#I don’t think this is canon. however it’s still an idea I had and thought of sharing now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gladiatorcunt · 6 months ago

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🎾 - #LOVE ON THE FLOOR !!

cw: unrealistic public sex on a tennis court 💀 (it’s nighttime and no one else is there), college era, afab reader, gross friends to lovers, strip tennis, soft dom!art x inexperienced!reader, vaginal fingering + titfucking + brief analingus (afab reader receiving), implied (soft) obsession & toxicity like art would marry you tomorrow, teasing (towards reader), nipple sucking (m receiving), art putting in overtime to hit on oblivious!reader, reader is so comically unaware pls just roll with it and suspend your disbelief, mandatory Patrick™️ mention, 3.5k of pure need, art’s so horny in this like 😔 (+subtle implications of him either being a manwhore or a porn addict, as a little treat), lowkey canon typical mind games, unedited

this was requested by a bot looking blog that i had to block but the idea still slapped! combined with an ask for inexperienced reader

Art Donaldson sees your instagram story that’s only a repost of a Ethel Cain song and tries not to click his heels together. It’s not like he’s happy you’re clearly going through something, but if the story is a result of what he thinks it’s a result of… then he’ll comfort you through it however he can. With his words, his tongue, babying you in the bath and washing your hair, etc. Just getting to be intimate with you at all is an opportunity he’d never turn down.

Suddenly you’re bursting into Art’s dorm like a bat out of hell, tears dotting your waterline and lower lip wobbling. His heart lurches and leaps in equal measures, his backwards cap feels like it constricts around his head as he resists the urge to fidget with it.

“He… he didn’t show up!”

Art shoots up and gets off his bed, rushing to you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He gives you a lingering hug and passes you some of your favorite fast food that he always keeps in the little fridge in his dorm. Somehow knowing that it’d be just what the doctor ordered, you’re so lucky to have such a caring friend. You two haven’t left each other’s side since you bumped him on the first day of class, bringing a clice to life by spilling your coffee all over his polo. Sometimes you still lie awake at night and cringe at yourself, trying to assure yourself that he’s stuck around your awkward ass for a reason.

You’re hiccuping through your story while munching on your chicken sandwich, “Mark acted so exicted yesterday, and now he’s stood me up. I waited in front of the café for an hour, people were staring…”

Art eyes you from his position on the bed, crowding against you due to the size and having half of his torso glued to your back. He doesn’t giggle at the adorable way you get frustrated when the pickle in your sandwich always slides out in between your teeth during a bite, but he thought about it! He reaches up and brushes his fingers against your hair, wanting to just touch it more than move it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, he’s an idiot and you’ll move on. It’s not like he’s the only person in the world.” He grumbles, not quite pouting as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.

“Okay now you’re just grumpy because I beat you at uno.” You tease, gesturing to the scattered pile of brightly colored cards on the bed.

He’s definitely made you feel better though, he always does. You both finish your food and Art stands up from the bed to grab his tennis bag. He pulls you up too and winks, saying that you can’t beat him at everything. You ask what he’s doing and he only grins, telling you to come with him. You nervously glance around as you’re pulled to race through the halls to the court. There’s a simmering feeling weaving in and out of your tightly intertwined fingers.

divider

Art lets go of your hand to drop his bag on the ground, leaving your palm feeling strangely cold without his warmth.

You’re still not sure you should even be out here, you know that you’re definitely not allowed but Art seems to sense your hesitation because he rushes towards you and cups your hands in his.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble or anything, y’know that?” He chuckles, gently knocking the tip of his nose against yours. “Look up for me, the moon’s really pretty tonight.”

You follow his lead and tilt your head back to gaze up at the goregous crescent moon high in the oil colored sky. You don’t notice that he’s looking at you instead, that he doesn’t say that the moon reminds him of you but he feels like the one orbiting around you instead of the other way around. Luckily there’s not a cloud in sight, just a floating city of stars with a glowing center. Art lightly pulls on your wrists, clearly wanting your attention back on him, so you comply.

You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you don’t miss the odd glint in his eyes as he narrows them slightly.

His eyelids crinkle as he smiles charmingly, “Don’t you trust me?”

You answer with your heart, “Yes, of course I do.”

He beams at you and explains the rule of the game he dragged you all the way out here to play. It’s just like a regular game of tennis so you really shouldn’t sweat it, he says. His expression shifts when he makes a show out of being unable to look you in the eye when he tells you the special rules, knowing full well you can see him try to tamper down a self satisfied laugh. Whoever scores gets to pick whatever piece of clothing the other takes off, and the loser of the game has to get completely naked if they aren’t already.

Your cheeks warm and you gawk at him, “Isn’t it weird that you’ll see me… like that?”

“So you already know you’re gonna lose, huh? And it’s not like i haven’t seen most of it before.” Art laughs, not bothering to hide the blush on his face. “You’ve seen all of me, anyway.”

It’s true, you usually laze around in nothing but your underwear and that’s been the norm for you two. Art’s no different, he’ll change in front of you and will literally walk around butt naked around your dorm. More often than not, he’ll answer the door in only a towel around his waist and sitting on his hip bones, no matter if it’s one of your other friends or a project partner. You're constantly having to text the other because you forgot that you left your toothbrush behind. You’ve never had a chance to be embarrassed by it. It’s been like that for the longest time and anytime you’ll tell Art that your friends keep asking if he’s your boyfriend, he’ll just reassure you that you guys are just really close. And isn’t that a good thing?

“Besides, I think this’ll help get you out of your shell.”

You’re embarrassed at the reminder of how inexperienced you are. Sure, you shouldn’t have a whole thing about it or whatever, but it just is kind of alienating from other people your age to not be able to say you’ve done what they’ve done. And you would’ve been able to have some stories of your own if you could manage to hold down a date. But tonight isn’t supposed to be about you wallowing, you’re supposed to be having fun. Even if the sight of your best friend in tight fitting sporty clothes makes your pussy throb.

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You giggle nervously when he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, swaying you from side to side before moving his grip up to your arms.

“Relax, i’m just checking your form. Being close to you is just a bonus.” He winks and presses his stomach up against your back.

It’s so cheesy, the situation and the pose. But you lean into his touch and pretend to care about how he’s showing you the right way to hold a racket and all that, he doesn’t even really care if he’s being honest. It’s romantic though, and he can’t resist the opportunity to get a taste of what it’d be like to pin your body down with his weight. He guides you through a few “practice” swings and then throws a two finger salute at you as he jogs around the net to his side of the court.

It’s your serve, and despite you being very much a beginner, you get the first point.

Art stands there expectantly, cocking his head to the side and bouncing on his heels in anticipation. You honestly didn’t consider that you’d actually be telling your best friend to take off his clothes for you, but you’re new thing is taking shit in stride, you guess.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” He shouts and hovers his fingers around the collar of his polo, ready for you to say the word.

You take the coward’s way out, “Your shoes.”

Art frowns but obeys the rules, swiftly unlacing his sneakers and tossing them to the side. The court’s not so rough that it’d be hell on his feet, but he’d do it for you even if it was all a bunch of jagged rocks cobbled together. The game goes on with Art scoring the next point, and then the one after that. He has you discard your necklace, one of those cheesy half heart ones that matches with one he has, and your shoes as well. He doesn’t wanna scare you off, but he knows what he wants to have you take off for him.

You score the next time, down goes his pants. Without them, few things are left to the imagination. Every time he’d walk around you naked you’d always keep your face firmly glued to your phone or something. But being faced with the very… detailed outline of his bulge through his underwear, that’s another thing entirely. It looks so long against his thigh it might as well be a third leg. There’s already a little wet spot where the tip must be.

You must’ve been taking too long to ogle him, because Art yells at you to “Focus on the game, yeah?”

You’re lucky it’s not a cold night when he gets the next point and has you take off your pants, which are really just glorified shorts. You unfasten them and shimmy them down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles and kicking them away from you. You haven’t shaved today, but you know that Art doesn’t care about that sort of thing. He’s made sure to tell you as much many times when you complain about how much your back hurts after you get done with it.

Art takes his sweet time dragging his gaze down your legs, already imagining bringing them around his waist or over his shoulders. Your panties are so cute too, cupping your pussy so closely that he can see the shapes of your puffy lips from all the way on the other side of the court, a “camel toe” or whatever you call it. He thinks it’s so hot, but you’re shy about it, asking him to see how you look in jeans that are a size too small. He always does a thorough inspection.

Whoever scores next wins the game, and you’re too busy trying not to fall on your ass to put any effort into it. It’s not a real game away, and besides, it’s not like anything has to happen when the loser completely undresses. Out of the corner of your eye you see Art’s dick twitch in his briefs and you get so distracted that you freeze and miss the neon yellow-green ball hurtling past you. Art whoops and cheers as you process the fact that you lost.

“You know what that means.” Art grins from ear to ear. “Make a show out of it for me.”

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You don’t even mind the staring, it’s such a common thing that you’d be more pissed off if he wasn’t looking at you at all. The way his eyes devour every inch of bare skin and drop of sweat that you earned during the game. You pull your tank top up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Your bra isn’t a frilly thing, you wear it mainly for support, but Art can’t seem to tear himself away from the view of your pushed up tits rising and falling as you breathe.

You…. don’t know what to do now, the big appeal of the game is over, you awkwardly laugh it off and bend over to pick up your clothes. Art shakes his head to snap himself out of his horny fever dream and races over to you, latching onto your wrist and stopping you from getting dressed again.

“You’re supposed to take it all off, remember?”

You drop your clothes, noticing that he still doesn’t let you go.

Heats fills your cheeks as he steps closer, delicately sliding his fingertips up the inside of your arm and around your back. He plays with the hook of your bra, gazing down at you with a look full to brim with unknown intent and purpose. He doesn’t do something as bold as unlatching it right out the gate, no, he just stares into your soul.

“I remember.” Your eyes drop down to his lips, and that’s when you know it’s over. “Can’t exactly do it myself if you’ve already got one foot in the door.”

You’ve gotta know when to fold ‘em, and all that.

Art softly smiles and loops his fingers under your bra strap. You have to remind yourself to breathe, but you don’t really get much of a chance to. Before you can stop yourself and think with your head, you’re canting up to press your lips to his. Art immediately kisses you back, chuckling into the kiss when you gasp as he expertly unhooks your bra with one hand.

In the blink of an eye, you’re flat on your back on the court, Art having hastily thrown his shirt under you while you were tangling your tongues together. He presses an array of wet open mouthed kisses down your body, paying extra special attention to the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your mound.

“Smells so good, ‘s cute, too. It figures you’d have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He coos, dragging a lone finger down your slit before gently pushing it inside.

You gasp, wrenching your eyes shut tight at the intrusion. He takes good care of you, slowly sinking his finger in to the knuckle and sliding it in and out of you. He gradually adds more fingers as the minutes pass. Your walls throb around him, and if Art were a weaker man (like the guy you almost went out with) he would’ve said fuck it and plunged his dick into your cunt in one smooth stroke. But you deserve the best first time possible, and all the distractions he’s used have helped him be patient enough to refrain from humping you like a dog.

“You’re okay, you can take it. It’s nothing compared to what this pussy’s going to be taking later anyway, baby.” He hums and nuzzles his nose into where your inner thigh meets your mound.

As he’s languidly thrusting his fingers into your puffy pussy, Art strains his neck to lap at your ass. He holds one of your fat cheeks in his free hand and spreads you open, diving in to suck on the puckered hole between them. He sharpens his tongue and jabs it into your ass, his cock throbs when you let out the sweetest little squeals at the squelching and throaty noises he’s making. He can feel your hole unfurling with every slurp and suck, something that only makes him increase the speed of his long fingers in your pussy, maintaining a breathtaking steady rhythm.

Eventually his poor leaking cock can’t take anymore grinding into the ground, so Art crooks his fingers and (albeit a bit cruelly) jams them into your sweet spot. The velvet grip of your pussy strangles his digits like a dream, you’d take dick so beautifully. Your eyes fly open and your throat spasms around a mangled moan. He pulls his fingers out of your soaking wet pussy, smirking up at you as he sucks them try like a professionally trained whore. Your clit receives a loving kitten lick as an apology for neglecting it, and with that Art hovers over you at an even eye to eye level again.

“Holy shit…” You pant and flick his pebbled nipples, absentmindedly rolling them around with your thumb. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah, we are.” Art sighs, his head falls back as you duck down to suck his nipples into your mouth, the saliva you lathered them with dripping down your chin. He grabs the back of your head and pushes your face into his chest, arching his back.

“Relax, I bribed security and told them to fuck off for the night.”

That doesn’t concern you as much as it should, you’re too transfixed on Art wrenching your mouth off of his pecs and moving to straddle your chest.

“Can you push them together for me?” He breathes hard and grinds his weeping cock against your tits, mesmerized by how his precum makes your skin glisten.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you do, making quick use out of the delicious new friction the little pocket provides. “Thanks, honey.”

You keep staring at the tip of his dick, loving the little peek you get of it as he fucks your tits and it pokes your chin. You don’t even realize you’re doing it but you let your mouth hang open, angling your head down so his cockhead pecks your tongue at the end of every thrust. You make sure to lick every drop of pre cum away as it oozes out of him, looking so nice against the flushed pink skin of his tip. Art groans when he finally summons the strength to watch you do it, the sight hurtling him over the edge before he has the time or vocal ability to warn you.

His thick load jets out to land all over your tits, half of it on the lower half of your face. You’re almost sad it didn’t get high enough to clump your lashes together, it would’ve made for the perfect contact picture. Oh well, maybe next time. It’s amazing, the switch you’ve made from the shy friend to the writhing slut underneath him. You blame it on the honest to God sweet taste of his milky white cum, surprisingly making you think of the pineapples he always snatches from your plate when you eat at school together.

(Another painstaking effort made just for you, love)

It’s a miracle you get back to his dorm, some of your clothes are swapped and put on incorrectly and you both didn’t clean up at all. As soon as you reach the door, Art practically shoves you inside and onto the bed. He gets so frustrated with having to get your clothes off again that he just rips them right off of you, promising to take you to the mall tomorrow (or whenever he lets you leave the bed) to buy replacements. You literally couldn't care less if he shackles you to the wall, you need him to rearrange your guts so badly, you’d kill for it. Should you be having deep conversations about your feelings and what the future will look like? Absolutely, but your clit is clouding your sense of rationality and you don’t mind that right now.

“Do you even know how much i’ve wanted this? To fuck you so hard that we end up attached at the hip?” He bites, breaking away from your lips to suck bruises down the column of your throat. “We can have a baby- please have my baby, fuck!”

There’s something so weirdly romantic about the leftover scent of the court combined with the twinkling stars outside. Art’s moans and hands scrambling to pin you down so all you have to do is take it, you’re doing things all out of order, but this was always going to happen sooner or later. Art is a clumsy manipulator but he’s so handsome… you find yourself agreeing to every frantic declaration flying out of his mouth as he spears his long cock into your sopping wet pussy. You claw red lines into his shoulders and back, and Art nearly creams on the spot. The sting and the fact that you’re so out of it, you’re marking him up, are crossing the wires in his brain. His taut thighs burn with the effort of fucking you so far into the mattress.

You’ll get to cum four more times than he does, and by the end of it you’ll wish you never came at all. Your soul’s goikg to be so far away from your ruined mess of limbs that you won’t notice the sacred promises being muttered into your sweaty hair or pay attention to your phone being out on Do Not Disturb. You’ll be right where you should be, inevitably molded around the shape of his dick and branded by all the love bites that litter your body. You’ll think you passed out during most of them, but you’ll give him a loopy smile, hook your pinky around his, and let yourself melt away.

It feels as if your walls are still clenching around a dick that’s no longer buried to the hilt in them.

“I love you”’s are for early mornings with coffee and pancakes. Gloating to Patrick will be for hours before then, Art blocking him when you’re deep asleep and unable to mend the growing rift between them.

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temiizpalace · 3 months ago

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☆┊YOU DREAM OF ME??

SUMMARY: entering the dream world was such a strange feat.. especially seeing yourself in somebody else’s dream.

CHARACTERS: jade leech-centric

GENRE: fluff, crackfic

WARNINGS: you act cringe because jade leech is a cringy guy with wattpad fantasies + BOOK 7 SPOILERS + canon divergence (some dialogue is not exact cause i lowkey forgot, some moments didn’t actually happen, and i shortened it a lil so i don’t have to write too much)

NOTES: while writing this, it turns out someone else had a similar idea so i was hesitant to upload the writing. however, I’ve decided to anyways. that being said, crediting said individual is still in order since they had the idea first.

please check out @.paralleljoys post here (IF ANY ISSUES PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, TY!)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🐬∘˙

you didn’t expect this. nobody expected this, actually.

jade leech, cunning, observant, quiet, and mysterious. he was one to keep his cards close to his chest and play it safely to ensure the best outcomes. and yet, here we are, in said eels dreams. a look inside of his thoughts, how he truly saw people, how he—

“jade you’re so cool! i love love love love loveeee the way your mind works sooooo much!” a voice, sounding similarly to yours, chimed. “fufu, you flatter me, my pearl..”

your jaw dropped, grims jaw dropped, you can hear idia falling out of his seat from behind the screen, jamil’s eyes had never been opened wider, floyd cringed, silver looked away, ortho could barely compute, and sebek had the most genuine disgust written on his face.

was that you? you thought azul and floyd looked stupid, BUT THAT WAS YOU? jamil slapped a hand over grims mouth, preventing the direbeast from cackling his lungs out at the sight of your pathetic image. “MYAHAHA, HENCHMAN YOU LOOK SO STUPI—“ “keep quiet.” jamil mutters, slightly smirking. you could tell he was also containing his laughter, making your face change in hue.

“eww, no way. i knew jade was all lovey dovey with the prefect but i dont wanna watch it. what a sap.” floyd groans, looking at dream you, real you, then at jade. “i dont wanna watch this either! if you guys are embarrassed how do you think i feel?!” you murmur, hiding your face in shame.

“my pearl, open wide.” jade grins, holding a piece of shrimp in his hands. “oh my, jade you sweetheart!” you giggle, opening your mouth so jade can feed you. idia snickers, holding back a laugh. you can practically see his smug expression in your mind. “he has the fantasies of a trashy middle school fanfiction, what comedy gold.”

silver clears his throat, trying to regain the attention of the group in order to free jade from his dream. while everyone with a logical mind held an equally logical discussion, you, floyd, and grim were too focused on the scene before you. “jade, you and shrimpy should just get married.” dream floyd grins, pushing you two together.

“agreed. you both are a match made in heaven!” dream azul says in between sobs, wiping his tears away with one of his tentacles. “why, what a splendid idea! azul, please make arrangements right away. we shall wed at once, my dear.” jade chuckles, holding you close in his arms. “j-jade!? i don’t know what to say..”

