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satorhime · 2 years ago

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front row seat + gojo satoru ── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : minors do not interact, f!reader, explicit smut, pussy drunk!gojo, hentai tropes ( internal view / satoru uses his six eyes ), messy sex, squirting, mating press. w.c ˓˓ 2k ˓˓

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : sometimes you forget that your boyfriend sees everything.

“h-honey, i ever tell you how pretty this pussy is?”

he has, multiple times, because satoru is obsessed with watching you while he fucks you.

in a way, you don’t blame him. the two of you are beautiful together and on the days when your boyfriend is merciful enough not to fuck you flat into his mattress, you love lifting your gooey head up to watch the pretty bounce of your tits, the squishy sink of satoru’s cock disappearing into your pussy and how the taut muscles in his abdomen twitches, tensing up whenever you suck him in with a widowmaking squeeze,

but tonight satoru is … tonight, something has him frenzied.

his quicksilver blue eyes refuse to close down, and no matter how good he feels inside you, he refuses to throw his head back in ecstasy. it’s like he’s watching the performance of the century, one such cinematic masterpiece that he can’t afford to miss and you’re the pretty young starlet acting centerstage.

his gaze trails all over every inch of your plush body, from the way he leaves his fingerprints in the soft dimples of your hips, the tousel of your hair as you thrash against the pillows underneath him, and now his new personal favorite— a sight only his six eyes are allowed to see.

a sweet treat he’s never thought to indulge in before now, the fact that if he drags his gaze down to your body and let the six eyes focus a little further, past your soft belly until it becomes a translucent screen to him, he can see everything. it feels perverse, being able to watch the raw way he fucks into you but it’s so intoxicating, maddening and white hot, how heavenly you look spread out underneath him with your cunt laid bare to his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to resist it if he tried–

so he watches, milky lashes fanning out over petal-pink cheeks as his lidded eyes focus below your hips, right between the jiggle of your thighs. “g-god,” he moans out through gritted teeth, lilting baritone low and shaky. he’s sitting back on his heels, chin tucked to his chest and lip bitten raw. sweat drips from his brows onto your belly in rivulets and he’s attempting to rally the last bit of self-control he has in order not to absolutely wreck you as he watches himself fuck his cock deep into your weeping pussy. “wish you could see how easy this little lady’s opening up f’me, angel.”

“nnngh, i can’t see-!” you squeal, and you don’t know if it’s because of the sticky tears blurring your big doe eyes or because it’s one of those nights where he fucks you flat, where the weight of his cock leaves you writhing and unable to move properly. where the only thing you can do is toss your head back against the pillows and take what he gives.

how such an innocent night ended up like this so suddenly, you don’t know. your head had been on satoru’s strong chest, cocooned in his infinity while his arm was curled behind his own head, scrolling aimlessly through a shady porn website on your phone with the intention of finding a cheesy hentai episode for the two of you to watch and dissect for jokes, a tradition in your relationship when you were in between streaming shows. satoru ended up choosing one from your recently watched, and as the two of you watched the exaggerated, almost comical movements of the animated couple fucking on the screen, you had expected his boyish jokes to begin and make you giggle, but he’d been silent— eyes darkening with something worse than lust at the sight of the x-ray view of the male character’s engorged cock sinking deep into the female character’s pussy while she wailed and babbled incoherently.

this what gets you hot ‘n’ bothered when i’m not around, angel?

the rest is hazy, lost in the way you’re splayed out on the sheets now, knees bent to your shoulders and fingers desperately digging into the backs of your trembling thighs to hold them in the air for gojo. the position is uncomfortable and you’re not flexible like that, joints in your poor hips aching but you don’t care, not when he’s got your breasts bouncing lewdly with each repeated, dirty slam of the tip of his cock right up against your womb until you can practically feel him in your throat, stealing the desperate screams right from your vocal cords.

“that’s a real shame, princess,” he coos, an egoistic smirk on his lips but it falters when you squeeze ‘round him just right, sore cunt twitching against the hard swell of his cock. his ocean blues dim, fingernails scratching against your squishy sides for leverage not to fuck deeper but to push you away because while he’s practiced, you feel too fucking good and he needs a minute, damn it, he’ll cum too fucking fast and ruin the perfect view of your cunt and it’ll be all your fault—

“wah-why did you stop-... please, miss your cock so much,” you simper, needy.

but he ignores your sweet little cries, drawing his hips back until his cock slips out of you and he lays it flat against your seam, greedily drinking down how fucking pretty you look beneath him like this, so good for him in the way you struggle to hold those sweet thighs up so he can have easy access to an even sweeter cunt. he wraps one hand around the root of his sticky girth, can’t help himself when he slaps the tip hard against the hood of your clit, just to earn that cute little yelp you make. “you’re so good for me always, sugar. such a good girl, huh? but i’m not sure of that anymore after tonight. you’ve been holding out on me.”

“w… wh- i am a good girl-”

“but that’s okay,” he cuts you off. “i’ve got a front row seat now. know why?”

he loves watching the pretty picture that confusion paints on a fucked out expression like yours. you fumble for the answer like a teacher’s pet, even though you’re distracted by grinding your clit against the tip of gojo’s cock for desperate, greedy friction. you’re too drunk on him to understand the true meaning behind those slurred out words and he knows it. head always caught up in the pleasure simmering in your belly that you forget the man fucking you is considered the strongest sorcerer in the world for a reason and oh … oh, there it is.

sometimes you forget that he views the world differently than normal men. the x-ray porn you secretly like may be an unrealistic act seen only in hentai, but gojo satoru wouldn’t be the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t bring fiction into reality.

“y-you can see inside me,” you whisper, a little awed, and the thought of it is so fucking hot. you squeeze around emptiness when he nods, wanting to suck his tip right back into your tight pussy and you can practically feel the slick dripping out of you as he flashes a devastating, heartbreaker smile at you. “the six eyes. y-you can see how much i want you to fuck me again.”

“smart girl,” his praise warms your veins until your blood feels honeyed, running through you thick and slow. gojo flicks the tip against your clit one last time for the road before he reaches down, spreading one side of your folds open so he can nudge at the creamy ring to your cunt. “i can see everything.”

“i can see how this little cunt is stubborn, how she never wants to stretch properly f’ me, the way she twitches when i hit it just right. i can see everything,” and he can, his technique zeroing in on his girth sinking in and stretching you wide, his answering whine almost louder than yours, eyes threatening to clamp shut as he feeds you the long stretch of his cock once more. the air in the bedroom of his penthouse makes your bodies slippery with sweat while you squirm underneath him on hot sheets, your breath wheezing out of your lungs until you can’t breathe. “look at that.”

“i- hng, can’t-!”

it’s a hotter fuck like this, knowing those pretty blue eyes can see every rib and ridge of the inside of your pussy. that satoru knows the exact way your gummy walls, pretty pink against the white of his cock, look when you swell and squeeze for the stinging stretch, smeared in his precum. it makes you feel delirious— expression cracked wide open with pleasure, tongue lolling out of your pretty mouth, gaze fluttering releasing desperate whines as gojo fucks too fast, cockhead bullying your g-spot into overstimulation so that you can’t even fight it when you gush, the lewd sound of slick squelching out of you burning heat into your cheeks.

“look at you, squirtin’ all over me, angel,” gojo groans, stamping down the fast approach of his orgasm as arousal streams down the curve of your ass, wetting his expensive sheets. watching the way your swollen, puffy pussy spasms and tries to force him out but it only makes him drive deeper, his pace brutal— his hips rouged red from the friction of your bodies slapping together. “prettiest pussy in the whole world. you know that?”

“y'r gonna cum inside me, right 'toru? s-so i'll look even prettier?” you simper under the praise, big doe eyes staring up at him behind a dreamy haze.

“shouldn't have said that, sweet girl. ooooh, f-fuck. you shouldn't. have. said. that. fuck fuck fuck, i'm gonna put my cum right here, ” he babbles desperately, a big hand splaying out on your belly, pressing down hard as his thumb dips low, circling your sticky clit almost desperately. the words punctuated by the heavy slap of his balls against your ass, headboard knocking violently into the wall. his spine tenses, orgasm building in the pit of his gut and he can’t wait to see it, the sight of his cum painting against your pretty walls. “and you're gonna take care of it f’ me, aren’t you? promise ‘toru you won't spill a drop?”

“i promise-! i promise i promise i promise, give me your cum- ‘toru- pleas-”

“shut up, angel face. you’re about to make me miss the best part of the movie.”

#little novels.#gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk thirsts #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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adventuringblind · 8 months ago

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Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.

“Not so confident now, huh?”

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.

And then nothing.

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.

She blacks out.

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.

She can't move.

It's dark again.

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.

“Max, she always responds.”

“I know Lando.”

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.

“What the fuck?”

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.

“-She’s asking for us.”

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”

“And what if I am?”

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.

“Get out!”

“We were just talking-”

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.

He’s not prone to violence.

Really, he’s not.

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”

“Equilibrium.”

“Yeah that!”

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.

She wins the next race.

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient.

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.

She smiles back.

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tarysande · 3 months ago

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Mass Effect 2: The Case for the Heroine's Journey

I have a theory. And I think it's something others--especially other storytellers--might find interesting. It explains why some people absolutely adore Mass Effect 2 while others (not as many, in my experience!) think dealing with all the companions and their personal quests is boring or irrelevant.

What it boils down to is the difference between the Hero's Journey and the Heroine's Journey. There a couple of takes on the Heroine's Journey (ranging from more philosophical and psychoanalytical to more story-based), and I'm going to be pulling hard from the story-based iteration, which author Gail Carriger has written a fabulous book about. I highly recommend it.

One thing I want to mention right off the bat: the gender, sex, or sexuality of your protagonist has nothing to do with whether they're a hero or a heroine.

