#This is me just uhhh keeping the camping train going | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hugheses · 10 months

Text

youtube

full transcript below ↴

Scott Oake: We are pleased to have the captain of the Vancouver Canucks with us on After Hours tonight. Tough loss tonight, Quinn, but you remain the early season favorite for the Norris Trophy. And we'll get to that momentarily. But first, Dave, to tonight's game.

Dave Tomlinson: Yeah, just Quinn, you guys had your way of the Seattle Kraken in their first year. They've been kind of battling back a little bit in the game this evening. Seems they've gotten a little in the way of a lot of shots, a lot of passes, some bounces didn't go your way. How did it feel out on the ice?

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, I think that we probably just didn't play our best. I think that, you know, we got them in two or three games and I think expecting us to play a little bit better than that. But, you know, sometimes you're not going to have your best. And I don't think we did tonight and we just got to keep moving on. It's a long season.

Scott Oake: All right, Quinn, it seems you're finally getting the respect you deserve. You know that for a couple of years there was that rather unfair notion that as an undersized defenseman, you were good at getting your points, but you had some defensive deficiencies. I know you heard that. What went through your mind when you did?

Quinn Hughes: Yeah. Obviously I'm a competitive guy. I think my sophomore season, second year, COVID year was really tough on me. It was hard and, you know, playing McDavid ten times in games ten times, and we struggled as a team. And so I didn't have a great year there. But I think after that, my third year I was plus 15 and, you know, plus 15 last year. So I think that my game’s been coming along in the last couple of years and I think people are seeing now, but also with the coaching staff and the team we have right now and having Hronek, it's, you know, propelled my success.

Scott Oake: You were ninth in the Norris Trophy voting last year. Did that sting?

Quinn Hughes: Uhhh I mean, I thought I had a really solid year and, you know, obviously winning plays in account to it a little bit. And yeah, so that was last year and we'll just leave it at that.

Scott Oake: Okay. You are in the Norris Trophy conversation, also the Hart conversation, which takes us to the Canucks outstanding start to the season date.

Dave Tomlinson: Did you see at the start of the season maybe even go back to training camp what you guys would see your record at now? Because you certainly talked about having a strong start to your season and now it's just played right through.

Scott Oake: Well, first of all, did you see this possibility or these many possibilities? These are all the major awards that the Canucks are in contention for through one fifth of the season.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, start your question. I mean, it's all great and we've played some really good hockey up to this point. 18 games. I think it was our 18 tonight. And, but we got to keep pushing. I mean there's 60 something, you know, games often. No one's going to awards tonight, so you know, going in the season. The main thing for all those guys up on the board there was that we want to be a successful team and respected hockey club and franchise.

Quinn Hughes: So we feel we've done that to start the year. But again, it's a long year and yeah.

Dave Tomlinson: It seems like you have something to prove that the guys up on the board all have something to prove in different ways. And then it kind of all culminated in how you've started so. Well.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, I don't want to say, you know, we're out to prove something. It's just and teach people lessons. It's really just that we're trying to be competitive guys and we want to do our job. One of the in the playoffs and it's not fun losing games. So I think that's what you're seeing.

Scott Oake: One of the things you wanted to do more of this season was shoot and you clearly have done that. So that takes us to the family home in Michigan and the shooting room. Explain this.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, it's just a fun spot for, you know, me and Jack can go mess around at night if we’re bored or you know, when Luke's there, too. And we use it quite a bit. The rollerblades, it's fun. And we open the garage door. So, you know, I've seen other guys with, you know, rooms like that. But for us, you know, hockey is what we love. And so we’ll snap the rollerblades on and go shoot some pucks. You see the golf cart there. I think we enjoy the golf a little bit more in the summer but shooting room’s good too.

Dave Tomlinson: You're going to need a golf simulator we’ll get to that. But, you know, people will look at this and say, okay, he's just working on his shot and his shots gotten better. But like, technically, are you like tweaking little things? You think, can they get a grip? It a little bit harder on the bottom of the shaft? You know, push it through like what are the small little technical differences in getting your shot as good as it's gotten so far?

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, I think I've changed a lot, to be honest. And I think I started working on it two summers ago, and it hasn't really kicked in until last summer. So this season and I really start to feel comfortable with, you know, some of the shots I'm taking here. And then of course, some of it's a shot mindset as well and trying to get more shots on that tonight. I felt like I could've had a couple more shots I passed up. But over the course of the year, I'm going to score more because I'm shooting more and I'm putting myself in a good spot.

Scott Oake: The Hughes brothers, you, Jack and Luke, both with New Jersey, are making your case to be the first family of hockey in the U.S.. Here is a nice picture of three wild and crazy guys. Is there a story behind this?

Quinn Hughes: Nothing you guys need to hear about.

Scott Oake: Okay.