“do you not wish to marry me?” he asks, his thumb tracing your chin. his voice was low, yet soothing at the same time. “it’s not like i don’t want to..” dream you mumbles, avoiding his eyes by looking at the ground with a pout. REAL you, on the other hand, can’t bear the sight of it anymore. neither can floyd. or grim.

“let’s continue to overcome hardships and conquer many mountains together.” jade laughs, pulling you all in by the shoulders. as the dream variants of jades loved ones cheer, floyd swims in and swoops down, attacking his brother and his dumbed down dream him.

“I CANNOT STAND IT ANYMORE!” floyd grunts, scowling at his dear brother, who held an expression of shock. “f-floyd? there’s two of you..?!” he stutters, looking at his dream twin and his actual twin. “they’re mirror images of each other! how can you tell them apart!” azul exclaims, wiping his eyes to get a better look.

“who is this? can i hug you and eat you? hehe.”

“i originally thought you weren’t interested in other people, but you have a limited memory. “i dont eat dance and eat shrimps stuck in between rocks.” floyd scoffs, staring at his dumbfounded doppelgänger. “floyd.. doesn’t eat shrimps.. or dance..?” jade ponders, feeling his mind begin to waver.

“jade! im scared!” dream you screams, curling up in the boys arms. your eyebrow twitches, tired of the humiliation you witnessed thanks to jades horrible imagination. following your impulse, you run out with floyd, despite the shouts of your name.

“PREFECT! GET BACK HERE! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TRYING TO ACHIEVE?!” sebek shouts, but his voice falls on deaf ears. he made a point though, what were you doing? it’d be much safer to just stay back and watch this play out, so why the hell are you trying to get involved?! “p-pearl?!” jade gasps, eyes wide in disbelief.

“th-there’s also two of you.? what in the seven is going on here?” he swam back slowly, unraveling the scene before him. two brothers, two lovers (well not officially..), and a whole school of students that seem familiar, but unsure as to where.. you could tell jade was beginning to wake up! it’s only a matter of time..

“jade, don’t be fooled. floyd shouldn’t be that ugly bastard, he should be more innocent and cute. and look at [MC], they love you so much they don’t know what to do with themselves! don’t be tricked by that fraud.” azul sneers, pointing at you and floyd, much to your dismay. just taking a glance at floyd was enough to be able to tell he was this close to breaking every bone in dream azul’s body and frankly you don’t blame him.

“i see.. floyd has been very charming to his relatives and my pearl wouldn’t leave my side so quickly,” jade hesitates, glancing at his two brothers. “i should go. they all really need me.” he smiled politely, swimming towards what once looked like his loved ones, now forming into large piles of dark goo. as jade was nearly consumed by the darkness, floyd swims past quickly. you stood on the eels back, landing a hit on dumb dumb floyd, crybaby azul, and cringe wattpad you.

“I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT.” you finally yell, catching nearly everyone’s attention. “it’s no use. we have to help out.” jamil sighs, lifting his magic pen. “let’s go!” silver shouts, rushing into the spot where you and floyd had already began your attack. as the fight rages on, the others serving as a distraction for jade, floyd had continued to land hits on the watered down versions of yourselves with ease before they finally shouted for help.

“it hurts! help us, jade!” dream floyd cries. “rescue us, jade!” azul cries. “oww! protect us, jade!” dream you screams, finally catching his attention. “how dare you! you fake. get behind me, i got this.” jade hisses, attacking floyd directly. you felt your balance falter on floyd’s back, slipping before falling near the vents. “prefect!” ortho shouts, rushing over to catch you til you fell into jamil’s arms safely. “it’s not safe, the vents are crumbling due to the fighting. retreat for now!” he directs, running towards a safer location.

“your carelessness nearly got you killed, prefect.” jamil sighs, looking down at you with a concerned yet tired expression. “sorry, i just couldn’t take it anymore!” you groan, crossing your arms angrily. “you can set me down now, jamil.” you pat his arm, breaking him from his daze. “..right.” he mutters, placing you down gently. they began to discuss different ways to wake up jade, before sebek finally settled on just electrocuting them.

“be careful, sebek.” silver reminds him, patting his shoulder before the boy ran out. “pierce the cloudy sky, lightning! living bolt!”

the tweels stop their fighting, electricity trickling all over their body leaving them temporarily paralyzed and passed out. after a few moments, their eyes fluttered open, being met with millions of other stares. “jade!” azul shouts, pushing floyd at the way with a grunt. “thank goodness you’re alive! i could’ve lost my cute subordinate!” he sniffles, causing jades eyebrow to raise. “..cute subordinate?”

“i’ll cry if jade is gone! don’t go anywhere!” dream floyd sighs with a dopey expression. “jade you idiot! you could’ve gotten seriously hurt and id never forgive you!” dream you sobs, rushing over to hold his hand hastily. “hm. that’s strange. the floyd and azul i know would never say something like that.” jade scoffs, looking at the two with disgust.

“huh?” they gasp, staring at him as if he said something crazy. “was sebek’s lightning so powerful, jade is finally starting to awaken?” silver mumbles, raising a finger to his chin. “awaken.. why am i here in the first place..?” jade groans, recollecting his thoughts slowly. “so.. i am a student at night raven college.. on land? agh.”

“my head feels like it’s going to split!” he winces in pain, holding his head as he shouts. all his memories finally began to come back to him, all the moments he had during the year turning the gears in his mind til he was finally back to his senses. “how could i possibly have forgotten something so important?” he huffs, looking back at the doppelgängers behind him.

“floyd would never act so obedient, he’s much more domineering. azul would give orders to others without putting himself in danger as much as possible.” he pauses for a moment, staring at your fake before shaking his head. “[MC] would have never acted so defenseless. what an embarrassing feat. i was acting quite strange.” jade sighs, turning his back towards the trio.

they had all began to complain to jade, asking why he would believe such fake things. dream you broke into tears, curling in floyds arms with a sob. jade would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous, but it’s not the real you so he’ll hold back. a little. they all clung onto jade, begging him to reconsider his decision before he finally spared them a word.

“can you please not touch me? creepy.” with a quick slash, the floyd and azul clones were reduced to goo. jade looked at the fake you, slightly hesitating at your trembling figure. alas, they were spared no expense and fell back into the darkness, crying his name and dragging out each syllable.

“no mercy..” idia stuttered, chewing on his nail. “he was protecting them with his life, only to end them once he realized they were fake.” jamil states, scratching his chin while replaying the scene back in his head. “scary..” idia murmurs. “finally awake, jade?” floyd punches his brothers arm, earning a chuckle. “yes, thank you.”

they share a laugh before hitting each other suddenly, startling each and every one of you. “floyd, you dare have hurt your own brother? i thought my whole body was going to fall apart. have you no mercy on your own blood? how terrible.” jade wiped away a tear, floyd not buying it for a single second.

“jade leech.” his banter was cut short by the sounds of your voice, your stern tone telling that this will not end well for him. “w-why, [MC]! how might i be of service.?” jade smiles, remaining his composure well. “don’t “how might i be of service” me! you have some serious explanation to do once we’re out of this stupid dream.” you scowl, staring him down with an intimidating glare.

jade, seemed unfazed. he was certainly embarrassed, but who is he to let it show? “oh dear, is it quite wrong for one to dream of their mate while asleep?” he shakes his head, catching you off guard. “mate?” everyone collectively questions. “uhm, yeah. do you guys not notice?” floyd scratches the back of his neck as if it were the most obvious thing.

what the hell is he talking about? mate? what.. when? that’s.. it’s not possible. “what are you on about, leech?” you sneer, causing him to grab your hand with a smile. “would you care for me to show you?” he grins teasingly, pulling you in til you rested on his chest. “hey! why you—“

“enough. you two are more than free to discuss this mishap after malleus is defeated. right now, we’ve got bigger problems to focus on.” jamil frowns, separating you two from each other. “..right. im not done with you yet.” you glare at the eel in front of you, much to his amusement. “i look forward to it.”

despite the topic being held for later, you couldn’t help but let jade’s words and fantasies linger in your mind for a moment longer. the statements he had said, the actions he had performed, all of it made you feel.. special.

“he dreams of me?”

A/N: i got lazy at the end whoops. anyways what if i write a jamil one?? double anyways what if jamil and jade love triangl— *gunshots*

im not used to writing long fics for characters by themselves and i think you can tell

date published: 8/22/24

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itsphoenix0724 · 1 year ago

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Promises (Rhysand x Reader)

Summary: You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of Rhys' trauma from under the mountain

Word Count: 1.7k

Part 2

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing for Rhys, but I apologize; this isn't the happiest thing! This takes place during ACOMAF, and I tried to keep it canon accurate. I may have diverged a little though! I really just needed to get some angst out from first week of school stress lol. If you ever want to interact with me my requests are open! As always constructive criticism is very welcome! I tried to makes this a realistic portrayl of real feelings and emotions. I hope you all enjoy even if it stamps on your heart a bit <3

You’re sitting at the dinner table in the Townhouse, nursing a glass of wine, when you feel your Husband’s power rumble into your bones. It normally feels comforting to you, but now all it does is further the knot of anxiety growing in your stomach.

It’s been a long week.

It was the first time that Rhys had called in his bargain with Feyre. You’ll always be eternally grateful for what Feyre did for your family, for your court, and the entirety of Prythian. It still didn’t stop the ugly jealousy that clawed at your insides at Rhys spending the week away from you with her. Especially after you learned about the dancing. You knew why it had to happen, you really did. He had explained everything to you in the tearful reunion after he returned from under the mountain.

You hope Amarantha burned in whatever hell she crawled out from.

“How was your first week,” you take another gulp of wine, trying to drown the spiders crawling up your throat.

“I think she’s making some progress. Tamlin isn’t even teaching her how to read! Can you believe that? Even after he saw it almost kill her and his supposedly beloved emissary.” He rubbed out the crease forming between his eyebrows, maneuvering around the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “She was paper thin and so so pale.” he shook his head as he knocked back the liquor.

“You didn’t come home the whole time.” You tried your best to keep the venom tamped down in your voice, you weren’t even really angry just confused. Judging by the way the muscles in his back tensed your endeavor had not been successful.

You knew he would have to call in this bargain eventually you just didn’t expect him to ignore you the entire time she was here. He could’ve taken you with him, you had even expressed interest in meeting Feyre. You had wanted to thank her personally for everything she did to you and extend an olive branch for her time in your court. Rhys had shut down the idea immediately because he thought she might have been overwhelmed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he turned around and looked at you from his spot leaning against the counter. You didn’t look at him, staring straight at the grooves on the table. You sensed the defensive tone immediately. Rhys almost looks like a cat with all the hair raised on its back. Feline eyes sizing you up like he’s about to pounce on you.

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have come home to even sleep. When I tried to reach you mind to mind your shields were up.” Your nails dig into the wood, leaving crescent marks in the pine. Rhys doesn’t have an answer for that when you meet his eyes. It almost looks like he’s looking through you instead of at you.

“I didn’t want to leave her alone in case she tried to jump out a window.” He says the answer matter-of-factly. It’s the same tone you heard him use during the conferences he held with the citizens. He wasn’t exactly brushing you off, but it didn’t feel like he was listening to you either.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me that?” Your voice cracked. You have been married to Rhys for almost one hundred years. You could tell when he was being shifty, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from you. Judging from that regretful look in his eye you were correct.

“I thought you would react poorly. Clearly, I was correct.” The clipped tone is enough to send a white-hot bolt of anger through your body.

“Do not blame your poor communication skills on me Rhysand.” The glare you fixed him with could have brought the monster that lurks in the bottom of the library to its knees, but Rhys just met your eyes with a steeled look of his own.

“She needed help. She was begging somebody to come rescue her. She was withering away in the Spring Court! You know how many times I’ve been pulled from bed because she’s vomiting during the night-” Rhys sounded exasperated. But you were tired, so tired.

“You’ve barely come to bed since you’ve been back.” Your voice was hardly more than a whisper, but the deafening silence that followed your words made it sound like an explosion. You knew it was a low blow. Rhys sometimes couldn’t stomach sleeping in your bed after what Amarantha did to him. After he was startled awake one night a bolt of his power shot your sleeping form out of the bed because, in his nightmare-filled haze, he had mistaken you for her. He had felt awful, and now mostly slept in one of the guest rooms in fear that he would cause serious damage to you. You had tried to convince him, but he knew how powerful he could be, so you relented.

“You don’t get to throw that in my face right now.” The growl that came from your husband sounded like cold black death. “She needs to be trained. She needs help-” all the pent-up emotion started to boil over inside you. Your airway got smaller, white noise was sounding through your head, and your eyes couldn’t focus on a spot infront of you.

“I DO NOT CARE WHAT FEYRE NEEDS!” the boom in your voice surprised even you. Rhys took a step back, you rarely even raised your voice, let alone yelled at him. His eyes widened, but his flood of emotions quickly matched yours.

“SHE SAVED ME! I PROMISED TO KEEP HER SAFE!” The way Rhy’s voice ricocheted off the walls made you flinch. The pure night-kissed power had stolen the warmth from the room and all the air from your lungs.

“You made promises to me too. Do you remember that?” your voice echoed out with calm fury as you slipped your ring off your finger and held it up to the light. “Do you remember the promises you made to me when you put this ring on my finger?” You didn’t even know where the rage was coming from, You weren’t angry, but it grabbed ahold like cold unforgiving ocean waves and kept pulling you farther into the eye of the hurricane. “You pledged to me your undying loyalty, your faithfulness, your honesty.” That last word coated your tongue in acid.

It burned you and Rhys as it left your mouth.

“Do you truly believe I have been unfaithful to you?” his voice grated out like shards of glass. However, in your current state, it seemed more condescending than questioning.

“I believe you are not being honest with me. I have been married to you for practically 100 years, and have known you even longer. Do you think I don’t know when you’re not telling me something?” You shot up from your seat and slammed your wedding ring on the table. His violet shield slipped for just a moment to see the hurt flash in his eyes. You haven’t taken that ring off since he gave it to you.

“You are being irrational.” Rhys tried to step towards you, but you only backed away from him, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Why are you being so secretive about Feyre? She is engaged Rhys-you took her from her wedding. If she truly needed help why not bring her to Velaris? Why not let her meet me? Why not let her be happy with Tamlin?” The questions kept pouring out but the protective growl Rhysand made at your last statement had you recoiling. He had given himself away. He obviously knew it too, as he tried to step towards you. The tears kept pouring out as you shook your head. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.” Rhys finally hung his head in defeat as he slumped into one of the chairs. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he stared at your trembling figure from the other side of the table.

“She is my mate.” Your eyes widened in horror. It felt like the dinner you made earlier tonight was going to make another appearance on your kitchen floor. “She is my mate and I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Your voice was shaking with scarcely contained fury as you stormed up to the table. “I am your wife. I am your people’s queen. What more is there to think about? I thought you loved me.” A new wave of tears washed over you, and you swear you could hear your heart breaking. It was so loud. You wonder if Rhys could hear it too.

“Of course I love you!” he looked at you with desperation and pleading in his eyes. “It’s just more complicated.” You shook your head at him as your sobs finally flowed out of your body.

“It shouldn’t be complicated,” you heaved out through the tears “You promised to choose me every day. If you can’t do that I can’t be here.” You turn from the table and march up the stairs. You distantly hear Rhys get up and follow you to your room as you shove clothes inside a bag.

“What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?” His eyes widened in horror as he tried to grab the items out of your hands. “Darling-”

“Do not call me that right now.” You manage to sniff out the words behind the tears. “I just can’t be here if you cannot choose me. There shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Where will you go?” He at least had it in him to sound concerned about your well-being.

“I don’t know, anywhere but here.” You shoved the last thing in your suitcase and winnowed away without another word. You left Rhysand in your house, with your ring sitting on the table. He found himself sitting at the kitchen table for the rest of the night, nursing a bottle of whisky and running over the cool sapphire with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t know if you were ever coming back. He didn’t know where you went.

What the fuck had he done?

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #acotar imagine #acosf fanfiction #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand imagine

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bluesidez · 3 months ago

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Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

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DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

The taglist has reached the max number! If you want updates, check my blog, turn on post notifs, or subscribe to it on AO3!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

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doctorbitchcrxft · 4 months ago

Text

Houses of the Holy | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )

Warnings: MNDI 18+ ONLY, canon violence, canon gore, SMUT, breast play, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl pls and thanks), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, clit spanking, descriptions of religious trauma (there’s a lot of talk of the two things you should never talk about in here: religion and politics)

Word Count: 5892

A/N: need i say it again, goodbye, minors!!! Be gone!!! please!!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Every twenty or so minutes, you reloaded the FBI’s database you’d managed to tap into. You were getting incredibly anxious about Dean’s presence on their radar following the bank “robbery” the week prior.

Sam went out to pose as a psychotherapy nurse to interrogate a woman whose personality seemed to have changed overnight after killing a man, claiming an angel led her to do so. You were placed on “Dean duty” after Sam insisted his brother stay here to avoid being seen. You were right on board with that idea, but you needed to stay behind to make sure Dean didn’t go stir crazy and leave stupidly.

A thousand thoughts swirled through your head as you wrote in your journal.

“When I was on my own, I was a fucking expert at staying away from police,” you wrote. “Now, suddenly, I’m on cases with these two where every time I turn around, a cop is on my ass. I’m not super crazy about that idea. However, I don’t wanna leave them. They’re my best friends, and I know Dean is something more to me. I don’t wanna give that all up just because I’m starting to sweat a bit, y’know?

“I am not one to shy away from trouble, and I’m loyal. Those are two qualities I’m super proud of,” you continued writing, “I just am worried. And I feel like that’s completely normal. But it’s a different kind of worry. I’ve never had to be concerned about two other people when I’m hunting. This is the first time I’ve had partners who are just as good as I am. And I’ve never cared about my partners this much. And in a way, that sucks.

“And what the hell was I thinking promising Sam that I’d kill him if necessary? Am I out of my fucking mind?? I don’t know what I’d do if Dean hated me. But I’d still rather him hate me than hate himself. I can go it alone again. I really could. I just don’t think I want to.”

You dropped your pen and scrubbed a hand over your face before pulling it through your hair.

“Sweetheart. C’mere,” Dean groaned from the other end of the room. He was laying on a vibrating motel bed with his headphones in his ears. He’d been obsessively fueling the “Magic Fingers” machine with quarters.

You headed over to him just as the bed stopped vibrating.

“Damn, that was my last quarter,” he huffed, taking his headphones out of his ears. He seemed not to notice you until that moment. “Oh, hey.”

You sat on the bed next to him, and he was still laid out in the center of the bed on his back.”Whatcha need?”