Everyone and their dog knows the Hero's Journey. A literal ton of writing advice refers to the Hero's Journey as if it's the be-all and end-all of narrative (thanks Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, and Christopher Vogler); it ain't called the monomyth for nothing.

But if a part of you grits your teeth every time it gets trotted out as The One Right Way to tell a story that sells or a story people love, you may have your mind blown by the concept of the Heroine's Journey. Every single one of you who tingles with excitement at the very thought of found family (or romance, for that matter)? Yeah, strap in, we're going for a ride.

I don't want to go into a lot of detail about the Hero's Journey; it's everywhere. You know it even if you don't realize you know it. So for brevity's sake, I'll give you wikipedia's one-sentence description: a hero goes on an adventure, is victorious in a decisive crisis, and comes home changed or transformed. Luke Skywalker. Everyone always talks about Luke Skywalker. And on the surface, Mass Effect could seem like a Hero's Journey, right?

According to Gail, a Hero's Journey boils down to

A repeated pattern of withdrawal and return, and those withdrawals are voluntary, as voluntary withdrawal and increased isolation yields self-reliant strength.

Victory is in isolation and asking for help is bad.

But looking at it (especially ME2) through the lens of the Heroine's Journey is where it gets interesting.

This is the infographic Gail created and supplies on her website:

In her book, Gail notes that not every element has to be present to qualify a story as a Hero/Heroine's Journey and the events don't have to happen specifically in this order.

In the Heroine's Journey

The heroine's withdrawal is involuntary; something is broken and she must abdicate the power she had in order to rebuild, retrieve, or reunite with what was taken or broken.

Victory is a group effort; asking for help is a sign of strength; and the protagonist realizes that while she can't do everything herself, she has surrounded herself with people whose skills she can effectively deploy.

In the Heroine's Journey, the DESCENT is involuntary. Something is done to her or taken from her, and it breaks her familial network.

In ME2, obviously, uh, the thing that's taken from Shepard is her own life. Of course, instead of that being the end of the story, it's the inciting incident that leads to the involuntary withdrawal from her found family on the Normandy, her connection to the Alliance, and her Spectre status. Her home is literally destroyed. And then, kinda hilariously, she wakes up in the literal underworld. You know. Cerberus, dog that guards the gates of Hades?

I play a very Paragon Shepard and haven't played Renegade, so I can't speak to that. However, I can tell you that my Paragon Shep wakes up working for Cerberus and promptly proceeds to gain more Renegade points in the first couple of missions--hell, the first couple of conversations with Miranda, Jacob, and TIM--than she got in all of ME1.

Jacob: Do you trust me, Shepard? Shepard: NO, omg.

I've probably played ME2 five or six times with this Shepard, and she always strikes me as a bit off, a bit manic even, until she sees Tali. And she doesn't really start to settle or feel like herself until Archangel takes off his helmet, believes she is who she says she is, and without hesitation agrees to follow her into hell.

(As the protagonist in his own story, Garrus is also a heroine on a Heroine's Journey, by the by. Shepard's death breaks his network; C-Sec and the Council's denial of the Reapers leads to his abdication of power in the hunt for justice. His underworld is Omega. He puts together a surrogate family to fight injustice; he learns to delegate; he doesn't do it for glory... And then Sidonis's betrayal breaks the new family and sends him on another cycle. My theory, however, is that if you let him kill Sidonis, his journey takes on the revenge aspect of a Hero's Journey instead of the family and reunification structure of a Heroine's Journey.)

In ME2, the arc of recruiting an ally, earning their loyalty, and deploying their suggestions to improve the entire team's chances of survival is repeated over and over; this is the SEARCH of the cycle. And anyone who's ever tried to race their way through ME2 without doing all those loyalty missions or without scanning all those planets for resources finds out pretty quick why they're important.

So, while you potentially could race through ME1 without even recruiting several teammates (did you even know you can play that game without recruiting Garrus???), thereby making it much more of a Hero's Journey of the Strength of the Individual, you really can't do that in ME2 without massive casualties. You need the people around you. You need to build relationships. And you need to learn to delegate well, or things will absolutely fall apart during the end run.

Even the stated mission of ME2 is more Heroine's Journey. You're not fighting for glory; in fact, most of the people who used to be in awe of you now think you're a crazy terrorist. You're fighting to stop what's happening to human colonists.

The end run is so satisfying specifically because it leans in to the Heroine's Journey of information gathering and network building. You cannot beat the game as a solitary soldier. You cannot achieve a good outcome--minimal deaths, etc.--without having spent a lot of time and effort gaining the loyalty of your crew and then knowing how to deploy them to best serve the whole team.

ME2 is a story about finding and building a family after the last one is broken.

And though it's a whole other can of worms, I actually think the reason why the ending of ME3 was ultimately so unsatisfying for so many (again, not all) is because the majority of the game is once again a Heroine's Journey--team building and information gathering across the galaxy--but the endgame pulls the expected narrative out from under you. Instead of actually using the resources you've so carefully built, you're quite literally beamed up into complete isolation (weakness) and left to make a choice in isolation. It breaks the narrative promise that's been set up since the beginning of the game. And, whether you realize it or not, that's a huge part of why that lonely choice feels so hollow. Instead of a structured reunion and a rebuilt network, it's actually the broken family and involuntary descent that heralds the beginning of a new Heroine's Journey--not the the end of a successful one.

Also, incidentally? It's Heroine's Journeys that usually get satisfying instead of distracting-the-hero-from-his-real-mission romance, banter, fully realized side characters, and humor.

#mass effect #the heroine's journey #mass effect meta #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #turns out i love heroine's journeys much much more than i like hero's journeys #long text post #story structure #narrative structure #and this is why we get mad when stories don't meet the expectations they've set up #i could talk about this forever but i have a yoga class to get to asap

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virgin-superstar · 3 months ago

Text

every time i open up this needlessly complex scholarship application i ask myself why im so determined to go here for my PhD. anyway what do i put for proof of admission when my doctorate program is like an incorporeal national laboratory entity thats attached to a university that actually gives me my degree.

listing myself as fluent in both english and british english

#s #GRITS MY TEETH. ITS GOING TO BE WORTH IT #negotiating with this dumb badly organized website is like pulling teeth and i just know that all my enrollment questions will take #3 business days to answer. cool program with some truly awesome minds behind it but why do they have no standard deferral procedure #I👹LOVE👹GERMAN👹BUREAUCRACY👹👹👹IT TAKES NO TOLL ON ME WHATSOEVER👹👹👹#it doesnt help that the application website is so badly put together its impossible for me to take it seriously

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suiana · 10 months ago

Note

Yandere reader x rental boyfriend 🤯

i thought i had a rental bf already but okay

(yandere! rental bf x gn! reader)

you had originally hired him to be your boyfriend for an event. you needed a partner, it was a duo event after all. so you went and found him through a website, set up a contract and everything was contractual.

until it wasn't?

you don't know how he misunderstood things, how he saw your actions as romantic when you had clearly set up the contract together with him. you were only acting as required to make your act believable! you couldn't understand how he saw otherwise. not when he's also a seasoned rental boyfriend.

alas, maybe he's not as professional as he claimed to be. which is why you were in this position now.

"what? it was a lie all along? you didn't fall for me? really?"

you sigh at his panicked words, nodding in irritation as you flip through your phone. this could have been all avoided had he just remained professional. i mean, you had always reminded him that this was just a contractual relationship! so it wasn't your fault at all!

you had to cut him off now because clearly, he isn't looking for just a professional relationship.

"i still don't understand how you mistook my actions."

"y-you said you loved me!"

you shake your head, turning to leave. this was getting no where. perhaps you'll just transfer him his payment through online means. you really didn't want to see him again.

he's just so... pathetic.

"i'll give you your payment soon. goodbye and thanks for your hard work."

and then you left. not caring about how he was crying or begging you to come back. and while your heartless actions hurt his heart, all he could think about was what he should do to your best friend that was hidden in his basement.

gritting his teeth, he wipes his tears away as he stares at the opened door which you left through. his face shows no mercy, twisting angrily as he clenches his fists. maybe it's time to show you how serious he is about you.

"you... you'll regret leaving me."

#suiana's sinners #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere imagines #yandere rental boyfriend #yandere rental boyfriend x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

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Hello! I love your page layout!! May I send in a request for Platonic Headcanons with TF-141 and Los Vaqueros with a hacker reader? (Like SilverWolf In Honkai star Rail) Reader is part of a group of 4 deadly people including their self and act as their hacker. They’re notorious for breaking into many government and military systems and are an enemy to TF-141 and Los Vaqueros. With reader having a bounty of 51 billion but still having the lowest bounty compared to others in their group!

I’d be interested in their reactions to reader!