Quinn Hughes: No, I mean, they’re my best buds and I spent a lot of time with them in the summer. I know Jack's first game back tonight I was happy to see him score. I don't know what the score ended up, but yeah, they're. They're both great players and a lot of fun, you know, in the summer with those guys. So we'll leave it at that.

Scott Oake: Yeah. Jack came back tonight. He was one and one and I think played 23 minutes.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah he's a special talent so it doesn't surprise me.

Scott Oake: All right. He led the league in scoring until he got hurt. Luke's having an impressive rookie season with New Jersey. The three of you often train together in the summertime and quite often led by. You're under the direction of your father, Jim, who played at Providence and was a former director of player development for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Scott Oake: Here is Jim on off season of training.

[Clip from Going Home with Quinn Hughes]

Dave Tomlinson: It's gotta be fun to have the competition. But what do you credit your brothers for the most?

Quinn Hughes: I think just first off, those skates are really fun. My dad does a really good job, you know, keeping it fun and listening to what the, you know, the guys want and he's the smartest hockey guy I know. So we have a lot of fun out there and it's great on a hockey basis. But also, just as, you know, hanging out in the summer, that's fun, too.

Quinn Hughes: So, yeah, it's a great skate. We enjoy it. And yeah.

Scott Oake: Here's a question from Ken Caruso. How often do you talk text with your brothers? Jack and Luke? Did they comment on your winner this week?

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, I mean, they're my two best buddies, so I talk to them every day for the most part, especially Jack. And Luke... try to leave alone a little bit. It's his rookie year and find his way. He's doing a great job. He's gonna be a special player. But yeah, everyday.

Scott Oake: All right. Numerology.. number six was the chosen number of most people in the Hughes household. You couldn't have it here because Brock Boeser had it, Jack couldn't have it in New Jersey because the captain, Andy Greene, had it. So you took 43 and then Jack took 86. Did he take it because he thinks he's twice as good as you?

Quinn Hughes: No, no, no.

Dave Tomlinson: You’ve heard that before.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah. People always like to, you know, find something, but I think Jack just liked the number 86, that'll be a question for him. But, yeah.

Scott Oake: Well, did Luke take 43 then, with New Jersey as a tribute to you?

Quinn Hughes: Uh, no. I think Luke was just, you know, he's worn 43 for a couple of years. It might have started as that. But, you know, I think if you ask him now, he would say that it's more his number than mine.

Dave Tomlinson: And your 43 story, was it something handed to you at training camp? And you said, okay, this'll work.

Quinn Hughes: No, no, not really. I was just, you know, at the national team you can only pick between 30 and 60 and you’re a 15 year old kid there's not many options in between there. You don't want to go 50, 55 or whatever those numbers are and so on. 43 had a chance and then just stuck with it.

Scott Oake: There you go. Issue settled. VanEvolved says, Ask him how many times a day he's reminded by Jack and Luke that he was the lowest draft pick of the three. Jack, of course, went one, Luke number four, and you were number seven.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, I mean, I haven't thought about that in a minute, but yeah, third in the house, you know, obviously those guys deserve to go where they went. And for me I'm, you know, I love Vancouver so seven you know got lucky there but yeah I don't think about it much you know I got drafted five or six years ago, so.

Scott Oake: Okay the captain ceremony here at the start of the season saw you get the C from Stan Smyl or Orland Kurtenbach, Henrik Sedin and Trevor Linden to become the 15th captain of the Vancouver Canucks. Being captain of a team is no small responsibility, especially for a Canadian franchise. Has it changed your hockey life?

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, obviously a very special night and we got the win that night, which was pretty incredible. I mean, just look at the players in that picture. It's, you know, it was an incredible moment for me, had my parents in the stands as well. So, you know, we're 17 games in and we've been playing really good hockey, so that's been the most fun, fun aspect of that.

But I've always said, you know, what's made me so good is I can continue to learn. And, you know, I think I don't have a lot of arrogance about myself. And I'm always learning and, you know, trying to be a sponge. So for me, that's the same thing with the captaincy. Continue to grow and learn from some of the other guys and then do what I need to do.

Scott Oake: And your predecessor, Bo Horvat, was here on Wednesday night.

Dave Tomlinson: You talk about learning from players before you, guys you've played with, guys that you know. What did you take from Bo's captaincy here and what are you making your own as captain of the Canucks?

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, I mean, just, you know, looking at Bo here, take it all in. He's a special guy. And you could see how emotional he got. He, you know, deeply cared about the people in the city and the fans here. And desperately he wanted to win and be successful. And, you know, it didn't happen, unfortunately, was a tough couple of years for all of us.

But you know, he's a great person, great player. I'm happy for him. He got that contract. And as far as me, you know, like you just said, just trying to grab bits and pieces from each other, you know, other guys. But in saying that, you know, I'm in this situation because I am who I am. And yeah, that's never going to change. So I'm going to be me. But also, you know, there's always things you can learn.