“You,” he said, smirking.

You laughed as he pulled on the ends of your— his— shirt, trying to get you to lay on top of him. You happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him. Between kisses, you giggled, “Dee, we already fucked this morning. You’re seriously ready again?”

He hummed against your lips. “Always.”

You rolled your head away from him. “I have sex with you once, and suddenly, you’re insatiable.”

“I can’t help it,” he smirked. “You’re gorgeous.”

You faux-pouted. “That’s it?”

He rolled on top of you and kissed up your neck. “And smart.” He kissed you again, moving to your left cheek. “And badass.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “And sexy.” He kissed your lips. “I hate how much I need you.”

You mocked offense. “Why do you hate it?”

“ ‘Cause I don’t like to need anyone,” he replied.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I need you, too.” You leaned up to him and pecked his lips before leaning back down on the pillows. “And not just sexually,” you clarified.

He chuckled. “Same here,” he told you earnestly.

You grinned widely, pulling him back down to your lips by the nape of his neck. He eagerly bit your bottom lip before trailing his lips down your neck. He sucked a dark spot on your collarbone, making you tug his hair and moan. He groaned against your skin before hiking the shirt up your body, swirling his tongue around your nipples. Still sensitive from your activities earlier in the morning, your back immediately arched into him and you keened, encouraging him to keep going. He switched to your other breast and chuckled as you continued writhing underneath him. “Wonder if I could make you cum just like this,” he said, looking up at you.

“Stop teasing, Dean,” you whined, shoving his shoulders down to your pussy.

“Hmm, but it’s so much fun,” he replied. Dean skimmed his fingers down to the band of your underwear, playing with the hem. You sucked in a sharp breath and squirmed beneath him. “Why would I do what you want when this is so much more enjoyable for me,” he chuckled darkly.

“Dean!” you cried out. “Please!”

“Fine,” he responded. The man above you pushed your panties down your legs before dipping his fingers into your cunt. “So wet for me already?”

“Fuck you,” you murmured in embarrassment.

He tsked. “Is that any way to talk to the guy who made you cum three times this morning?”

“It is if he’s being a fucking tease,” you replied, running your nails over his abs just above his V-line.

He groaned at your actions before grabbing your wrist and pinning it next to your head. “Now who’s being a tease?” Dean used one hand to pin your wrist above your head and the other to grab your other. He pinned them above your head, instructing you to keep them there.

He moved back down your body, stopping when he reached your core. He eagerly ate you out like a man starved, and your hands flew to his hair. He immediately stopped.

“What’d I say?” he asked gruffly.

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly, grabbing the headboard above you to keep your hands there.

He moved back to your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth and making you grip the headboard tighter. “Fuck, Dean!” you cried out.

He curled two long fingers inside you, groaning at the slick pooling between your thighs. Your orgasm was quickly approaching as he hit your g-spot with the tips of his fingers and continued harshly sucking your clit, every now and again swirling his tongue around it.

“Fuck, fuck, please, I’m gonna—” And then he was gone. “What the fuck?” you whined at the feeling of his fingers leaving you.

“You don’t get to come until I say,” he growled. “You understand?”

You nodded eagerly, still white-knuckling the headboard. You spread your legs wide, fully displaying your pussy to him. “Fuck me, Dean.”

His hand came harshly down on your clit. You yelped in surprise.

“You don’t make the demands here, I do.” He spanked your clit one more time for good measure before shoving his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on them in earnest, closing your eyes as you licked them clean. Dean groaned at the feeling and freed his fingers from your mouth, gripping your throat as he bent down to kiss you.

Before you knew it, Dean’s cock was inside you, making you gasp into his mouth. He sheathed himself fully inside you, and you locked your legs around his hips. He rocked into you roughly, each thrust making you come more and more alight.

“Can I touch you?” you breathed out. “Please?”

“Beg,” he replied, still keeping his thrusts even.

“Dean, please let me touch you. Please, please, I need to touch you,” you groveled through shallow breaths.

“Hmm…” he smirked, rolling his hips into yours roughly.

“Dean! Please! Please!” you cried, gasping. “I need to feel you, Dee.”

“Okay, sweetheart, you can,” he said.

You were on him in an instant, one hand in his hair and the other winding around the underside of his shoulders. You kissed your way down his neck and nipped at the base of it, careful not to leave any dark marks; even though you really wanted to. Dean’s pace began to falter as you felt his cock twitching inside you.

“Cum with me,” he instructed you. He reached down to your clit, drawing rough circles, before burying his face in your shoulder. “Cum with me, now, (Y/N).”

You came with a high-pitched moan, your orgasm crashing into you suddenly. Your legs locked around the base of Dean’s spine, keeping him inside you as he came. You moaned again at the feeling of his cum spilling inside you. His thrusts slowed, and he pulled out, causing you to whine at the loss. Dean laid on your bare chest, breathless.

You took a few minutes to linger in this feeling which you decided was your version of heaven. No monsters, no fighting, no police run-ins— just Dean laying on your chest, breathing in time with you. However, you knew Sam would be coming back any minute now.

“Dean,” you said, trying to wiggle out from under him.

“Hm?”

“We gotta get up, Sam’s gonna be back soon.”

“Who cares.”

“Me!” you squealed as his grip tightened around you. “I don’t really want Sam to see my bare tits!”

He kissed between the valley of your breasts, nuzzling your left one with his cheek. “But I wanna keep lookin’ at ‘em.”

“Dean!”

“Alright, alright.” He finally let go of you, and you pulled your clothes back on. This time, you put your jeans and the shirt you wore before you and Dean fucked for the first time that morning to avoid Sam knowing what had been happening. You headed back over to your laptop, and reloaded the FBI’s database page.

“What is so important over there?” Dean asked, coming over to you.

You turned your laptop to face him.

“Seriously? You’re gonna drive yourself crazy lookin’ at that.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m trying to keep you from getting arrested,” you scoffed.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know.”

You looked away from your computer and back up to him with big doe eyes.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that,” Dean growled.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause I’m not gonna be able to control myself if you don't,” he replied.

Despite your earlier activities, heat flooded once more between your thighs. “Dean—”

At that moment, Sam burst through the door. “Hey.”

Dean jerked away from you, and you awkwardly returned to the computer in front of you.

“So, did you get in to see that crazy hooker?” Dean questioned, scratching the back of his neck.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Gloria Sitnick. And I'm not so sure she's crazy.”

“But she seriously believes that she was... touched by an angel?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace.”

You scoffed. “Definitely completely sane. What about the guy she stabbed?”

“Uh, Carl Gully. She said she killed him because he was evil,” Sam explained.

“Was he?” Dean asked.

The brunet shrugged. “I don't know. I mean, I couldn't find any dirt on him. I mean, he didn't have a criminal record, he worked at the campus library, had lots of friends. He was a churchgoer.”

Dean paced around, all-business mode. “Hm. So then Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko. I mean, phew, she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion. Know what I mean?”

“No, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to. Little bit odd, don't ya think?” Sam countered.

“Well, little odd, yes, supernatural, maybe. But angels? I don't think so.”

“Agreed,” you chimed in.

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“ ‘Cause angels aren’t real,” you replied.

“(Y/N/N), there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted,” the younger brother reminded you.

“Yeah, you know what? There's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they, they ride on silver moonbeams, and they shoot rainbows out of their ass,” Dean grunted.

Sam sat down across from you, deadpanning, “Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?”

“That's cute,” Dean monotoned, “I'm just saying, man, there's just some legends that you just, you file under ‘bullcrap’.”

“And you've got angels on the bullcrap list.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause I’ve never seen one,” you chimed in.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “So what?”

“So I believe in what I can see,” Dean argued.

“Dean! You and I have seen things that most people couldn't even dream about.”

“Sam,” you started, trying to mollify both brothers. “I think that’s his point. We can actually see that stuff. Hard proof, y’know? We don’t have hard proof of angels.”

“This is a– a demon or a spirit,” Dean continued. “You know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms.”

Sam sighed. “Maybe.”

“Can we just— I'm going stir-crazy, guys. Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?” Dean begged you and Sam.

“I was just there. Nothing. No sulfur, no EMF…” Sam trailed off.

“You didn't see any fluffy white wing feathers?” Dean deadpanned.

“But Gloria did say the angel gave her a sign, right beside Carl Gully's doorway,” Sam huffed.

Dean perked up at that notion. “Could be something at his house; it's worth checking out.”

“I don’t love that idea, Dean. Please… stay here, okay? Sam and I can handle it,” you argued.

Dean groaned. “(Y/N), I’m going fucking crazy in here. Please?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

He went to say something again.

“No. Sam, you’re on Dean duty. I’ll be back in a few hours,” you stated firmly.

“(Y/N)—”

“Dean,” you warned. “I’ll bring you back some beers, okay?”

He huffed.

“I’ll throw a burger and some quarters in there, too, okay?”

Dean huffed again, but said nothing in response.

You tugged your boots on, and Sam tossed the keys to you.

“Not a scratch, (Y/N),” Dean told you firmly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

***

About two hours later, you returned with a six pack and burgers and fries for the boys.

“Oh, (Y/N), thank god,” Sam exclaimed when you returned.

“What, has he been that bad?” you asked.

“I’m right here, y’know,’ Dean grumbled. “You bring any quarters?”

“Told you I would.” You chucked the roll of quarters and his car keys back at him.

You put the six pack down on the table and began distributing the food between the brothers.

“Woman, you’re fucking awesome,” Dean groaned as he took a bite of his burger.

Sam laughed. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Well, Mr. Gully had some pretty dark secrets,” you began. “I found three sets of bones buried under his house. Poor babies were kids from the local college who disappeared about a year ago. And get this; all of ‘em were last seen at the library.”

“Sick bastard,” Dean grunted.

“So Gloria's angel—” Sam started, only to be cut off by Dean.

“Angel?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay. Whatever this thing is…”

“Whatever it is, it's struck again,” Dean jumped back in through a mouthful of food.

“What?” you questioned.

“Dean hasn’t put down the police radio since you left,” Sam told you. “There was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk; he went up to a stranger's front door last night, stabbed him in the heart.”

“And then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?” you asked.

“Yep. Roma Downey made him do it,” Dean quipped. He took a post-it note off the mirror. “Now, I, uh, got the victim's address.”

“Dean—”

“(Y/N), I am not staying here again. Just this one thing? Please?”

“No, Dee. I’m not taking that risk. You have got to lay low,” you insisted.

“(Y/N), how are you gonna stop me from doing my job?”

“Because if it involves putting yourself at risk, then it’s not happening,” you protested.

“My whole job is risk,” he argued, stepping closer to you. “There’s just… an added level now.”

“Exactly. Which means we have to be that much more careful. Especially considering we have the feds on our ass. I’m not letting this happen,” you shot back.

“Hate to say it, Dean, I think (Y/N)’s right,” Sam jumped in. “I’ll go check out the vic’s house. (Y/N), stay here.”

“Fine by me,” you said.

Dean grunted in aggravation, and flopped down on the bed after putting a few quarters in the Magic Fingers machine. You knew he’d probably stay angry with you for the rest of the evening.

After a few minutes of silence and when the rumbling came to an end, you spoke up again. “Dean,” you sighed. “I’m not trying to be a huge ass, okay? I’d be angry with me, too. But this is just… It’s a lot. And I’m trying to keep you boys as safe as possible. And I wanna help Sam with this case, but I can’t if I’m worried about you not staying put, okay?”

Dean didn’t respond, and you thought for a moment that he’d fallen asleep. At least, that was until you heard him murmur, “Okay.”

*** Sam informed you and Dean that the most recent victim had been planning to meet with a thirteen-year-old girl. Your stomach turned when he told you, and Dean looked like he would’ve kicked the guy to hell and back given the opportunity. Sam also told you that both victims went to the same church called “Our Lady of the Angels.”

“That’s funny,” you’d commented.

Following last night’s conversation with Dean, you felt more comfortable leaving him to his own devices. And so, it was up to you and Sam to go talk to the priests at said church.

“So you're interested in joining the parish?” the priest, who’d introduced himself as Father Reynolds, asked you.

“Yes, sir,” you replied.

“Where'd you say you lived before?”

“Fremont, Texas,” you said without missing a beat.

“Really? That's a nice town,” Fr. Reynolds noted. “St. Teresa's parish, you must know the priest there.”

“Yes, sir. He’s wonderful,” you nodded.

“You know, we're just happy to be here now, Father,” Sam broke in.

“And we're happy to have you, we could use some young blood around here.”

“Hey, listen, I gotta ask,” you began hesitantly. “No offense, but uh, the neighborhood?”

Fr. Reynolds sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Well, it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that, but that's why what the church does here is so important. Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime you work your butt off.”

“Yeah, we, uh, heard about the murders,” you acknowledged.

“Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years.”

Sam quirked his head to the side. “And the killers said that an angel made them do that?”

“Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic,” the priest sighed.

“So you don't believe in the whole ‘angel’ thing?” you questioned.

“Oh, no, I absolutely believe,” he chuckled. “Kind of goes with the job description.”

Sam nodded toward the painting on the wall. “Father, that's Michael, right?”

“That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons. Holy force against evil.”

“So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant?”

“Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful. But, uh, yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. ‘An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified’,” the priest finished.

You nodded sagely. “Luke two nine.”

The priest seemed surprised you knew that. “Yes, actually.”

You laughed uncomfortably. “My, uh, my mom was a pretty zealous Catholic,” you explained as Fr. Reynolds began leading you out of the door. “She’d quiz me on the bible verses every now and again.”

You could feel Sam’s eyes on you while you began heading down the steps of the church.

“Well, thank you for speaking with us, Father,” the brunet said.

“Oh, it's my pleasure. Hope to see you again,” the priest nodded.

You noticed a collection of tribute items at the bottom of the steps; candles, flowers, pictures, and rosaries. “Hey, Father, what's, what’s all that for?”

Fr. Reynolds deflated a bit. “Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here.”

“Was?” you questioned.

“He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt,” he explained.

“When did this happen?”

“Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you told him.

“Yeah, me too.” The priest couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from his friend’s memorial. “He was a good friend. I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died I've been praying my heart out.”

“For what?” Sam asked.

“For deliverance. From the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose,” he replied.

“Thanks, Father. We’ll see you around sometime,” you nodded solemnly. He headed back inside.

“Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there,” you noted.

Sam seemed a bit uncomfortable.

“And he knew all the vics, because they went to church here,” you continued. “In fact I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew. Reconciliation and all that jazz.”

“Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right? Right about the time all this started happening?” Sam countered.

“Sam,” you sighed. “I know you wanna believe, but I’m not really sold on this whole ‘angel’ idea. Why do you seem so convinced?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “But I do know that I pray. Every single day. I have for a long time.”

You startled a bit. “Really? I had no idea.”

“And what about you?” he asked. “What made you stop?”

“Well, like I said, my mom was always a bit of a zealot,” you began. “And… let’s just say I saw how well prayin’ worked out for her.”

Sam shot you a puppy-dog-eyed look.

“C’mon, let’s go check out Fr. Gregory’s grave.”

Sam followed you down to the crypt. It was a bit of a maze of stone hallways lined with numerous stone angel statues. You headed a little ahead of Sam deeper into the crypt. You turned back when you noticed Sam wasn’t behind you, and then suddenly felt the ground beneath you shaking.

“Oh, fuck,” you murmured before running to where you thought Sam may be. “Sammy?” you called. “Get the rocksalt out—” You halted momentarily when you noticed Sam’s slumped over form on the ground. “Hey! Sam! Wake up!” you cried, grabbing his face in both your hands. He jerked awake as soon as you touched him. “You okay?!” you asked worriedly.

He looked past you at the angel statue behind you. “Yeah. Yeah. 'm okay.” He seemed a little startled.

You helped him to his feet and led him into the sanctuary. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, (Y/N), I saw an angel,” he said.

“You—” You shook your head, unsure how to approach this situation. “So. What makes you think you saw an, uh, angel?”

“It just, it appeared before me and I just, this feeling washed over me, you know? Like, like peace. Like grace,” he explained.

You swallowed harshly, feeling suddenly unsettled. “Wh—” You laughed uncomfortably.

“I know this is a lot, but I’m telling you, it spoke to me. It knew who I was,” he said.

You shook your head. “Spirits can do that, though, y’know that, right?”

Sam didn’t seem convinced.

“Okay, let me guess,” you tried. “You were personally chosen to smite some sinner. You've just got to wait for some divine bat signal, is that it?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam nodded.

“Great. I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did?”

“Actually I did, (Y/N). And the angel told me. He hasn't done anything. Yet. But he will,” Sam nodded.

You started pacing. “I don’t believe this.”

“(Y/N), the angel hasn’t been wrong yet!” Sam protested. “Someone's going to do something awful, and I can stop it!”

You scoffed. “You’re supposed to do something awful, too. Does that mean I’m just supposed to nuke you right now?”

“Y’know what? I don't understand! Why can't you and Dean even consider the possibility?”

“What, that this is an angel?”

“Yes! Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop! Maybe this is God's will!”

“Y’know what, Sam, if that’s what you believe, fine,” you sighed. “If faith is what helps you sleep at night and brings you a little peace, then, that’s great and I’m happy for you. But I cannot rationalize worshiping a god who’s gonna condemn me to a pit of fire and suffering for the simple fact of non-belief. I mean, think about it, man. He knows exactly what it would take to get every person to believe, and he still chooses not to show it to us.” You began to pace faster. “And, and? Why would homosexuality be the thing he chooses to put his foot down on? And if you are this great and good god, why is that love wrong? And if people believe in other religions, why does that mean they’re going to hell? What if they’re Buddhist and an exceptional person; they still have to go to hell? Hindu? I don’t fucking get it, Sam. And if my options are going to heaven with all the churchgoers— who are mostly hypocrites and these fuck-os who are abusing kids and murdering on Tuesday after just leaving church the Sunday before, then send me straight on down to hell. I’ll take eternity with actually decent people over these yuppies and troglodytes any day.” You stopped, taking a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Sam seemed shocked. “It’s okay,” he said, despite himself.

You huffed, scratching the back of your head. “Anyway, I got some hard proof we’re dealing with a spirit.” You led him over to Father Gregory’s grave. It was crawling with mangled vines, and you crouched down in front of it.

“That looks like—”

You cut Sam off. “Wormwood. Plant associated with the dead; specifically the ones that are not at rest. I don't see it growing anywhere else, except over the murdered priest's marker. It's him, Sam.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Maybe?”

“I don't know what to think,” he said honestly.

You sighed. “Okay. You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof.”

“How?” Sam asked.

“We'll summon Gregory's spirit,” you responded simply.

“What? Here? In the church?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just need a few odds and ends and my journal for a séance ritual.”

