantium. And, he has spent a lot of time killing Venatori, who are mages, and who do know a lot about demons, so. Yeah, somebody decided that it might be a good idea to make that nickname stick."

👁️👁️👁️ Aaaaa. Inchrestinggg. From this and The Wigmaker Job I would guess that this "somebody" who decided that and did that to him is Zara Renata. she ended that short story like [evil anime villain laugh] "huehuehue":

"From flying vermin to malicious spirit. That's quite the promotion." [...] "A true maleficar knows demons cannot be killed, only controlled. If this Crow fancies himself a demon, then I look forward to using him to his full potential. He'll be duly punished"

Who else could the "someone" be? Zara, when I catch you.. 😠

I'm sure it will be different this time around as it always is! - both Wynne's situation (the specifics of it, how it came around, the effect it had on her) and how it was explored in the story was different to Anders' which was again different to Justice's in DA:O's to Cole's etc. (speaking veeery broadly in terms of the 'spirit companion' archtype, I know for example that Cole isn't possessed, simply a spirit. yk what I mean). I'm super curious about the take on this theme this time around ^^

(Lucanis possession-y-type-situation evidence [plus his demon-y looking tarot art, plus the wings and purple magic abilities of course])

I love the agency companions are given by them showing up in the field to help you, waiting for you somewhere on a quest they want to go on, or you encountering them out randomly somewhere doing there own thing (like the tidbit from a magazine about encountering Neve). it makes them feel like real people

I wonder if Taash's keen interest in the main story mission & the challenges of its arc in the far reaches of Arlathan Forest (it's strong enough that she shows up there impatiently if you don't take her) has something to do with the eluvian that's in her room?

"Far reaches of Arlathan Forest" is music to my ears btw as someone who has wanted to explore in there for the longest time

"You’ve just been around them, you’re aware of their techniques, and you wanna take that on yourself." - sensical explanation of what 'specs are aligned with/tied to factions' means ^^

KFM: "This next question is, where is the equator in Thedas, or the planet Thedas is on, relative to places we’ve explored?" JE: "That is a great question. So, I will say that, you know, it’s funny until I saw this question, it’s not something I’d ever thought a lot about, but as I started thinking about it a little bit more deeply, based on how the climate changes across Thedas, you know, obviously, to the south are the Avvar and things get a little bit more wintry, and then up north is a lot more tropical, I’d say that Thedas is a southern continent on this world, so."

I feel like the answer that was given here matches what a lot of fans have speculated or headcanoned on this topic. ^^

"There are these times where a companion, either their faction or their story arc is so closely tied or intersects with the events of a main story mission that they do become required, but it’s not the standard"

This makes sense. It sounds like Liara on Thessia in ME3.

When someone asked "Can a companion leave due to your world decisions, and if so, will their partners leave with them?" and John Epler mentioned that he would only answer half of this question as the other half is a spoiler, it made me wonder if companions will leave at certain times due to our world decisions

No mechanic behind companion-companion romances is so nice, it's more organic and real that way. I'm really looking forward to seeing the friendships and relationships between the companions develop

DAVRIN INFOOO 😭🙏 He sounds amazing. I wonder which companions in particular bring out his kindness

"He’s not just a Warden who sees fighting monsters as, you know, just part of the job. He believes in turning this into a skill-set that he alone, you know like, he has more than anyone else. Learning how to defeat monsters, learning their weaknesses, and that does show up a lot in his character arc, so."

this ties back to a related quote from a lil while ago.

I know it can be inferred from her vallaslin, but this Q&A is the first place I remember (atm) Bellara specifically being stated to be Dalish

We already saw each companion's Lighthouse casual wear here

Emmrich?? what are his casual threads like? :D

I wonder if Lucanis being one of the team cooks is part of why he appears to sleep in the kitchen storage/pantry

"It’s funny, I’d say that Dragon Age: The Veilguard is probably the most we’ve talked about food in a context of Dragon Age, ever" - it makes sense that it was only recently that the DA cookbook came out hh :D

Some of the companions being so bad at cooking that they'd burn water and die took me out. who do you think are the ones that aren't even 'passable' cooks but terrible ones hh? :D

So do the Crows in general quite enjoy the finer things in life and in food?

I wonder if part of Lucanis' interest in food and cooking stems from when he was young and Caterina made him go for days without food and water? :(

"So one of the things I really love is, you know, Bellara and Lucanis actually end up being, essentially, the team cooks. Bellara, you know, spending a lot of time out in nature, learning a lot about, you know, different types of cooking, is really big on experimentation, she likes to, you know, try different things. Lucanis comes from the Crows, Lucanis is very big on the finer things, so between the two of them, there’s a point in the story where they basically decide, if we don’t do this, the entire team is going to starve, so let’s just call ourselves the cook, cooks, and make sure that nobody dies of food poisoning, so."

I love this so much 🥺💜 ooh my heart. (its so wholesome and so funny at the same time). also Bellara's creativity and love of learning and exploring expresses itself in her cooking too!

It's great that fine, fancy dwarven-style beards are returning :D I wonder if there are also hairs with beads woven in? Strand hair in the beards 👌 beard physics working with different armors 👌 (amazing work!!). Dwarf Rooks shown before launch 👌 as many options in CC being universal as possible 👌 I love what I'm hearing!! I would guess from this that it means hair isn't gender-locked and mostly isn't lineage-locked (I can understand qunari hair may have to be) and things like that.

It wasn't in doubt ofc but this Q&A is the first time I remember hearing a clear mention that Solas was written by Trick Weekes in DA:TV

I'm really curious about the Rook faction background-dialogue with that same companion. it sounds like some have only heard of them and some may have known them a bit more directly. Like for example, is Antivan Crow Rook also from House Dellamorte, or another Antivan Crow house? Has Grey Warden Rook ever been to Weisshaupt (some Wardens don't seem to have)? Did Veil Jumper Rook ever go on adventures with Bellara? Did Emmrich and Mourn Watcher Rook ever be direct colleagues in the Necropolis? etc.

"maybe even heard of you leaving the faction to go help Varric to track down Solas" - this snippet makes it sound like part of Rook's backstory may involve having left their background faction when getting picked up/tapped by Varric for the work. inchresting

This screenshot shows an example of the Veilguard team hanging out together

"Rook and Solas have a connection, they have a bond'' - my guess is this is to do with Rook interfering with Solas' ritual, and the Lyrium dagger passing from Solas to Rook

I'm curious about the differences in Solas' connection/relationship with Rook to the one he had with the Inquisitor

"there are followers who, you know, are going to have a more complicated connection and complicated relationship with just, Solas as an entity, you know, Bellara, for example, is an elf, she’s Dalish, and this a person from her pantheon, so. There’s going to be a lot more of a, I guess, like I said, complex relationship between the two of them. Davrin is another example, someone else who is Dalish, so, you know, their views on the gods in general are going to be a little bit different"

I was happy to hear this. ^^ it would be odd if this sort of thing wasn't explored or at least acknowledged in the game. you can hear a bit of this in Bellara's release date trailer line, "Our gods are back. Our gods." it was also hinted at a bit in this Game Informer article I feel.

It sounds like Bellara and Davrin have slightly differing views on the elven gods.

It's so cool that we have 2 Dalish elf companions in the team this time! I missed a Dalish perspective in the roster in DA:I.

Turning off some of the UI components is great for taking screenshots and stuff

I think that Bellara's unique exploration ability is Tinker

Party swap-points confirmed?

Rook's ability to channel the companions' exploration abilities through the Lyrium dagger is super interesting 👀 I wonder how that works and how that comes about? Is it to do with lyrium? the Veil? the runes that can be put on the dagger? the mysterious entity in the Lighthouse that assists with crafting? do the companions each have some kind of connection to Rook sort've how Rook does to Solas? back in the day, when Solas led his own band of followers during his rebellion, when Solas' Lighthouse was filled with his own group of companions (Solas sees himself in Rook etc), did he channel his own companions' abilities the same way using the dagger? Was Felassan once essentially a party member of Solas'?

Great news on the helmet situation :). I wonder if the vitaar variants of helmets thing also applies to Taash?

Here's an example of qunari vitaar, two

Themed color-variant cosmetics 👀

Flowing faction-themed capes 👀

ASSAN SIBLINGS... after the Mae reveal, this was the highlight of this Q&A for real :D and it makes sense, griffons seem to lay clutches, so unless Assan was created or something wild or all the rest of his clutch died somehow, there would be others around in the world. I wonder what role the others will play in the game, and what the plotbeat around griffons is more generally

Confirmation that if companions showed up previously in TN they were at that point intended to be companions. It gives you an idea of how long some of these characters were worked on and developed for

Rook's surname being referenced in dialogue quite a bit 👀 interesting, I wonder when. Neve and Varric have called Rook "Rook" in videos from the game

Confirmation that the shape of Morrigan's crown is meaningful and tied to Flemythal stuff/themes

"In the case of Morrigan, she’s coming to terms with a lot of truths about both herself but also her mother, you know, you see her with Flemeth’s crown, or a variation of it, and that’s speaking to her personal journey of, what I would call, kind’ve acceptance of who she is and how she connects to Flemeth, because ultimately we want this to feel like a real world"

It sounds like all of these hints are coming to fruition now:

"A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me." - "Mother is the inheritor, she who awaits the next age." - "Designer’s Notes: This is Flemeth from the previous two games. In this game, Flemeth’s story comes to a head – she knew that Solas would summon her, and that he would need to steal her power to further his plans. She knew that because they are both elven gods…yet Solas has slept for a thousand years and his power dwindled, while she was killed long ago and a spark escaped from her into the body she now holds. She has nurtured that spark, and knew that Solas would need it. He was once her oldest friend, but she knows in his drive to save the elven people he will kill anyone – even her. She intends to let him have the power, so long as she can pass the essence of her god-hood onto Morrigan, a gift Flemeth had always planned for her daughter yet one Morrigan misunderstood as hostile possession."

Even mundane Kieran's dialogue line about who his mother is ("She's the Witch of the Wilds") touches on this. The old Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth, is no more. Morrigan has taken on the mantle, in a manner of speaking. These things seem especially impactful in worldstates where Morrigan drank from the Well. I am curious about how Well-drinking Morrigan vs non-drinking Morrigan will play out.

In a way, Morrigan has already stepped into her mother's role in the world of Dragon Age. Flemythal used to show up dramatically and mysteriously in every game to interact with the main character of that story. Morrigan has also been doing that, also now for 3 games. I'm reminded of Varric's tombstone in the Fade, Became His Parents. especially if she continues to do this while she gets older, the similarity is apparent.

It's cool that you don't have to be Spellblade spec to use orb and dagger

"while City Elf versus Dalish Elf is a lot more of a useful distinction in, you know, Ferelden, Orlais, we’re in northern Thedas, things are different up here. And a great example is Rivain. Dalish settlements, you know, they have Dalish settlements within cities, integrated into the cities, because, again, they don’t have that same bias, that same distinction."

New lore, or maybe a return to older lore? in DAII Isabela tells Merrill the Dalish haven't reached Llomerryn. but prior to that around 2009, David Gaider mentioned that the Dalish elves in Rivain have a semi-permanent settlement in Llomerryn. this sounds like that, and it sounds like it's not only Llomerryn. of course, Bela could just have been mistaken or this could be a recent development that began in the last decade or so in the world. I think it makes sense for what we know about Rivain.