(Take your time tho!)

ahh thank you so much for sending this in! I've been in a bit of a writer's block so this brought me back :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: When your file crosses the 141's desk, they find themselves hunting after you and your notorious group.

pairing: Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros x platonic!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons/violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

When your file first crossed Laswell's desk and she passed it over to the team, they were surprised at its sheer size

From hacking the US government to disabling NATO comms, it was clear you had become an enemy of every government across the globe

The US even tried to make a deal with you and offered a high-paying job in the NSA in return for a detailed account of how you hacked into their systems

You returned the job offer with a hack that left their website non-functional for weeks

"Impressive one you have here, Laswell," Price commented as he flipped through your file

"They call them 'Oblivion' and the use of 1's and 0's is a nice touch" she quipped before briefing them on your team's current location

That's how they ended up back in Mexico and crossed paths again with the Los Vaqueros

"Fuck it's so hot here," you said as you fanned yourself with a makeshift paper fan

The leader of the group, Phantom, rolled his eyes as he continued to clean your array of weapons and tools

"Not my fault we got tracked down to that oil rig in the Pacific," he replied through gritted teeth and you threw a stray stack of files toward him

"Told you, that wasn't my fault," you angrily responded, "the Australians tracked down someone's unprotected IP"

You shot a glance toward the single individual who was the source of all your forged documents and consistent flow of funds

As the group divulged into chaos at your singular comment, you were distracted by the blinding light and ringing from a flash bang through the window

"Get down!" you could hear a loud baritone voice boom as you blinked rapidly amongst the rubble of your work

As you looked around at your surrounding teammates in various states of disarray, you could see the vague outline of an attack team making their way through the destroyed door

"Fuck me," you swore as you grabbed a weapon and your laptop- two vital necessities

You scrambled to your feet and found yourself crouching behind a sturdy kitchen counter

"Isn't there supposed to be four of them?" you could hear a distinct British accent, probably from Manchester, comment

You silently swore at yourself as you attempted to shuffle away towards the back exit

"Oblivion, we know you're here," another voice replied as you could hear cuffs being slapped onto your team accompanied by their pained and disoriented groans

You put your ear to the counter, hearing the vibrations of their heavy footsteps on the home's wooden floor as you turned the safety off your weapon

"Come out now and we'll lessen that bounty on you," the same voice chided, "what is it 51 billion US now?"

As you held your breath, you could hear them slowly making their way through the home. By your estimates, there were about 6 of them, give or take

Your mind raced with different scenarios as you heard one of them walk into the kitchen

You pushed yourself into the corner and with a stroke of luck you noticed them inspect the cupboard

"I got you, you Brit," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around their neck and held a gun to their head

"Don't say a word and follow me," you instructed as they struggled against your grip

Strength was never your best feature but it helped you to overpower the soldier, the name "Garrick" printed on his vest

As you walked to the main area, you immediately felt all eyes and guns pointed at you

"I wouldn't shoot if I were you," you said calmly, "wouldn't want anything to happen to your Sergeant"

"We don't negotiate with terrorists," an older man spoke, by the way he was directing the team, you assumed he was their captain

"I'm more of a gray hat hacker regardless," you smirked, "steal from the rich and give back to the poor."

"How noble of you," another sarcastically replied as you stood in the tense atmosphere

"Regardless, you'll let me walk out of here and maybe we can have the pleasure of this another time," you remarked as you cocked the gun in your hand

"And if we don't?" the Captain asked as he raised an eyebrow at you

You smiled as you wiped away the dust from your face and stared back at him

"My bounty is going to be higher than the rest of them," was the last thing you said before releasing the sergeant and lodging a non-fatal bullet in his shoulder

As the entire room delved into chaos, you made a hasty escape and hopped on your motorbike outside

"Thanks for everything, Phantom," you whispered before riding off into the sunset with the hopes of running into that mysterious group with better circumstances

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tunatoge · 1 year ago

Note

hiii !! i was just wondering if you could do an alternative ending to "take a slice - s. gojo x reader"? like reader books the tickets then they leave without saying goodbye? (up to you if you wanna add comfort) i would really appreciate if you accept this request, but if you dont wanna do it its fine !! remember to eat, sleep and drink, stay safe !!

hehe of course!! :D i hope you, too, also remember to eat, sleep, and drink water!!! happy new year, love!! ty for the req and i hope u enjoy !!

pairing: teen!gojo x teen!reader

contents: alternate ending to my drabble here!! picks up where reader hesitates to book tickets, kind of angsty (not too good at angst, but still kinda sad)

you sit in your dark and nearly empty dorm room with your laptop propped up on your knees. you have the cheapest plane tickets pulled up on the screen as you gnaw on your fingernails, wondering if this is really what you want to do.

for nearly thirty thousand yen you could get a flight to the incheon international airport and away from your life as a jujutsu sorcerer. you know it wouldn’t last long until the higher ups found you in korea but you were ready to get even a little shred of normal, domestic living. right now, you couldn’t handle being a sorcerer after suguru’s defection and haibara’s death. you wanted out.

your cursor hovers over the ‘complete transaction’ button as you think about how easy it would be to run away and how difficult it would be to restart your life. it’d be easier to stick around with satoru and shoko but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to want to. it’s tempting to throw everything you know away and restart from the beginning. you could finally think about dating someone without endangering them, or adopting a pet without potentially leaving it owner-less after an ill timed death.

with a sharp breath, you confirm your transaction and watch as the website reloads before redirecting you to another page showing you your itinerary. you scramble out of bed and chuck a handful of oyur clothes into a large duffel and shove your laptop into your backpack. by the time you’re done, your room looks exactly the same but when you squint… your heart falls into your stomach at how sad and dark your room looks.

hopefully, you think, satoru and shoko don’t notice how empty your closet is when they come looking for you in the morning.

you leave your room, shutting the door with a soft click and padding down the hallway, your shoes in one hand and your duffel in the other. you stop by shoko’s room, listening from outside the door as she shifts in her sleep. you bite down on your lip as tears pool in your eyes, you realize you don’t have time to visit satoru’s room briefly. not when it’s so hugely plausible he would hear you and beg you to stay. not when you would end up agreeing and staying, just for him.

when you leave the dormitory, the sky is still dark and the air is breezy. your breath comes out in quick gentle puffs, the way suguru and shoko’s breath would when they would smoke cigarettes with each other. you grit your teeth and approach an auxiliary manager who waits standing next to a black car, the door already open. you greet them softly and tiredly as you load your things into the car and take a seat in the back.

as you turn your head to look out the window, satoru and shoko stand in the dormitory doorway. shoko is dressed in her pajamas, the loose fabric of her pants billowing around her ankles, and satoru is dressed in a pair of shorts and a thick gray hoodie. his glasses are gone and he stares at you through the window, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. you think you see a tear slide down his wind-bitten cheeks.

“would you like to stay?” the auxiliary manager asks you, watching you through the rearview mirror.

“no,” you whisper softly, the single word spreading fog across the car window, “i have a flight to catch.”

they don’t respond and instead put the car into drive, letting you quietly watch as satoru and shoko’s bodies melt away into the background.

#vians.scribbs #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader angst #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader angst #vians.asks

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 3 months ago

Text

The Price of Vengeance

Request: Can you do Sam Winchester x reader with the prompt “Revenge is not meant to ease pain. It is meant to balance the scale.” That is if you’re still taking requests. If not, sorry to bother you 🤍. Requested by anon.

Warnings: physical violence, injury, blood, angst, death

Word Count: 2.6 K.

“Hello Boys. If you missed me, you could’ve just called. You know, over a cup of tea or coffee- nothing too fancy” you said with a smirk as you strolled into the museum. Dean and Sam had, of course, gone ahead of you, despite agreeing to wait. They could never resist jumping into trouble first.

“A little help here?” Dean shouted, frustration evident in his tone.

You raised an eyebrow in amusement “You need to relax a bit, darling. All this stress and anger are not good for your health” you calmly said, teasing, as you started an incantation.

“And you think being killed by a ghost is?” Dean shot back, glaring at you as he struggled.

You merely shrugged, ignoring his theatrics, began reciting the banishment incantation. Dean was always so dramatic, and teasing him had become one of your favorite pastimes.

You rose from your spot and moved toward Sam, who had just been thrown into the room, entirely unaware of your presence.

“No hello? No ‘Nice to see you again. I missed you, love?’” you said, arms crossed, a mocking grin spreading across your face you watched him struggle against the monster.

Sam turned to face you, grimacing from the strain of fighting “Y/n? When did you get here? And if you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit occupied at the moment” he shot back, offering a sarcastic smile between gritted teeth.

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to do everything myself then” you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Sam’s lips, catching him off guard. “Look out!” you warned him as you broke the kiss.

“Seriously? Now you find time to do this? Hurry up!” Dean shouted from across the room, his irritation growing.

“Such a whiny baby. Fine, there” with a snap of your fingers, the ghosts vanished.

“All this time, and you could’ve just done that?” Dean’s glare was sharp, but you simply shrugged.

“I don’t get paid for this. Besides, you don’t appreciate my talents. So why should I waste them on you?” you winked, clearly enjoying the annoyance written across his face.

Sam, catching his breath, finally spoke from behind you “Hey, I missed you” his voice was softer, and as you turned, you wasted no time jumping into his arms, wrapping your legs around him and kissing him passionately.

“Ugh, could you two please get a room?” Dean groaned in disgust. “What even are you two? Are you official? Just hooking up?”

You broke the kiss just to smirk at Dean “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Dean scowled. “Yeah. That’s why I’m asking.”

Sam interjected this time, glancing at you with a small smiled “We don’t have a label on our relationship…yet.”

—

“So apparently, this guy was very well known back in the day. He prosecuted over a hundred presumed witches” Sam explained as he scrolled further, reading through some website.

“Wait, what did you say his name was again?” you asked, stepping closer, your brow furrowing.

“Uhm, let me check… some Alfred Bancrofft. Apparently the whole family was involved in witch hunting”.

The moment he said the name, your chest tightened, and a cold wave of pain washed over you. That name- that man, who had hunted and killed you when you were human. You were innocent back then, you begged him to at least spare your family, but that man just hated women. Women that did not bend to his will. You swore vengeance just before he burnt you at the stake. When you were resurrected as a witch, it took you some time before you could master your magic. But by the time you were ready to exact your revenge, the man and his sons had already died and you heard nothing of his bloodline, until now.

“Alfred Bancrofft” you repeated slowly “and does it say if he has any surviving descendants?”

“There is one Bancrofft in the area. It appears he was the one who donated that talisman to the museum.”

“Okay, you two grab the talisman. I’ll talk to the family” you suggested, hoping they’d agree with your decision.