Scott Oake: Shergill2000 asks: Your mom just got inducted into the Jewish Sports Hall of Fame. How proud are you of her achievements and what role did she play in making you the player you are? We should point out your mother, Ellen, was a star at the University of New Hampshire as a hockey player, and she helped the USA to a silver medal in the 1992 Worlds already in the University of New Hampshire Hall of Fame.

Scott Oake: Yeah, all right. So back to the question.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, it was kinda sprung on us out of nowhere, I just woke up to a text from my dad saying that she was inducted, but, you know, really happy for her. She's, you know, back to your question, she's someone that, you know, got us to where we are. She kind of drove us up the mountain. And, you know, my dad, we talked to him a lot about hockey, but my mom was always there, driving us to the rink and, you know, pitching in as well with thoughts about the game. So she's, you know, obviously educated and she's, you know, been working with the U.S. national team, women's team the last couple of months. And I know she's enjoying that and they're lucky to have her. But um, you know, not as lucky as us.

Scott Oake: A question from Captain Ron, Which league is more intense? The GTHL or the NHL? I think your grandfather said to someone that the GTHL is pretty good.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah. To this day the GTHL is the hardest league I've ever played in. It's really intense, but um.. Yeah, I think it just it was like I said, it was really intense and you know, fortunate to grow up there because, you know, the hockey is so good, the level and talent so good and always pushing you. The other kids are pushing you.

And I played with Ryan McLeod, Mackenzie Entwhistle, they're both in the NHL and it's a pretty special thing, you know, when I play against those guys. But um… fortunate to grow up and live there and yeah, it's a great time.

Scott Oake: Here's something we found on YouTube or TikTok

[Keith Yandle golf prank video starts playing]

Scott Oake: You got a very nice swing.

Quinn Hughes: Haha. No, I don't.

Scott Oake: Okay, well, look at this.

Quinn Hughes: I've never actually watched the full video.

Scott Oake: Now you actually thought that you [...?] Did you not know there’s such a thing as a gag, an exploding golf ball?

Quinn Hughes: I could lie to you, but no I totally had no idea. And if you ever been to Vegas and uh, you know, some of the guys in league know what I'm talking about. But if you ever been in the Vegas media tour, it's a long couple days. And I think that was the last thing I had in the weekend. I think my brain was fried, but I can't blame it on that.

Scott Oake: And who set you up for that?

Quinn Hughes: I'm guessing Keith did, and I should have known better. I had dinner with him the night before, But yeah, it was a weird thing because it happens, the media tour in September and it didn't come out on Instagram until July. And I remember being, you know, just going off the ice from training in the summer. And I saw that and I couldn't believe it. I was like, these guys waited 11 months and didn't say anything about it. And then, you know, one of those one of those moments, you just kind of throw your phone away for two days.

Scott Oake: Nice of us to dig it up tonight.

Dave Tomlinson: Well, the best part is you're like, I got it. I got to keep this driver like, this is working for me.

#quinn hughes #transcript

26 notes · View notes

spicykaraage · 1 year

Text

Show must go on! - Story Translation

[Prologue]

Yukimura: …This place looks like something out of an ancient myth.

Kirihara: I’ve seen buildings like this in games. I’m gonna take a picture.

Yagyuu: We’re supposed to come here for training today. But doesn’t it feel more like sightseeing?

Kirihara: Yeah, yeah. Either way, it’s fine isn’t it.

Saitou: Hi, attention everyone~. I’ll be going over this training.

Saitou: Starting today, you are assigned to create a play from scratch. That includes writing, directing and performing it in a week’s time.

Kikumaru: A play…?

Oishi: What exactly is the purpose of this training?

Saitou: It is designed to strengthen your mental fortitude and ability to respond in sudden situations, think of it as a match against the world.

Yukimura: I see. So we can strengthen these skills through theater?

Oishi: But it’s going to be hard doing all the writing and directing ourselves.

Kikumaru: I think we got this. It’ll be fun working with everyone.

Kikumaru: If we get to come up with something, I wanna do an acrobatic play~

Oishi: Haha… Optimistic as ever, Eiji.

Saitou: Each team will be made up by schools, schools that have less than five students will be combined with the others.

Kirihara: Hmm. So that means we’ll all be on the same team.

Yagyuu: It seems so.

Yukimura: Then let’s get to it, everyone brainstorm on what kind of play we’ll put on.

Yagyuu: I have a suggestion: how about you take charge of the writing and directing, Yukimura-kun?

Yagyuu: The play you directed at the Unabara Festival was very interesting.

Yukimura: Yeah… It was fun putting on that play with you guys.

Kirihara: In that case, Captain Yukimura, please let me play the cool lead role!