"It’s a lot more about, how you play into the faction, you know, and, in some cases it matters more that you’re an elf, in other cases it doesn’t actually matter to the people of that faction, they’re just looking for someone who could do the work. A great example, and I’ll just, very, very light spoilers, Mourn Watch is a great example where, they just care that you are capable of, you know, executing the duties that you’re given, so."

I'm curious about which do and which don't for this, and not only for the elf lineage. an elven Veil Jumper may have more to say on or different investment in the artifacts they find and places they explore. an Antivan Crow who was employed because humans often find them attractive, or an Antivan Crow who was an enslaved elf or enslaved human and then bought by the Crows may have different thoughts on/experiences being a Crow than say a human who was born into it. (this is previous lore stuff, the Crows favoring recruiting elves, Zevran was bought etc). etc.

Lastly a quick recap on the things that came up in the Q&A that the devs said they would be talking about more soon:

They will be going deeper into settings, accessibility settings/features and similar things closer to launch

(On accessibility features, Corinne Busche mentioned that she thinks they are doing a feature, some kind of blogpost on that subject)

They will be talking more about exploration next month

They will be talking more about the Lighthouse next month

They will be showing some dwarf Rooks before launch

[transcript link]

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kwinsispn3 · 4 months ago

Text

Charms

summary: through the years — the Winchester’s little sister’s good luck charm, ends up being a bit of a tradition.

Word Count: 4,214

Winchester boys x sister!reader

Warnings: blood, death, angst, sorry about the italics, idk what I'm doing??

The youngest Winchester, y/n, was welcomed into the family a little bit later than expected. Y/n was 3 when her mom died, and had no one else to go to but her father and two brothers. It was a few years after John had died too, when Dean got a call from one of John’s old phones in the glove compartment. And there she’s was on the other line.

It had been a few months after y/n had been living with the boys. It was tricky for everyone to adjust. Sam and Dean would do anything for her at the drop of a hat, but they all found it difficult to connect at first. Y/n was struggling to feel like a part of the family. She had lost the only adults she knew about in her short life, her trust had been taken away from everything it felt like. Sam and Dean had treated her nothing but kind since the day they found her, and deep down she knew they wouldn’t hurt her, but time would tell.

It was late at night, Dean couldn’t sleep. Going to reach for his headphones, they weren’t in the side table drawer where he normally puts them. He arose, flipping on the desk lamp across the room, starting to look for them quietly, when he came across a box. The box where he always kept special things he couldn’t lose. Photographs of him and Sammy as kids, their mother, different trinkets that held a memory. Dean flipped through a few photos, admiring them sadly under the light of his lamp. Looking down into the box he saw a glaring piece of silver at the bottom. Picking it up, he gazed at the charm bracelet that belonged to his mother. The charms shined in the light as they swayed side to side.

Sam approached the desk in the motel, about to speak as he sees him, but stops. “Hey, uhh. You busy?” He asked stepping closer.

“No, just couldn’t really sleep” Dean says as he packs the things back in the box.

“What’s this, is this mom’s?” Sam asked, sliding the bracelet over to his grasp.

“Yup.”

It was y/n’s 10th birthday and it had been a rough year. Another new school, y/n wasn’t staying with Bobby as much anymore since she was older and could stand the long car rides with Sam & Dean. Girls were starting to be mean at school, y/n felt alone most of the time, because she was left alone. In school, and back at the motels they stayed at. The boys felt for her, being so young, constantly exposed to the childhood they had. They didn’t expect that they would ever being doing what they were doing, but they wouldn’t give up on trying to give their little sister the life she needed.

The brothers made it home from finishing up a hunt just in time for y/n’s birthday. They had brought home her favorite food, and desserts. It wasn’t much, but they wanted to show her some appreciation for all of her patience. After finishing up dinner, Sam started to clean up the table. “Alright, looks like it is almost your bedtime.”

“Really? Even on my birthday?” Y/n playfully pouted.

“Your beauty sleep is more important!” Sam smiled back. “Especially being a weeknight. But we will pick up the festivities this weekend, because we’re leaving town!” Sam blurted out without thinking about how that sounded.

Dean looked at him and back at y/n, knowing her reaction wouldn’t be excited. Sam realized he had messed up by saying it so soon, they had meant to break it to her the next day, after her birthday.

“You mean, I have to leave this school, and go to another one?!” She sighed in disappointment.

“Well, yeah. But… we can go wherever you’d like to, on the way to—“

“No, you both said we’d be here for a while.”

“Y/n—“

“Just stop!" The room fell silent. "I know this is what you guys do, but I hate having to move again and again."

"Look, I know you do. It isn't fun for us either, but that's how we.."

"Get our job done, I know Sam." y/n finished his sentence, looking down at her hands.

"What's wrong, y/n/n?" Sam asked, studying her face.

"I just told you." her voice got more quiet. "You sure? You just... look like somethings on your mind." Sam stated. There was a long pause, y/n shuffled around and then looked up at her brothers. They both had that look on their face like they were waiting for her to let out whatever she was thinking.

"How do you guys always know!!?" She threw her arms down in frustration. Trying to stay mad but also wanting to break down from all of the inner turmoil. The boys both half smiled, Sam sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, motioning for y/n to sit down.

"It just gets scary sometimes..... not knowing when you're gonna come back. Boring too. I just don't want you to forget about me." y/n let out a deep breath.

"Sweetheart, you know we'd never forget about you. We look forward to coming back to you after every job." Sam reassured. Y/n let out a half smile, hearing the same line before. "I know."

It was times like these where Dean would always think of his mother. Even though y/n wasn't his mothers daughter, he knew if she were still around, she'd know exactly what to say in moments like these. The two boys were almost left with a loss of words until Dean thought of the perfect thing. He stood up and went outside to the car, rummaging through the trunk. He came back inside with a box in his hands. Going through it, he picked up Mary's bracelet and sat down next to y/n.

"This was... our mom's. I think she would have wanted you to have it." Dean hooked the charm bracelet around y/n's wrist. It felt a little odd to her, knowing Mary was not her real mom.

"Are you sure? I mean, she..." y/n tried not to come off sounding rude, but Dean knew what she was trying to say.

"I know, but trust me. We hung onto it for a reason. All of these charms mean something special, and as long as you have this with you... you will always be protected. And you will always, be apart of this family." Dean held her wrist, emphasizing it's importance. Y/n rotated her wrist, admiring all of the charms.

She smiled bigger, looking up at them. "Thank you."

Dean said nothing, instead bringing his sister in for a hug. Sam raised his eyebrows, blinking away his watery eyes from the moment he just witnessed. Running his hands over his face, he sat down, and embrace his siblings into one.

It was y/n's first official hunt. She had just turned 14, and had proven to her brothers that she could take care of herself... as long as she stayed right by their sides. Y/n had been studying, not just in school. Every chance she got, she was prying information from Sam or Dean about hunting. Practicing how to use different forms of defense, and being on the look out for anything. She now had finally gotten herself into the real deal.

The three of them walked through an abandoned farm property, looking for any hidden rooms, since the rest of the house was suspiciously clear. "We should go check the barn out back." Y/n whispered. "Okay, but for now, you stay here." Dean whispered back.

"Why? there's nothing here. We've looked everywhere and there is no nest." y/n stated.

"Well, that's what they want you to think, but it wasn't at the last house so it's gotta be here."

"Shhh!" Sam spat. Hearing a crash from somewhere in the house.

Everyone froze, being as still and quiet as they could, trying to listen for any noises. It was silent, until a floorboard creaked from behind Dean. He jumped around, but before he could strike, everyone was knocked unconscious. None of them got a chance to see what hit them as it was too dark.

Y/n woke up in a cold and dark room. The floor was cement, and the walls were stone, it was likely a basement room. Shortly after coming to, she heard the ceiling above her creak and the walls too. Footsteps thudded on the floor outside of the room she was in, and she heard the ceiling creak once more. Y/n panicked, and resumed her position on the floor where she woke up, pretending to still be knocked out.

The door flung open, she squinted her eyes the most she could while trying to look asleep. A dark figure walked over to her, she could see another figure behind him, holding the door open. She was suddenly lifted off the floor, her body limp and hanging in the grip of whoever was holding her.

"Nope, still out. Let's give it another hour." A deep voice spoke. They let go of y/n's body, letting it thud back to the floor. The two figures left. Y/n sat up slowly, feeling the ache from being thrown onto cement. 'A ladder?' She thought, seeing one against the wall outside the door. One set of footsteps walked away, another set sounded like they were climbing the ladder, as the wall creaked again.

Y/n listened closely to the creaks and heard the ceiling again, 'a trapdoor!' It had to be. It sounded like it was just above the door to the room she was in. After listening for a while, it grew quiet again. Y/n got up and tried opening the door, no luck. It was locked. Y/n knew she had to alert her brothers somehow, wherever they were. For all she knew, they could be in another locked room themselves.

Sam and Dean both woke up in the barn that was behind the house. Dean sat up abruptly in the hay, looking around for y/n once he spotted Sam. "Y/N!!"

"She's gotta be somewhere in that house. C'mon!" Sam hurried.

The two men walked through out the house again, pacing every room back and forth, looking for anything they could have missed. "Dude, I can't find any levers, or buttons... no hidden doors. Fuckin squat!" Dean was starting to get worried and pissed, not knowing how long they were out and how long y/n had been separated.

Sam, stepped on something uneven. Raising his foot, he looked at the dark floor and saw a bit of silver shining in the moonlight. He picked up the object, which happened to be y/n's charm bracelet.

Dean looked at Sam holding up the charms, stunned to say the least. "That ain't good, we need to find her, quick." Dean started, rushing past Sam, ready to look wherever he had to.

"Wait! Dean look...." Sam kneeled down, taking in the details of the floor they had completely missed. They had been walking all over it this whole time. "Dean, it's a trap door!"

They both kneeled down and found a flat switched embedded in one of the floorboards. Sam pressed the switch, a square in the floor creaked open, revealing a hidden basement. "Let's go."

Sam and Dean came across a long hallway, that went in two directions. Both sides of the walls had doors to other rooms. "She's gotta be down here." Sam whispered.

"That probably means the nest is also down here." Dean huffed with worry.

The two split up to start checking the rooms. Dean started with the door next to the ladder that led them down there. He busted it open to find y/n sitting on the floor. "Y/N! Thank god, are you okay?" Dean sighed in relief.

"I'm fine.... did you find my clue?" she asked hopefully.

"Your clue??"

"Yeah, I slid my charm bracelet through the floor."

"You did that? How... what..... I'd love to hear how you came up with that later, because I think you led us right to the vamp nest." Dean smiled proudly.

It had been 5 long days since y/n went missing. Of course, Sam and Dean hadn't stopped for anything until they found her. They had not slept, barely ate, there was no breaks, no stopping. They had grown tired after searching almost every lead they had.

The two sat at the table in their motel room in silence, too irritated and exhausted to say anything unless it was important. "I'll be back." Dean stood up, grabbing his jacket.

"Where ya going?" Sam asked.

"To look for y/n".

Sam sighed. Dean always blamed himself if Sam or y/n were in trouble. No matter the situation.

Dean pulled up to the school where the first kid went missing. Putting the car in park, he got out and walked around the campus, trying his best not to look suspicious. School was still in session despite the mysterious disappearances, which made it hard to investigate. Y/n was a big help in the case, being able to blend in as a student, until she went missing too. Sam and Dean had checked all the surrounding places that had a connection, yet, nothing.