“Wait, hold on, hold on. Since when do you volunteer to talk to family members? You HATE talking to people. So who are you? And what have you done to our Y/n?” Dean teased, folding his arms.

“Our Y/n? Aw, so I have started to grow on you, haven’t I?” you smirked “Don’t worry, it’s me, your one and only Y/n. Do you think that if anyone dared to impersonate me, they’d live long enough to talk about it?”

Dean gave you a half-hearted smile “Yeah, you got me there.”

“We still have a problem. Yesterday, when we went to retrieve the talisman, it wasn’t where it was that day. Either someone hid it or the ghost of Bancrofft is playing games. Y/n, did you sense anyone when you came by?”

“I don’t think so. I was focused on finding you two idiots so I didn’t really have time for that”

“I’ll go see if the talisman is back to its original place. Maybe whoever took it just needed it for the night? Sam you go with Y/n and figure out if they’re involved in any way.”

“But I can do this on my own” you objected, crossing your arms.

“I doubt that. Your people skills are as rusty as Cass’s. Besides, if someone is going to investigate, the other one has to entertain the hosts.”

“And who exactly is going to be ‘entertaining the hosts’?”

“I don’t know. It’s between the two of you. Figure it out, lovebirds” Dean shrugged nonchalantly before going out to get some food.

—

The moment you stepped inside the Bancrofft house, rage simmered beneath the surface. Having Sam with you was an inconvenience, but you’ve been waiting for hundreds of years, one more day wasn’t going to make a difference.

As Sam distracted the Bancroffts with polite conversation, you excused yourself to the bathroom. Once alone, you searched the house for anything unusual. You found some occult items, but nothing definitive.”

“”All good, honey?” Sam asked as you returned, his gaze curious but calm.

“Yes. All clear” you offered a sweet, fake smile to both Sam and the Bancroffts “Just one last question. So are you really related to the Alfred Bancrofft? I heard he killed a lot of witches- if you believe in that kind of stuff.”

The man chuckled dismissively “Oh, yes. I’m a direct descendant. Witches, however, I’m not sure about that. We have a couple of items still decorating the house, but witches, come on! These are probably just rumors. I’m more of a ‘gotta see it for yourself to believe it’ kinda guy” the man babbled and you just wanted to stick a fork in his throat.

“I’m telling you, they’re witch hunters” you insisted as the two of you walked back to the motel.

“Have you found proof?” Sam asked, wanting to believe you.

You stopped and turned to face him “No, but-.”

“Then there’s no but. If they’re innocent, then they’re innocent.” Sam interrupted, trying to be reasonable “Hey, listen, I know this might be a little personal to you. You know witch business and all, but these people had nothing to do with it.”

“A little personal?” A flash of anger crossed your face, but you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay composed. He had no clue who this person was to you, what he did to you and your loved ones. You weren’t going to share with him these details, after all, what good are they? He’ll just give you a pitiful look and find a way to convince you to let it go. “You know what? You’re right. This is a bit personal, so you should just go ahead and solve this case with your brother” you needed some fresh air, some time away from Sam.

“Wait- Y/n” he called after you, but you needed to be left on your own. “that’s not what I meant” he whispered.

—-

After receiving a text message from Dean saying he couldn’t find the talisman, you performed a locator spell and found it hidden in one of the museum’s rooms.

“You can come out now, Bancrofft” you growled into the empty room. Seconds later, the ghost of your greatest enemy appeared in front of you. He tried to attack you but you were able to hold him in place with ease.

“Well, well, well. Look at who we have here. Remember me? Probably not. After all, you did kill so many women. I’m Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n, one of the many innocent women you burned alive. I begged you that day, you knew we weren’t witches. Guess what? Turns out enough hatred and anger are sufficient to be reborn as a witch. And now, I’m gonna do to you exactly what you did to me. I’m going to make you watch as I kill your descendant. I remember how sacred blood was to you. I’ll see you soon.” You grinned as his eyes widened, then banished him once again.

—

After Sam revealed to Dean what had happened, Dean grew suspicious

“Are you sure, man? Even when she’s cooling off, she never takes that long.”

“It’s either that or someone or something has her” Sam added.

“And you’re sure these people aren’t witch hunters?”

“Yes. I mean Y/n checked and I could see that she wanted them to be, but even she couldn’t find any proof. They’re just normal people, Dean.”

“Or… has it occurred to you that maybe this was personal to her?”

“Yes, which is why she needed to be off the case.”

“And to think that you actually went to Stanford” Dean shook his head, slightly disappointed in his brother “How long have you known Y/n for, hmm? If something or someone even slightly bothered her, did she ever let it go?”

Sam shook his head slowly. “No? Because she never has. So whatever she’s brewing, it’s not good. Go check the Bancroff house, I’ll take the museum again. And Sam? This time don’t come back without her if you do find her.”

—-

When Sam arrived, the front door was open and his nightmare was realized. You were standing over a man, a knife in your hand, while blood dripped everywhere. Just as you were about to deliver the killing blow, Sam’s shouting stopped you “NO. Wait, Y/n, don’t do this. Come on, you’re better than this.” His voice shook with fear as he tried to stop you.

You glanced over your shoulder, annoyed and tired. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for you. Come on, put the knife down and we can leave right now” he pleaded, desperation seeping into his words. But when you set your mind to something, there was no stopping you.

You turned to fully face him, exasperated “Get out of here, Sam. This is going to get ugly and you don’t want to see me in action, trust me” you warned.

“You can’t kill them. They’re innocent” Sam argued, stepping closer.

“Innocent? As long as that old bastard’s blood runs in his veins, he’s not innocent” you spat, your frustration bubbling over. You raised your weapon again, intent on finishing the job, but Sam stopped you.

“Alright, alright. Tell me about him? What exactly did he do?” Sam asked, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

Your gaze darkened as the memories flooded back “Oh, you know what insecure men did back in the day. Killed every woman who was smarter than them by branding her a witch and burning her at the stake”.

Sam’s expression softened, sympathy in his eyes “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I truly am. I can’t even begin to imagine what you must have been through, but please. You’re better than this”.

“There is no changing my mind, Sam” you took a step toward him and cupped his cheek with your blood-smeared hand. Then, the wife tried to escape, but you quickly held her in place by your magic.

Sam’s breath hitched as he watched “I know you’re hurt. But revenge won’t stop the pain.”

Your lips curled into a grim smile “Revenge is not meant to ease pain. It is meant to balance the scale.”

“Then you know I can’t let you do that.” Sam said quietly., his face hardened with resolve.

“Try and stop me.” You challenged.

“Y/n, please don’t do this!” Sam pleaded. But you were beyond reasoning now. Your mind was set in stone. As you moved to stab your victim, Sam lunged at you, his arms locking around yours. The force of his tackle sent you both crashing to the floor, the knife flying from your grasp, clattering across the floor.

You both struggled to recover, but Sam quicker in the moment, pinned you down. His hands gripped your wrists, his breathing ragged “Stop this! Please!”.

The wife managed to get free and tried to help her husband up, but he told her to go get help.

You were able to free one of your arms, driving your elbow into Sam’s face. He recoiled, twisting in pain. Just as the woman was about to make it through the front door, you extended your hand and suffocated her with your magic, rendering her unconscious.

“No!” Sam shouted. You were already on your feet again, this time, angrier.

“I don’t need a knife to kill you” you turned to face your victim, slowly approaching.

In the chaos, Sam’s hands blindly fumbled for something- anything to stop you- finding the knife again.

Desperation overtook him as he swung the knife toward you, not realizing the angle, not considering the consequences. He meant to disarm you, but as you struggled, the blade plunged into your side.

A searing pain ripped through you, making you gasp for air. Your body froze, your magic faltering. Sam’s eyes widened in horror, his hands trembling as he pulled the knife back, blood already soaking the blade. He had realized what he’d done.

“Y/n? No, no, no, no” he whispered, his voice cracking, staring at the blood on the blade- and on you. “Stay with me. It’s going to be alright” he slowly lowered you to the ground, cradling you in his lap. “You’re gonna be alright” he repeated, his voice fragile, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. He pressed his hands against the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, but the blood kept flowing between his fingers.

“Hey” you whispered as you looked up at him, observing the movement of his eyes. You hadn’t truly noticed how beautiful his eyes were until now. In this moment, with the world fading around you, you really saw him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. You have to believe me. I- I just wanted to-“ his words fell apart as he sobbed, his grip tightening on you.

“It’s alright… I haven’t felt such peace before. Thank you… for freeing me” you struggled to speak, each word growing more difficult as blood started forming in your throat.

“No, no, no. Please!” Sam pleaded, cupping your face with his hands, his voice broken “stay with me.”

Your breaths grew shallow “I was filled with so much anger…so much hate… that I didn’t realize I stopped living. It’s alright, Sammy. I forgive you” you tried to cup his cheek one last time, but your hand faltered, falling limply to your side as your final breath escaped you. Sam held you close, lowering his forehead to yours as a heart- wrenching scream tore from him, his grief consuming him whole.

Tags: @thisismysecrethappyplace @berruneko09 @simonsbluee @wonderswritings

#sam winchester #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #spn #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester angst #fictober #promptober #whumptober #fictober24 #angst #supernatural angst #supernatural x reader #gif imagine #jared padalecki #sam winchester one shot #supernatural imagine #prompt

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moodymelanist · 11 months ago

Text

meet me at the altar (in your white dress)

happy day 3 of @sjmromanceweek everyone! of course I had to get some Nessian in here, you know me!! title from Let's Get Married by Jagged Edge (the remix is much better than the original IMO)

Summary: Nesta and Cassian elope to help take the edge off planning their big, official wedding.

Word Count: 3k

Read on AO3 here!

Summary: Nesta and Cassian elope to help take the edge off planning their big, official wedding.