“Oh, a séance, great. Hope Whoopi's available,” Sam quipped.

You deadpanned at him, “Cute. Seriously. If Father Gregory's spirit is around, a séance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest.”

“But if it's an angel, it won't show. Nothin' 'll happen.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “And then we’ll know for sure. And then I can grovel in front of Michael or Zachariah or Castiel or whichever the hell angel it is and beg for their forgiveness before they smite me.”

“The hell kind of angel’s named Castiel?” Sam’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Angel of temperance and serenity. Not traditional Catholicism, but I digress. I told you, my mom was a complete Jesus-freak,” you snorted. “Alright, let’s go get my journal. Hopefully Dean’s still there. I swear to god, I’ll send him to hell and back if he’s not.” *** Thankfully for Dean, he was right where you’d left him. He looked bored out of his skull, but he actually listened to you. “Jesus, how fuckin’ long does it take to talk to a priest?”

“Not right now, Dean. Sam’s a little, uh, possessed? Cursed? Don’t know what the right word is in this situation. Divinely inspired?” you continued.

“What? He saw it?”

Sam nodded.

“We don’t have time to rehash all this. Now, Dean, you comin’ or not?” You turned to the elder brother.

“Wait, you’re letting me out?”

You scoffed. ��Dean, you’re not a hostage. C’mon. We could use the help especially now that Sam’s been angel-drugged.”

Dean chuckled.

“What?” you asked.

“Sam got touched by an angel,” he snickered.

You burst out in laughter, and Sam just deadpanned.

***

Your next stop was a small grocery store that you hoped didn’t have security cameras that would be able to identify Dean. Sam bounded out of the store holding a paper sack and chuckling. “Guys. I'll admit we've gone pretty ghetto with spellwork before, but this takes the cake. I mean, a Spongebob placemat instead of an altar cloth?”

“We'll just put it Spongebob-side down,” Dean shrugged.

Sam’s laughter subsided suddenly as he stared at someone across the street.

“What is it?” you asked him.

“It’s him,” he replied. “That's the sign!”

“Where?” Dean questioned.

“Right there, right behind that guy! That's him, Dean. And we have to stop him,” Sam pleaded.

Sam started after him, but you and Dean held the giant man back.

“Wait a second,” you stated.

“What are you doing? Let me go,” Sam grunted.

“You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?” Dean hissed.

“Dean, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to stop him.”

“Define ‘stop’, huh? I mean, what are you going to do?” Dean pressed.

“Dean, please, he's going to hurt someone, you know it.”

“Alright, come on,” Dean said finally. You moved to the other side of the car, and Dean quickly shoved you down into the backseat.

“Dean. Unlock my door,” Sam commanded, still standing on the sidewalk.

“You're not killing anyone, Sam. (Y/N) and I got this guy, you go do the séance,” he nodded.

“Dean!” Sam called after you, but Dean was already pulling away. He followed the man who’d been holding the yellow flowers down a short distance down the street before the guy stopped in front of a girl. She got in the car with him, and your heart sank as you climbed into the front seat.

“I don’t like where this is going,” you murmured.

“Yeah, me neither.” Dean gripped the wheel tightly and started trailing the blue car again.

The allegedly evil man soon turned down a dark alley, and you temporarily lost sight of him. Dean cursed, “Dammit!” and slammed the steering wheel in frustration.

“Dean, Dean, follow him, c’mon,” you begged, and he slammed his foot on the gas, turning down the alley he thought he’d seen the man head down. Thankfully, his guess was correct, and you and Dean quickly ran to opposite sides of the man’s car. You could hear the young woman crying and the man shouting at her as you approached. Dean punched the window, and you took that as your opportunity to quickly pull the girl out of the car.

“Are you okay?” you asked her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Thank god!” she cried, surging forward to hug you.

You called to Dean as the man sped off in his blue car. “Dean! I got her, you follow him! I’ll catch up with you later!”

Dean nodded, sprinting back to the Impala and following the man out of the alley.

“Did he do anything to you?” you asked her.

She shook her head, still crying.

“Do you have any friends nearby? I’ll walk you to ‘em,” you told her.

The woman nodded. “Yeah, um, my friend—” she hiccuped, “my friend Sarah lives around here.”

“Okay, can you call Sarah? Let her know you’re on your way?”

She nodded again, and you rubbed her back with your hand to soothe her while you started walking toward her friend’s apartment.

You got to know her as you walked to help her calm down and distract her from what had just happened. Her tears slowly subsided, and you seemed to have calmed her down by the time you arrived at her friend’s apartment complex. She hugged you tightly after announcing the two of you had made it.

“Thank you so much,” she told you.

“Anytime,” you told her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She nodded and headed up the front steps. She turned to you when she reached the door, waving goodbye one last time.

***

You somehow managed to get back to the motel. Surprisingly, Sarah’s apartment hadn’t been too far from it. You only needed to walk about thirty minutes before you stumbled upon it.

“Hey,” you said as you opened the door to the Winchesters’ room. Both Dean and Sam were packing. “How’s everybody doin?”

Sam looked demoralized. “You were right. It wasn't an angel. It was Gregory. I don't know, guys, I just, uh—” he sat down on the bed. “I wanted to believe… so badly. It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. You're all alone, you know? And there's so much evil out there in the world, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up—”

Dean sat next to him. “Yeah, well, don't worry about that. All right? I'm watching out for you.”

The brunet smiled. “Yeah, I know you are. But you're just one person, Dean. And I needed to think that there was something else, watching too, you know? Some higher power. Some greater good. And that maybe…” he trailed off.

“Maybe what?” you asked.

“Maybe I could be saved.” He suddenly realized what he admitted and chuckled nervously. “But, uh, you know, that just clouded my judgment, and you're right. I mean, we've gotta go with what we know, with what we can see, with what's right there in front of our own two eyes.”

“Yeah, well, it's funny you say that,” Dean said.

“Why?” you asked.

“Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information. That guy in the car was bad news. We barely got there in time.”

“What happened to him?” you questioned.

“He's dead.”

“Did… Did you?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No. But I'll tell you one thing. If— The way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes I never would have believed it. I mean— I don't know what to call it.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “What? Dean, what did you see?”

“Maybe… God's will.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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signanothername · 5 months ago

Note

if it's not too much, can i ask how you headcanon the murder time trio? since they're not exactly "canon" to any of the stories from their respective original artists, it's interesting to see how different people interpret them :)) tbh, i do feel like, from nightmare's pov, having more personal henchmen seems... risky in a way, as that means exposing killer to other outside influences that he can't fully control. like, what if killer starts to have ideas (organizing a henchmen union for example lol) - new people are interesting, something new for sure? does nightmare have to provide for these new henchmen now too?? so many factors to consider! unless these henchmen are more part-time than full-time lol.

i also think that, individually, the murder time trio might not get along with each other at all. they are (or were?) all sanses, but they have developed different moralities that canonically can clash with each other. the only way i think they can work well together is if they don't know each other's backstories. they function well with a wet blanket of mysteries, and i headcanon that's how nightmare is able to control them. he has all the cards, and he can play their emotions well, either to make them get along with each other, or to sow distrust among each other as well.

ANON I LOVE HOW YOU THINK

To me personally, i take my interpretation by looking at each of the Trio individually with their stories and then try and string together how they’d act around each other

Killer just honestly wouldn’t care about the others’ stories or past or anything like that, so when it comes to Murder or Horror, Killer he has no problem with them and would get along with them pretty well

Aside him being an absolute bitch to them at times, Killer wouldn’t hold much hostility towards them, and any harsh or offensive comments he makes towards them would only be because he felt like it, Killer has no reason for doing what he does, he just does it cause he can

However, Killer is definitely the type to value his privacy, and any questions or comments that might disrespect said privacy, would definitely escalate to Killer fighting whoever pressed him about matters they don’t understand or have the right to know, he simply doesn’t like to be pushed around, and he’s one with a lot of secrets, and he wouldn’t let Horror or Murder get their nonexistent noses into his business, like know how people always portray Nightmare to always be like “my room is off limits”?? Take that and actually apply it to Killer, Killer’s room, belongings (especially his weapons), and thoughts/personal life are all off limits

Ironically, Killer doesn’t hold that same respect of privacy when it comes to the other two, he’d definitely and especially not respect their personal spaces and would probably be super touchy with them, Murder and Horror hate to be touched but Killer does it anyway (Murder and Horror don’t realize Killer does that not just to be annoying but because he’s reassuring himself that they’re real, that they are indeed in front of him and not just another figment of his fucked up mind, not that he’d ever tell them that tho)

Murder on the other hand, definitely hates being on Nightmare’s team, he has no interest in serving Nightmare, he only cares about his own AU, so i can see him be the quiet loner who just doesn’t engage much with Killer or Horror

However, I can still see Murder feeling ok with Horror, but definitely not liking Killer in the slightest, cause while Murder is deluded to think that he killed everyone in his AU cause he “had to” to get his LV higher to be able to Kill the human and supposedly save everyone from resets, to him, Killer only had done the same thing but only for fun, that Killer is no better than the human, so I can see Murder treading carefully around Killer and just overall being cautious around him, especially with the amount of Determination Killer holds, it’s much greater than his and that fact downright disgusts him, cause how many times has Killer killed those in his AU to have his very soul deformed like that, not that Murder would be outwardly hostile towards Killer, but mucv like Killer, simply passive aggressive

I feel like Murder is the one that would always pry into Killer’s “off limits” area, he’s not curious or interested, he just simply hates Killer for being a monster with many faces (Can Murder even call him a monster when his soul doesn’t represent that of a monster?)

But i feel like Murder would be in for a surprise as he talks with his Papyrus only for Killer to say something along the lines of “it seems I’m not the only one who sees my Papyrus”

I can actually see Papyrus be the only point in which Murder and Killer actually agree about something

I feel like Horror is on the same boat as Murder but to a much smaller scale, so he’s fine with Murder but would break Killer’s skull if he could, he’s still a lot less hostile towards Killer than Murder tho, he’d just engage with Killer as he’d engage with everyone else, but Killer definitely gets on his nerves with his very nonchalant yet passive aggressive attitude

I would lie if I said I don’t think Horror would feel a bit disgusted by both Killer and Murder for murdering their Papyruses, cause how could they? Papyrus is the only one they were tasked to take care of and they just Kill him off? And I can see Horror actually commenting on it, only to get a comment back from Killer about how he’s not any better than them, how he literally fed his Papyrus human meat, Horror is baffled by how on earth did Killer even manage to know that, only for Killer to be his usual secretive self and simply states that he has “his ways”

I can still see Horror forming a good friendship with Murder tho, and even forming some sorta alliance where him and Murder go “you scratch my back, i scratch yours”, very beneficial when you’re working under Nightmare

Killer is unfortunately on his own tho, especially with the fact Nightmare seems to have his eye on him 24/7, Horror and Murder try and stay away as to not end up catching Nightmare’s interest too, they don’t know why Killer seems to catch Nightmare’s fancy, but they’re glad they haven’t met the same fate and they’re not about to change that by getting closer to Killer, not only that, but I feel like Horror and Murder would definitely see Killer as the “pet” to Nightmare, his favorite “toy”, and with how Killer’s the closest to Nightmare, what’s to stop Killer from spelling their secrets or thoughts for Nightmare’s ears to hear??

It makes Killer a bit if an outcast, but Killer doesn’t really care

Not only that, I feel like Killer would definitely creep Horror and Murder out by his vast knowledge in the Metaverse and Players, and while Killer doesn’t make such creepy comments about how none of them have any true free will often, they still get to the other two to an extent

I can still see the Trio becoming friends still, but not in the same sense that is the star sanses are friends, more like the Trio are the kinda friends to try and kill each other as a form of showing affection, they’re always really mean to each other, and are definitely a bit distant, but they’re also in the same shitty circumstances under the same shitty roof under the same shitty boss, and none of them would admit it, but all of them find a bit of solace in each other’s company, cause it always means they’re not alone whenever Nightmare breaks their bones, even if the two who survived Nightmare’s wrath would only make fun of the poor bitch who faced it head on

I can also see them finding common grounds in surprising places

Horror is actually surprised to know that Killer doesn’t eat, that Killer has a problem with food just like he does

Murder is actually extremely surprised Killer seems to hate the human (at least to an extent) like he does

Killer is a bit relieved to know he isn’t the only one to killed everyone in his AU, that he isn’t the only one to gained Determination cause of it (even if he’s more severely affected by it)

The three are all relieved (not that any of them would admit it) they’re not the only one with fucked up mental health

As for Nightmare, I feel like he’d definitely have some sorta plan before he actually hires anybody, Killer isn’t hard to contain, just keep him at stage 2 and crush any hope he may have of any fantasy of him finding a better life for himself and he’d stay in line

Horror? Just threaten him with killing his brother, problem solved, he wouldn’t dare get out of line

Murder is the one i feel would be hardest for Nightmare to control, in fact, i fully believe Murder is always trying to run away to find his way back home, and so i feel like Nightmare would put Killer on babysitting duty, Killer is tasked with always watching Murder and making sure he stays in line, and while Nightmare never explicitly states it, Murder is fully aware that Killer’s watching him

It complicates things for Murder and i can imagine him actually succeeding in getting away a few times, only for Killer to find him and bring him back kicking to Nightmare’s feet

I actually like to think Nightmare’s lenient to an extent when it comes to the Murder Trio visiting their homes as long as they get back immediately once they finish whatever business they wanted taken care of, and it doesn’t get in the way of their missions, hell he’d even let them go for days at a time (Murder, however, is always dragged back by Killer, and it makes Nightmare think of how much of an ungrateful bastard Murder is)

Here’s the twist tho, Nightmare doesn’t allow them to go home out of the goodness of his heart, Nightmare simply allows it as a bit of a fancy manipulation tactic in which it would make it seem like he isn’t “too bad” (he’s so damn bad) and it would just give Horror and Murder less of a reason to plan any sort of treason against him (Killer’s too unfeeling in stage 2 to care enough to form an alliance) not that Nightmare’s worried about it, he’s more than capable to put them in their places had they dared, he simply doesn’t want to deal with such hassle when it can be easily prevented (i mean he really isn’t in the mood to find another Horror and Murder)

That however, doesn’t make any of the Trio any less expendable to Nightmare, especially Horror and Murder, Nightmare tries to always keep the same Killer around cause he just isn’t in the mood to condition whatever new Killer he gets to play by his rules again, but he definitely had a few different Killers over the years

Murder as well, he definitely was replaced with another Murder so many times (he’s the one who gets replaced the most)

I like to think Horror is the only one who never got replaced by another version of himself, cause Horror always tries his damn hardest to stay in line and keep on Nightmare’s good side, and whenever he goes on missions he’s always so very careful about how much damage he takes as to not be deemed useless by Nightmare, all motivated by his love and fear of leaving his brother behind by himself had Nightmare decided to kill him

It’s always surreal for Horror to see the Murder he formed a good friendship with to be killed off by Nightmare like he never mattered, only for Horror to be introduced to another Murder in the next morning like the presence of the previous Murder meant nothing at all, and it’s even more surreal for him to introduce himself to a new Killer or a new Murder like he never met them before, all back to square one

Killer might’ve served Nightmare the longest cause he was the first to be recruited, but Horror had always been the one to actually last the longest

#i love them all so so much <3333333 #anothers ask #something new #horrortale #dusttale #dreamtale #dust sans #murder sans #killer sans #nightmare sans #horror sans #murder time trio

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invertedspearofseveneleven · 4 months ago

Text

Morning Light - Soft!Sukuna x reader

Summary - You fall asleep with Yuji, but wake up with the cuddliest Sukana fucking ever???? (So fluffy it makes you sneeze)

A/N - This Sukana is NOTHINGGGG like canon Sukana lmao. This was also my first Sukana x reader fic hehe so it's kinda short

This was from a DM from @malvikareader

"That reader goes to sleep with Yuji but ends up cuddling sukuna (and he's a Lil softie just for her)"

Thanks for breaking up my writing slump, your idea encouraged me to make an ASK GAME so if you like this, please check that out as well <3

In the afternoon, when the blinds are opened all the way, the room still won’t feel well lit. That’s partially because of the way the dormitory faces down the hill. The afternoon sun will be at such an angle as not to reach well to your side of the building, and the window also already has trees in front of it.

However, in the morning, the sun is blinding. Normally, you wouldn’t mind, but after a night out with Nobara, Megumi, and your sweet boyfriend, Yuji, the light pushing through the blinds is making your head pound.

Moving an arm off your side, you climb from the bed quickly, trying to stay as asleep as possible. You close the blinds and slink backwards to get back EXACTLY to how you were lying. No warmth wasted.

In the now darkened room, you sigh at the feeling of Yuji’s arm moving back over you. This was a perfect morning, quiet, warm, and spent with him. Nothing was better, well, nothing you could think of cuddled up against Yuji, safe and warm.

The arm around your middle closed on your waist, and you felt yourself being pulled gently up. Eyes still closed, you felt a smile split across your face and you let yourself be rolled over, strong arms sliding under you and soft lips resting on your forehead.

“G’morning darling.”

A heavy, woody smell fills your nostrils, like a bonfire, as a baritone voice murmurs the greeting, so deep it rumbles in your chest like bass from last night. Your eyes shoot open, locking on a darkly tattooed pec in front of you. Yuji doesn’t have tattoos, much less ones that snake down his front. You suck in a breath.

Sukuna was in your bed. Worse, you were in his arms.

You had only seen Sukuna in combat, when Yuji would step aside to let him take over in dire situations. He was terrifying from far away, and you had yet to see his true form. You felt your heart speed up, and your breathing become shallow. You hadn’t even looked up at the speaker yet. Could you? This was the King of Curses for fuck's sake. Were you even capable, or allowed? It was Yuji right? Somewhere in there-

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand beneath your chin. Hot skin burning against your racing pulse. The pressure of your head being tilted back softly and insistently was spellbinding. Yuji would never turn you so easily, make you move so persistently, you should have realized when you were turned around, moments ago.

But now, you were seeing him up close. It was Yuji’s face, obviously, but something else was holding it in control. The tattooed cheeks and chin, the messy morning hair, the soft eyes.

Wait. His eyes.

“Y-Yuji?” you manage to squeak out. The eyes weren’t exactly his, but they were gazing at you like his.

“Hmm? Oh, no, sorry love. Not exactly.” Sukuna shifted to peck your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the spot before making eye contact again.

“But you…you’re not…” The words die on your lips. It’s confusing, but you don’t feel afraid, however much you’ve stiffened and drawn your hands away from the toned chest in front of you.

Sukuna tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Not what?”

“Not, I don’t know.” Your eyes flit back and forth between his, and he sees, not malice or fear, rather curiosity. “Not scaring me. Not like I thought you’d be.”