Dean circled the courtyard, eyeing the buildings, trying to think of literally anything, when he remembered... The old building behind the school. The one that wasn't in use anymore, they were planning to knock it down soon. It made so much sense now, they were hiding in plain sight. He picked up his phone to dial Sam, letting him know to meet him over there as he picked up the pace on his way over to the building.

Dean scanned the area around him, making sure no one was looking before approaching the front steps. The front doors were boarded shut, he tried to make them give but had no luck. He circled the building to the back door when he noticed a shine catching his eye.

Y/n's charm bracelet sat in the dirt and gravel near the back door. He picked it up with care, and put it in his pocket. Dean was able to get in the building, it was full of mold and broken down old school supplies. He walked down endless hallways, looking through every door until he found y/n. Handcuffed to an old radiator on the ground. Rushing over, he shook her gently, trying to wake her up.

"Dean!" Sam called out from a distance. He stood up and poked his head around the hallway. "Hey! Did you find her?" Sam asked frantically.

"Yeah, I got her. Help me find some of the other kids." He said as he rushed back to y/n. Her head and arms had dried up blood all over them, and looked as if she was dragged through dirt.

"Y/n, c'mon sweetheart, wake up." she slowly nodded, with fluttering eyes, becoming more alert once she saw Dean.

"oh my god, Dean!" She spoke softly, reaching out for him but was stopped by the cuffs. "One sec, I got it." He assured.

Once she was free, she gently wrapped her arms around him. "You found me.... I was worried you wouldn't." Her eyes welled with tears.

Dean held her shoulders and reached into his pocket. "Baby, I will always find you." He said as he hooked her bracelet back onto her wrist. She sniffled a heartwarming smile back at him.

Sam and Dean stood in front of y/n, and also y/n. The 3 of them were hunting a shifter, and it had taken y/n's form. Now it was down to which y/n was the real y/n.

"Guys. c'mon it's me! Trust me." y/n whined.

"Stop! No, I'm me. I know it's hard to tell right now but it's really me!" y/n also whined.

"Here...." y/n slowly kneeled down and placed her gun on the ground. The other y/n still clutched her gun tightly. A determined look set in her eyes.

"I wouldn't hurt you guys. You know that." she stood up slowly without the weapon.

Sam and Dean gazed between the two versions of their sister. "I'm not sure you can keep that promise." Sam spat. Y/n lunged at Sam as he pulled the trigger. She fell to the ground, all 3 of them stood frozen for a second before seeing the body start to melt. They all let out a heavy breath.

"Thank you, for not shooting me." y/n snickered, lowering her gun. "How'd you know?"

Sam reached for her wrist. "Guess it wasn't able to replicate your good luck charm." He smiled at the charms on her bracelet.

It happened so fast. None of them saw the last one that hid behind the corner. A shot rang out, the bullet snuck past Sam who held his gun up. He fired his weapon, taking out the last guy. He let out a greedy breath, looking over at Dean who gave him the same relieved look.

"Nice one, brother." He patted his shoulder. "You too y/n." Dean and Sam looked behind them, only to jump when they saw y/n clutching her stomach hunched over.

"Y/n!? You okay? Lemme see...... umm, okay c'mon. We gotta go." Dean said frantically after seeing all the blood soaking through her shirt. He lifted her up, carrying her to the car and placing her in the backseat.

"Hang on, y/n." Dean kept calling out from the drivers seat, while Sam reached back, holding onto what ever grip she had on him.

"Sammy..... I can't...." Y/n sounded breathy. Holding her palm over her wound.

"Yes you can, just hold on a little longer for me, okay?" Sam hoped his words would help motivate his sister to find strength. They couldn't lose her, not like this.

Dean peeled into the emergency room lot, barely parking the car. The two men jumped out of the car, rushing to the backseat. When they opened the door, y/n was slumped over on her side, unresponsive.

"Y/n, c'mon wake up, look at me." Dean patted her face, holding her in his arms. Nothing.

As they carried her through the doors, it felt like a blank blur of people bombarding them, saying words. Dean froze as Sam called out for help, telling the nurses what happened. Then he felt people tugging y/n away from him. As they started to wheel her back, Dean grasped her hand.

"Sir, please let go, we need to get her medical attention."

Normally, he would've fought to stay with her, but he froze again. Letting go of her hand which then flopped to the side of her.

Sam and Dean waited an excruciatingly long 3 hours before someone came asking for them. A doctor came out and ushered them through the doors.

"Is she okay? What's the deal?" Dean asked impatiently. All the doctor said was 'come with me' so they assumed he was taking them to her. He remained quiet and led them down the hall, motioning them to step into a room. Once they both saw it was an office, they expected the worst.

"Please, have a seat."

"Doc, not trying to be rude, but I've been sitting for 3 hours. I'd rather not wait any longer. How's our sister?" Dean said straight to the point.

The doctor took a deep breath, folding his hands. "Y/n suffered some really bad hemorrhaging from the bullet wound. Once we removed the bullet, we couldn't stop the bleeding...... she stopped breathing a little while before that."

"I'm sorry, but she didn't make it."

Neither of the boys took it well, especially Dean. He refused to believe anything after that, he kept saying 'no' to everything the doctor said.

"Um... is there any way we could still see her? y'know, say our goodbyes." Sam hesitantly glanced at Dean.

"Yes, of course. Give us some time to prepare her. In the meantime, I would start discussing arrangements for-"

As soon as Dean heard that, he turned around and walked out.

Sam stayed and waited until he was able to see y/n. The nurse left to give him his privacy. As soon as he saw her, he broke. Slowly walking over to the bed with tears blurring his vision, he kneeled down and picked up her frail hand. He cringed at the fact that it was still warm, but that warmth was fading. Sam eyed her charm bracelet that was still on. He pinched the charms between his fingers, rotating it around.

"I'm sorry..... I'm sorry we couldn't...." Sam trailed off. Wiping away his tears, he looked at his sister for a while. Taking in her features, trying to permanently memorize what she looked like when she smiled, laughed, looked at her brothers with her big y/e/c eyes.

"I love you."

Dean had stormed out of the hospital. He felt like raging against all evil that had ever existed, so upset he could flip a car. He had always imagined he'd go like this, but not his little sister. Only 20 years old, and it was all taken away from her, from him, from them. Dean didn't know what to do or where to go, so much was going through his mind. He opened baby's driver door and sat inside, letting the silence consume the vehicle for a few moments before speaking up.

"Cas..... we could really use you right now."

.....

"Y/n is dead. And... she shouldn't be. I know it's a lot to ask, but this is y/n we're talking about."

.....

"Cas...?" Dean sat a while longer, waiting, waiting for Cas, or a sign. Anything.

"Please, Cas. I'll do whatever I have to, I'll sell my soul, I'll make a trade. I don't know, anything."

Still, nothing. No response. Nothing.

Sam walked outside to the car since Dean wasn't answering the phone. He saw him sitting in the car and slowly opened the passenger door, getting in next to him.

Neither of them said anything at first.

"Uh, she's in there, whenever you're ready." Sam tried to hide his sniffles. Dean stayed quiet.

"This isn't the end." He finally spoke up.

"What?"

"She's not dead for good."

"Dean, we can't make another deal like that, if that's what you're thinking. It just leads us into more problems."

"Sam, this is y/n! I don't give shit what I have to do."

Sam stopped there, he knew it wasn't a good time to reason with Dean. He needed to give it time.

"Here." Sam held out his hand. He placed the object in Dean's hand. Dean opened his palm, now holding y/n's charm bracelet.

"What are you doing?!" Dean raised his tone, agitated.

"What do you mean? I-"

"Why did you take this off of her!?" Dean growled.

Before Sam could say anything else, Dean opened the door and stormed back into the hospital. Sam followed, delaying himself a little bit to give Dean some space. He was hoping this would give him some time for closure.

Dean's anger led him into y/n's room a little fast. He slowed his vigorous pace when he saw her. He slowly approach the bedside and sat next to her, gently hooking the charms around her wrist once more. A tear escaped his waterline when he looked up at her, not receiving the smile she always gave him. He squeezed her hand in his, lowering his head with the gesture. Dean sat there for a while in thought, when her hand started to feel different. Almost as if it was less limp. He squeezed it some more subconsciously, but this time felt her hand clench underneath his. He shot up, looking at y/n confused.

"y/n?" Her chest rose up and fell heavily as her body took a breath. "Y/n!?"

Sam overheard and peeked in. "Dean, wha-."

"Get the doctor, now!" He flipped his head around. Sam nodded and ran out confused.

Y/n's chest was now rising and falling in a rhythm, Dean kept saying her name and sweet things. Then her eyes slowly opened.

"y/n!" Dean let out an overjoyed cry. "Oh! sweetheart...."

"help... owh." y/n managed to wheeze out, trying to catch her breath.

"Dean.." she caught a gaze of him. He smiled and fixed her stray hairs on her forehead. "It hurts t-t much." she breathed out, then doctors flooded into the room with Sam close behind.

"Y/n!!?" Sam breathed out as he caught sight of her.... alive.

The doctors started giving her oxygen, medicine and checked her vitals. Dean backed up to give them space to work. "Dean! no.." y/n mumbled.

"It's okay, I'm right here! I'm not going anywhere."

Sam pulled him aside. "Dean! What did you do?"

"Nothing! I swear! She... she was gone when I came in, and then..."

"Cas."

"So, Cas did this?"

Dean nodded, looking back at y/n.

All the commotion died down, y/n was stable. The doctors were confused as hell, but ruled it out as a medical miracle, and were pleased to inform Sam and Dean that she'd be alright.

"So, who do I thank?" y/n asked.

"Cas." Dean smiled.

"Glad to have you back, kid." Sam grinned.

"Me too.... gotta love my good luck charm!" she smiled, jingling her bracelet around.

#spn #sister winchester #sister!winchester #sister!reader #spn fan fic #spnfandom #winsister #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester

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shepscapades · 1 year ago

Note

GOD DAYUM

So the part 5 thing huh? Welp IT'S GOOD I LOVE IT

Because X is my blorbo I just wanted to point out some things here

MMMMMMMM HE HAS LONG HAIR??? I mean *looks at my posts* long hair fits him absolutely [Still not sure if he has long hair or not but looks like he has his hair tied in a ponytail or in a bun, I don't know it just looks like it on the second image]

[oh and also he called him "Doc" again, instead of Docm which I don't know what could mean in this situation yet, but one day it'll probably make sense as we get more parts]

This Etho right here looks either terrified or confused, and I think it's because

X is going to go absolutely crazy and he's scared that X is now in control [based on the "you dropped your crown king'' caption that might refer to Etho who isn't the attacker anymore but could also refer to Xisuma which I'll explain later]

2. He finally snapped back into his senses

3. he sees X without his helmet for the first time and his good 'ol computer brain is like '??????? Who tf is that"

"you dropped your crown king" could also refer to X as his helmet got destroyed in process [being the crown] and from what I know, we don't know the reason for why X wears helmet in this AU. The most popular headcannon for his armour and helmet is that he's a voidwalker and can't breathe in the overworld, we don't know if it's a thing in this AU but if it is that could mean that now he's powerless, he "dropped his crown" - he became weaker, powerless against his enemy. Also Doc looks kinda scared, or maybe just surprised after seeing X's face for probably first time. [if he's scared, then he's probably aware of Xisuma's condition when it comes to air]

NESTLE CRUNCH

But also poor Doc he looks horrified

ALSO

*looking for lore through old posts* huh these seem familiar... WAIT

AND THE DATE THOSE WERE POSTED

[it's in Polish sorry, but it says 13th October]

SO THE COMIC HAS BEEN SKETCHED OUT SO EARLY?? Damn those really take long to do, I mean I was aware of that fact but It's been like 3 months since those sneak peeks have been posted and WOW THAT'S A WHOLE LOT OF MOTIVATION YOU HAVE HERE SHEP

[also only now noticed how in this panel Etho's body sketch is red as a sign that he's the danger in Doc's eyes and Xisuma's is green/blue. Oh and in the first sketch X didn't have his hair visible in the visor hee hee ]

So yes, loved it, even if there were only 3 images I still think it's amazing ! We got to see your Xisuma a bit [he- he handsome -makes big eyes]

Sorry for the long ask again!! just!! excited!!