♡♡♡♡♡ Nesta

Nesta held in another scream as she clicked through yet another florist’s website, holding back the urge to start banging her head back against the wall. All she’d wanted was to come home from a long day at the office and relax, but instead of being able to destress with a book on her Kindle, she’d ended up dealing with more wedding stuff.

“You really should consider going with more hydrangeas,” her mother was saying. Rhea had called Nesta and essentially ambushed her with more wedding planning; today’s topic of choice was the floral arrangements. “I mean, what even is a ranunculus?”

“They’re a classic wedding flower, Mom,” Nesta replied through gritted teeth. She and Cassian had gotten engaged right before Christmas, and they were in the full swing of things planning wise. No matter how many times she emphasized that this was their wedding, though, it hadn’t stopped Rhea from being her usual, controlling self. “They look like peonies.”

Cassian appeared at the edge of her vision, his face twisted up adorably in sympathy as he came into their bedroom. He’d been as hands on as he could with wedding planning, but there was only so much he could do with Rhea as his future mother-in-law.

Cassian waved to get Nesta’s attention and once she looked over at him, he mouthed, You want me to give you an out?

Yes please, Nesta mouthed back. God, she loved him so much.

Nesta watched from her position on the bed as Cassian came around the corner of the mattress and reached for her nightstand, opening and shutting the drawer loud enough for Rhea to hear it on the phone. To the untrained ear, it sounded similar enough to a door opening and closing, and it was the perfect excuse to get off the phone and take her Friday night back.

“Sorry, Mom,” Nesta said immediately, cutting off whatever tangent Rhea was going on now about the flowers she’d had at her wedding. “Cassian just got home from work. I have to go.”

Rhea was silent for a few seconds. “Fine. I’ll speak to you about this later.”

“Okay. Have a good night,” Nesta replied. Rhea echoed the sentiment, and Nesta immediately tossed her phone away from her. “Holy shit, she drives me crazy.”

“Watching you deal with her is driving me crazy, Nes,” Cassian said. He leaned down to where she was reclining against the headboard and pressed several hello kisses into her lips. “What if we just got married tomorrow or something?”

“What?” Nesta said back, not quite sure she was hearing him correctly. She pulled back to look up at him, but he looked like he was being completely serious, which could not be a possibility right now.

“I said,” Cassian replied, speaking slowly to make sure she caught every word, “what if we just… got married tomorrow?”

She stared at him for several seconds without blinking. “You’re joking, right?”

“No jokes here, sweetheart,” he answered. He stood up to his full height before walking to the edge of the bed and sitting down, resting one of his warm hands on her ankle. “I feel like it would help.”

“How would throwing away months of planning help?” she responded, doing her best to stop her eye from twitching. Once they’d settled on a venue and secured their date, it had been divide and conquer between reaching out to caterers, bakers, florists, makeup and hair stylists, tailors – you name it, they’d talked to someone about pricing and dates and menu options and color schemes.

“We wouldn’t be throwing away months of planning,” he told her. “I can be an idiot sometimes, but not that big of an idiot.”

“...Okay.” Nesta closed her laptop and gave him her full attention, hoping that he’d eventually tell her something that made sense instead of just confusing her further. “Explain what you mean then, because I don’t think I’m following you.”

“Just hear me out, okay?” Cassian asked. Once Nesta nodded her assent, he started rubbing gentle circles into the delicate skin of her ankle. “Maybe this is dumb, but I was just thinking… maybe it could help take the edge off things. I know your family is breathing down your neck about this being perfect, and I know how stressful this whole thing has been for you. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be us.”

God, he was good at this. He always knew exactly what to say to cut her to the core in the best way, and his words combined with the way those hazel eyes were trained on her made her want to give in immediately. Even though they would be surrounded by loved ones when they got married, something in her had always cringed at the fact that they’d be putting their relationship on display for everyone to see. She loved Cassian, she did, but the idea of having a wedding as big as theirs was shaping up to be felt almost performative.

If they did what he was suggesting, there wouldn’t be anything performative about it. It would be something for just them; they wouldn’t have to go through any of the hoops that their huge, ornate ceremony was shaping up to entail. Just her, Cassian, and whoever they needed to talk to for it to be official.

“Yeah,” Nesta eventually answered, suddenly fighting back tears at how well he knew her. Even after all these years with him, he still managed to catch her off guard with how thoughtful he was. “

“Yeah?” Cassian echoed. He started to smile and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “Let’s do it.”

♡♡♡♡♡

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to sort everything out. Cassian booked a hotel for the weekend in Atlantic City while Nesta dug around for a white dress in her closet, and by the time she’d found a suitable enough option, he’d also started the process to get a marriage license.

“It doesn’t take that long to get a New Jersey marriage license,” he told her as they packed their bags for the weekend. “I mean, we’ll still have to sort out the paperwork for when we get married again, but that’s a problem for future us.”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling much lighter now that the pressure for their huge ceremony was suddenly off her shoulders. “We’ll figure it out then.”

It didn’t take them much longer to finish packing, and before Nesta knew it, they were in the car and on their way to Atlantic City. It wasn’t far – roughly two and a half hours – but they stopped for dinner along the way, so they made their way into the hotel lobby about three hours later. The air conditioning was going strong, and Nesta didn’t hesitate before leaning against Cassian’s warm side while they checked into their room.

“You want my jacket?” Cassian asked once they were all squared away and heading to the elevators.

“No, I’m okay,” Nesta answered, leaning into him again while they waited for the elevator to come to the lobby. Besides, he was holding both of their bags; she wasn’t going to make him essentially play Tetris with them to get the damn thing off. “We can just turn the AC down when we get upstairs.”

Their hotel room had all the usual accommodations, including a king-sized bed, and they both showered and changed into pajamas before getting into it. Cassian made sure their room was locked up tight and the AC wasn’t blasting before they got into bed, but even though it wasn’t as cold in the room anymore that didn’t stop Nesta from cuddling up to her fiancé.

“Thanks for going along with my crazy idea, Nes,” Cassian said into the quiet darkness of their room.

“It wasn’t that crazy once you explained it,” Nesta replied softly, reaching up and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “But you’re welcome.”

He just laughed softly, the sound of it vibrating gently against her cheek where she was laying on him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby. See you in the morning.”

♡♡♡♡♡

Nesta woke up the next morning wrapped around one of the hotel pillows instead of around her husband-to-be. She experienced a brief moment of panic once she realized she was alone in the room, but it quickly dissipated once she recognized Cassian’s familiar handwriting on one of the hotel’s notepads. She reached for it where he’d left it on the end table and quickly scanned the note he’d left her.

Hey sweetheart, he’d written. Don’t freak out, but it’s bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day, and I’m all about avoiding bad luck. Everything else is getting taken care of (I promise!!) so you just have to bring your gorgeous self to the altar.

Love you

xoxo,

Cassian (aka your future husband)

Nesta laughed softly to herself as she set the note aside, her heart rate immediately slowing down after she’d read it through a few times. Cassian knew how tired she was of making so many wedding-related decisions and it was such a relief to not have to make any more — for the moment, anywhere. Even if they weren’t doing things the ‘right’ way, he was still looking out for all the little details, and it was stuff like that that made her want to fall in love with him all over again.

Lucky for her, she’d get to fall in love with him every day for the rest of their lives.

Nesta let herself lounge in bed for a few more minutes until she couldn’t wait any longer. She took her time getting ready, the hot water from the surprisingly strong shower head waking her all the way up, and she was thankful she’d packed her good blow dryer after she realized the hotel one wasn’t up for the task. Cassian had always loved her hair down, so she carefully smoothed half of it up and left the other half down.

By the time she finished with her makeup and got dressed, it was almost time to go. She put on her wedges and threw the essentials — lip gloss, powder, room key, phone — into her purse before heading downstairs. She’d missed breakfast, but she managed to snag some Pop Tarts from the convenience store while she waited for her Uber.

It was a quick ride to the hotel where they were getting married, and Nesta just followed the signs for the wedding area until she found a woman holding a sign with her name on it. She was tall, with dark hair and light brown skin that looked amazing even under the strange hotel lighting.

“Hi,” Nesta said, walking right up to her. “I’m Nesta.”

The woman perked up immediately. “Great! I’m Deirdre, I’ll be officiating the wedding. Cassian handled pretty much everything he could without you, so all you have to do is follow me.”

“Great,” Nesta replied. Her love for Cassian grew even more once she heard she’d hardly have to do anything. “Lead the way.”

Deirdre and Nesta wound their way through the halls, making small talk until they ended up in one of the back rooms. Nesta picked out a small bouquet of lilies, a short veil to wear as she walked down the aisle, and signed some forms.

“You’re all set,” Deirdre told her once the last thing was signed. “Cassian said he had the rings, so really you just have to get your beautiful self out there and we can get this show on the road.”

“Okay,” Nesta agreed. She wondered if Cassian was using their actual wedding rings, or if he’d found a less expensive replacement for today. Oh well — she didn’t need to worry about it right now, and wasn’t that a relief. “I’m ready.”

Deirdre clapped her hands together and led Nesta through a different path through the halls, the two of them coming to a stop in front of what looked like a chapel. “I’ll go in first, make sure everything’s ready, and then once the music starts you can come in whenever you want. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” Nesta told her, and then she was alone.

Nesta took a few deep breaths while she waited for Deirdre’s signal. Maybe if it had been anyone else, she might have been more nervous, but it was Cassian waiting for her. How could she feel anything but excited when they were only a few minutes away from forever?

The music started earlier than Nesta had been expecting, but she took it in stride. She squared her shoulders and walked through the door with her head held high, something inside her settling the second she laid eyes on Cassian. He looked handsome as always, dressed in a white button-up shirt and his nicest pair of jeans, and she could tell he was already crying even from across the room.