The wrinkle between his eyebrows smooths, and he smiles again. His hand starts to play with your soft hair.

“Yuji, foolish as he may be, has priorities outside of being a useful shell. I respect next to nothing, and that shouldn't change for my vessel.” He gives a low chuckle before he looks back into your eyes. “But there’s something about you. I see how you treat others, how you think with a beautiful mind, but also with a beautiful soul. Difficult for me to understand, but it’s visible to even me.”

Your arms relax and you feel Sukuna’s warm chest under your hands once more, earning a wide smile from him. He doesn’t let his eyes drop from yours, and he grows serious.

“This, well, this is the first time you’ve woken up with me at the controls. I’ve pulled you closer late at night, but never spoken with you, I realize. This must be strange.” He’s, gosh, he’s babbling. You watch his long fingers flip a strand of your hair absentmindedly, his chin held in his hand as his eyes dart around, finally breaking eye contact. He looks back.

“I’ll switch, if it means you’re more comfortable, if it makes you less…” two strong fingers press at the side of your neck, and you realize he’s noticed how fast your heart was beating.

“...nervous.”

You stay still, and the only sound in the room is the shared breath between you. You realize he’s serious, that he must have seen you the way Yuji had for so long. Something about that had your attention. He had witnessed love so strong it had changed his otherwise calloused heart. You doubted anyone else would have woken up like you had, still cradled in his arms. Your decision has been made, even before he had finished that sentence.

“No.”

Sukuna looks surprised. That was certainly not the answer he expected. But he feels a warmth fill him when he realizes you want him to stay. You move closer, resting your head against his chest, breathing in that wood burning smell, and you hear a soft laugh above you, feel another kiss at the top of your head, feel strong arms holding tight to you.

The birds chirp outside, and the sun rises higher, but in the darkened room, a King of Curses falls asleep with his weakness.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #fluff #not canon #jjk fluff #yuji itadori #yuji fluff #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #yuji x reader #yuji x y/n

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 2 years ago

Photo

Tintin through time!

Thought it would be fun to have my various designs for Tintin in one post. The canon comics have a floating timeline and Tintin never ages. I think rooting him in a specific time and context makes him feel a little more real (also I am a sucker for historical fiction). Click below for a potted timeline and notes about each design!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - in my timeline Tintin was born in 1915, a year into the First World War. He was probably picked on a lot by his peers for being small, ginger and slightly effeminate, and was picked on by adults for being “difficult” and asking too many questions.

Early canon - He leaves school early and becomes a reporter at 14. He’s unhinged, he’s blasé, he dresses like Spongebob. Coming right out of Catholic school he has a lot of unhealthy beliefs he needs to confront and unlearn. I imagine his editor is a pretty shady person as they are willing to send this kid off to dangerous places. His naivety prevents him from spotting any red flags at first.

Late canon - Tintin as we know him! His journalism career is at its peak at the tender age of 17. He’s found a family and stability at Marlinspike. His politics are evolving. He is, however, pretty neglectful of his own personal life, almost fully focusing on his career. He’s starting to grow wary of his editor and they frequently argue, Tintin often winning out as he knows it’s his articles that sell papers.

Young adult - With the Second World War breaking out this is an unstable time in his life. He’s come to terms with being gay but is fired from his paper after being forcibly outed. Tintin and the Marlinspike team take fighting fascism into their own hands.

For his design here he wears a turtleneck like Captain Haddock, glasses like Professor Calculus (also representing a renewed perspective on things) and his hair is more relaxed like Chang’s! The idea was to show how he has been impacted by the people he cares about.

After the war ends he struggles with unemployment and burnout, insecure that he might have peaked as a teenager.

Middle aged - It’s the late 50s - early 60s, Tintin is jaded and cynical but still kind and willing to help others. He is absolutely horrified by the events of WW2 and carries an enormous sense of guilt, feeling he didn’t do enough. His faith in journalism has also been thoroughly shaken, witnessing the spectacular failing of the system himself, and realising there are people who genuinely do not care for the truth, and are only concerned with power.

Elderly - if he somehow makes it to old age he’d be a chaotic little old man who doesn’t give a Single Shit. It’s the late 80s and early 90s, at this point he has retired from journalism and has published his own books, and has taken to becoming a full time political activist (here he’s wearing an AIDS awareness ribbon from 1991, in the 70s Herge had Tintin wear a helmet displaying a symbol for nuclear disarmament). Kids adore him, cops hate him!

He has taken to technology, being an early adopter of the Internet and desktop computers. He and Chang have since been able to reunite with Chang’s family and they often spend time with Didi’s grandkids!

I don’t know what would kill him. Old age? A car bomb? Maybe he falls over badly and bangs his head one last time. I don’t think it’s my place to decide.

#fanart #tintin #adventures of tintin #photoset #headcanon #historical fashion #might do this again for other characters!#professor calculus would be very interesting to research for #homophobia mention

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romerona · 7 months ago

Text

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: canon violence. Word count: 8K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

Middle of the ocean, Nami's boat.

"Sooner or later, I'll wander into the unknown

Sooner or later, you'll face the world on your own

Who will you hang to when you're left all alone?

When the night grows cold, and the winds have blown--"

"....give me some quiet and some space?"

Nami's annoyed voice made Y/N look up from her booklet to Luffy chasing after his hat, it came right to where he was sitting at the nose of the boat. So, she simply stretched her arm to catch it just before it could fly away.

"Here," Y/N gave the thankful Luffy his hat back who took it with a small smile while mumbling his gratitude.

"Not cool," Luffy then turned to Nami, more serious than Y/N had ever seen him be. "Don’t mess with my hat."

"Why do you care so much about that hat anyway?" Y/N asks, glancing back down at her notes.

"Yeah, It looks like you fished it out of the trash," Nami added as she continued to try and unlock the safe.

Luffy smiles down his straw hat "One man’s trash is another man’s treasure."

"That still doesn't answer the question, stud."

Zoro groans inside the cabin, "Will you three knock it off? I’m trying to take a nap."

"Oh, I’m sorry," Nami said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Were we interrupting your beauty sleep?"

"Don’t like what you see? Look away."

Y/N chuckles at the response, however, her laughter is interrupted by the sound of the lock clicking making her snap her head towards Nami who was opening the door of the safe.

"You did it," Luffy exclaimed.

"Holy shit," Y/N swiftly stands and makes her way to stand next to Nami. She smiles at the orange-haired girl, "You actually did it, Pumpik."

They all looked down at the inside of the safe and it's content. Y/N was a little disappointed there wasn't anything special in it, not treasures one assumes a safe would keep, instead, there were some confidential files and a wanted poster for a pirate named Kuro. And then there was the golden map tube, the only valuable thing.

Nami reaches over and takes it. She hastily takes the top off and pulls out the map causing Y/N to let out a breathy sigh.

"That’s it?" Zoro deadpanned unimpressed by the findings, "Isn’t there supposed to be gold inside a safe? Or jewels?"

Nami looks at the green-haired boy in disbelief, "This is more valuable than gold. It’s knowledge. This is a map to the Grand Line."

"The Grand Line. Ah," Luffy, with his usual smile, stares at the map in Nami's hands."The Grand Line is just right… Where is it exactly?"

Y/N looks at the boy with narrow confused eyes, "Seriously?"

"You’re going there, but you don’t know where it is?" Sharing Y/N's thoughts, Nami asks.

"Guess I need a navigator on my crew," Luffy stated grinning at Nami.

"Oh, god," Y/N mumbles, cursing herself for being so stupid to think Luffy could take her to The Grand Line. Maybe she can steal the map at some point or draw a copy and go herself.... thought going solo wasn't a great idea. Not when ghosts continue to hunt for her.

They follow Nami inside the small cabin.

"The seas are divided into four quadrants." Nami grabs some chalk and starts drawing down on the hanging table. "East Blue, North Blue, West, South. This thin strip of land that circles the globe is called the Red Line, and this band across the middle is the Grand Line."

"A treacherous stretch of ocean with bigger islands, bigger cities, bigger pirates. Flush with riches and ripe for the picking." Nami grins.

Y/N regards the drawing with a soft frown as she recalls her past "And way more dangerous..."

"That’s where we’re gonna find the One Piece!" Luffy exclaims.

"I’ve taken out a lot of pirates looking for that thing," Zoro says before asking. "What is it? Like, a big diamond or something?"

"It’s Gold Roger’s treasure," Luffy told him. ""He hid it somewhere in the Grand Line. All in one piece."

"It’s a myth. The reason no one’s found it in 22 years is that it doesn’t exist." Nami says with exasperation.

"Reckon he just said it to piss off the Marines," Y/N hums, "Admirable."

Luffy grins at the girls. "Can’t wait to see the look on your faces when we find it."

"If you find it you mea--"

The sound of an explosion cut Y/N off sending all four of them into alarm mode.

"Is that the Marines?" Zoro asks placing his hands on his katanas.

Y/N quickly pulls her war-fans from her skirt. "Shit. Are they?"

They walk out to the deck. Nami mumbles "How did they find us?"

Y/N looks up with a frown for from the skies, some red dust falls upon them, slowly enveloping them. She was begging to feel dizzy, and very sleepy... with dread, Y/N realized what it was. This has been used on her before.

Nami was out first.

"This smoke smells weird," Luffy mumbles, feeling the effects of the dust.

Zoro was next.

"Luffy, the ma..." Before she could finish she felt the world went dark.

Y/N's bare feet danced across the warm sand, her laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves. With each step, she felt the freedom of the island envelop her, a secret sanctuary where worries vanished like mist under the morning sun. She glanced back, her eyes alight with mischief as she spotted her much younger sister, Miri, darting through the bustling market stalls.

"Come on, Miri! You'll never catch me!" Y/N called, her voice carried away by the salty breeze.

Miri's laughter bubbled forth, a melody that echoed Y/N's joy. With a determined grin, Miri chased after her sister, her small legs propelling her forward with unbridled enthusiasm. The market around teemed with life, vendors hawking their wares beneath colourful awnings, the air rich with the scent of spices and freshly caught fish.

Dodging between crates of exotic fruits and stalls piled high with vibrant fabrics, the two little girls raced through the people with loud laughter.

As they emerged onto a sun-drenched promenade, Y/N slowed her pace, allowing Miri to draw closer. She turned to face her sister, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Think you can keep up, fish-legs?"

Miri grinned, her round cheeks flushed with exertion. "Just you wait, Y/N! I'll beat you yet!"

With a mischievous wink, Y/N took off again, her laughter trailing behind her like a comet's tail. The younger girl followed in hot pursuit, their laughter intermingling with the sounds of the island—a symphony of joy and freedom that echoed across the sun-kissed shores.

The girls skidded to a halt in a quaint courtyard nestled amidst the bustling village. The air was redolent with the aroma of freshly baked bread and spices, luring them to pause and savour the moment. They settled onto a weathered bench, their breath coming in exhilarated gasps as they gazed around, taking in the vibrant tapestry of island life.

"Y/N/N, you think Mama would let me take one of those landfolk trinkets back home?" Miri exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight as she bit into a juicy slice of tropical fruit.

Y/N thought for a moment. Her parents were in an important meeting of some sort, she recalls them quietly speaking about the World Government declaration that was supposed to be out that afternoon, they sounded worried but Y/N had no idea why. "Maybe, depending on the trinket can withstand being in the water for long,"

"It's one of those dolls," Miri mumbles

"Those are made with fabric," Y/N shakes her head, "She won't let you,"

Miri pouts and deflates. Not liking seeing her younger sister sad, Y/N purses her lips in thought, when an idea hits her.

"Maybe not a doll but she can let us take one of these shiny stones. You like those, right?"

"Oh, yes," Miri smiles, "The stones with crystals inside of them, those are pretty..."

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion in the distance—a chorus of shouts and panicked cries that shattered the tranquillity of the courtyard. People began to scatter, their faces etched with fear as they fled back towards the ocean.

"What's happening, Y/N?" Miri's voice trembled with uncertainty as they were swept up in the frantic throng of people.

Y/N heart skipped a beat as she glanced around, her senses on high alert. People were scattering in every direction, their voices rising in panic as a wave of fear swept through the village like wildfire. Without hesitation, she grabbed her sister's hand, her grip tight with determination.

"We need to find-"

As if on cue, their father appeared, his brow furrowed with worry as he rushed towards them. Without a word, he took hold of Y/N's hand and began to guide them through the throngs of panicked villagers, his grip firm and unwavering.

"Stay close, girls," he urged, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Papa, what's going on?" Y/N asked, her voice wavering with concern.

Their father's expression was grim as he gathered them close, his hands firm yet gentle as he began to guide them towards the beach where their mother was anxiously waiting for them. "There's danger, my pearls. We must go to safety."

The sisters exchanged a worried glance, their steps quickening as they followed their father through the labyrinthine streets. The distant roar of the ocean grew louder with each passing moment, a reminder of the peril lurking just beyond the tranquil facade of the island...

When Y/N first woke up, she was confused.

"What...?" She looked around noticing the others were just as confused as she was. Then she noticed the box they were all in. Her heart began to race.

"They took my swords," Zoro grumbles once he notices the missing weight.

Nami groans noticing they took something away from her too. "And my rucksack, ugh, with all my navigation gear."

"And my fans..." Y/N mumbles, quickly standing up. Ignoring the rest, she reaches to place a hand on the hard wooden wall, "No, no, no..."

Her hands scrabbled against the rough walls, searching for any means of escape. Splinters dug into her skin, but she hardly noticed amidst the rising tide of fear. Memories flooded back, memories she had long tried to bury— The air was stale, each inhale felt like a struggle, as if the very act of breathing was a battle against the confines of the box.

"Hey," A raspy familiar voice said as a large hand landed on her shoulder but it swiftly slapped it off.

"Don't touch me," Y/N snaps as she continues to desperately look for a way out. "No. Not again, please,"

Suddenly, she flinches at the sound of someone next to her banging on the wooden walls.

"Stop." Y/N faintly heard Nami hiss. "Stop that."

"What? I’m trying to find a way out." The same raspy voice said. It was Zoro.

"We’ve been captured. We need a plan." Nami tells them.

"No, fuck no," Y/N continues to look for a way out, this time, however, she starts to push against the wooden wall.

"I just need to beat the hell out of every Marine I see," Zoro agrees.

"Hey, everyone, relax," Luffy, like Zoro, places a hand on Y/N's shoulders only to be slapped off. "We’re fine."

"We’re not fine. The Marines will throw us in jail if we’re lucky." Nami says. "Execute us if they don’t"

"They… they are not Marines. Before I got knocked out, I saw a Jolly Roger. We’ve been captured by pirates."

No...

Y/N stopped her attempts as Images flashed through her mind—memories of past suffocation, of being trapped in tight spaces. Panic gripped her like a vice, squeezing tighter with each passing moment.

Time lost meaning as Y/N battled against the relentless grip of fear. Minutes stretched into hours, each second dragging by with excruciating slowness. Her throat began to close, and her body started trembling with exhaustion and terror.

"That’s much better news."

"No, he’s right," Zoro said, he stepped a little closer to Y/N, and she was painfully aware and utterly horrified. "Marines have training. Pirates are easier to kill."

"Shanks used to say not every situation can be solved with violence," Luffy told them.

"Who the hell is Shanks?"

"We don’t need to fight. I can talk to them," Luffy shakes his head with a grin, "Pirate to pirate."

Y/N would have laughed at the idea of reasoning with a Pirate hadn't she been in the starters of a hysteria attack.

"That won’t work." Nami said

"Why not?"

"To start, you’re not a pirate."

" Yes, I am."

"No," Nami said looking at Luffy, "You are some stretchy guy in a tattered hat."

"I’m a different kind of pirate," Luffy stated, optimism practically oozing out of him.

"Pirates are pirates. There’s only one kind."

That is true. Pirates are all foul, soulless creatures... another wave of memories flooded her brain. Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to find some semblance of calm amidst the chaos of her mind. But even in the darkness behind her eyelids, the walls of the box loomed large, a constant reminder of her imprisonment.

But just when she felt herself on the brink of surrender, the top of the box opened forcing Y/N to snap open. Music began to fill her ears, an odd spectacle of dancing... clowns? began to surround them once all the walls of the box were pulled apart.

Y/N, finally being able to breathe properly, watches as people in costumes do flips and tricks around them. She glances at her surroundings. This was a circus. Why were they in a circus? The people on the stats started to clap, Y/N frowned as she watched the tears of fear in some of those people. Isn't a circus supposed to be fun?

"No. No, no, no, no," A man or rather a clown with blue and a red nose, shouting prompting everyone to stop the show. "Stop clapping! No, stop! It’s all wrong!"

"The spotlight was late. You completely missed my entrance." He motions for the light to go from the four of them to him. Then he turns his attention to the man dressed in a bear costume who is terrified of the clown. "And where, oh, where was the dancing lion?"

"Hey, I know you," Luffy earned the clown's attention. "I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town. You’re the clown guy. Um, uh… Binky, right?"

"Buggy," The clown with blue hair corrected and to Y/N's surprise, he kept going. "Buggy the Clown. Buggy, the Flashy Fool. Buggy, the Genius Jester."

"Wow. You have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are." Luffy said impressed but his words earned a gasp from the audience confusing the four of them.

"What did you just say?" Buggy deadpanned.

Luffy, none the wiser, repeats "Just that everyone knows who you are-"

"Nose?!" Buggy exclaims rushing to clasp Luffy's face in his hand, squeezing. The clown's crew step forward, holding their weapons, looking weirdly intimidating. "Are you making fun of my nose?"

Y/N, despite the dangerous situation, was baffled for a moment. She subtly regards Buggy's nose. Was that actually his real nose?? Oh, it was. Woah.

"Well… I wasn’t. But now that you mention it, is that thing for real?" Luffy lifts a hand to touch the clown's nose but he quickly slaps it away, making the audience gasp.

"What’s real is I’ve been scheming for months," The clown pushes Luffy away, and Y/N who was just behind him manages to catch him. She turns as Buggy stands in front of Nami, "To steal that map from old Axe-Hand Moron…"

"Eh?" He waits for an acknowledgement or reaction from the orange-haired girl but when he realises he is getting none he waves a dismissive hand and turns back to the others. "…only to find out that I was upstaged by four little nobodies, who stole it from right out under my no- No! It’s in my head now."

"Ah!" Buggy groans with exasperation moving away. "

"Hey, I’m not a nobody," Luffy said, once again successfully gaining the clown pirate's attention. "I’m Monkey D. Luffy. And I will be King of the Pirates."

Y/N had to give it to Luffy. His determination was so outstanding that even in such a dire situation it wouldn't break, however, she couldn't decide yet if it was stupidity or courage.

Buggy lets out a laugh, "Oh! Now that’s funny."