Now I'm going into my drawing cave as I'm full of inspiration already bye bye <333

(also also to reiterate, I have no idea how long part 6 will take since I just kinda have rough storyboarding for the rest of the comic, and classes just started up again— this is my exhibition semester so most of my drawing energy will be prioritized for my grad gallery… we will wait to see how much energy I have left by the day for destruction :3)

ALSO ALSO ALSO! “You dropped your crown king” was absolutely me trying to find a silly caption for what’s supposed to be a serious/dramatic part of the story while also referencing the fact that Xisuma’s helmet shattered/fell off— there are many conspiracies and clues to be had here but I just wanted to clarify that that line is not one of them SFKDFGHJ

I will therefore also not directly respond to anything else being discussed here BUT thank you as always for sharing your theories and analysis!! It always makes my day >:D

#LOVE IT #dbhc ask #1-marigold-1 #ask #dbhc xisuma #dbhc doc #destruction #dbhc etho #the shepherd #my sona #art escapades #dbhc theories

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glowinggator · 9 months ago

Note

First I need you to know I absolutely love the way you write rocky! He feels so in character!

Second I saw requests are open so speaking of rocky: imagine if reader was a wealthy client who helps fund the speakeasy but they're only really there for rocky

like everyone else thinks it's pretty obvious they're into him but I imagine rocky would be clueless lol

(can be neutral or fem pronouns, whichever you prefer :) )

A/N: Thank you so much! I'm always worried that I'm a little too heavy-handed with his speech patterns, so I'm glad that it comes off right! And wow, I loved this idea so much! I got a little bit carried away with this it, actually -- never let it be said that I don't love this silly cat. Buckle in friends, it's gonna be a long one -- 3.4k, to be exact. Thank you all for all of the lovely asks and reblogs thus far -- because as much as I love writing, it's all of you that keep that fire burning when times get rough. Enjoy!

Content Warnings: None! Gender neutral reader, no pronouns or presentation indicators used.

Deafening raindrops turn into quiet pitter patters as you descend the long, spiraling staircase into the speakeasy. Comforting and familiar walls lift your spirits from the dreary outside world, caked in gloomy clouds and ever-growing smog. You wipe your boots on the doormat as you reach the bottom of the stairs, frowning a little when you notice just how far the mud splashed up the leather.

What a shame -- you'll have to clean them off when you get home tonight. Lord knows how your coworkers love to gossip, and with how calm things have been lately, they're just itching for something to discuss. Like how the head doctor has mud on their evening boots… after a heavy rain. How scandalous.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the gentle voice of the doorman, peering over at you with a hint of concern -- Horatio, you think his name was? Sweet boy.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?"

You tear your eyes away from your shoes, smiling kindly.

"Of course," you chirp, "Just a bit of mud. Do be careful when you head out tonight. That suit looks nice on you, I'm sure you wouldn't want it getting dirty."

He straightens his posture at the compliment, adjusting his cufflinks with an endearing -- if not a little overenthusiastic -- nod. Content, you smooth out your outfit and move forward once again. You stride through the door, flashing your pin for formality's sake, and slink into the main room with a neatly contained excitement of your own.

Red satin curtains line the wall, contrasting beautifully with the natural grey stone -- the Lackadaisy speakeasy has a unique atmosphere, and despite having seen it no less than a hundred times, it never ceases to light a twinge of admiration within you. You weave between the towering stone pillars, letting your eyes rake across the room as you pad towards the bar. But… something is missing. Or, more aptly, someone.

The barstool squeaks in protest when you plop down at the bar, brows furrowed. Although before you're allowed to stew in your disappointment, a drink is placed in front of you. You look up, meeting eyes with the tall cat in front of you. Victor Vasko, resident bartender, for lack of a better word. He glowers down at you, although you know him well enough by now -- it's hard to be intimidated when you know his scowl is all but carved into his face.

You're also acutely aware that you're one of the last benefactors of St. Louis' finest speakeasy.

You slide a ten across the bar -- more than enough to cover drinks for the night, if not everyone else's too -- before swirling the drink in your glass. The amber liquid dances just shy of the rim before settling back down against the ice -- it's liquid gold in these parts, and they call it that for more reasons than one. You don't miss the subtle widening of Victor's eyes as he pockets the money and moves to the other end of the bar, presumably to clean -- or more aptly, shatter -- a handful of glasses.

Sweetness cascades over your tongue when you raise the glass to your lips -- it's a far cry from the common coffin varnish. That is to say, it's a luxury reserved only for new patrons… and those with deep pockets. You smile to yourself, savoring the taste. It's not the greatest drink in the world. Even a priest could tell you that. It's bitter, and burns in a way that tells you that its creator would really prefer to put the "fire" in firewater over anything else… and yet you couldn't fathom going anywhere else. It's not like you're aiming to get drunk here, anyways.

"So," Zib drawls, lumbering onto the bar stool next to you, "What's a man gotta do to get a drink around here?"

You huff a laugh into the glass, rolling your eyes. "Sorry, I only buy drinks for pretty boys."

He leans forward onto the bartop, leaning his head on his arms and gazing at you. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils lazily tracking your glass as you raise it to your lips. It's hard to tell if he's just tired, or if he's already gotten a headstart on drinking tonight. You'd put money on the "all of the above" option, if you could.

"I can bat my eyelashes if you want," he says. "Jesus Christ, shut up," you laugh, swatting at him but waving down Victor nonetheless. He stomps over, rolling his one visible eye, but acquiesces and pours him a drink at your soft smile. It's clearly a cheaper alcohol, but Zib doesn't seem to mind. He seems to prefer it, if anything. He takes a strong drink, sighing at the burn. He pulls himself up from his crossed arms, leaning back with a groan.

"Thank God, I don't know enough violin to pull anything else off. Or Shakespeare."

"Hey!" You sputter, kicking his leg beneath the countertop, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." He hums, pausing. Sips. Tilts the glass. "Just that you seem to have a favorite here, no shame in that. Other than the fact that you've chosen the strangest man in all of St. Louis to set your sights on."

"Excuse me, for one, I don't play favorites. And two, he is-- he isn't…" Swirling the liquid around in your own glass, you furrow your brow. When nothing comes to mind you take a sip of your own, thinking.

You know well enough that your protests are just for show at this point. It's become a near-daily point of banter between the two of you, considering how obvious you are in your affections. Many moons have come and gone since Wick showed you the Lackadaisy, but unlike the astral body, your interest in Rocky Rickaby has never waned.

It's hard to remember what kickstarted your affections for him -- maybe it was his natural lyricism, or perhaps his flair for theatrics. Maybe it was his unwavering spirit, or his penchant for getting into trouble. If you asked Wick, you're sure he'd tell you that you were simply attracted to the danger he brings with him, but he's never seen the way his eyes sparkle when he's excited. He's never seen the way he glows when he's truly happy -- not like you do, anyways. Maybe it was a combination of all of those things and more. What you do know is that…

"He's got his own charm. He's different, yes, but I like different. But again," you say, looking at him over the rim of your glass, "I don't play favorites."

Zib chuckles, shaking his head, but says nothing. You wait one breath, then two.

Silence.

You scoff, muttering to yourself. "Set my sights on… You make it sound like I'm picking out a dog at the pound."

He grins, and you sense that you've fallen directly into his trap. Damn it.

"He'd bark if you asked him to."

"Oh, you reprobate," you exclaim, laugh tinging the edges of your words. You swat at him once again, this time making contact. You'd like to say he choked on his drink, or sputtered at your attack, but this has become such a song and dance that really, you'd be more surprised if he didn't expect it. "You're incorrigible, you know."

"Just being honest," he says.

You shake your head, sipping lazily at your glass before slipping back into easy conversation. It's nice to simply chat the hours away with him -- despite his dour outward demeanor, he's quite good at keeping a conversation going. His taste in literature doesn't hurt much, either, nor does your own affability towards his own theatrics. For as much shit as he gives Rocky, he isn't all too much better in the drama department.

You weren't always treated so casually -- the memory of Mitzi all but batting Zib and Rocky away from you still brings a smile to your face. Hell, you're sure if Mitzi heard the dreary remarks falling from Zib now, she'd pick up the broomstick again… if only for her own sanity. But once it became clear that you'd sunk your claws into their best -- and up until recently, only -- rumrunner, the air changed.

You don't have to guess why -- everyone's been plenty clear about it.

'If Rocky hasn't driven you away yet, there's not much anyone else can do to scare you off.'

You cast a look over your shoulder every now and again, glancing at the door, aflutter with anticipation. It's impossible to hear the rain this far down into the cave system, although it's unlikely that the rain has let up at all considering the torrential downpour you weathered just a few short hours ago. You nervously bite at your lips, forcing your head back into the conversation.

'It's just the storm holding him up,' you tell yourself.

You vaguely realize that somewhere along the way your simple affection and interest has bloomed into something more all-consuming, and you can only hope that Zib doesn't catch your sudden fluster. Best to file that thought away for later.

-----

It's half past midnight when Rocky waltzes through those towering wooden doors, caked damn-near head to toe in mud. His suit seems to have taken the brunt of it, although the drying flakes embedded in his fur and the single symmetrical pair of clean streaks along his lapel tell a story all on their own. He clasps two bottles in his hands, mysteriously absent of any dirt or grime.

Calvin is hot on his heels too, pupils pinpointed with what you assume are the remnants of adrenaline. He too comes through the door with bottles of what you presume is liquor, although he certainly has an… abundance compared to Rocky. Because for Rocky's two, Calvin anxiously clutches no less than eight bottles to his chest. He practically waddles through the door, more out of fear than exertion. He, however, is almost entirely clean of grime… save for his pant legs, which are all but drenched.

Once Calvin is past the doorway Ivy comes skipping through too, hands wrapped around her own pair of bottles. Her wardrobe seems to be in slightly worse condition than Calvin's. Mud dapples her sweater, and the twigs tangled in her fur so abundant that you could probably call her a fire risk. But she seems joyful nonetheless as prances past Calvin and falls in line right behind Rocky in his march towards the bar. You realize in the back of your mind that she's chatting happily with Calvin behind her, although the words turn to water in your mind as you gaze at Rocky. If he's noticed you yet, he gives no indication. His tail, slicked thin with muck, flicks happily behind him. Small drops of mud hit the stone floor, causing Calvin to flinch back and clutch the bottles tighter to his chest. There must be a story there, you think to yourself.