Yukimura: Mmm, we’ll see.

Kirihara: C’mon now~, I’m the Ace of Rikkai, I’m the best one for the job out of all the other members.

Yukimura: Well, you do sound confident. Alright, if you insist.

Kirihara: Yes, I got the lead role!

Yukimura: Well, we need to talk it out with the others if I’m going to be the director or not.

Saitou: Well then, it’s about time to head back to the camp. I look forward to seeing your plays.

Saitou: No matter what happens, do your best and remember the “show must go on”.

Kirihara: Show… Uhhh, what’d he say?

Yukimura: “Show must go on”.

Yukimura: It means that once the stage has been set, you must keep going no matter what.

[Episode 1]

Yukimura: Now, where should we start?

Yanagi: How about we gather information first? We’ll need some subject matter to help us come up with a story.

Yukimura: That’s very true. Okay, let’s go to the library.

Yanagi: That being said… We agreed to put you in charge of the writing and directing.

Yukimura: Right. You’re all relying on me, so I have to come up with an interesting story.

Yukimura: By the way, what made you want to be the stage director, Yanagi?

Yanagi: The stage director is in charge of preparing what is needed, managing and coordinating various factors, and for handling the director’s intentions.

Yanagi: They are also in charge of the casting and production of the play, as well as being prepared for whatever happens during production.

Yukimura: I already know we can count on you for the stage director role. And on the day of the show all of us will be both actors and backstage crew, so it’s going to be a lot of work.

Yanagi: Let’s find some content for our play in the meantime. I’ll look for any relevant books as well.

—

Shiraishi: Oh, come to do some research, Yukimura-kun?

Yukimura: Yeah, I see you guys are in the middle of writing.

Fuji: Yeah. Both of us are in charge of writing our scripts.

Shiraishi: Right, but I’m kind of in a slump right now.

Fuji: I wouldn’t say that. The ideas you’ve come up with have been pretty interesting.

Shiraishi: Well, it’s because of my club members telling me which roles they wanna play, I just need to come up with a good enough story…

Shiraishi: One wants to be a hero, one wants to run fast, I’m trying to figure out how to incorporate them both.

Yanagi: With all those different members, it’s going to be quite difficult to satisfy them all.

Yukimura: It’s also important to know who and what to showcase.

Yukimura: My story and casting… What should I do?

Fuji: I’ve just been using my members’ characteristics and letting my imagination run wild.

Shiraishi: You’ve already made a lot of progress, Fuji-kun.

Fuji: Eiji from my team told me he wanted to do an acrobatic play.

Fuji: I thought it’d be cool to utilize Eiji’s cat-like reflexes, so I came up with a story about a Nekomata youkai.

Yukimura: Oh, that sounds like it’ll be a cool play.

Shiraishi: Rikkai has a lot of cool and unique members too.

Yukimura: You think? Maybe I should come up with something based off Rikkai’s characteristics.

Yukimura: The Emperor and Counselor, the Gentleman and Trickster of the Court…

Yanagi: The Devil…

Shiraishi: Kirihara-kun’s nickname, huh. He’s more of an angel nowadays, though.

Yukimura: …True.

Fuji: Looks like you’ve had an epiphany.

Yukimura: Maybe so. Thanks for the advice, everyone.

Shiraishi: Hm… Where are you going?

Yukimura: Going to the “Gods” section.

[Episode 2]

Yagyuu: …This is a wonderful script.

Yukimura: I’m glad to hear that.

Yanagi: Although it’s short, the composition and characters are well written.

Kirihara: The sword fighting sounds so cool!

Niou: The tale of a demon who wants to be strong and challenges the gods and angels, with a couple of twists…

Niou: Not a bad story. Exciting and humorous.

Kirihara: And I get to play the lead role of the demon! Thanks so much, Captain Yukimura!

Kirihara: There’s so much cool dialogue, this is gonna be great.

Yukimura: I’m happy you’re happy, but make sure you’re prepared too.

Kirihara: Prepared?

Yukimura: In theater, the lead actor is also the chairman that carries the weight of the production on his shoulders.

Yukimura: So, for this play, I have entrusted you with the responsibility of lead actor and chairman. I have faith in you.

Kirihara: Understood, I’m prepared! And being chairman does have a nice ring to it.

Sanada: Hey, did you even understand what he just said.

Yagyuu: Even still… I think Yukimura-kun’s casting is perfect.

Yagyuu: Yanagi-kun as a wise man and Sanada-kun as a strict angel. The roles you’ve given them are perfect.

Niou: Puri.

Yanagi: Yes. Those are great roles to play.

Kirihara: And when the angel gets mad he summons lightning and thunder, just like Vice Captain Sanada.

Sanada: Oh, how about a little demonstration then.

Kirihara: Uh no~, I’m good!

Kirihara: I’m the chairman and that means I’m above you, senpais, you should give me more respect.