One of his crew members holds up a sign, forcing the audience to laugh. Well, that's depressing, can't imagine being a clown and having to force people to laugh.

Buggy motions for the laughing to halt. He moves, looking in between them as he speaks;

"My bounty poster graces the marquee of every Marine outpost for miles. And my menagerie of outcasts and freaks is the most dreaded pirate crew the East Blue has ever known. I am destined to find the One Piece. And when I do… I will be king."

"No, you won’t, ’cause I’m gonna find it first." Luffy contradicted the clown.

It's stupidity, Y/N decided.

"You?" Buggy scoffs, "Don’t make me laugh."

One crew member holds the sign again, and the audience laughs but they are soon yelled at to stop.

"I said don’t make me laugh!!!"

"All right, listen up. I’m Roronoa Zoro," Zoro spoke up, loud enough to gather everyone's attention. He turns to face Buggy and his crew. "Drop your weapons now and I may let you live."

Y/N has half a mind to yell at him asking what the fuck he was doing. Did he honestly think he could fight against all of these pirates? He doesn't even have his swords.

Buggy stares for a moment before letting out a mocking laugh. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity in our midst."Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity in our midst. Too bad I hate sharing the spotlight."

The stage light went from them back to Buggy.

"Now, maybe we should skip right to the finale," The clown pulls out his weapon. A very intimidating metal sharp claws. "My freaks put quite a bit of rehearsal time into this little abduction. And if I can’t reward them with that map…" He moves to stand next to a man with sharp teeth. "I suppose I’ll have to offer them a pound of flesh instead."

Oh, shit. shit this. This is bad. Like BAD bad. Bad enough for her to manipulate her way out of it, but for that she'll need to get the clown alo-

"Wait. Wait." Nami was standing in front of them, looking to make some sort of negotiation with the clown. "What if I have something else to offer you? Something more valuable than the map?"

That seems to gather a newfound interest in the pirate, who looks at nami in expectation.

"What if I give you an entertainer, a singer, the best I've ever heard," Nami said casting a quick glance in her way. Y/N's heart plummeted. No, she couldn't be doing that to her. Her heart sank even lower when Buggy's gaze shifted towards her, his blue eyes gleaming when he caught her form.

"And a new freak for your crew?" Nami continues, forcing the clown to look away. She was slowly moving next to Luffy, "A rare talent. The most spectacular act in all of the East Blue. Besides you, of course."

"Go on."

Nami takes Luffy's hat prompting a shout from the boy, she tosses it up into the air making Luffy use his devil fruit abilities and stretch his arm up high to catch the hat. And then, Nami was gone.

"Go after her," Buggy told one of his crew members who quickly ran after the orange-haired girl. He chuckles, looking at Luffy. He pulls out an apple from his pocket and a knife. "Well, isn't this just interesting?"

Y/N felt a surge of protest rising within her, a desire to shout out against the unfolding situation. Yet, she found herself engulfed in a sense of hopelessness, a feeling all too familiar from her past experiences. She knew well the torment of being confined within the hold of a pirate.

"It's fine," she whispered to herself, trying to muster some semblance of reassurance. I'll… I'll be fine. Despite her inner turmoil, she clung to a last resort—a secret move, a tactic she had saved for dire circumstances. All she needed was to find a moment alone with Buggy.

They soon bring a struggling Nami and a part of her is happy they did another part of her is annoyed she sells them out and still fails to escape.

"What did you do? What did you do to their town? You destroyed everything!" Nami exclaimed in anger.

As he ate the apple, Buggy nonchalantly replied, "Not everything. I let ’em keep their hands."

The signs were up again and the audience clapped in command.

"Okay," The clown throws away the remains of the apple and puts the knife back into his coat. "Here end the theatrics."

Suddenly, the lights flickered and dimmed until they focused solely on Buggy's figure, casting an eerie glow around him. His voice cut through the darkness with a sharp edge.

"I know one of you has my map," he declared, his tone laced with determination. "And I'm gonna get it back. What was it you said, Rubber Boy? That it was in a safe place?"

The tension in the air heightened as everyone present awaited Buggy's next move.

"Don’t look so surprised. I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere," Buggy told the four of them with a smile, "So, please make our guests uncomfortable in the green room."

As two pirates seized Y/N from behind, she instinctively struggled against their grasp, her heart pounding in her chest. Nami too fought against her captors, but Zoro remained passive, seemingly indifferent to their plight. Just as they were about to drag Y/N away, the clown intervened.

"Not her," Buggy's voice commanded, halting the pirates in their tracks. They obediently turned Y/N to face their captain, whose blue eyes bore into her with a curious intensity. He closed the distance between them, his presence looming over her.

"Just for you, beautiful," Buggy addressed her, a smirk playing on his lips, "I'm willing to share my spotlight for a few moments and let you sing for us while my 'freaks' prepare the things for my chat with my stretchy new pal."

"Why would I?" Y/N retorted, summoning whatever semblance of courage she could muster to meet the clown's gaze. Ignoring the pirates that were dragging Luffy to sit with the audience. "I only sing when I have something to sing for…"

"Funny you think you have a choice," Buggy chuckled mischievously, his tone dripping with amusement, the sign was up so, naturally the audience laughed as well. He sauntered over to a high chair, resembling a throne, and settled into it with an air of superiority.

"Well, it's either that," he continued, gesturing towards Y/N, "or off with you. Though," he added with a smirk, "it'll be a shame to harm such a pretty girl like yourself."

His words hung in the air, a thinly veiled threat that left Y/N feeling trapped and vulnerable, caught between compliance and defiance.

Despite the overwhelming intimidation, Y/N took a moment to steady her breathing and gather her resolve. Nami was right about one thing – she was an entertainer, a performer. With that realization, a flicker of determination ignited within her.

With a deep breath, Y/N straightened her posture and let a confident smile grace her lips. She could do this. She could fake her charm, her confidence. After all, she had faced tough crowds before. This was just another performance, albeit under much more dire circumstances.

Y/N flashed a charming grin at Buggy, exuding confidence as the impromptu show began.

"Well, darling," she purred, her voice dripping with charisma, "lucky for you, I happen to have had my heart stomped a few days ago. You don't happen to have a guitar lying around, do you?"

Buggy's grin widened, and with a casual wave of his hand, a guitar was swiftly presented to her. As the rest of the crew dispersed, leaving her alone in the spotlight, Buggy's voice carried a warning tone.

"Don't make me regret giving you a share of my spotlight, sweetheart," he cautioned, his words tinged with a hint of threat.

Y/N meets Buggy's warning with a playful glint in her eye, maintaining her charismatic demeanor.

"Oh, don't you worry, Captain," she replies smoothly, her voice dripping with charm. "I'll make sure to dazzle everyone enough to ensure you shine even brighter. After all, what's a spotlight without a little sparkle, right?"

Without missing a beat, Y/N pivots gracefully, turning her attention to the assembled audience with a grin that belies the tension of the situation. With ease, she addresses them as if they were any other crowd, temporarily forgetting the dire circumstances of their gathering.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we've got ourselves a full house, don't we?" she declares with a playful sparkle in her eyes, her voice projecting warmth and enthusiasm despite the unsettling circumstances.

"Ah, the joys of a heartbreak!" Y/N's grin takes on a mischievous edge as she continues, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"As you may have heard," she begins, her tone dripping with theatrical flair, "some clueless boy managed to break this ol' heart of mine. But fear not, for in the face of heartache, what does a songbird do? Why, she writes a song, of course!"

Pausing for dramatic effect, she lets a playful wink slip before continuing, "Sadly, it seems our heartbreaker won't have the pleasure of hearing it. But don't worry, my captive audience, for you lucky souls get a front-row seat to the grand performance!"

Her words draw a ripple of shy, soft laughter from the crowd, turning this sombre moment into a somewhat of lighthearted affair. Her eyes meet Luffy's browns for a moment, he seems to pay her his all attention.

With a graceful motion, Y/N turns her attention to the guitar, her fingers deftly plucking a few strings. The sound resonates through the room, filling the air with a gentle melody that carries hints of both melancholy and resolve.

" When as a wanderer, your shore I did find,

Adrift, I found refuge in arms so kind,

We braved the tempest, each in our own fights,

You sought fortune in shadows, while I relied on my charms

I danced with the night, whispered secrets to the moon,

You chased after gold, while I sang my tune

We wanted to forget our woes and drown them in our wine

Then one day you vanished, claiming I was not divine,"

As she plays, her gaze flickers between the strings and the captivated audience, her expression a mix of concentration and subtle charisma. Each note she strikes seems to weave a tale of heartache and resilience, drawing the audience deeper into the performance with every strum.

I saw you at your lowest, in your darkest fight

I know the struggles hidden from plain sight

Too bad I'm the love you lost, the bond you breached

Now what'll you do, when I'm gone evermore?"

As Y/N finishes the song, a hush falls over the room, the echoes of her performance lingering in the air like a haunting melody. In that suspended moment, time seems to stand still, every eye in the room fixated on Buggy, waiting for his reaction, well, except for Luffy, he was the only one giving a standing ovation.

"Wooh, yeah!" Luffy claps, a smile on his face as he turns to one of the pirates holding him. "That's my musician,"

Y/N, however, ignore him and turn to Buggy.

Y/N meets his piercing blue gaze, searching for any hint of emotion within them, but finds his expression inscrutable, a mask of unreadable intent. There's a tension in the air, palpable and electric, as the weight of the silence stretches on, leaving everyone on edge.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Buggy breaks the silence with a slow, deliberate clap, his expression betraying nothing but a hint of amusement. It's a subtle gesture, but it breaks the tension in the room. The sign to clap was up but Y/N has a feeling they would've clapped regardless. It's a moment of relief for Y/N, who can't help but feel a sense of validation wash over her.

"It seems orange-hair was not lying, huh?" Buggy remarks, his tone carrying a hint of sardonic amusement. The cheers stop at his command.

Y/N lets out a forced chuckle, her lips curling into a wry smile as she meets Buggy's gaze.

"Well, what can I say?" she quips with a hint of playful sarcasm, "I did promise not to disappoint, didn't I? And trust me, darling, I always keep my promises, even when it involves serenading a bunch of pirates in a not-so-friendly setting."

Buggy's chuckle sends a shiver down Y/N's spine as he rises from his seat and advances towards her. Y/N fights to conceal the tremor of intimidation that courses through her, maintaining a facade of composure as he leans in to whisper.

"You could make a wonderful addition to my crew," he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with an air of intrigue. “Irreplaceable, even.”

While the idea of joining his crew fills her with trepidation and disgust, she knows better than to outright reject him, especially considering his unpredictable nature. Like most men.

With a steady gaze and a flicker of determination in her eyes, Y/N meets Buggy's gaze, her voice steady as she replies, "Well, Captain, it's certainly a tempting offer. But you'll have to forgive me if I take a moment to weigh my options. After all, I'm not one to jump ship without careful consideration."

Buggy regards her for a moment, then he smiles as he pulls back. His smile sends a shiver down Y/N's spine, but she maintains her facade of composure as he pulls back, granting her a temporary reprieve.

"Alright, I'll give you time to think it over…" he concedes, his tone deceptively genial.

Y/N's heart sinks as she watches him walk over to where Luffy is, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. Before she can react, two pirates seize her again.

"Until he gives me my map, that is," Buggy adds casually, his words a stark reminder of the precarious position Y/N finds herself in.

As the pirates begin to drag her away, Y/N's heart pounds with a mixture of fear and determination. She casts a fleeting glance back at Luffy, a silent vow forming in her mind to find a way out of this predicament.

Soon, she was being tied down into a chair.

"Fuck you, Nami," Y/N spat out her frustration as soon as the pirates left them alone, her tone tinged with irritation. "Why would you do that?"

Inside her cage, Nami rolled her eyes in response. "It's survival of the fittest out here, Y/N," she retorted, her voice laced with resignation.

Y/N can't help but roll her eyes in return. She knows that in this cutthroat world, everyone looks out for themselves, but she had foolishly hoped for some semblance of a relationship with Nami only to be sorely disappointed.

"The least you could've done was actually manage to actually escape. You sold us in vain." Y/N chastised with a disapproving tsk.

"For what it's worth," Nami glanced towards the entrance of the crew's dressing rooms before skillfully picking the lock of her cage. "I am trying to get us out."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, unsure whether to trust Nami's words. Turning to Zoro, who was bound to a circular board nearby, she asked, "Do you believe her?"

"Don't have much of a choice," Zoro replies with a nonchalant shrug, just as a loud shout from outside makes them all snap their heads towards the entrance. It's Luffy's voice. "Better work faster."

As Y/N tries to free herself from the bounds, she realises that she's worried about Luffy because, despite his exasperating antics and seemingly reckless behaviour, she can't help but feel a pang of worry for him.

The bounds were tight but not enough to cut circulation just tight enough to leave burn marks when she moved them too much which she does.

Feeling the burn of the tight bounds against her skin, Y/N winced but pressed on, determined to free herself.

"That's only hurting you," Nami said sparing Y/N a glance before continuing to pick her lock.

Nami's words of caution brought a moment of pause, but Y/N couldn't afford to let fear hold her back. "I'll be fine,"

Nami rolls her eyes, then she glances at Zoro, he, too was trying to free himself.

"What?" The boy asks.

Nami continues with her work, "This is my life now."

"You want to trade places?"

"Both of you shut up," There was a rustling sound just making its way to them, "Shit. Someone’s coming."

Nami stops her work and looks at the entrance. "I need more time. Keep them talking."

"I don’t talk." Zoro said, "I hit things."

"I'll do it," Y/N announced.

Seconds later, a pirate with a striking mix of black and white hair and a blue and white square pattern scarf bursts into the room, riding his monocycle with an air of undeniable flair. He comes to a stop right in front of Zoro, his gaze fixed firmly on the bound swordsman.

Y/N, who would have found the scene comical under different circumstances, straightens up, suppressing the urge to laugh. Instead, she puts on her best flirtatious grin and clears her throat, preparing to address the newcomer.

"Hey there, handsome," Y/N begins, her voice dripping with playful charm. "I bet your captain's got you on a tight leash, but do you think you could...?"

"Shut up, whore!" The pirate said not taking his eyes off Zoro.

Y/N's jaw was on the floor. Well, that came out of nowhere.

"I'm not an expert but I'm sure you don't talk to ladies like that," Zoro, ever nonchalant, unexpectedly comes to her defense, much to Y/N's surprise.

The pirate disregards Zoro and instead questions, "Remember me?"

"No. Must be some other homicidal, unicycle-riding clown." Zoro mocks.

Y/N flinches as the pirate with black and white hair delivers a punch to Zoro's stomach.

"I've been thinking about you for years," the pirate hisses, his voice dripping with resentment. "About how you killed my brother."

"I killed a lot of pirates." Zoro deadpanned.

The pirate, named Cabaji, scowls as he begins to recount their past encounter. "My name is Cabaji, and a couple of years back, you hunted us across the Goa Kingdom," he explains, pulling out two knives. ""Followed us for weeks through the swamp lands, day and night, never relenting, like some kind of demon."

The three of them shared a look. A silent understanding between them. This was it, the distraction. Cabaji glances at the two girls as he backs away from Zoro.

"Still not ringing a bell," Zoro remarks casually, prompting Cabaji to throw a knife dangerously close to his head.

"You cut off his head and you stuffed it in a bag, all for a few Berry." Cabaji accuses, his voice heavy with accusation.

Zoro sighs, briefly closing his eyes before conceding, "Okay, that does sound like me."

The air becomes thick with tension as the two men lock gazes, the looming threat of violence hanging between them.

"Let's see if you can keep your head," Cabaji declares, moving to the side of the circular structure and spinning it, taking Zoro along for the ride.

With each knife thrown, Y/N can't help but avert her eyes, unable to witness the imminent danger befalling the swordsman. As minutes tick by and Y/N finally dares to steal a glance at Zoro, she's taken aback by his unwavering composure. Despite the imminent threat of the spinning structure and the barrage of knives, Zoro remains eerily calm, his expression betraying no hint of fear or panic.

Watching him close his eyes and maintain his stoic demeanor in the face of danger, Y/N can't help but feel a surge of admiration mingled with astonishment. It shouldn't surprise her, knowing Zoro's reputation for unshakeable resolve, but somehow it does.

Y/N shifts her gaze to Nami, and in that brief exchange of eye contact, a silent understanding passes between them. She's close to opening the lock.

"You really don’t fear death, do you?" Cabaji asks after his tenth throw.

"No," Zoro said as the structure came to a halt, "I just don’t fear you."

Cabaji throws yet another knife before approaching Zoro "You know, I’m gonna enjoy this. As soon as Captain Buggy’s finished with you, you’re mine."

"Uh, tempting as that sounds, I’m not sticking around." Zoro slowly opens his eyes and focuses on the pirate.

"Really? Got somewhere else to be?"

"Didn’t used to think so. But Luffy changed that." Zoro said.

"That simpleton in a straw hat." Cabaji scoffs, "Don’t tell me you actually believe in him?"

"I don’t need to. He believes in himself." Zoro admits and shrugs, "It rubs off."

As Nami swiftly and silently cuts Y/N's bonds, relief floods through her as she rubs her sore wrists. With newfound freedom, she wastes no time positioning herself behind Cabaji, who is too engrossed in Zoro's words to notice her approach.

"And one more thing."

Cabaji continues to laugh as Zoro warns him.

"Don’t turn around."

In a split second, Y/N seizes the opportunity, delivering a powerful punch straight to Cabaji's nose. The force of the blow sends him staggering backwards. With Cabaji momentarily stunned, Zoro takes advantage, freeing one of his arms to grab hold of the pirate's throat, applying pressure with a steely grip while Nami frees his other arm.

"And by the way, you're brother's the whore," Y/N said to the Cabaji just moments before the pirate passed out.

"What's the plan?" Asks Zoro, retreating his swords.

Y/N takes hold of her war fans. "We go for Luffy,"

"Yeah but how?" Zoro turns to Nami, "You do have a plan, right? That’s your thing, plans."

"I say we beat the hell out of every clown we see." Nami declares, her eyes flickering between them mischievously as she brandishes her fighting stick.

Y/N chuckles in agreement, elegantly fanning her fans to reveal the gleaming blades within. "Well, isn't that a delightful idea," she quips with a smirk. "I've always had a knack for cutting through the foolery."

With a wink exchanged between Y/N and Zoro, a shared understanding passing between them, Zoro chuckles before they both follow Nami out.

As they navigate through the chaos of the circus tent, the trio encounters a shower of fools intent on blocking them. With a seamless display of skill and coordination, they engage the freaks in a fight.

Nami leads the charge, her fighting sticks a blur as she deflects incoming blows and delivers precise strikes. Each swing is calculated, each movement fluid and efficient as she exploits weaknesses in the clown's defences.