You huff out a laugh -- partially out of amusement, and partially out of relief. You'll have to ask for the story of tonight's escapade later on.

"Praise be to the rain, protector of your ever faithful moonlight servants," Rocky finally reaches the other end of the bar, placing the bottles down with a thunk. He spins, his back towards you as he casts a hand in the air with a flourish. The smile that stretches across your face is painfully lovesick, if the way Zib nudges you gives you any indication, but you pay him no mind as you lean forward to watch the show.

"For such modern ventures, we need no stream to wrench forth our gold from the Earth, dearest raindrops. Rather, it is you, oh dearest clouds who bring us such prosperity, such joy. It is--" he spins back towards you, locking eyes. He stiffens, blinking owlishly. A moment passes before his eyes sparkle in that perfect way you've come to adore, fangs peeking beneath his lips as his expression changes into a grin, and then a beam.

"You," he moves across the floor towards you, stretching his arms out for a moment before realizing his state of dress and letting his arms fall back at his sides. His tongue darts between his lips, practically buzzing with excitement as he pads towards you.

(You briefly catch the shocked looks of his, quite literal, partners in crime. Eyes wide, the two look at each other inquisitively, then at him, then back at one another. Clearly they're shocked at his willingness to drop his monologue, and the feeling is mutual. It makes the smile stretch further across your face, and you realize that if he hadn't silently retracted the offer, you would have accepted the hug, velvet be damned.)

You spin your stool to face him, pushing your drink to the side with a wave in his direction. And it should be illegal for anyone to be so damn cute, because the way he lights up -- at your acknowledgement? At your excitement to see him? -- sends a hot flush through your cheeks that has you melting from the inside out. Up close you realize that despite (somewhat) clearing himself of mud, he wasn't able to keep entirely dry from the rain. Water drips down his nose, and you fight back the obnoxiously domestic thought of drying his fur for him. Tender looks and loving touches, of hands carding through fur… It's soon replaced by the vision of him toweling off himself, and Christ, something so mundane shouldn't be so damn attractive. That too, you tuck away for later.

He stops at your feet, eyes crinkled with mirth.

"I didn't think you'd still be here," he says, leaning against the bar countertop. Although he quickly notices the muddy stain he's left, and while he does pull back to attempt to clean it… it's not like there's much clean real-estate left on his suit to wipe with. You giggle -- honest to god, giggle -- at his antics, and just like that his attention is pulled back to you. He leans back against the countertop, resting his face against his hand. It squishes his cheek with a boyish charm, ears flicking towards your voice. It's cute. He's cute.

"Well, I wouldn't want to miss my favorite…" Heat rises to your face at your own use of the word 'favorite.' Zib will never let you live this one down.

"...Musician."

Said cat snickers behind you, and oh yeah, you really aren't living this one down. It takes a lot of willpower not to shove him off the barstool then and there. But Rocky simply waves his free hand at him before turning it upwards, fingers splayed. It's clear that he's attempting to be casual in his body language, but the energy in his voice and barely hidden beam ousts his joy at your praise.

"Pay him no heed, dearest muse. Now, what form of entertainment would you desire tonight? Pick a key, any key! Through spoken word or melodic strings--"

Any other night you'd be enraptured with his rambling, but tonight you seem to get lost in his words. Your eyes rake across his face, taking in the little details that make him, him. You're only a little ashamed at the way your eyes keep darting to his lips while he speaks -- truthfully, you're more embarrassed at the longing it sparks within you. Maybe you should have taken the time to unpack this earlier, but alas. You force your eyes upwards, taking in how his own bright blue ones shine with excitement, before letting them fall once again.

And Rocky is nothing if not unique. The bridge of his nose tells stories beyond your imagination -- no matter how many times he tries to tell you their stories. They all just seem too wild to be true -- littered with little dots and lines that you could connect like constellations, they convey decades worth of life. A knife trick accident here, a wire snap there… allegedly, a horde of bees created many of the smaller dots. An experiment from youth gone wrong, he said, but you can't imagine he'd do anything different if presented with the opportunity again. Your lips upturn at the thought, and let your eyes roam to his cheeks: his fur bounces with every word he speaks, but even still, you can see little uneven patches. A thin line here and there, not quite reaching skin; a patch that's just a fraction shorter than the rest; all from recent incidents that simply came a little too close. But on his left cheek there's something new, something that you've never seen before.

There's one last streak of mud on his face that, clearly, he had missed. You're so focused on the mark that you hardly even feel yourself move to grab your handkerchief.

"--But in an art such as this, moderation is for the weak. If you'll give me just five minutes I'll have--"

He stills at your gentle touch, halting his speech for the second time tonight. His fur is softer than you expected, despite its dampness from the rain outside. You tilt his head upwards by just a fraction, your thumb and index gently holding his chin in place. Stricken with a sudden wave of adoration, you drag your thumb experimentally across what you can reach. The movement is so painfully fond and oh, so close -- just millimeters away from his lips. It's a gentle action that lasts no more than a second -- hell, maybe you didn't even realize you were doing it -- but it feels like a lifetime to him. He thought he'd get used to the lightheadedness that you always seem to inflict upon him, but he couldn't be more wrong. And before he has any time to recover, you're dabbing at his cheek with a silken cloth.

And for all your observations tonight, you end up missing the way his breath catches in his throat. You miss the way he leans into you by just a fraction, how his eyes widen at your softness; how they take to memorizing every contour of your face in awe; how he melts in your hold, like he's never been held with such kindness before. He doesn't think he has.

And that's nothing to say of all the things you can't see -- how his heart leaps into his chest, pounding so hard he's half sure you can see it through his shirt; how he prays for the world to stop just as it is now, so that he could enjoy this for just a few more seconds. How he's so sure that he's dreaming, but far too joyful to even consider pinching himself awake.

He's so enraptured with your touch that he hardly even processes your movements. It's only once you lean in -- close, so damn close, so easy to close the gap -- to get a better look at the spot that he finds his voice again.

"Oh, you don't have to, it's--" he curses himself for stumbling, for being so breathless in your presence, considering your previous praise for his eloquence. He doesn't know why you keep coming back here, why you keep entertaining him as you do, but he's not going to complain. He swallows, counting to five before starting again with renewed, albeit artificial, confidence. "I'm sure that lovely, lovely silk piece cost you quite the pretty penny."

And this time, it's your turn to blink owlishly. You look at the cloth, then back at him, before laughing softly. And just like that you're leaning back in, once again coaxing the mire from his face. It's silent between the two of you for just a moment, so quiet that you damn near forget where you are. And in a moment of courage, you up his face in full. You feel his jaw clench beneath your hand, emboldening you to push just a bit further. You catch his eye, smiling softly.

"You know money doesn't mean a thing to me, Rocky," you murmur, just loud enough for the two of you to hear.

A million words are left silently humming in the gap between you, a million words you hope he can pick up on in your silence. 'Not when it's you,' you think to yourself. 'I'd give up every penny for just another second with you.'

There's a glimmer in your eyes that can only be described as fond, and he basks in it before you turn back to your task. This time, he doesn't stop you.

#lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy rocky x reader #lackadaisy imagines #roark rickaby x reader #divider by @cafekitsune #you know with how often i write about rainy days you'd think its raining a lot here. it isn't. i just have a rainy jazz playlist.

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wttcsms · 7 months ago

Text

excerpts;

i have over 100k+ words in unfinished drafts/wips in my google docs. yikes.

in an attempt to gauge general interest + also to motivate myself in attempting to at least finish half of the projects i've started, i'm going to share some of the fics i think y'all will be most interested in 🤍 (and also because these are my usual first rough draft attempts, so these are just the best of the worst LOL)

as always, lmk what you think, what you're most excited for, and i'm always open to chatting about any of my concepts in depth 🤭

featuring keiji akaashi, atsumu miya, sae itoshi, tobio kageyama, naoya zenin, satoru gojo, + a plot that's still open for any character so tell me why ur fave deserves it (all with fem reader)

— brace for impact, keiji akaashi elevator pitch: rich college girl with daddy issues is roommates/put under the care of old-time family friend, 20-something y/o keiji akaashi

“I just don’t want you to waste your life away.” He answers, which is the truth. He really hates picking you up when you’re drunk off your ass, unable to defend yourself against the swarms of sleazy college guys that are attending the same party as you. He hates the fact that you’ve been raised — if the dozen father-daughter interactions you had with your dad counts as him “raising” you — to believe that money can solve all your problems. Because, sure, having money has gotten you out of many tight spots, but it wasn’t money that drove to a college on the other side of the city to pick you up, it was him. He has to stand here and watch you push the universe’s boundaries, trying to test your luck, to see if there’s a problem or a bad situation that you can’t get out of this time. You’re reckless and privileged and insecure and rich — the deadliest combination for any college age girl to be. You’re going to ruin your life before it even fully begins. It’s like your default mode is self destruction.

“Not this speech again.” You sigh, shifting your body so that your knees are turned towards the door instead of him. “Y’know, Akaashi, you’re not my dad.”

“Yeah, because unlike him, I actually care about you.”

You’re silent now, still staring out the window. He’s usually better at keeping his mouth shut, but it’s hard to do whenever you’re constantly pushing and pushing and testing his patience and he’s just so—

“—sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. It’s a wonder how the words leave his mouth; you think the way he’s clenching his teeth acts as a formidable enough boundary.

Actually, you think, it’s entirely justifiable. You’re coy, not dumb. You know when you’ve pushed Akaashi too far, and this is one of those times. And, really, you kind of — scratch that — you do deserve it. All of it. And then some. You’re irresponsible, and you drag him out to the other side of the city so he can act as your guardian, your protector, even though that is most certainly not the role he planned on playing. Honestly, you’re just surprised that he hasn’t left you out to rot like everyone else, and you’re thankful, you really are. But what are you supposed to say? That? The truth? Probably.

You don’t, though. You just mutter some weak ass retort that sounds an awful lot like “you need to get laid” before staring out the window for the rest of the ride.

— devil on my shoulder tellin' me i'll die soon (i don't really want that to impact you), atsumu miya elevator pitch: yakuza au but a healthy amount of porn and plot. sequel to this.

The first time Osamu Miya meets you, you’re unconscious, and he has a feeling you’d be grateful about this fact considering the state you’re in.

Atsumu’s carrying you bridal style, and even in your sleep, you still cling to him. The sight would be almost sweet, but Osamu’s not an idiot. There can never be anything sweet in his dear older brother’s life. Even in the pale moonlight, Osamu can see the bruises and hickeys lining your neck, a trail of them that seem to disappear underneath your clothes (he wouldn’t be shocked if there’s a map of hickeys littering your skin). Your hair is sticking up at odd angles, your lips are swollen, and you are knocked out in every sense of the word.

If the situation wasn’t serious (even without verbal confirmation, he’s well aware of how dire this situation is right now; Atsumu wouldn’t have visited him if it weren’t), Osamu thinks he would have made a comment about his brother’s rough handling.

(He doesn’t, though, because Osamu knows all about just how rough his brother can get — after all, they both had the same upbringing.)

“‘Samu,” Atsumu says, and his voice makes him sound like he’s worse for wear. He sounds like when he was fourteen and had his first taste of initiation, when a group of the strongest men would beat him relentlessly for thirty seconds and he wasn’t allowed to fight back. The crack in his voice is subtle, and even though Osamu rarely speaks to his brother anymore, he’s still a master at reading him.