There were a few people seated amongst the pews to serve as witnesses, but Nesta tuned out everyone that wasn’t Cassian. The walk down the aisle was simultaneously too long and too short, and suddenly she was handing over her bouquet so she could grip Cassian’s hands in hers. “Hi.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Cassian said, his eyes a little wide. “You look so beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Nesta said back. She squeezed his hands to help steady them both before turning to Deirdre with an expectant look. “We’re ready.”

Deidre must have gone through all the usual wedding talk, but all Nesta heard was that she and Cassian were promising themselves to one another. Good days and bad, they’d show up for each other no matter what, no matter what kind of fancy ways people wanted to describe it.

Before Nesta knew it, it was time for the vows. Deirdre turned to her expectantly, and she nodded before she took a deep breath.

“Cassian,” Nesta started, her eyes tearing up at the force of what she felt for him. They’d both promised to not prepare anything — something about it coming from the heart — and part of her wished she had, just for the sheer difficulty of describing what he meant to her. “You’re the love of my life. My best friend in the entire world. You know me better than anyone else, and I’m so — I’m so thankful to have you. You make me so happy even when you’re being a bastard and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She took another deep breath to steady herself, shooting Cassian a watery smile as he reached up to wipe some of her tears. “You’re the one I want to laugh with and argue with and spend all my time with until we’re old and gray. I promise to choose you every day, no matter what. I love the life we’ve made so much, and I promise to fight for us for the rest of our lives. I love you, Cassian. So much.”

“Jesus, how am I supposed to follow that up,” Cassian muttered to himself.

Nesta laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nes.” He took a deep breath of his own and met her eyes again. “Nesta, I knew from the minute I met you that you were special. Maybe it’s cheesy, but from that very first glare, I knew I’d be chasing after your attention for the rest of our lives. I’ve never been so happy to be right.”

“You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. You’ve made my life better in so many ways, and I’ll never stop thanking the universe for putting us in each other’s lives. You’re an amazing woman and the fact that you chose me — well. I’ll never take that for granted. It physically hurts me when we’re apart, so the fact that you’re agreeing to be tied to me forever makes me feel pretty damn good. I promise to choose you every single day, to always respect you and cherish you and all the other things that you deserve. I love you so, so much, Nesta. You’re my world.”

They were both crying now, and Nesta squeezed Cassian’s hands so hard it was a miracle he didn’t lose circulation. She swore she could feel the thread that connected them wrap around them even tighter; there was no telling where one of them began and the other one ended. It was just them, and it was beautiful.

“Those were wonderful,” Deirdre told them. “Now, the rings.”

It seemed Cassian had brought out their wedding bands early after all. Both of their hands were shaking as they exchanged rings, but they managed to get through it without dropping anything or putting their rings on the wrong fingers.

“With that…” Deirdre took a deep breath and beamed at them. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. Nesta barely had any warning before he was grabbing her and dipping her, but he was so strong that she didn’t think he’d drop her for a second. She just threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, clutching him to her as tightly as she could and not planning on letting go for a good long while.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Deirdre said, smiling brightly. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Cassian said with a wide grin once he’d brought Nesta back up. He was so beautiful when he was happy, and part of her still couldn’t believe she was the one to consistently put that smile on his face. “Hey, wife.”

“Hey, husband,” Nesta said back, smiling just as widely as he was. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Like you even have to ask,” he told her. He offered his hand and she took it without hesitation, squeezing tightly as they made their way back down the aisle.

#sjmromanceweek2024 #acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian acotar #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #pro nessian #pro nesta archeron #pro cassian acotar #moodymelanistwrites

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monstersandmaw · 2 years ago

Text

Male werewolf x trans male reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Commission #5 out of 5! That means I’ve written 21,271 words in total this week (according to Scrivener). Ooof! I’m gonna go sit down now... (this is my second go at posting this because the formatting was off the first time. Tumblr, pls stop and let me post the werewolf boyfriend story. This is literally the werewolf boyfriend website)

Anyway, thank you lovely commissioner for trusting me with your prompt, and for checking it over for me before I shared it here, since I’m not trans.

Contents: trans male reader, injury and mention of blood to our werewolf-spirit, a very expensive gift, oral sex (no specific words used for reader’s anatomy), non-penetrative sex, visible werewolf knot, fluffy ending

Wordcount: 4407

With a forager’s bag slung across your shoulder and a woven basket hooked over your arm, you swigged the last dregs of your morning tea down and darted towards the door. The bounty of a new autumn day beckoned, and the forest around your cottage would be bursting with fruit and mushrooms at this time of year.

You tugged open the door, the reluctant hinges groaning at you, took a single step outside, and froze. At first you thought that the enormous creature sprawled quite literally across the doorstep was a bear, but as you stared dumbstruck at the too-long limbs and the thick, grey-brown coat, and the shaggy, lupine tail, your heart stopped beating. This was something supernatural.

The thought of stepping silently back into the safety of your stone cottage, closing the door, and staying inside until it went away flashed across your mind, but almost before you could process what you were doing, you had dropped the basket at the threshold and stepped over the creature’s outstretched left arm to walk around to its side.

It was still breathing, though the sound had an unhealthy, wet whistle to it, like a punctured blacksmith’s bellows, and there was blood matting the thick fur on its left side where the short, stocky shaft of a crossbow bolt was cruelly embedded in its ribs.

“Oh,” you gasped, hand rising to your lips even as horror plunged right through you at the sight of it. Blood still seeped around the shaft, and something silver glinted beneath the fur. You looked anew at the creature and wondered if it was a werewolf. “If you are and that’s silver, it’ll be fatal if I don’t get it out,” you muttered, kneeling and bringing your fingertips carefully to the creature’s side. “No way I can move you though,” you added, glancing at the creature’s long, powerful, solid legs and at the breadth of its shoulders and the muscles on its arms, visible beneath the thick, coarse fur that covered its body.

At the sound of your voice, the creature’s left ear flicked and it rumbled a growl at you.

“Easy now,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to help you here.”

The growling did cease, but the way it petered out made you think that perhaps they’d just run out of breath.

“I can work with that,” you said to yourself. “I’m going to get my bag, and I’m going to get this nasty thing out of you, alright?”

You hurried back inside, removed the empty foraging bag from your shoulders and skidded to a halt beside the bookshelf. Among all the tomes on herbs and plants and mushrooms, there was a reference book about supernatural entities. You knew they existed — you'd lived in the woods too long to doubt that there was more than the mundane out there — but you’d never actually thought to encounter anything, let alone find the supernatural bleeding out in your own back yard.

Puffing the air from your lungs, you rallied your courage and opened the leather-bound book to the section on ‘lycanthropy’. Silver was indeed poisonous to them, but the book said it caused the skin and fur to smoke and burn, neither of which you’d seen in the creature outside. Perhaps it was only steel, but you thought the colour was wrong for that. You’d seen the blacksmith forging her blades of bright, greyish steel, and you glanced over at a silver penny pendant that hung in your window for luck. The tone of the pendant was different, brighter and whiter than the steel, and the same hue as the tip of the crossbow bolt.

“Not a werewolf then?” you frowned, but that didn’t change the fact that whatever it was, it was slowly bleeding out on your doorstep.

With the supplies you’d need hastily gathered, you went back outside to find that the creature had rolled a little more onto its good side, exposing the black shaft of the bolt, and a bit more of its face and chest.

Lupine rather than ursine in its features, it opened its black eyes and gazed dolorously up at you, half-heartedly baring huge canines on one side.

“Hey,” you scolded. “Here to help, remember. That looks like silver, but you don’t seem overly bothered by it…”

The creature scoffed a laugh at you.

“I mean, aside from the fact that it’s punched a hole in your ribs and you’re bleeding to death,” you said, and again, the creature huffed at you.

Then, just as you knelt down in the dirt beside it, the creature spoke. Its voice was low and rough, like an avalanche in the distance, and the words were clearly slurred with pain. “You’re right. Not… a werewolf.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “You can talk… If you’re not a werewolf, what are you?”

“I am… an aspect… of the forest itself,” the creature ground out around a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You blinked, half wishing you hadn’t asked. “Right. Well, I guess I’d better get this bolt out of you all the same, huh?”

“If you would be so kind,” the creature said with a dry note of humour to its gravelly voice that made you relax just a fraction.

You gave a quiet warning as you prepared to take the bolt out, and the wolf-like creature nodded in readiness. All in all, the procedure went as well as you could have hoped for, and there was a neat row of stitches pinching the slate grey skin together in no time at all.

“Thank you,” the wolfish entity said, laying its head back down on the path and breathing steadily for a few minutes before casting you a sidelong look. “I interrupted your morning,” they said wryly.

“Yeah, no shit,” you laughed, eyeing the formerly-clean swatch of linen you’d used to staunch the bleeding. “But that’s alright. The berries and hazelnuts will be there tomorrow.”

“And thanks to you, so will I.”

Something akin to pride kindled in your ribcage at that, and you smiled. “The forest has been good to me since I came here,” you shrugged. “About time I returned the favour. What should I call you, by the way?”

The creature blinked slowly, apparently surprised. “I have had a few names in my life, but not many of them have been kindly given by humans — Hunger, Strife, Sheep-Thief, and… worse.”

“Never too late to buck the trend,” you said with another twitch of your shoulder. For all the warnings those names implied, you felt no fear when you looked at the creature; only curiosity, and an odd sense of kinship you couldn’t define. “You hungry? I’ve got some smoked venison that I got from the butcher yesterday. We can think of a new name for you while you get your strength back.”

Your deliberate and relentless optimism seemed to rub off on the creature, because they heaved a huge sigh and smiled in a ‘do as you please’ kind of gesture, tail thumping ever so slightly against the path while you went to fetch some food.