Sanada: What!? Who do you think you are, Akaya!

Yanagi: If you want more respect, then it’s important to show your chairmanship through your actions.

Sanada: That’s right. You should be more responsible now that you’re the lead actor and chairman!

Kirihara: Huhh, what’s with all this talk about “actions” and “responsibility” now?

Sanada: Very well, I’ll make you understand…

Yukimura: That’s enough, you two. Let’s begin practice.

Sanada: Ngh… But he…

Yukimura: Let’s just wait and see… The results have yet to come.

Yanagi: …Right.

Sanada: Understood. Very well, let’s work hard and keep our spirits high.

[Episode 3]

Krauser: “Ah, what a cute little flower in bloom. What is its name?”

Akutsu: “There’s my target… that wolf in the flower garden.”

*bang!*

*rustle rustle…*

Sengoku: Alright, that’s enough script reading~. Let’s take a quick break.

Higashikata: Great acting, you two.

Krauser: Really? I’m so happy to hear that.

Akutsu: I don’t wanna half-ass it and look like an idiot. That’s all.

Sengoku: The lead role of the wolf hunter was given to Akutsu, I think I’ve made the right choice based on your performance so far.

Sengoku: And nice timing on the sound effects, we’re already off to a great start.

Minami: Really? It feels nice being complimented.

Minami: It’s not our turn to act our parts yet, so we’ve been working on all the sound effects.

Higashikata: The play’s got a lot of gunshots and movement so it’s kinda hard, but it’s also fun.

Sengoku: Well this is “Red Scarf,” an action-packed, coming-of-age drama based off of Little Red Riding Hood.

Sengoku: Of course, sound effects are necessary to make it feel realistic, right?

Akutsu: Hey, just how long are you gonna keep yapping.

Sengoku: Yeah yeah, let’s continue. Let’s start with the wolf’s lines.

Krauser: Okay! Here I go, then.

Krauser: “Aghh!! What are you doing!?”

Akutsu: “Word has it you’ve kidnapped an old man and plan on having him for a snack.”

Krauser: “But, I… I just came to look at the flowers, I’m just a silly…”

Sengoku: What’s up? Your next line is “I’m just a silly little wolf.”

Krauser: “Silly little…” Can you say that one more time?

Higashikata: Come to think of it… I have heard that word’s hard to pronounce if you’re a native English speaker.

Akutsu: Tch…

Krauser: Um… I’m sorry.

Akutsu: Rewrite the script. Make sure there’s lines he can read.

Sengoku: Oh… Um, sure, I can do that…

Akutsu: I’ll finish the rest of the scene. Look over the rest of the script while I’m at it.

Krauser: Thank you very much! You’re a lifesaver.

Sengoku: Oh wow~, look at you being a good ol’ senpai.

Akutsu: Shut up. It’d be a pain to keep having to stop ‘cause of him.

Minami: Uhm, we’re starring in the next scene…

Akutsu: Starting from page eight. Hurry it up.

[Episode 4]

Yukimura: Okay, that’s enough. Everyone’s moving much better now.

Marui: For sure. I’ve gotten pretty good at this acting stuff now, haven’t I?

Jackal: Tomorrow’s the big day, now that we’re about done I’m raring to go.

Yukimura: Okay, the next scene’s me and Akaya. Starting from page ten.

Kirihara: Got it.

Marui: Okay, three, two, one, start!

Kirihara: “I’ll beat you…” …Right…?

Jackal: Oh come on, you’ve forgotten your lines already?

Kirihara: Oh! “I’ll beat you, the one who rules all worlds, and claim my place at the top!”

Yukimura: Stop for a minute.

Yukimura: Akaya. You still haven’t memorized your lines, the same thing happened yesterday.

Kirihara: Oh… But I was memorizing them all night long… Plus, I have a lot of dialogue since I’m the main character so it’s hard to keep track of them all…

Jackal: Yukimura and the rest of us have a lot of dialogue too.

Marui: We have to put on the play tomorrow though. This is a real conundrum, isn’t it?

Kirihara: But… I keep trying to get them memorized, but it’s so hard and they keep slipping my mind…

Kirihara: I really have been trying my best, I promise…!

Yukimura: Save the excuses for later. Our time’s limited right now.

Yukimura: There’s no point in having you in the play if you can’t remember your dialogue, we’ll just perform the scenes that you’re not in.

Kirihara: Please, hold on. I…

Kirihara: …

—

Kirihara: Okay, got it…

Kirihara: Wh, Captain Yukimura!

Yukimura: Hey. Come back to practice?

Kirihara: …Yes. I know I made excuses earlier, but I’m not gonna let it slide.

Kirihara: I was really frustrated and upset… So I’ve decided not to stop until I’ve learned them all.