“Who’s the girl?” Osamu nods to your sleeping form, trying not to focus on the purple and red marks. God, he can’t tell if he, Atsumu, you, or all three of you are lucky it’s so dark. Osamu can’t really believe it’s possible to go out in public after a night with his brother; not without being on the receiving end of a few concerned looks.

“I need a favor.” Atsumu ignores his question, which is typical behavior for him, so Osamu’s not entirely too surprised or annoyed. “She’s in danger, and it’s—”

Atsumu grimaces like the next words he’s about to say are going to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. And maybe it’s because that’s his brother and they grew up together, or maybe it’s because ‘Tsumu’s always been a little predictable (or has Osamu just always been good at predicting?), but Osamu can almost mouth what his brother’s about to say.

“—my fault.”

So, you must be someone awfully important to his brother then. Important enough that Atsumu would finally visit him in person after all these years (with barely any warning beforehand, too). Important enough that Atsumu would treat you so roughly (if the marks on your body are any indication of what you’ve been through) and still care about you so deeply. Important enough that he’s finally taking accountability, finally taking the blame for his actions.

He didn’t think it was possible, but Atsumu’s left him genuinely speechless for a moment.

“Please, ‘Samu.” Atsumu Miya is not the type of person who breaks down easily. He does not beg, he commands. But right now, Atsumu sounds like he’s this close to getting down on his knees and clasping his hands together if that’s what it’ll take to get Osamu to help him. “You told me you would owe me after what I did for you. Consider this your repayment.”

Apparently, you’re someone so important to Atsumu, he’s cashing in a favor that’s worth his life just to ensure your safety. Osamu can’t tell if that’s true idiocy or true love — then again, there’s hardly a difference between the two, is there?

“Idiot. I would have helped ya regardless, y’know.” He means it. Every word.

“I know.” And Atsumu means it, too. Because even if they’ve went years with little to no contact, even though they both belong to two completely different worlds, they’re still brothers. Which means that they also know each other as well as they know themselves, and Atsumu knows that Osamu can never truly be at peace until he feels like the completely imaginary debt he owes is paid back in full.

The universe must have a taste for irony, though, because Atsumu thought that ensuring your safety and bringing his brother peace would make him feel good. Instead, transferring you to his brother’s arms allows the weight of the world to rest more comfortably on his shoulders.

Osamu takes one last look at his older brother, and he’s not entirely surprised to see that his attention is on you, dark eyes staring so intensely at your sleeping figure, he wonders if he’s trying to commit your face to his memory. He’s worried about Atsumu. Sure, he’s got a whole entire gang on his side, a rather powerful one too, but ‘Tsumu’s never been the greatest at being left alone to his devices, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

But then Atsumu looks up at him, and Osamu feels like they’re both fourteen again. Trapped, vulnerable, in immense pain… But not alone, never alone.

“Thanks, ‘Samu.”

“Any time, ‘Tsumu.”

(It’s the same words exchanged by their teenage selves years ago, whenever Osamu would help him clean his cuts and sloppily stitch him up.

To them, it was another way of saying “I love you”.)

— it always leads to you [chapter one], sae itoshi elevator pitch: literally the long ass, long awaited start to this series. if you listened to taylor's new album (ttpd)... yeah, that's basically the new soundtrack for this fic. do what u will with that info <3

A hard pill to swallow is that people never get over their first loves.

It’s like, scientifically proven, or something. There’s been studies, you think. Not to mention that you belong to the group of people who have never gotten over their first loves.

You’re aware that it’s probably embarrassing and should be something that brings you shame, but when Sae comes knocking on your door, infrequent, surprise visits that always catch you off-guard, you find yourself opening the door for him.

(He has a key. He can let himself in any time he wants. You think he must forget.)

This time, he’s not knocking on your door, but he is waiting in the stairwell near the entrance to the floor of your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap on and a dark sweatshirt, and you want to tell him that everyone who lives here is most definitely getting shitfaced at the college bar you just left (the one whose only redeeming qualities are that it’s by campus and the drinks are cheap). He doesn’t have to worry about hiding his identity.

You frown when he approaches you.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you pout and complain about this halfheartedly, but it’s all for nothing. Sae never tells you when he’s coming; it’s almost like you’re just a spur-of-the-moment decision to him, which doesn’t feel right since the Sae you grew up with was always meticulous and purposeful with his actions. Granted, the Sae you grew up with left on a plane to an entirely different continent four years ago, and the one you have standing next to you now sometimes feels more like a doppelganger than your ex-boyfriend.

He doesn’t answer, because of course he fucking wouldn’t. He waits for you to fumble with your keys; if you knew he was coming, you wouldn’t have let Akane convince you to take as many shots as you did. Now everything is kind of blurry and hazy, and your hands shake despite the lack of coldness you’re feeling.

You delude yourself into thinking that there’s something of the old Sae left inside of him as he gently pries the keys from your fumbling fingers and unlocks the door to your apartment himself.

Entering your apartment feels like traveling in a time machine, only instead of traveling back in time or to the future, Sae is entering a present-day parallel universe. This apartment, with its best (and only) amenity being a short distance from campus, could have been his. Could have been shared by the two of you, even.

If he had stayed, that is.

Sometimes Sae ponders what his life would be like if he stuck around. If he had never had the ego or the audacity to want to see more of the world. You know better than to ask him why he never visits you when you’re on a holiday break from school, and he thinks it’s because you still know him the best out of anybody, even Rin. The truth is, Sae is too uncomfortable to come crawling back to his childhood home that he grew up in, the one he’s spent years determined to grow out of. He only comes back home when absolutely necessary — out of eldest son/family obligation.

This college apartment, seeing remnants of a life you’re living that he doesn’t know much about (even though all he has to do is ask, and you would gladly tell), feels wrongly nostalgic. Like, the sweatshirt lying haphazardly on the couch displaying a big, fat Tokyo U logo on its front could have been his instead of your roommate’s. He could have played college ball instead of trying to get recruited directly to the big leagues. Sae’s good enough to get a scholarship. Even received a letter informing him that Tokyo U would be more than glad to have him, full-ride.

(The letter resides in the back of his closet, crumpled up but never forgotten.)

And, most importantly, you wouldn’t be looking at him like this.

Even drunk off of cheap alcohol, you sober up startlingly fast when you see him. You shouldn’t give him so much power over your life, but he’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t relish in the overwhelming relief that you still love him just the same. Nothing ever changes back home, and he says this with disdain, but when it comes to your unshifting affection for him, he figures staying the same can’t be all bad.

“Y’know, it always feels like you’re judging me when you just stand there and look at everything.” An intoxicated you is an honest you. If he wasn’t so determined to mask everything about himself, he would have smiled at your admittance.

He doesn’t smile, though. He just continues to let his cold eyes roam across the entirety of your cramped, college apartment.

— an indentation in the shape of you, tobio kageyama elevator pitch: idol!reader who goes into hiding after a major scandal despite being the victim x pro!tobio who's been hopelessly pining after you since forever. now you're in hiding, but also living in the apartment right across from his.

SEARCH NEWS: [NAME] [SURNAME] > TOP RESULTS (SORTED FROM MOST TO LEAST RECENT)

WHERE DID [NAME] [SURNAME] GO? *INCLUDES EXCLUSIVE PHOTO OF HER MOST RECENT SIGHTING!*Posted on March 10, 2019

[NAME]’S SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN TAKEN DOWN, IDOL HAS NOT BEEN SPOTTED IN A WEEK Posted on January 4, 2019 BREAKING: [NAME] [SURNAME] GOES SOLO! LEAVES IDOL GROUP TO START HER OWN CAREER! Posted November 6, 2018

KENTARO TANAKA NOW DATING J-POP IDOL AYAME MATSUMOTO, [NAME]’S FELLOW GIRL GROUP MEMBER!Posted on November 1, 2018

AFTER RECEIVING BACKLASH FROM ANNOUNCEMENT OF HER RELATIONSHIP, [NAME] [SURNAME] ISSUES AN APOLOGY ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS Posted on September 3, 2018

NEW COUPLE ALERT! IDOL [NAME] AND HER RECORD LABEL’S EXECUTIVE, KENTARO TANAKA, SPARK DATING RUMORS Posted on August 16, 2018

When you spend most of your adolescent and young adult years standing in front of a camera, constantly served on a platter for the masses to scrutinize during your most formative years, you get used to being seen. People’s eyes locked in on you isn’t a comfortable feeling, but it’s one you’re very well acquainted with. Watchful, judging gazes cling to you like a second skin.

It comes with the job is what your personal manager, Fumiko Gima, tells you, right before she tells you to toughen up. You had been fifteen at the time and saw a blogger discussing how you were the least attractive cast member on the children’s ensemble show you starred in.

All eyes are on you from this point forward. You really going to let them see you cry? Fumiko is not a nice person, but she is incredibly kind, in her own way. She’s the type of person who believes in tough love, all while claiming that she doesn’t even think love exists.

You think about the disapproving frown on her face when you revealed your relationship with Kentaro Tanaka.

“You think you’re in love with him?” Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Fumiko is barely seven years older than you. Her youth is evident in her flawless skin and shiny hair (both of which are maintained by very meticulous routines), but the flat expression she wears on her face makes her seem like a woman who found out the hard way that her thirties are not going the way she planned. You’re eighteen when she asks you this question, and you don’t know how a twenty-five year old woman can have such an intimidating aura, but you think that only adds to her beauty.

“He told me he loves me.”

“People like him and I don’t believe in love.” Fumiko makes a face; sometimes, she lets her poker face drop in favor of making a face of disgust, annoyance, irritation, or extreme smugness. Right now, she looks disgusted. “Well, I wouldn’t normally place myself in the same group as him, but our industries are pretty much the same. You don’t get to where we’re at because of love, that’s for damn certain.”

At this point in time, you’re adamant that it’s love because that’s what he says it is, and you’ve never been in love before, but you know that it’s something great. You’re eighteen, and insecure, and he’s in such a powerful position — he could have anyone he wants, and he loves you, so he picks you. Maybe Fumiko is just bitter because no one’s ever chosen her.

— angel of the morning, atsumu miya elevator pitch: historical, ambiguous war au ft. soldier!atsumu x the civilian sweetheart reader who nurses him back to health

It’s the thunder that wakes you first.

Lately, you’ve been a light sleeper. Paranoia is a good companion whenever you’re a young, pitifully unmarried lady who lives alone. You keep a chair propped under the knob of the front door, and you no longer open any windows, scared that you’ll forget to lock them at night.

Normally, it’s the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, or the creaks that come and interrupt the silence of the night (your parents used to swear that old houses just make those noises) that keeps you up. Sometimes it’s the neighbors next door; they like to get into screaming matches that seem to be so loud, they shake the walls of your home.

It’s not your neighbors’ arguing that rattles the walls tonight. It’s the thunderstorm that the sweet old man at the farmer’s market warned you about. You be safe out, miss. Take some extra apples. It might be too flooded for you to go out like you normally do.

You pull your blanket over your head, enveloping yourself in darkness but doing very little to block out the noise outside. The thunder seems to only grow louder, each boom punctuating the lightning that you’re certain is striking through the sky. It’s too loud.

And rhythmic.

You listen closer… Three booms in succession. A pause. Three more booms. After a minute of this pattern, the sound only comes more rapidly — louder than before, too.

The loud booms — it’s not from the storm, then.