“Here,” you said, returning to sit cross-legged beside them on the dirt outside your cottage. They had managed to heave their body out of that undignified sprawl, but they were still lying down on one side. You sliced off pieces of the smoked venison from the haunch on the wooden board and held them out one by one for the wolf-spirit to take with their clawed, paw-like hand. They didn't eat particularly elegantly, but there was something rather adorable about a creature the size of a grizzly bear taking strips of meat from your hand.

“You know,” you said, “I thought you were a dead bear when I opened the door. Gave me quite the surprise.”

They laughed at that, dark eyes glinting. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

“People have mistaken you for a dead bear before?”

Again, the wolf-like creature laughed, but the sound cut off into a brief but high whimper as the wound on their side flared with pain. “No,” they grunted. “Not a dead one, at least.”

“Maybe we should call you ‘Beorn’ this time.”

They tilted their head, big, triangular ears listening to the sound on your lips, and then they nodded. “My mother used to joke that her boy was born a bear instead of a wolf,” he said quietly after a moment. “The name is more fitting than you realised.”

“Beorn it is then,” you said, feeling just a little emotional. “How quickly do forest spirits heal, anyway? I’m pretty good with humans, but I’m in uncharted territory with your kind.”

“I’ll be well again in no time,” he said.

“Who shot you with that anyway?” you asked as you stared at the dart that lay abandoned in the grass beside you, its bloody, silver tip glinting like a lost fang. “Will they come looking for you?”

He shook his head and eyed the venison again. You sheared off another piece for him and he took it gratefully before answering. “I don’t think so. They were werewolf hunters by the look of them —”

“— explains the silver,” you interjected and he nodded.

“And why they shot at me. They say my kind are what sorcerers modelled their curse on when they created werewolves, thousands of years ago.”

“Huh,” you breathed.

When the venison was almost all gone, Beorn looked a little guilty. “Thank you for sharing your food with me,” he said. “I fear I’ve deprived you of something valuable.”

He had, but you weren’t about to tell him it’d cost you a small fortune, or that you’d planned to make the preserved meat last through most of the coming winter. “Eh, don’t worry about it. The forest will provide, right?”

Beorn fixed you with a steady look but said nothing. He heaved himself up, first onto all fours, and then, using the stone wall of your cottage, onto his hind legs. Standing like that, he must have been nearly seven feet tall, and as you looked up at him, you felt your mouth go a little bit dry. He was obviously still extraordinarily powerful despite his injury, and the way the claws on his hind paws dug into the earth and his chest filled as he inhaled did strange things to your equilibrium.

You swallowed, waiting nervously to see what would happen next, and he offered you a smile that was quite literally wolfish before looking over his shoulder towards the nearby trees.

“Wait,” you croaked. “You’re not leaving like that, are you?”

“No,” he said. “I was going to sit a while in the sun and recover my strength, if you will permit the trespass a little longer?”

“Stay as long as you like,” you smiled. “I live in your woods, don’t I?”

He just smiled at that. “Don’t wait around on my account,” he said after a moment. “The day is still fairly young, and I’ve held you up long enough.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

He moved to sit beneath your kitchen window, lounging with his long hind legs splayed, his left bent at the knee so he could hunch protectively over his injury while the other stretched out. He flexed his paws, dark claws glinting in the sunlight, and laid his head back against the stone wall just beneath the windowsill.

“You… want me to bring you anything?” you asked him, as though you were going to the village shop and thought he might want a bagel or a pint of milk.

He cracked his eyes open again and smiled. “I can always be won over by a blackberry or two. There are some out near the stream now, but be careful. The moss and algae has grown over the banks and made it slippery. I had to haul a young fawn out of there not long ago.”

The image of him grabbing a slender little deer by the belly and lifting it out of the gully was almost too much for you to take without making an undignified squeak, so you just grinned at him and nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Three hours later, you came back to find him gone, and you tried not to let the sudden barb of disappointment sting too much. After all, he wasn’t some stray dog that had come limping into your yard for help. He was a forest spirit.

You eyed the spot where he’d been lying though, and set a large handful of blackberries down on the flattened grass, just in case.

In the morning, the berries were gone, but in their place was something of such value that you could hardly take in what you were seeing. It didn’t look like much, but you knew it was worth a king’s ransom. “No way,” you breathed, stepping over to the small, dark brown, lumpy, spherical object and crouching down. You swallowed.

A twig snapped behind you and you whipped around, losing your balance and sitting down hard on the damp ground. Beorn was standing on his hind legs at the edge of the path, and if he was injured anymore, you couldn’t see it.

“Beorn,” you breathed, and then looked back to where a specimen of the rarest and most expensive truffle in the whole world sat on your doorstep like it was just another autumn mushroom. “Do you know what this is?”

He tilted his head and smiled, baring his huge, thick canines. He leaned his elbow on the fence post of the paddock that you hoped one day would contain a goat and some geese. “Of course I know what it is. You humans are always hunting through the forest for them.”

“They’re… They’re more expensive than gold, Beorn!”

“You shared your food with me, and deprived yourself of your winter stores just so that I could eat and heal, and you never looked for anything in return. If I happen to know where to find a few of these, then that’s only fair in my eyes. Now you can sell it in town.”

“Where am I going to say I got it?” you asked, still sitting stunned on the ground. “They’ll think I’m hiding the secret!” In fact, if you sold it in the capital, you could probably get enough for it to buy a whole forest of your own. You’d be richer than half the aristocracy in the land. Dizziness swept over you and you started to laugh.

He approached you then, walking on his hind legs, talons just pricking into the earth and flexing slightly with each step. He halted in front of you and held out his enormous, paw-like hand. He had rough pads like a wolf, but his fingers and thumb were humanoid in shape, though they had curved, black claws. You slid your hand into his and let him haul you carefully to your feet again.

“You’re… healed?” you asked, eyeing the spot on his side where the crossbow bolt had been only the previous day.

Beorn nodded. His dark eyes glinted softly in the morning light, and somehow he didn't seem quite real anymore. It was as though he might vanish if you blinked or looked away too long, and you tightened your grip on his hand. He rumbled something that was somewhere between a sigh and a purr, and then laughed softly.

“I can’t believe you brought me a truffle,” you laughed. “You could have brought me a deer to feed me or something, but no. You bring me a truffle.”

“I can take it back if you like,” he said with an easy chuckle. “There are wild boar in the forest who would very much enjoy devouring that for breakfast…”

“No!” you yelped, playfully putting yourself between the stupendously expensive mushroom and the terrifying forest spirit who could probably just bite your entire head off with a single snap of his jaws. He laughed, the sound deep and rich as it rose from his belly and he tipped his head back, tail swishing from side to side.

“Oh, I like you,” he said when his mirth had faded. “I like you a lot. I’m glad we met, human.”

“I’m not glad you got hurt, but I’m glad we met too,” you said. “And not just because of the truffle. Gods, I could buy my own castle with that.”

He froze and then his ears swivelled back just a little. “Would you… leave?” he asked.

“No,” you said without a second thought. “I earned this place — this peace,” you said with a growl of your own to match the fierceness in the wolf you saw before you. “I wouldn’t change any of it for anything. You’re stuck with me, Beorn. Friend for life.”

His shoulders dropped a few inches and he sighed softly. The trees around the cottage swayed and sighed too, and the whole forest seemed to let go of a tense breath with it. “May I visit you from time to time?” he asked.

A grin spread across your face and you nodded. “As often as you like. After you disappeared yesterday, I kind of thought that was it,” you admitted. “I mean… You’re a forest spirit — I wasn’t sure how much you’d want to hang around with a boring old human.”

“I’d very much like to spend time with you,” he said, his voice dipping low and warm. “And you’re anything but boring.” Before he could go on though, one of his large, triangular ears flicked back and he tensed with a growl. “Someone’s coming up the path. I should not be seen with you.”

“Come back tonight?” you asked, even as he spun on the spot and darted for the trees on all fours, moving like a shadow. He was out of sight in a handful of heartbeats and you ducked inside to get something to put the stupidly expensive truffle in. No point in advertising that you had something that valuable just lying around, even if the inhabitants of the nearby village were the gentlest, kindest folk you could ever have hoped to meet.

After three nights spent talking with Beorn — the first sitting outside in the surprisingly balmy autumn air, and the second two inside your own house, with him stretched out on the hearthrug, soaking up the heat of the fire in luxurious bliss — you decided to take the truffle to the city. It would be a long journey to travel the King’s Road around the ancient, sacred forest, and Beorn instead offered to guide you through the heart of it to save you weeks of unnecessary tramping.

“You’re sure the forest won’t… object?” you asked as you packed your bag one morning and he sat on his haunches like a hound near the door. He always liked to keep one ear on the forest nearby if he could, as though expecting trouble or looking for an easy way out. He was, after all, a wild spirit. He seemed comfortable enough in your presence, but being inside the stone walls of your cottage for too long made him twitchy.

“With my blessing and friendship, you could travel freely through the whole forest alone, and nothing would dare harm you.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No,” he said, and the simple truth of it almost moved you to tears.

“Well… thanks,” you mumbled, blinking rapidly as you stuffed a spare shirt into your pack.

You moved together through territory you knew on that first day, but he led you to a secret, mossy glen that night. You were so tired, you almost fell asleep with your pack on, but he helped you make a camp and a little fire to boil water for tea, and when the night grew chilly, he curled up around you and let you rest with your back against his ribs and your cloak pulled up around your chin. You fell asleep there, and woke stiff and achy in the morning, but gloriously warm.