Yukimura: Heh…

Yukimura: Okay, I’ll help you memorize your lines too. It’s easier to remember if someone’s helping you, right?

Kirihara: Huh… Really?

Yukimura: Yeah. Then once you’ve got them memorized, we’ll practice acting and sword-fighting.

Yukimura: But I won’t tolerate anything less than your best. You still up to it?

Kirihara: Of course. Thanks so much!!

—

Yukimura: Great, it looks like you’ve memorized all your lines. Your acting and sword-fighting’s improved, too.

Kirihara: Hah… I feel great about it… but I’m so tired now… I can hardly move…

Yukimura: Oh? So you’re at your limit.

Kirihara: Nope, I can keep going. I’m gonna keep practicing and show you just how awesome my scenes are gonna be.

Yukimura: That’s good. I know you can do it, Akaya.

Yukimura: Your tenacity in reaching for the top… That’s one your strengths.

Kirihara: …!

Kirihara: Um, Captain Yukimura. Why did you give me the lead role when I asked for it?

Yukimura: Because I knew you could do it. I wouldn’t have given it you if I had thought otherwise.

Kirihara: …I see.

Kirihara: Well in that case, just watch me as I wow the crowd!

Yukimura: Fufu… I look forward to it.

[Episode 5]

Kawamura: *sigh*…

Akutsu: Hey, get out of the way. What’re you standing around for.

Kawamura: Oh… sorry. Guess I’m just nervous since it’s almost time to perform the play.

Kawamura: Don’t you ever get nervous, Akutsu?

Akutsu: No. I do what I gotta do.

Kawamura: Haha… Yeah you do, Akutsu. I’ll do my best too.

—

Oishi: Okay, I’ll start my lines.

Oishi: “Where are you hiding? I know you’re here.”

Kikumaru: “Where, indeed? I could be right under your nose, for all you know.”

Oishi: “I see, over in that crate…!”

Kikumaru: “Hehe, excellent. What can I do for you, human?”

Oishi: “So you reveal yourself, Nekomata.”

Oishi: “As an exorcist who is supposed to protect the people, I seal you here and now!”

Kikumaru: “Interesting. Go ahead and try.”

Kikumaru: Mmm, I dunno Oishi, the way you’re holding the talisman… just doesn’t feel right.

Oishi: I’ve tried everything, but none of my poses work… This is no good.

Hiyoshi: Oh, so you’re telling a story of an exorcist.

Zaizen: Kinda like that movie I saw the other day.

Oishi: Hm? You guys…

Hiyoshi: Nice job. Looks like it’ll be an interesting performance.

Hiyoshi: I watched a Japanese horror movie the other night with an exorcist in it, so this has piqued my interest.

Kikumaru: Oh, I see. Then do you remember how he was holding the talisman?

Hiyoshi: Yeah. If I remember correctly, the actor was holding it like this.

Oishi: I see. Okay then, how about this.

Kikumaru: Much better. The pose changes the impression by a lot.

Kikumaru: Alrighty, back to our lines.

Oishi: “As an exorcist who is supposed to protect the people, I seal you here and now!”

Oishi: Thank you, that advice really helped.

Hiyoshi: No need to thank me. Glad I could help you look closer to the real thing.

Zaizen: “The real thing,” you only saw it in a movie.

Oishi: Haha…

Oishi: By the way, are those your props? That’s a lot of stuff you’re carrying.

Kikumaru: For real. A beetle plush toy, and it looks like one of those belts from a sentai show… And is that… a stopwatch?

Zaizen: Yeah, my team’s play is about a hero that transforms into a beetle, this is what we’re gonna use when the detective runs to the crime scene.

Kikumaru: That definitely sounds different… What kind of play is it, exactly?

Zaizen: It’s the “perfect” script that incorporates everyone’s requests. It’s kind of like a potluck of ideas.

Oishi: But it sounds like fun. We’re looking forward to seeing your play, too.

Saitou: Okay, everyone. Rehearsals for each team will begin in an hour, please be ready.

Kikumaru: Alright! Let’s do our best at the rehearsal!

[Episode 6]

Minami: All of the props seem to be in order, we have everything on the list, and we’ve got the movements down…

Minami: We’re pretty much ready to go.

Higashikata: But I’m getting nervous now that we have to perform.

Minami: I get you. This play has us all front and center, it’s a lot of pressure.

Sengoku: Come on, Jimmies. There’s nothing to worry about, it’ll be fine.

Sengoku: You two definitely got the acting down, so have more confidence in yourselves.

Minami: You mean it…?

Sengoku: Of course. Why don’t you go out there and show ‘em the results of your practice?

Higashikata: We’ve definitely done as much as we could in what little time we had.

Minami: Yeah, no doubt about that.

Minami: I mean… either way being a part of this is gonna draw attention to us for sure.

Higashikata: Then we should take this chance to stand out and make our presence known with our performance.