There’s someone knocking at your door.

You debate hiding under the blanket forever. Maybe this stranger will go away and leave once they realize that no one is going to answer the door. Besides, no one trustworthy is roaming the area at this time of night, right? What possible explanation could there be for someone to be stranded outside at midnight during a major thunderstorm?

But the knocking persists. Whoever this stranger is, they don’t know when to quit. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so paralyzed with fear.

“Open up!” A muffled voice still manages to cut through the front door, traveling all the way to your bedroom. It only serves to make you more afraid; what sort of monster is waiting for you outside? The storm rages on, and the knocking won’t stop.

What happens if this person is in genuine trouble? Would a murderer truly be going through such lengths to kill someone? A thief?

Well, you rationalize, it’s not as if you have many items worth stealing. Besides, you have no family, no marriage prospects, and a dwindling stash of money with no means to make more. You’re just existing at this point, and you’re surviving on limited time.

So you make your way to the front door, cringing as one section of the floor creaks as you tiptoe through the darkness of your home. You highly doubt the stranger outside can hear you, but you still hold your breath as you peek through the curtains. It’s too dark inside and out for anyone to notice the movement, and all you can make out is a large figure. There’s a knapsack by their feet and hanging off their shoulder is a gun.

The knocks shouldn’t catch you off guard by now, but one particular hard bang against the door has you jumping in surprise, away from the window.

This stranger must be a soldier.

There’s not a lot of fighting to be done down here. The southern towns have mostly been unaffected. Most of the war is being fought up north. All the southern soldiers write back home, telling stories about the cities they visited, careful not to mention the red that runs through the streets and the way the citizens will have to update the population count on the sign outside their City Hall.

But still, you know what everyone knows — when a soldier, especially one from your side, shows up on your front step, you better let him know that this home is now his.

You slide the deadbolt with shaky hands, turn the lock on the doorknob, and only hesitate for a few seconds before removing the chair that serves as your last barrier. He’s a soldier, you remind yourself, hoping that you’re not wrong. The least you can do for him is offer him a hot bath for leaving him outside for so long.

You open the door, revealing a blond-haired soldier weighed down from the weight of his sopping wet uniform, his hair sticking to his forehead because his face is also covered in rainwater, and it’s now that you notice that he’s got one arm wrapped around his abdomen. His hand is pressing down on his side, and you don’t think the dark liquid coating his fingers is water.

“Finally.” He says. “I’m First Lieutenant Miya, and I fight for the south. I am seeking temporary refuge in your home, and I require only what you can afford to give me. I–“ Before he can finish rattling off what he’s been forced to memorize for times like these, First Lieutenant Miya falls forward, his body crashing into yours.

It’s been a rough day.

A rough week.

A rough month.

A rough life, really, but Atsumu Miya’s long past the days of whining and complaining about things he can’t control. For example, he no longer dwells on his father abandoning his mother right before she gave birth to him and Osamu. There’s still a bitter taste that gets left on his tongue when he mentions dear old pa, which is why, for the most part, he chooses not to discuss him at all. He can’t control the way the north and the south view each other; sure, the mandatory draft isn’t his definition of a fun time, but he honestly didn’t have many plans after school, anyway. He probably would’ve joined the cause, regardless of the law or not. It’s just… A choice is nice to have, y’know?

Like, if he had it his way, he wouldn’t have gotten caught up in some ambush tonight. If only he weren’t just a lieutenant. If only his captain weren’t such a dumbass.

If he had a group to command, Atsumu’s certain that he wouldn’t lead his men into obvious traps, unlike some captains. But newly promoted Brigadier General Kita isn’t here to force people to listen to what Atsumu has to say. Kita has bigger problems to worry about, bigger troops to organize.

Atsumu’s morning starts off bright and early with a five mile trek in the woods. The sky is overcast, and anyone with eyes is capable of predicting the storm that’s coming. Atsumu suggests building temporary shelter before the rain makes it too hard to walk; it’s already hard enough to navigate now, but Atsumu’s visited this town before, when he was a little boy. It floods easily, too easily.

His captain doesn’t listen. Typical.

Around noon, they take a short break to eat. Rations are getting lower. Atsumu suggests that two or three soldiers turn around and head towards town to get supplies. His captain argues that their group is already small enough and sneers that Atsumu must be a northie lover since he’s trying so hard to sabotage this plan.

The plan is shit, by the way. The captain swears his intel is good, that he’s just oh so certain that a troop of northern soldiers are planning to invade a series of small southern towns. They’re supposedly cutting through the woods to be discreet, and they plan on striking at night.

Atsumu thinks that the captain is just falling into their trap (spoiler: he’s right). There’s no way anyone would bother capturing small towns, just like there’s no way people ever want to listen to someone who’s just a lieutenant. Nobody thinks they have anything to offer, so it’s not worth the time to even pretend to care. These towns aren’t loaded with resources. They aren’t located in any coveted areas. There are only a couple of farms, but even then, they’re not big enough to justify wasting troops to terrorize the townspeople.

But First Lieutenant Miya follows his orders anyway because what else is he supposed to do? Unfortunately, talking back comes to bite him in the ass because as nighttime starts to settle and the first drops of rain start to fall, his captain gives him a slimy smile before telling him, “Since you have such great ideas, Lieutenant, why don’t you go ahead and turn back into town to get us some of those supplies we needed?”

Well, Atsumu has a few choice words in reply, none of which will get him back into his captain’s good graces (not like he cares to be anyway). Atsumu can argue that it’s dark out, and no one in their right mind is going to be up at night. Atsumu can throw back his captain’s words and remind him that their measly team is already lacking in numbers. He can make the captain look dumb and ask him where the supposed enemy troops are at, since apparently they’re supposed to be capturing the town right about now. He can abandon the men, go back home, and enjoy a homecooked meal from ma. She wouldn’t care enough to scold him for being a dirty deserter; the lecture will come, surely, but she wouldn’t be too harsh with him. Atsumu misses home. He misses his brother, who belongs to a different troop. He misses Shinsuke, his former captain. He misses his mom.

What he does end up doing, though, is biting back his tongue. He barely nods, clenches his teeth as he reluctantly says yes, sir, and treks off on his own.

He’s about three miles in when the bullets start flying.

Isn’t this just a lovely way to finish off the night, he thinks, before sprinting through the trees, weaving between them, trying to ignore how loud and how close the shots sound. He thinks he’ll probably go deaf by the time this damn war is over. A bullet narrowly misses his face, and then he starts to think he’ll probably be dead before then.

He can’t see. If he can’t see, he doubts the enemies can, either. That’s when he gets an idea. His legs are sore, he’s thirsty, and every step he takes is punctuated by a sloshing sound because the area is flooding, just like he predicted it would.

(Sometimes it’s a pain being right all the time.)

The shots are still coming at him in rapid succession, and he believes maybe it’s because they still think they have to shoot at him. If they think they got him, maybe they’ll leave him alone. It didn’t sound like anyone was bothering to chase after him, meaning they’re all probably perched in trees or hiding in bushes, shooting blindly into the night, hoping to land a lucky shot on a target.

Before he can pretend to be hit, though, some bastard does get a lucky shot on him.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but yell out, the bullet piercing the side of his abdomen. A burning sensation begins to form on the spot where the bullet decided to make its happy home, and Atsumu can’t help but fall to the ground, clutching at the bottom half of his body.

A minute goes by with no more shooting, and he’s glad he’s in enough pain not to realize that had he thought of his little plan of pretending to be shot sooner, he probably wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

It’d be so easy just to lie down and die. It’d be a slow death, sure. Painful, very much so. But no more fighting. No more captains belittling him.

But if you die, a tiny voice in his head reminds him, it wouldn’t just be you that dies. It’d kill ma. It would ruin Osamu. Don’t be a selfish bastard.

He allows himself only one more minute to stay absolutely still. He thinks the adrenaline pumping in his system helps to numb the pain, which is saying a lot, considering the fact that death would be preferable over this excruciating sensation. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he struggles to stand and keep himself steady.

He cannot die like this.

Atsumu Miya knows better than to get upset at things he can’t control. He can’t control flying bullets aimed at him. He can’t control enemy soldiers; hell, he doesn’t even have soldiers he can control, enemy or ally. He can’t control a lot of shitty things that seem to happen to him, but as long as his heart is still beating, Atsumu Miya controls his own fate. He decides what happens next.

It’s only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, he rationalizes. He walks all the time. It’s not such a hard task. The storm continues to rage on, and Atsumu pretends he doesn’t even mind the water. He pretends that he’s not freezing. He pretends that he doesn’t care that his uniform is sticking to his body, making the dirty fabric cling onto him as if to act as a second skin.

There’s a white flag in his knapsack. During training, they said to use it as a last resort. Die before you wave it, or something like that.

He knows the intended use for it, but right now, he needs it as a tourniquet. He tightens the flag around his waist, using all his diminishing strength to get it as tight as possible. He can trick himself into thinking it’ll stop the flow of blood leaving his body, but at least it’ll slow it down. It’ll grant him enough time to make it into town and get help.

He doesn’t choose the first house he sees; he chooses the one he likes the best. It’s nothing all too impressive — certainly not the biggest, but from what he can make out in the dark, it looks quaint. It reminds him of home, almost. There’s a porch with a bench outside and flowers on a window sill. It seems to glow in the darkness of the town, its paint a much brighter shade than the surrounding houses. A nice family must live here then.

He knocks on the door, and there is no answer. Atsumu Miya did not walk this far with his life literally draining out of him to only make it this far. He knocks and knocks, and because he is too stubborn, even to the very end, he doesn’t quit. Someone must answer the door. It doesn’t cross his mind that perhaps this lovely family he’s envisioning might not even be home. It feels like ages since he first started banging on this door, and he thinks this might be it.

And then the door swings open, revealing a young lady with a certain glow about her. Maybe it’s the blood loss talking, but right now, you look like an absolute angel. His bright beacon of hope.

“Finally.” He swallows hard, trying to remember what he’s supposed to tell you. The proper words are evading him right now. Honestly, even standing is a struggle now. He thinks he does a good enough job, but then he blinks, and his eyes don’t open back up after that.

— to the victor belong the spoils, naoya zenin elevator pitch: the dark longfic i mentioned abt borderline yandere naoya + how he basically slaughtered your whole entire clan and is going to force you to marry him because you have a cursed technique that will basically grant him invincibility

“Who did this?” You’ve seen Naoya so angry that his words seemed to shake the very interior of the room he was shouting in. You’ve seen Naoya so furious that he had everyone in his vicinity cowering in fear, scared to face his merciless wrath. Never have you seen him so enraged that he can hardly speak, the sentence coming out from between bared teeth; they’re discernible growls more than they are words, but his message doesn’t need to be understood in order to know his intent.

Naoya Zenin is out for blood.

“Tell me who did this.” He demands, hand gripping your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up and stare him directly in the eyes. You know why he does this; he can read you like a fucking book. He’ll know if you’re lying before you can even finish whatever fabricated story you’ve spent forever formulating. There’s no point in trying to trick him because it’ll cause him to get angrier, and then what? Then, you’ll have the whole entire room’s blood on your hands. A massacre dedicated just for you.