Beside her, Zoro moves with the grace of a great swordsman, his swords lethal as he cuts through the ranks of clowns with unmatched precision. His strikes are powerful and decisive, each blow landing with devastating force as he clears a path forward.

And Y/N adds her own flair to the fray, her fans flashing in the dim light of the tent as she gracefully dances between pirates. With a flick of her wrist, she spreads the fans, revealing the razor-sharp blades concealed within. Each movement is deliberate, and calculated, as she gracefully weaves through the chaos of the fight effortlessly dispatching any clown foolish enough to challenge her.

As they finally reach the main stage, Y/N's heart lurches at the sight before her. There, in the center of the stage, Luffy struggles against the confines of a tank filled with water. Memories flood Y/N's mind, images of a similar tank from her past flashing before her eyes with haunting clarity.

She tries to hold back a shudder as the familiar dread grips her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. The sight of Luffy, trapped and struggling, serves as a painful reminder, stirring emotions that she had long tried to bury but with a deep breath, Y/N pushes aside the memories, focusing instead on the task at hand.

With a swift and precise throw, Nami hurls her fighting stick towards the tank, the impact causing the glass to crack and splinter. Y/N watches with bated breath as the cracks spiderweb across the surface, spreading like veins of ice.

"Where are my freaks?" Buggy exclaimed looking around the circus.

Zoro appears on the other end, holding his two swords. "They're not coming,"

Finally, the tank gave way with a resounding crash. As the glass shatters, water gushes forth in a torrent, cascading to the ground in a rush of freedom letting Luffy out and soaking Buggy to the ground.

After he inhales some air, Luffy exhales the map. Ugh!

"My map!" Buggy crawls to the map.

Luffy, on the other hand, "My hat!"

Y/N turned her gaze towards the laughing clown, he took hold of the map while Luffy was hugging his hat. With careful steps, the trio approaches him.

"You want a piece of me?" The clown challenges them once he notices their approach. "Let’s see what you got."

Without hesitation, Zoro lunges forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. But to their astonishment, the clown doesn't fall. Instead, he splits into pieces, his laughter ringing out triumphantly as he effortlessly reassembles himself.

"Surprise, shithead!" Buggy crows with glee, his laughter echoing through the chaos.

Y/N, Zoro and Nami gather together as Buggy manically laughing starts to split himself into more pieces.

"What the hell?" Y/N yells as Buggy's body parts begin to fly around them.

Zoro's brow furrows in frustration as he watches the spectacle. "How do I slice a guy who's already in pieces?"

"This is not part of the plan," Nami grits her teeth, holding tightly to her fighting stick.

With a grunt of frustration, Y/N pushes away a stray hand that reaches for her, her mind racing as she tries to formulate a strategy amidst the chaos. "Yeah, no shit."

Despite their best efforts, the trio find themselves quickly overwhelmed by the onslaught of flying body parts. Zoro is slammed against the tank, Nami is hurled off the stage, and Y/N is sent crashing into a pile of crates, pain shooting through her side as she struggles to regain her footing amidst the chaos.

"Fuck," She hisses, placing a hand on the sore spot. She braces herself up watching as Buggy pulls out his metallic claws and slices himself again.

"Chop-Chop Cannon!!" His hands and arms start to rotate while his legs start to fly about in chaos.

Luffy does his best to dodge and punch and actually manages to reach Buggy but is soon pushed off him. The claws though, do manage to get Luffy's straw hat.

Buggy laughs and when Luffy goes to recollect his hat he is tripped and pushed to the ground.

Y/N's heart pounds with panic as she watches Buggy's hand find its way to Luffy's throat, threatening to choke the life out of him. In a desperate bid to save Luffy, she scans the area for anything that could aid them in their fight.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, inspiration strikes. With a quick glance at the crates nearby, Y/N's mind races with a plan.

"Luffy, Nami. The crates!" Y/N shouts, her voice cutting through the chaos as she rushes to one and flings it open.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Luffy manages to break free from Buggy's grasp, tearing the hand off his throat and hurling it towards Nami. Acting on instinct, Nami uses her fighting stick to send Buggy's hand hurtling towards the open crate, which Y/N swiftly closes, trapping the appendage inside.

One by one, the four of them began to trap the clown's body parts inside the boxes until only his head, hands and feet were all he had.

"What have you done to me?"

Luffy grins, "Cut you down to size."

"The One Piece will never be yours." Buggy all but growls in frustration. "You’re just a sad, lonely little boy wearing another man’s hat!"

"I know exactly who I am," Luffy puts on his straw hat and with his usual smile he turns to Buggy. "I am Monkey D. Luffy. And I’m gonna be King of the Pirates."

Y/N chuckles to herself. He really has an indomitable spirit.

Luffy stretches both his hands back, "Gum Gum…

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! No, no, no! Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait." Buggy pleads but Luffy is already spitting out.

"Bazooka!!"

And with a scream, Buggy's head is launched off the circus.

With a beaming smile, Luffy picks up the map and strides to the center of the stage, where Zoro, Y/N, and Nami are gathering. He extends the map towards the orange-haired girl, his expression filled with unwavering confidence.

"You're giving this to me?" Nami asks, her disbelief barely concealed beneath her facade of composure.

Luffy's grin widens. "You're the navigator," he replies simply, his faith in her abilities unwavering.

"Let's get out of this clown show," Zoro interjects, his tone tinged with impatience as he eagerly anticipates their departure.

Y/N nods in agreement, her hands deftly stowing away her fans back into her waistline. "Yeah, I've had my fill of this place,"

But Luffy's focus remains unwavering as he turns to address the others, his gaze sweeping over the captive audience.

"Still, there's one more thing we have to do," he declares, his eyes meeting those of his companions. "We have to set them free."

With determined hearts, they set about freeing the captive audience, their collective resolve aimed at bringing an end to the clown's tyranny.

"Are you our new captors?" an old man asks Luffy, his voice tinged with confusion.

Luffy tilts his head, a hint of bemusement in his expression. "What?"

"Well, you're a pirate, aren't you?" the old man persists, struggling to comprehend the act of kindness from someone associated with piracy.

"I'm a different kind of pirate," Luffy replies simply, his words carrying a weight of sincerity that belies his reputation.

Y/N shares a knowing glance with Luffy as she frees a child from his shackles, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Despite the odds, Luffy's unwavering determination and genuine compassion are beginning to win her over, gradually eroding her skepticism and replacing it with a newfound sense of admiration.

As they make their way through the town, the sun casts its warm rays upon the streets, a stark contrast to the wreckage left in the wake of Buggy's crew. Despite the devastation, a sense of relief fills the air as the townsfolk emerge from their hiding places, grateful to be free from the clutches of the circus from hell.

As Y/N walks alongside her companions towards their ship, she is greeted by a stream of townspeople, each one expressing their gratitude and admiration for her performance. Some approach her with heartfelt thanks, while others request the pleasure of hearing her sing again.

"We don't have much," the mayor of the town approaches them, offering a basket of food, "but please, take this as a token of our... of our gratitude."

Luffy shakes his head, a generous smile on his face. "You need it more than we do,"

Y/N wiggles her fingers in farewell as she follows Nami, Luffy, and Zoro to make their way back to their ship. As they approach, she notices Luffy darting back towards the mayor, returning for a piece of bread with a cheerful grin.

Once aboard the small ship, Y/N breathes a sigh of relief as she realizes all her belongings are still intact. With a sense of purpose, she joins Nami and Luffy in preparing the ship for their journey ahead.

Waving one last time to the shouting townsfolk, Y/N can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. The warm farewells of the townsfolk echo in her ears, a reminder of the impact they've had on the lives of others.

A few minutes into their journey, Y/N sits next to Zoro with a tired sigh. The swordsman's eyes are closed and his arms are crossed, she gazes at the sundown, a pretty hue surrounding them- when was the last time she enjoyed a sunny day? Right with Cygnus, that feels like a lifetime ago...

"Hey, you need help with that?" Nami's voice cuts through the serenity, pulling Y/N's attention away from the mesmerizing sunset.

Luffy's puzzled frown prompts her to tense up momentarily as Nami reaches for his straw hat. But instead of causing harm, Nami begins to carefully repair it, her skilled hands weaving the threads with practised precision. Y/N can't help but reconsider her latest thoughts of the navigator as she watches her work.

"Why did you freak out?" Zoro's voice startles her out of her thoughts.

Y/N turns to face the boy, but his eyes are still closed. " What? When did I-"

"Back inside of the box," Zoro said, his voice ever raspy but silent as if he knew she didn't want the others to hear.

"Oh," Y/N blinks, she didn't think he'd notice that, yeah sure she was freaking out but they all were, weren't they? She clears her throat, trying to mask her discomfort as she reaches for her guitar, seeking comfort in its familiar presence. "It's nothing special, really."

"What does 'not again' mean then?" Zoro asks turning his head and opening his eyes to look at her.

Y/N fakes a grin, "I'm just not a fan of enclosed spaces, that's all, hot shot,"

Zoro stares at her for a moment and Y/N stares back. Some of the light of the day cast shadows on his face. She can't tell if he's convinced by her excuse or not. She hopes he is.

Thankfully her silent wishes are answered, Zoro closes his eyes again and turns to face forward. "You better not make any noise, I'm trying to rest,"

Y/N flashes Zoro a mischievous grin in response to his warning. "Noise? Oh, you have it all wrong, hot shot," she quips, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "I don't make noise, I compose symphonies of sound that would make even the sea itself dance to my tune but Don't worry, hot shot, I'll keep it down… unless you want to hear a little tune to lull you to sleep, I promise to find a lullaby you enjoy."

Zoro's lips twitch with amusement, and Y/N can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

"You fixed it," Y/N's head turns to see Luffy taking his hands from Nami with a smile. "Thanks."

"Well, you said it was your treasure, right?"

As Nami rises and heads towards the cabin, Y/N meets her gaze, and in that silent exchange, they share a moment of understanding. Any lingering tension between them dissipates, replaced by mutual respect and perhaps some camaraderie.

"Is every day gonna be this crazy with you?" Zoro's question breaks the silence, drawing Y/N's attention.

Luffy joins them, settling in front of them with a thoughtful expression. "Shanks always said… that if the path to what you want seems too easy… then you're on the wrong path."

Y/N nods in agreement, impressed by the insight of this mysterious Shanks character.

"Smart guy," she remarks, her curiosity piqued by the mention of someone who clearly holds significance in Luffy's life.

Zoro, ever the stoic swordsman, opens his eyes and nods in quiet contemplation. "Yeah, this Shanks guy sounds all right,"

Luffy's face breaks into a wide grin as he rises to his feet, his excitement palpable. With boundless energy, he dashes to the bow of the ship, his voice ringing out with unbridled enthusiasm.

"Next stop, the Grand Line!" he shouts, pointing a finger ahead towards the vast expanse of ocean that stretches out before them.

Shaking her head in amusement, Y/N feels a foreign surge of excitement coursing through her veins. With Luffy at the helm, she knows that her days with him, as long as they may be, will be anything but dull. The question is, will they be dangerous or not.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love, be safe.

Divider by @cafekitsune

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mitch-the-silly · 8 months ago

Note

Hi I’m new to your blog so I apologize if I requested anything wrong in this ask

Could I request a vox x reader where reader comes crying to vox and as he is trying to comfort her someone walks in which makes him switch up to kind and soft to mean and unfair towards reader at one point even pointing out her insecuritys on accident which makes reader cry more and kinda distance herself from him. How would vox feel and comfort ready after this?

Thanks and have An amazing day!

No no, it's ok! You'll find that I LOVE writing angst. It's honestly my area of expertise. And I LOVED this idea so much that when I was looking through my asks just now, I was like "Eh, lemme go to sleep" but I saw your ask and knew I could afford to sleep a bit later!

Anyway, mean Vox is very much real to me (mayhaps even canon)-

For extra angst, The one to walk in will be Valentino and some other Overlords (but mainly Valentino because I hate his goofy, bald ass).

Vox x fem!reader

Angst!!!

Warnings: Valentino (EWWWW)

"Roses are Made of Thons"

You felt distressed, only one person in this world could console you and you knew it. So you ran to his office and buried yourself in his chest. Your lover, Vox, held you close to him. He was caressing your face with gentle care. He was always so gentle and loving with you, so when he asked you what was wrong and you told him about your sorrows, you confided he’d keep to himself and help you.

“I… I tried my best, and I think I still look terrible! I mean, look at me… I just…” You sniffled, hiccupping from how desperate you were.

“Hey… hey… what did we say? I love you just the way you are. I think you’re cute, you don’t need to try to look good when you already look good.” He spoke, kissing your cheek.

“Really? Are you sure…? I just… I see all the models in your shows… and… I just…” You mumbled, tears threatening to stream down again.

“It’s just a show. And it's meant to appease those dirty fuckers who look like ugly fucking losers with absolutely zero contact with women. It’s not based on my standards…” He reassured you, kissing you again.

However, this would soon be gone, because the door to his office opened without a previous announcement, and storming in came Valentino along with some other overlords. “Ugh, Vox, I need you to settle something- Oh. Are you getting taken care of by your little putita?~” Valentino cooed at him, making fun of your relationship.

You knew he had a thing for Vox, and were very much aware he was salty that Vox had decided to be loyal to you. So it was obvious Valentino hated your guts despite you not really interacting with him.

“It’s nothing important, what do you need?” He smiled, wiping your tears and placing you on his lap. He held your head to his chest, trying to hide your lack of composure.

“Well, look, I had a few drug deals with these two, and I thought you’d paid them but- Vox… why is she moving like that?” Valentino paused, lowering his sunglasses and squinting at you attempting to see better.

“I already told you it was nothing. Are you gonna speak or not?” Vox scoffed, nudging you to stop it.

“She’s distracting me, Vox. Control your bitches or I’ll teach her how I control mine.” Valentino huffed, lighting his cigarette and rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, stop crying, I’m busy right now, go and cry somewhere else please.” Vox spoke, turning towards you, and pushing you off his lap. You tried to wipe your tears, but they kept rolling down your cheek.

Was this really what he was acting like right now? “V-vox but…”

“What is she even bitching about anyway? I bet it’s that outfit she had on. It’s not doing her any favors. I’d cry too if I was in that rag.” Valentino joked cruelly, the other overlords laughed… Vox did too.

“She’s just crying over her not looking good, cut her some slack!” Vox chuckled, and then he turned towards you. “Come on, I’ll get back to you once I’m done with this. Meet me in my room, sweetie.” Vox spoke casually, dismissing you completely.

You couldn’t believe it… he was just shoving you to the side. Giving you the cold shoulder over Valentino and the other overlords… He was making fun of you and even told them the one thing you told him not to say.

You felt hot tears roll down your cheek, and you ran out of the room. Ignoring Vox’s request to wait for him in his room. Matter of fact, you stayed in your own room for a couple of days, sulking, desiring to never see him again after what he’d done to you. You could hear him knock at your door, and try to make amends, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

After a few days, you finally decided to come out of your room. Vox had been watching your hallway’s cameras for the past few days, and the second he spotted you out, he zapped to where you were.

“Y/n! Please! Can we talk?” He asked as you turned away form him, still mad at him.

“Please, I know I acted like an asshole, but… I just… If I showed them a soft side they weren’t gonna take me seriously! My whole business is a fake image of myself! If I don't uphold it, I'm fucked! My whole empire falls apart!” He cried out, almost groveling at your feet.

“You… you didn't have to tell them that about me… what I was insecure about…” You mumbled, tears threatening to creep in again.

“I know! And… I… I’m sorry, I was a fucking idiot and I was just feeding Valentino’s little games. I’m way too used to it, but I… I need to work on it, just please… Please don’t leave me! I fucked up, ok? I’m human, please don’t leave me over something I regret doing!” He pleaded, walking closer to you and taking your hand. Begging you for forgiveness.

“I… I need a bit more time… but… I accept your apology…” You mumbled, looking away. “Don’t do that again…”

“I won’t, I promise! I’ll give you your time, just… please don’t cut me off… The days you didn't talk to me were miserable… Please… I can’t live without you…” He begged.

“I heard you the first time… I’ll text you, don’t worry…” You mumbled back, reentering your room.

It was sort of a win for Vox, but he’d gotten too carried away. He’d already made sure to cuss out Valentino for his behavior. But he really had to get his life together. He just knew that if he pulled another one like this, he’d lose her.

#hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #vox header #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox angst #vox x reader angst #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin angst #vox is just so bbg i swear #man-child vox is so real #man-child vox #valentino #valentino hate #valentino hazbin hotel

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legacygirlingreen · 1 year ago

Text

My silly little HCs for Sebastian Sallow

Some of these are really random but I’ve just had an abundance of HC lately so I thought I’d share:

✨ I GENUINELY see a world in which Sebastian could be slightly messy in some areas and very orderly in others. I don’t think he’d be messy in EVERY aspect of his life. Sure his hair is messy (this i attribute to it’s natural texture and the fact he’s a teen boy and likely doesn’t care that much about it), that large stack of books near his bed and on his desk are messy and I’m sure his life can at times be pretty chaotic - but I get the vibe he still cares on occasion. He’s always dressed properly for class, no less than Ominis or his other classmates. I’m sure his papers and class notes are very immaculately organized and he’s got a system that on surface level looks chaotic but to him makes sense for his books and other possessions. I also don’t see it possible that he can be a complete slob either given how small the feldcroft house is and having to share it with Anne and Solomon (and Ominis).

✨ I think as a child he definitely had to learn how to self sooth, or find ways to entertain himself. We get hints that his parents were often locking themselves downstairs to research, leaving him and Anne to their devices and he seems very well liked by his professors - so this leads me to think that with the exception of the resitricted section and occasional mischief, he may not be as “high strung” as he’s often made out to be. With the amount of time he spends reading, snacking and just overall finding ways to keep from boredom, I can see a world where afternoons with Sebastian are much more laid back than one would imagine.

Which leads me into some loose ideas I think he’d conceive if he was dating you/MC:

* laying in the grass together on sunny days, reading silently, pointing out cloud shapes or looking for 4 leaf cloves together

* swimming in the sea in summer, sunbathing on the shores, skipping rocks

* baking the muggle way and enjoying homemade pie over candle light and engaging in thought provoking conversations

✨ I don’t think that Sebastian cares too much about his physical appearance as a teenager but I can definitely see it slowly becoming more and more a priority as he ages. Several people have pointed out that there’s a razor in their dorm and if you zoom in you can see he’s got the appearance of hair follicles on the high resolution zoom in screen grabs, so I think by seventh year he’s experimenting with facial hair. Probably sideburns or just a mustache as that would’ve been fashionable for the time, but I can see him letting his sideburns go in his least year at hogwarts. He’d claim it was “more convenient that way” since he “didn’t have to waste as much time shaving his whole face” but in reality he just feels more grown up and mature and he likes it - but likely wouldn’t want to be seen as vain.