Minami: Right. I guess we’ll have to go all out to stand out, huh.

Sengoku: There you go, that’s the spirit. Can’t wait to see you Jimmies wow the crowd out there.

Krauser: Senpai.

Akutsu: Huh?

Krauser: We still have a little longer to rehearse. Would you be so kind as to demonstrate that part from yesterday again?

Minami: Oh that’s right, what were you two working on yesterday?

Krauser: Right, he was teaching me the movements in this difficult action scene.

Akutsu: He was being a pain in the ass, I finally got fed up and decided to help him.

Krauser: Thanks to him, I am able to perform it now. But I’d like to perfect it, so please keep practicing with me!

Higashikata: You’re really motivated. Putting in the extra effort for this play.

Krauser: Yes. I am very happy to have been able to create a wonderful play with you all for today…

Krauser: I would like to do my best with the time we have left and give my best performance.

Akutsu: Tch…

Akutsu: Let’s go.

Krauser: Thank you very much!

Sengoku: Wow. Akutsu’s been a big help.

Higashikata: Yeah… That first year doesn’t seem shaken by him at all.

Sengoku: Well he should be used to him by now, right? I mean we have been practicing together for a week.

Minami: He’s still pretty brave, though. We could learn a thing or two from him…

Minami: Wait, huh…? What’s this box?

Sengoku: Oh yeah. Isn’t that Akutsu’s?

[Episode 7]

Yanagi: The rehearsal was a success. I was wondering how it would result due to it being brief.

Yukimura: That was the best practice yet.

Sanada: Mm. Especially Yukimura, watching him play the role of the god that rules the world and acting out the “truth revealed” scene was a thing of wonder.

Kirihara: He was too powerful, like the final boss in a video game.

Yukimura: It is a pivotal scene. I wanted it to give people goosebumps.

Yanagi: Akaya’s acting has improved quite a bit. I can feel more emotion in it than yesterday.

Kirihara: Hehe, well I am the star of the show and the chairman, it’s only natural.

Sanada: And of course, you have learned all of your lines. It should be smooth sailing from this point.

Sanada: If you don’t get cold feet and slip up in the actual production, that is.

Kirihara: What the heck Vice Captain Sanada, that was uncalled for.

Sanada: I beg to differ. You must stay vigilant until the show.

Kirihara: Right.

Kirihara: Ahh… crap.

Yukimura: What’s wrong?

Kirihara: I left the swords we’re supposed to fight with on the stage, I’ll go hurry and get them!

Sanada: Good grief, that slacker…

—

Kikumaru: “Catch me if you can.”

Oishi: “Wait! I won’t let you get away!”

Kikumaru: Phew, and scene. The acrobatic scenes are really fun, aren’t they.

Oishi: Yeah. We’ve practiced a lot, so both of us should be good with the movements now.

Kikumaru: We still might end up doing something on accident the day of the show, you never know~

Oishi: You worried? But you’re usually so confident.

Kikumaru: There’s a lot of scenes where I’m the main focus, so I don’t wanna mess this up.

Kikumaru: I’ve heard that mishaps in stage productions happen all the time.

Oishi: Well, I’m not saying there aren’t. Even if something does go wrong, we can pick up the pieces together, right?

Oishi: You should be a little easier on yourself.

Kikumaru: Yeah, you’re right.

Kikumaru: I feel more at ease, now. Let’s do our best together.

Oishi: Yeah, of course.

Tezuka: It’s almost time to start the show. Make sure you’re prepared, you two.

Kikumaru: Okay.

Oishi: Once the show starts, those worries will melt away. Now let’s have fun with the performance!

Kikumaru: Right!

[Episode 8]

Oishi: “This is it… I will bar your path and hunt you down!”

Kikumaru: “Haha, how very interesting!”

—

Sengoku: Nice job. Your play was great.

Krauser: Your performances were absolutely incredible.

Kikumaru: Right? Thanks to Oishi, I was able to relax and handle everything just fine~

Oishi: There were some scenes where we struggled to be in synch, but I’m glad it ended up working out.

Ryoma: Senpais, we need your help clearing up this side.

Kikumaru: Okay, we’ll be right there.

Sengoku: Welp, we’re up next. And I’m getting nervous, as expected.

Sengoku: Akutsu. Can I have some of these snacks you bought?

Akutsu: I don’t care.

Sengoku: Thank you.

Sengoku: Can’t believe you actually bought these, though.

Akutsu: I didn’t. That hag sent them to me out of nowhere.

Akutsu: She texted me asking about our training and got all giddy about it.

Krauser: But your mother is very kind to send us all these treats.

Sengoku: Nah, for real. It makes me feel like an actual stage actor, this is great.

Sengoku: Well then, don’t mind if I do…

Akutsu: Hey, don’t touch the chestnut ones.