You hadn’t cried when he had taken you from your home. You hadn’t cried when you were about to be killed by that curse. You hadn’t shed a single tear despite the unfamiliarity of the Zenin Estate, despite the fact that you were forced into a marriage with a man you did not know, despite the fact that you’ve never been this far from home, suffering silently in feelings of isolation and despair. You hadn’t cried after all of that, yet now you’re sobbing? Now you’re here, struggling to stand on your own, clutching onto the material of his shirt as if he’s your only lifeline, dangerously close to burying your face in his chest and crying your little eyes out. He’s been angry more times than he’s ever felt any other emotion. He’s numb to the feeling of his blood rising, of his vision being tainted with red, of having nothing but sick thoughts and vivid memories of torn flesh and severed limbs surrounding him. This emotion isn’t foreign to him; it’s a part ofhim. And he’s angry, yes, but there’s something else that he feels when he looks down and sees you making yourself smaller, as if trying to use him as your own personal shield.

— balancing act [chapter one], satoru gojo elevator pitch: the first month of your bet will you and gojo inevitably get together <3 the start of this series.

You have what you order down to a T. You first started your tried and true method of restaurant ordering when you were but a wee little intern, too shy to go to town on a rack of ribs in front of your peers and bosses. Once you entered the city’s dating scene (which is actually Dante’s tenth circle of hell — it’s just never discussed because that’s truly how vile trying to find a good man in a big city is), you realized that there’s not much difference between lunch dates and client lunches.

You have the obligatory greeting exchanges (“hi,” “hello,” “how are you,” etc.), the awkward smiles, the mental countdown going off in your head as you wait for the perfect moment to get right into business (“what do you expect to gain from this partnership?” — a line surprisingly used more often in your meetings with potential investors and clients). There’s the pained professionalism, the tight-lipped smiles, the napkin resting in your lap, the battle to maintain constant eye-contact. When you sit across from someone at a table, date or client, you don’t see the person; you see a goal.

And you’re good at working towards a goal. It’s why you’ve always been the analyst your managers rely on, why you’ve morphed into the senior associate that all your juniors look up to at G&G Capital, and why you automatically figure that if you set your sights on a man only to have him end things, it’s not you who was at fault. It has to be him. You’ve charmed the toughest clients and built fantastic working relationships with the most well-connected M&A lawyers; if you’re this good at professional relationships, why wouldn’t you also be fan-fucking-tastic at a romantic one?

All the men who have taken you out on dates before wanted to sweep you off your feet. An ex-boyfriend once admitted to you that you appeared so unimpressed at everything, it had become this fun, twisted competition with himself to see what he had to do to get a look of amazement on your face.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re impressed.” Gojo says gleefully, holding open the dirty glass door so you and Utahime can walk in.

Utahime looks like Gojo just slid open the backdoor to a white van and told her to get in. There’s shock with a hint of disgust evident on her pretty, doll-like features, and you know you’ve got a similar expression, too.

The floors inside this restaurant — if the dingy, dimly lit shack crammed with small tables and rickety chairs can even be considered a restaurant — are sticky with decades’ worth of mystery liquids that have congealed into the half-inch thick residue that coats the floorboards. You have to purposely think about moving one foot in front of the other in order to walk because actual pressure needs to be applied if you don’t want your heels to become glued to the floor. You’re walking in front of Utahime and Gojo, and you end up choosing a table in the far back; it looks the cleanest. Briefly, you wonder if you’re allowed to be here, then think better of it as Utahime takes the seat next to you, and Gojo takes the one across. You highly doubt there’s a hostess here that’s dictating where the customers sit.

Especially since, upon one glance of the whole place, you realize that it’s empty save for you three.

“Gojo, if we get killed, I hope they murder you in front of us first,” Utahime hisses. Her family’s so rich (and traditional), she’s never willingly been to a restaurant that doesn’t have a Michelin star. Before college, she’s never even eaten out at a chain restaurant. Being caught in a place like this has Utahime mentally spiraling towards rock bottom.

“I hope they would, too. I don’t think I have the stomach to watch you meet your grisly end.” Gojo says serenely. Usually, he says things loudly, teasingly, gets all up in your face. When it comes to Utahime, he likes to play at being nonchalant. He’s been doing this to her for over a decade now, and it still grates her.

Before Utahime can reply, the shaky voice of an older woman is exclaiming, “Oh! Welcome in! Have you gotten a chance to look over the menu?” The voice belongs to a short, plump woman with gray hair, a wrinkly face, but a kind smile that reveals yellowing teeth. She’s got a slight hunch to her back and nails with overgrown cuticles. You try to do a mental calculation of what you could buy this building for, to ensure that this sweet old lady never has to work a day in her life ever again.

“You know what I want, Mrs. Kimura.” Gojo is giving her one of his signature dazzling smiles. “You can just double the portions today since my friend Utahime here eats enough for a family of five.”

Mrs. Kimura lets out a throaty laugh. Utahime kicks Gojo in the shin from underneath the table. You’re wondering what Gojo orders from this place, and why does he order here so often to the point of them memorizing his meals?

“I’m glad you brought friends with you today, Satoru. Meals always taste better when shared with loved ones!” She directs a warm smile in your direction, and you feel bad for returning it with your normal polite one. Tiny and brief. It’s more muscle memory than born from any real emotion. She’s shuffling away to the kitchen before you can try to summon a genuine smile for her, and Utahime’s phone is ringing, filling this near empty space with the tinny, anxiety-inducing sound of an iPhone ringer.

She doesn’t excuse herself; just looks down at the glowing screen, grabs her phone, and heads outside to take the call.

Which leaves you sitting across from Gojo. Just the two of you. Just the two of you in a dingy restaurant seemingly run by only one old woman. The table looks older than you. The chair you’re sitting on makes a weird squeaky noise with any slight movement of your body. There’s no decor on the walls, no windows either. Nothing to distract you, nothing for you to feign interest in as you wait for Utahime to come back.

You straighten your posture, try to discreetly look out the front door to gauge how close Utahime is to wrapping up her conversation, and find yourself with no choice but to look in front of you. All you see is Gojo.

He’s tall, you know that. Broad shoulders. Definitely not hideous, you can give him that much. You just feel shocked at how much space he takes up, how it feels like your eyes have to stretch to try to accommodate all of him.

You don’t know why you feel so awkward, almost like a teenager going on her very first date with a boy she barely knows but still, for some inexplicable reason, wants so badly to impress. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt this way, and you definitely don’t like this feeling at all.

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“I like to support small businesses.” He’s not teasing you, but Gojo has this bad habit of always adding a playful inflection to his words.

“I hope you tip well. You look like their only supporter.” It’s not meant to be an insult to the painfully empty restaurant. You know how much Gojo is worth; when Itadori Googled “Satoru Gojo net worth” and showed the results to everyone, Gojo caught him in the act, looked at the top result, and threw his head back in laughter as he told Itadori to “add an extra zero and triple the number.” You think back to your calculation and assessment of the place. “Might as well buy the business.”

“You make capitalism so cute.” He has to be teasing you now. You scowl.

(He means it.)

— i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed, satoru gojo elevator pitch: yandere gojo, royal au, nanny!reader... yeah idk what happened to this fic either, just that it was depraved and i wish i wrote more to share LOL

You’re acutely aware of the noise you’re making, every huff and small, desperate gasp for breath only further betraying your location, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You know, deep inside your pounding, frightened heart, that it doesn’t really matter how fast or how far you run.

I will always find you.

Just the mere thought of him is enough for you to ignore the ache in your legs and push forward. If you can find the exit, if you can just see the daylight, surely you’d be able to—

You stop in your tracks.

There are two paths: one right, one wrong. Left or right? Freedom or imprisonment?

There’s no time to waste, but you can’t make a choice. Which decision would be the right one? Surely either route would still be able to lead you to the exit, right? The sharp snap! of a branch being trampled on leaves you even more frightened. Without thinking, you take a left.

— i think you're too divine for my human mind, undecided elevator pitch: rough around the edges but w a heart of gold underground fighter!character x ring girl!reader. i think this was gonna be for bakugo LMAO but i do not have bnha brain rot so maybe a bllk or jjk or hq boy... NO ONE SAY ATSUMU I DON'T WANNA GIVE IT TO ATSUMU

The couch seems to shift with his weight, and you swallow hard, staring straight ahead at the same cement wall you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes because you’re still too much of a fucking wimp to navigate this area by yourself.

Despite the two of you sitting at opposite ends of the couch, there’s only about one foot of space separating his knee from yours. You suppose that he gets away with the manspreading since he probably has no qualms with punching anyone who voices their offense. After witnessing just how brutal the infamous [ring name nickname] can get, you know that you’re definitely not going to be the one to say shit to him. You can’t even look at him.

Where the fuck is your sister? You have your arms crossed, covering your torso, and you think you must have subconsciously pressed yourself as far back into the couch as you possibly could. Everything about you must scream out “she wants to disappear!!!”, and the worst part of it all would be the fact that it’s the truth. You knew coming down here would be a bad idea, and the sinking feeling of regret is practically solidifying itself into your stomach. You think you could throw up.

“Hey,” a voice — a deep voice, scratchy and low and so scarily close to you — breaks the silence. “You must be…”

Of course, you’re used to it by now. Always being referred to as “Akemi’s little sister” no matter the situation, the person, the setting. It makes sense, you rationalize. Everyone knows Akemi. And so, by extension, they must know you — her shadow, her little sister.

“...helped out Sakura.”

“What?” You don’t know anyone named Sakura, but you finally turn your head to properly look at him as you answer. He’s got on a white shirt now, incredibly form-fitting, and he’s staring right back at you. You're quick to meet his eyes before getting too nervous and focusing on the space just below his eyes. Then, that becomes too close to eye contact for comfort, so you settle for staring at his jaw. It’s a nice jaw. Sharp. He could probably cut you with it if you contradict any of his statements, so maybe you should pretend to know this Sakura girl.

“You must be the girl that helped out Sakura.” He repeats. He says it slow and almost carefully, like he thinks you must be some sort of idiot who can’t comprehend the most basic of statements. “Gave her your jacket.” He clarifies, and it makes sense. The girl with the hot pink colored hair must have been Sakura.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“So why are you here?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know… Pretty girls like you don’t normally end up here without a reason. So what’s your reason?”

He says it so casually, throwing it out there as easily as a punch. He probably means nothing deep by it, probably doesn’t even realize the fact that it is a compliment.

He called you pretty.

“My sister.” You answer, finally looking away at him to look down at your hands that have settled nicely into your lap. Your cheeks feel a lot warmer than they did a second ago. You decide to blame this as a result of too many sweaty people in one basement.

“She a ring girl?”

“She’s dating a fighter here.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you dating a fighter here, too?”

You look him properly in his face after that comment, almost resisting the urge to laugh. Fear that he’ll get offended and smack you into the floor stops that reaction. Instead, you stare at him, slightly surprised, lips almost curled up into an amused smile at just how unbelievable it would be for you to date anyone like him.

“You finally did it.”

“Did what?”

“Look at me.” He holds eye contact, almost as if he’s trying to challenge you into looking away. “I don’t bite, y’know.” He smiles, showing off a surprisingly straight row of white teeth, not a single tooth missing despite the nature of his… job. “It’s against the rules.”

Yeah. Because [character], the fucking [ring name nickname], looks like the type of man who follows the rules.

#atsumu miya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #satoru gojo x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #UGH i hate going thru my drafts #bc im like damn why didn't i finish writing these #anyway lmk ur thoughts. i have to work on comms so no plans to release these this month but perhaps june

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