✨ Sebastian grew up with a twin sister and is likely quite well versed in female anatomy and issues… he’s more than likely a SAINT when it comes to that time of the month, however I don’t think he’d see it as anything to mention. Likely just know it’s roughly that time again, casually offer more snacks, perhaps offer a simple back rub without saying anything, or other varieties of comfort without acknowledging WHY he’s doing so. If you ever bring it up he’d likely just shrug and say “just tying to be helpful since I know you likely don’t feel well” And leave it at that.

✨ I can see a variety of the love languages being important to him. I do agree he likely responds well to physical touch. You cannot convince me otherwise that he would not adore having someone play with his hair. He turns into a puppy immediately and it’s canon as far as I’m concerned. He also likely knows some mild form of braiding due to Anne so he probably equally enjoys returning the favor in that way. Sebastian gives me more strong touch in private but little to no PDA . Exceptions can be made for timely acceptable actions like a hand on the arm to escort but nothing crazy like necking in halls.

✨ however… private Sebastian could be a mixed bag. Initially I see him slightly nervous. Sebastian seems confident and headstrong in areas he’s familiar but we don’t see him ever feel unprepared. I get the sense he’d be anxious when he’s going in completely blind to new arenas like physical relations with a girl… So early on here May be apprehensive. I agree with the thought he would research all he could and go out of his way to make sure they were comfortable and he prevented pain. But once he’s got a good handle in it… he’s always looking to improve until he’s confident he’s making you feel incredible…

✨ Sebastian finds feminine hands to be so interesting. Despite not liking PDA I can see him constantly grabbing yours, examining them, admiring the softness, pressing kisses to the back of them, and just all around finding them so insanely beautiful despite being so simple.

✨ Sebastian sallow definitely is the type to practice his signature constantly. He gets bored in class I imagine, with as much reading as he does, he’s likely way ahead of his peers. It’s common to see him doodling out new ways of signing his name and he still hasn’t found the way that’s quite him yet but he will eventually…

✨ deep down I think he can be very self conscious. I imagine he’d find certain features less than perfection … such as his wide nose or bushy eyebrows. Dark eyes and dark features are quite common , I can see a world in which he so often feels quite plain. However the right partner coming along and kissing that button nose or playfully stroking his brow while he rests his head in their lap would slowly make him feel better about what he sees in the mirror. Being complimented on his appearance, something I’m sure gets lost in his many talents, would mean the world to him.

✨Sebastian has a sweet tooth and would 100% rock the dad bod when matured . He’s lean now with all the hogwarts cardio, but once he slows down he’s getting thicker. Just look at Solomon and tell me the sallow genes aren’t slightly husky (Also check out @rednite-dork bc she’s got some awesome art depicting a more aged up, dad bod seb and they are mouth watering 🤪)

I have soo many more but here’s some loose HCs , and I’m always down for a part 2💚

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #fluff #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow headcanon

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physalian · 3 months ago

Text

“You didn’t do your research!” (No, my character is just ignorant)

I read a book where one character was a vlogger/professional photographer. I’m no professional myself but I do have a couple nice Canons and the equipment and I know my way around them and Lightroom and video editing. This was a major aspect of this character, not just a side hobby mentioned every so often.

This writer, importantly, was not a photographer and as I was reading, I knew immediately that they didn’t do their research.

Now, had this character been written as a novice, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Had this been written as a hobby of theirs and not part of the main plot of the story, even, I would have let it slide. But the book said this character was an expert, and yet showed me a completely different story.

In this case:

Do your research

Or pick a field you are already knowledgeable in

Or put that trait in the background

—

But what if you have a character who really is a novice?

For example, Elias, my protagonist of Eternal Night, grew up incredibly sheltered. He does not know his way around a bow and arrow. I, however, very much do. I own a compound bow and have shot recurve bows. Dorian, my deuteragonist, has had a couple centuries to learn his way around archery, along with everyone else in the cast.

So when I write Elias shooting, or Elias POV talking about it, Elias can get away with doing and naming everything completely wrong because he has no idea what he’s talking about. Dorian can’t. Dorian is how I show my knowledge of the sport—that I did, in fact, do my research.

Do you need an example character? No, I just happen to have one.

The amount of times I have beta’d WIPs where authors are very much out of their depth could be solved in such a simple way: Make your character ignorant, and you solve your plot holes.

Now if I wrote Elias as an archery novice, and also suddenly an expert marksman, then yeah I’d still have a plot hole. But if he doesn’t hold the bow correctly and doesn’t name all the parts of his equipment correctly, or doesn’t properly take care of it… why would he know better?

These are kind of like unreliable narrators, only instead of telling the story with suspect accuracy, they are participating in the plot with suspect accuracy.

If you have to have a set piece with something you definitely aren’t an expert in and have researched all you can but it still doesn’t feel like enough, consider the following:

It does not need as much step-by-step detail as you think, especially if this isn’t a huge part of the narrative, especially if it’s niche. I have Elias learning how to shoot, but I don’t painstakingly describe his lessons, though I could. I tell you the ~vibes~ of how archery works, and I need not say more because none of this is the point of the scene—Elias learning a new thing and branching out is the point.

You can just say “Characters did this thing in the background and now we’re here when it has become important”. In sci-fi and fantasy, the more you give audiences to pick apart, the more they’re going to. You can describe how the artificial gravity on your spaceship works with your fantasy gadgets and fantasy physics, or you can just say “the ship has artificial gravity” and as this is sci-fi, readers will just accept it and move on.

But even in contemporary fiction. Say I’m writing about a high school yearbook class, of which I myself was our senior editor. I would ask myself: Is the book about the actual process of making a yearbook, or the characters who are making the book? I can spend pages upon pages describing the photography and editing and layout process of pages and spreads, or I can just have a character “editing a photo for color correction” while they’re having a more meaningful conversation.

If I wrote the former and this was a book that intimately dove into the yearbook process, then my readers would expect all those fine details. If I didn’t, then yearbook becomes the setting, not the story, and my readers expecting a high school drama might get bored by all the technical prose.

At the end of the day all those details are exposition, if the only purpose they serve is to exposit and not reflect back on the characters or story at large, then why are they here? I can make all the technical details interesting, so long as they matter to the character. If you don't know what you're talking about, then how can you know how they matter to the character?

There is a balance I think you have to strike. If you don't include *any* details about yearbook, then why is it set in a yearbook class?

—

But at the end of the day… if you’re not a photographer, and you decide to write your protagonist who’s passionate about photography, and the whole story is about the photography process so they can enter some competition, and you know absolutely nothing about the photography process…. Why are you setting yourself up for failure?

Instead, consider writing your photography-loving hero’s story about why they love photography (which you should do anyway). Take the focus off the mechanics and instead write about something many more people can understand, which is the emotional connection one has to their favorite hobby.

You might not know all the parts of a professional camera, but you do know what it’s like to spend hours at a time trying to make something perfect and the catharsis you feel when it works out, or the disappointment when it doesn’t.

That story I read above wasn’t laser-focused on vlogging, but the character had brought in all their expensive equipment to a dirty environment to film something and put their equipment in filthy places not the least bit concerned about any of it getting damaged or broken. The writer failed at the technical side, but more importantly, they failed at the emotional side. Halfway through the book and I had no idea how this character felt about their hobby.

Camera equipment is expensive. That shit is painstakingly maintained and cared for. You don’t just throw it around and accept that grease splatters will get in the way, you do the job trying your best to mitigate the potential damage and you worry the whole way that your camera baby took a beating.

Point being, even if the writer had missed the mark on the correct vocabulary, that wasn’t nearly as damning as failing to understand the big picture of why people do this hobby and the complications that come with it. They didn’t do their research.

—

If any of this resonates with you, consider checking out my book Eternal Night of the Northern Sky, out for preorder now, paperback on 8/25/24.

#writing #writing advice #writing a book #writing resources #writeblr #writing tips #writing tools #world building #character development #exposition

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defectivevillain · 4 months ago

Text

born into blood

pairing: Ghostface/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: Christina Carpenter wasn’t the only woman to have an affair with Billy Loomis… Your mother did too. You’re Billy’s child, just like Sam Carpenter. But you saw what happened to Sam—so you keep silent. Your father’s real identity is a secret you will take to your grave. At least, that’s what you think. Then, one day, Ghostface comes calling…

word count: 2.2k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence, character death; attempted murder, strangulation, blood, hallucinations; scream (2022) spoilers.

notes: I wrote Ghostface with he/him pronouns, but he remains nameless—so feel free to imagine whichever killer you want.

thank you @palefaceswhore for the beta! 🖤 any remaining mistakes are mine.

You don’t usually answer phone calls from unidentified numbers. But you had a job interview a few days ago, and you still haven’t gotten a response from the company, so you accept the call and bring your phone up to your ear with hope brewing in your chest. You thought you did a decent job in the interview, and you hope the recruiters thought the same.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of breath on the other line. Dread begins to prickle across your skin. Your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth. Just as you summon the courage to speak, the other person speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A shiver runs down your spine at the familiar voice. You immediately hang up and slam your phone face-down on the table. With quick breaths, you pick up your phone and shakily open your phone app again, blocking the contact. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a prank call mimicking Ghostface, unfortunately—since the Stab movies first came out, unruly teenagers have started doing it rather frequently. But your particular situation is a bit different than that of the average person. After all, Billy Loomis is your father.

For the longest time, you had no idea. But once you turned sixteen, your mother sat you down and told you the truth: she had an affair during her marriage, and that affair resulted in your birth. Safe to say, you were sick to your stomach. That revelation only proved to be much worse, however, when she revealed exactly who she slept with: Billy Loomis, one of the original Ghostface killers. A murderer.

It took you a long time for you to begin trusting your mother again. And a small part of you knows that you’ll never look at her the same again—both because of what she did and because of the years she spent keeping it a secret from you. When you finally moved out from her house, you were mostly relieved. Leaving that house meant leaving it all behind. You didn’t have to meet your mother’s eyes and see a killer’s malice reflected in them any longer.

Time passed and you slowly moved on. Ultimately, you decided that it would be ridiculously dangerous for you to tell anyone. You’ve kept that promise to yourself since your mother first confessed the identity of your father to you. You can only hope the secret dies a swift death, never seeing the light of day. After all, Billy Loomis is dead. You can take comfort in that… right?

Then you hear about Sam Carpenter, and everything comes rushing back. The world had slowly moved on from Billy Loomis, as the Ghostface mask was passed from killer to killer. But once Sam Carpenter was unwittingly thrust into the public eye, you saw your quiet life slowly crumbling before you. You didn’t need to know Sam personally to know how she must’ve been treated for her parentage. The public villainized her—even with incontrovertible proof that she wasn’t the killer. Ghostface is everywhere now. You can’t avoid him, no matter how hard you try. All you can do… is hope that no one else discovers the identity of your father—otherwise you’ll be pursued with vengeance, just as Sam and her friends were.

A ringing sound draws you from your thoughts. You frown and walk through your living room, attempting to discern the source of the noise. Once you walk into the kitchen, you realize that it’s your landline—the one that was supposedly disconnected. You’ve never given out that number to anyone. Hell, the phone hasn’t been used in years. It rings again and you flinch, before shaking your head in disbelief. You should just ignore the call, obviously. But that’s against the rules, a voice in your head whispers. In the movies, if you don’t answer, he’ll just come out and stab you in the back. At least this way, maybe he’ll give you a chance at life. You know this isn’t a Stab movie… but your hand moves of its own accord, grabbing the phone and bringing it to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.” That warped, deepened voice sends chills down your spine. “Don’t try that again.”

You’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t a prank call. And on the small chance that this is really happening—that Ghostface himself is calling you—hanging up would be a death sentence. You swallow hard and remain on the line, despite everything in your head screaming at you to hang up and run away as fast as you can. You try to take slow, measured breaths as you look around the room for signs of his presence. You don’t see anything.

“Good,” Ghostface says patronizingly. You try to take a deep breath. It isn’t your father. But that doesn’t quite matter—that deepened, warped voice still reminds you of him. “Now, let’s try that again. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You rack your brain and try to think of something to say. “… Saw .” You eventually respond. Admittedly, it’s hard to focus on the conversation. All you can think about is the high probability that Ghostface is outside of your home—or, hell, even in it—already.

“Really?” Ghostface hums interestedly. “Not Stab ?”

“No,” you respond, your heart jumping in your throat. The mere mention of the movie franchise is enough to make you nervous, as you remember your father. Something stews in your chest and your fingers tighten around the phone as you hold it to your ear.

“Why not?” Ghostface asks innocently. His voice is mocking. “It’s about your father, after all.”

You’re silent, entirely frozen as a victorious cackle sounds through your phone.

“Oh, you thought no one knew?” He continues. “Billy Loomis was a player, and that’s no secret.”

“What do you want from me?” You choke out. You’ve spent more than twenty years outrunning your father’s reputation—doing everything in your power to ensure that no one ever knew your connection to him. And now it’s all slipping away from you. All your hard work is slipping down the drain, falling through your fingers like granules of sand.

As if sensing your unease and distress, Ghostface’s voice has a triumphant lilt to it. “What I want…” He breaks off, “is for you to give in. ” You stare ahead in shocked silence. The taste of bile settles on your tongue. “It’s time for you to carry on your father’s legacy.”

The call abruptly ends. Immediately, you whip around and brace yourself against the kitchen counter, dread churning in your chest. You’ve seen the Stab movies—once Ghostface hangs up, he reveals himself to his victim. You grit your teeth and frantically search your drawers for a knife. When your hand closes around the knife, you turn around to find Ghostface standing right in front of you. The knife in his hand glitters at you mockingly.

“Come on,” he says, his voice still distorted and deep. You squint at him, surprised that you don’t see him holding a voice changer in his hand. There must be something fixed to the inside of his mask. Unfortunately, you’re not given the luxury to muse on that thought, as he steps even closer and forces you to back up against the counter, before standing still. You can sense his eyes boring into you through the mask. “I’ll give you a free shot. It’s your birthright.” Ghostface reaches out with his free hand, taking your hand in his and tilting your knife up until it points at his shoulder.

You swallow hard, your heart thundering in your chest as you try to grasp the reality of the situation you find yourself in. You’re standing before a killer and he’s willingly giving you a chance to weaken him. Despite knowing that you should take the shot he’s giving you, all it takes is a flicker of your father’s visage in your mind’s eye for you to shake your head stubbornly. Making the first move is far more difficult in reality than you expect it to be. Besides, while he’s certainly antagonized you, Ghostface hasn’t actually harmed you yet. Stabbing him without being provoked isn’t something you can get yourself to do, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that you need this advantage he’s giving you.

Silence stretches on, settling in the air between you. Ghostface is standing far too close for you to be comfortable, and his grip on your arm is extremely tight. Eventually, he exhales. “I gave you a chance,” the killer shrugs. Despite that statement, he’s still grasping your hand. “Now, I’m afraid your cameo has come to an end… The killer’s child becomes the victim. It’s poetic justice!”

You don’t get a chance to pick apart that statement before Ghostface is lodging his knife into your left side and pulling it back out forcefully. You scream, quickly pressing a hand to the wound in a rather futile attempt to stop the bleeding. As you fall to your knees, you return the blow and sink your knife into his thigh. He hisses and falls to the side, giving you time to sweep his feet out from under him and clumsily get to your feet. Through your pain-hazed vision, you manage to navigate through your kitchen and into the living room. Remembering your phone in your pocket, you take it out and attempt to call emergency services, only for Ghostface to slam into you and tackle you to the floor. You try to throw him off, but he looms over you and tries to stab you again. You manage to roll to the side, letting out an uncomfortable hiss as the movement sends pain flaring up your side. His knife lodges into the floor beneath you with a solid thunk.

“That’s it,” he spits, grabbing your shirt collar. “Bastard.” The insult is punctuated by a harsh thud, which you realize moments later to be the sound of your head hitting the ground. Your vision is spiraling and blurring as his hands move to your throat. You immediately try to push him off.

Suddenly a bright light flashes before your eyes, and your father is staring down at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes fall to something near your side and you follow his gaze, remembering the knife that is still lodged into the ground. In his enraged fervor, the killer hasn’t seemed to notice it. It’s nearly right in front of him—you’ll have to be very quick to grab it. Your vision is practically pulsing at this point, but even through the blurriness, you can see Billy Loomis’ twisted grin.

Ghostface brutally tightens his grip on your throat and rips the air from your lungs. You’re writhing and thrashing against him, but his hold is strong and unflinching. You don’t have much time, so you make a grab for the knife and manage to free it from the floorboards. It clatters to the ground and suddenly, both you and Ghostface are reaching for the weapon. With a stretch that sends bolts of pain down your forearm, you manage to clasp the knife first—and you don’t hesitate to bury it into Ghostface’s neck. His hands fall from your neck and you frantically inhale, coughing and choking as you push yourself to your knees. Saliva falls from your lips and you wipe at it with your free hand, before focusing your attention on Ghostface once more. He’s sprawled on the ground before you, clasping at his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. But blood is positively oozing out of him, and his form promptly slackens.

You’re still not convinced. Doesn’t the killer always miraculously lurch forward at the last moment, when the victim thinks they’re dead? You decide you’d rather not test that theory, and settle for yanking the knife back out of his neck. The blood loss will kill him, if he isn’t already dead.

After a few more moments staring down at Ghostface and contemplating your next move, you grab at his wrist and feel for a pulse. There’s nothing—a notion further punctuated by the way his arm promptly crashes to the floor when you release it. Your attacker is dead.

The adrenaline that kept you alive begins to fade, leaving you with a bone-deep ache and a stinging sensation in your side. The knife slips from your grasp and falls to the floor with a deafening clatter. Ghostface’s blood is pooling beneath him, and your hands are painted crimson with it. You’re shaking extremely hard, your chest burning from your near suffocation only moments prior. Your equilibrium is all off, and you’re forced to watch from an outsider’s perspective as the world sways and tilts to the side as you fall back down to the ground. Shadows are crawling across the room; when you blink, you see black boots on the ground next to you. Your father crouches down and stares at you, his expression unreadable through your foggy vision. He almost looks to be resisting the urge to reach out to you. A tear crawls down your cheek as you hear sirens in the distance.

“Well done.” Billy Loomis says, his voice reverberating through your ears. He crouches down even more, until he’s sitting next to you. With ghosts for company and pain stitching your body together, your vision quickly fades to black.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

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#defectivevillain #gn reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nb reader #scream #scream x reader #scream franchise #x reader #x gn reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface x gn reader #ghostface x male reader #ya ya

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