That became the pattern of your days in the forest with Beorn: you ate a breakfast of wild berries and nuts when your bread rations ran out, and he guided you through the most beautiful country you’d ever seen: thundering, white waterfalls plunging down into mossy crevasses that seemed to swallow the river whole; groves of autumn aspen that rained leaves down around you like a shower of little gold coins; bramble thickets so old and so dense that nothing grew beneath them and the thorns were as large as your hand and each blackberry was the size of an apple. Finally, on your last night before you reached the edge of the forest on the southern side, he took you to a grove where fireflies danced and spiralled with blue-green will-o-the-wisp fairies.

You crouched with him at the edge of the clearing, hardly daring to breathe as the lights winked and sparkled, coiling and twisting in and out of each other in an endlessly varied choreography. Beorn placed his palm at the small of your back to steady you, and you leaned further into his touch as the performance continued.

Eventually, on some intangible cue, the fireflies and fairies all rushed upwards towards the opening in the canopy above, speeding out like sparks from a campfire into the night, and leaving you and Beorn alone in the mossy glen.

“That was incredible,” you whispered when you finally got your breath back.

“I thought you would enjoy that,” he said. He surprised you by lowering his great wolf’s head and nuzzling his cheek against your shoulder. He rumbled a soft moan and closed his eyes.

You turned to look at him and brought your hand slowly to his cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Beorn,” you murmured. You hadn’t meant to speak your thoughts, and the moment you did, he froze. Before you could call the words back or formulate some lie to cover your embarrassment, Beorn sighed happily once more.

“I don’t think a human has ever called me ‘beautiful’ before,” he said with a shy laugh. His big, dark eyes stared intently at you in the dark, and you felt a prickle of arousal go through you. He inhaled and then nuzzled against you again.

“Beorn…” you gasped, your fingers tightening in his fur, tugging. “I… I want you…”

With another whining moan, he let his teeth rake over your throat, his tongue hot and wet against the cool night air on your skin, and you gasped, exposing your neck to him.

He growled at you and lowered you down onto your back, your cloak spread out beneath you amid the soft moss. “I want… I want to taste you,” he said in a deep, rough voice. His hands gripped your waist and you found your legs parting for him almost without a second thought. “Will you let me?”

“Gods, yes,” you grunted, and helped him undo the belt at your waist. He drew off your clothes delicately with his claws and your skin prickled into goosebumps.

He ran the rough pads of his paw-like hands up the inside of your thighs, his jaws loosely parted. He was panting slightly and you could see his white teeth glinting in the moonlight. He pressed his cold, wet nose against you and you jerked and bucked as he let his hot, rasping tongue lave over you; tasting you, savouring you.

His talon-tipped fingers tightened on your thighs, claws pricking, holding your legs open for him as he got to work. After a few strokes, his eyes rolled closed and he let out a deep, low-frequency growl that went right through you. He lavished attention on you until you were shaking and gasping, and he was unrelenting.

“Beorn, I’m going to come,” you gasped and his teeth just nudged against your skin for a moment, adding a perfect counterpoint to the rolling heat of his tongue and his breath. “You’re going to make me come.”

He hadn’t once stopped growling, and you weren’t sure he could speak until he grunted and removed his left hand from your thigh. You just about had enough strength to raise your head behind the pleasure buzzing through you, and you looked down the length of your body to see that he was working his own cock in his hand while still letting his tongue toy with you. Thick, red, and leaking all over his fingers, dripping freely onto the moss between his knees, his cock was hard and there was a knot forming at the base. He squeezed his hand around it but he leaned down over you again and you saw stars as his cold nose pressed against you with an insistent eagerness.

“Come for me,” he snarled through bared teeth. “Come for me.”

A few seconds later, your back arched and you came against the heat of his mouth. He spilled a heartbeat after you did, and you cracked an eye open to watch him throw his head back and howl.

Unabashed, he broadcast his pleasure to the forest, and you lay there and watched his cock pulse and spurt over his knuckles as he gripped the swollen knot hard. He made such a beautiful mess of himself, and he never took his other hand off your leg, keeping himself grounded through the roaring pleasure that tore through him in waves.

When he finally stopped coming, the howl faded from his throat, and he let his head drop down to regard you. He was breathing like he’d just raced across the forest, and his pupils were blown black and wide.

“You’re perfect,” he said. “Gods, but you’re perfect.”

You laughed quietly, fondly, and lay there dazed and sensitive and satisfied.

“Come back to me?” he asked in a whisper as he lay down beside you a while later and pulled you tight against his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m right here…”

You felt him shake his head a little. “When you’re done in the city. Will you come back to me?”

“Of course I will,” you promised, half-twisting in his embrace to look up at him. “Anyway, it’s all your fault that I’m going to the city with the world’s most expensive mushroom in my pocket!”

He laughed and held you tight, and when you parted at the edge of the forest the next day, he told you he would wait for you there until you returned.

Thanks for reading this story, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging it (as well as leaving a like) if you enjoyed it, since that will help others find it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar) | Library/Story Archive Blog

#werewolf #werewolf boyfriend #male werewolf x reader #trans male reader #trans reader #male werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolf romance #forest spirit #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster romance

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strobichie · 1 year ago

Text

just sae.

♡⸝⸝ summary: poor you decided to replay ddlc, but something seems wrong... why is monika sae?

little note: bachira is sayori, rin is natsuki, and isagi is yuri!!

your perspective:

i had recently gotten a new computer, there are so many things i still need to work with and customise to my liking.

so, to cure my boredom, i'm installing ddlc again and replaying it!

my favourite character is natsuki, i absolutely loved how adorable and relatable she just is. she reminded me of one of the kids i babysat.

after installing the win files i extracted them all and started the game up, as usual, i see the 4 dokis on the main screen on startup.

i entered my name of choice and started the game ---

wait, bachira??? FROM BLUE LOCK??

why was he sayori? not gonna lie, his sprites are really cute, but how..??

i re-checked the website i downloaded the game from but it displayed the 4 dokis there and there was nothing wrong..

huh, why am i being scared?

i should be grateful, honestly.

i've been blessed by the gods above!! for once i'm fucking lucky!

no way was i gonna pass up the opportunity to interact with my favourite anime characters especially since they somehow ended up in my favourite childhood game..!

i wonder who natsuki, yuri, and monika would be, though?

this is interesting! as i progress even more reading the dialogues and clicking on the chat box, after a few minutes of suffering i finally got to the literature club with bachira!

"seriously, a girl? way to be a killjoy." rin... RIN?!?!?!?!?!

OH MY GOD RIN IS SO HOT? HIS ATTRACTIVENESS SCALE WENT TO 100 TO 1000 SO QUICK!!

wait.. could that mean ---

ISAGI IS YURI!! YES!! MY FAVOURITES ALL IN ONE ROOM!!

i hope monika is kaiser or even better, anri..!!

gosh this got me feelin' so giddy and chipper in the early fucking morning..

i skipped a few of the dialogues, and abruptly stopped when a certain person came into view.

...sae? really?

what an eyesore. i hate sae, of all people, why sae?

sure he was similar to monika, but only in appearance. kaiser or anri could have been able to fulfill this role.

i sighed in annoyance, at least i have rin and the others...

i continuously skipped many dialogues and had finally gotten to the part where sayori, or in this situation bachira, hangs himself..

right, this was a horror game after all. did i really forget about the main plot?

i stared at the screen with an obvious frown. rin and isagi are next..

and the person behind all this was saeshit. ugh, seriously... well, good thing i can just delete his files at any given time.

progressing through the story even further, i got a special poem and cringed at the 'drawing'. it was bachira hanging in a humorous manner.

this was unfortunate.

i clicked on the chat box endlessly, wanting to speedrun to the moments of all my favourite characters deaths..

seeing rin crack his neck and isagi stab himself looking like a crazed maniac broke my heart. good things don't last.. this will probably be the last time i'll ever be able to play this version of the game.

then, here sae was, fuck was he smiling for?

"let me take a quick one of rin's cupcakes, these such are really good for a brother so shitty and nasty." i scoffed and gritted my teeth in anger, sae was clearly the asshole in their brother-ship.

i was met face-to-face with sae, i pursed my lips and stared at my computer screen.

"it's nice to talk to you even if it's by a dialogue box." is this even real?

"i know that you're thinking: is this legitimate? to answer your question, yes it is. i became self aware after everything in that god damn manga and anime called blue lock, i felt sick and tired of not being able to show up in the manga after a long period of time. somehow, i found a way to break the barrier between the fictional animanga world and reality as you call it." that was a mouthful. he was pretty talkative now. my burning hatred for sae cooled down a bit as he spoke more ---

"i found this 'cutesy romance horror' game and it had all the things i needed in order to cross over to the real world. this version of the game only exists on your desktop, {user}. is {user} even your name? are you even a girl?" he shot me a confused expression.

"honestly, i don't care anymore. even i started falling in love with you. i thought i wasn't capable of love, just like the original character monika, i fell in love with you." this sent a shiver down my spine, i sweat-dropped and continued reading his dialogues.

"you read that right, i love you. even if i'm not real, i love you. i won't ever let you leave me. i'll kill you even if you think of it." he coldly stated and i opened my file explorer, ready to delete his character file --- huh.. why couldn't i delete it?

"i'm disappointed, why would you wanna try to delete me? i love you, you should be grateful i love you." but i hated sae, i hate him!

"i've been practicing for a while, i think i can finally break the laws of physics and rules of nature between our worlds." uhm, does he even know what the fuck's he saying?

"i'll see you soon, goodbye {name}. i love you." HOW DID HE GET MY NAME? DID HE HACK INTO MY COMPUTER BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK..?!?!?!

i was scared shitless, jesus christ, just what did he mean by all that? i force shut down my computer and rolled to my bed covering myself in my blankets. time to go back to sleep after that eventful experience.

short little fic, should i make a part two?

finally made a part 2!

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