Sengoku: Hm? But there’s several of them.

Akutsu: So what.

Sengoku: Alright, I get it. I’ll pick a different one.

Sengoku: By the way Akutsu, are you gonna eat any?

Akutsu: …I will after.

Sengoku: Mm, so good! I can feel my worries disappearing.

Saitou: Up next is the joint team of Yamabuki and Nagoya Seitoku. Please get ready.

Krauser: So it begins…

Sengoku: Let’s all ready ourselves for a good performance!

Akutsu: If you screw any of this up out there, you’re not gonna live to regret it.

[Episode 9]

Yukimura: Okay, the last scene is ours. —Let’s go.

All: Yes, sir!

—

Kirihara: “I’ll crush you for sure! Prepare yourself, O mighty God!”

Kirihara: “Kuh…!”

Yukimura: “Your swordsmanship is better than I anticipated. So there is merit in you challenging me.”

Kirihara: “Don’t take me lightly! Come at me with all you’ve got, no holds barred!”

Yukimura: “Very well. How unfortunate for you.”

Kirihara: “What…!?”

Yukimura: “At my full strength, this shall be over in the blink of an eye.”

Yukimura: “You’ve been holding on for long enough, haven’t you? It’s time you let go.”

—

Yagyuu: That’s the best sword-fighting I’ve seen from those two so far.

Niou: Akaya’s moving a little more different than he was at practice.

—

Kirihara: “I don’t think so! This time for sure!”

*crack!*

—

Sanada: Wha… Akaya’s sword broke!?

Yagyuu: So then… Kirihara-kun’s movements must’ve been different since he anticipated his sword would break…?

Sanada: Now that it’s broken, the play can’t progress the way it should…

—

Kirihara: …What the hell, this piece of…

Yukimura: (Oh well. Time to ad-lib…)

Kirihara: “…I won’t forgive you, God!”

Kirihara: “You… your… you’ve broken my sword with your strange powers!”

Yukimura: …!

Yukimura: (Not a bad ad-lib. You’ve managed to respond well to this unforeseen circumstance… Well done.)

Yukimura: “That’s right, this is absolute divine power. No matter how many times you challenge us now and hereafter, we Gods will always have the strength to defeat you.”

Yukimura: “Will you still fight? Are you still prepared to face me even with your weapon broken?”

Kirihara: Huh… that’s your response…?

Kirihara: I mean— “Of course I am, it doesn’t matter how powerful you Gods are!”

Kirihara: “The day will come where I’ll be as strong as you and crush anyone who stands in my way!”

Yukimura: “…I’m counting on you.”

Yukimura: “A world forged by you, I look forward to see where this goes.”

—

Yagyuu: The play was a major success with everyone. What a relief.

Yukimura: Thank goodness. I wasn’t expecting any of that to happen, but… I’m glad it worked out.

Niou: The ad-libs were surprisingly good and added a little more excitement to the play.

Kirihara: Hehe, me and Captain Yukimura had it handled!

Yagyuu: But how did you come up with the new lines?

Kirihara: Uhh… I was all caught up in the moment… and it just came out.

Yukimura: Of course it did, Akaya. You moved extremely well.

[Episode 10]

Yukimura: Looks like we’re about done here.

Yanagi: All of the equipment has been put away, so that should be it.

Yukimura: Even still, it feels like all of this passed in the blink of an eye.

Yukimura: Even though we had some mishaps that threw me off.

Sanada: But it was still a desirable result, was it not?

Yukimura: Yes, it exceeded my expectations.

Yanagi: I’m surprised you actually offered him the role of lead actor and chairman in order to test to his abilities, that was a big gamble.

Yukimura: Akaya will play an important role in the next generation. I wanted to see how he could handle sudden situations.

Yukimura: But… in the end, he managed to perform without incident. So perhaps we don’t need to worry as much as we think we do.

Jackal: Oh, everyone’s done cleaning up over here, too.

Marui: Great job, everyone.

Yukimura: And the coaches have prepared the after-party, so it’s about time we…

Kirihara: Ahem… As chairman, I have a gift for you, Director and Captain Yukimura!

Yukimura: Hm…? Oh, you got me a bouquet of flowers…

Kirihara: I saw a video about this on the internet.

Marui: Did you know the main actor or chairman usually gives the director a bouquet of flowers after the play?

Jackal: And since Akaya’s the chairman, he wanted to do this. So the three of us prepared it for you.

Yukimura: Well what a pleasant surprise.

Yukimura: Did you know about this, Yanagi?

Yanagi: Yeah. Akaya told me not to tell you.

Yukimura: Fufu… I see.

Yukimura: Thank you, everyone. I’ll put these in a vase as soon as we get back.

Kirihara: Alright! Now I can add “chairman” to something I can do. The Ace has reached further heights, it’s amazing what I’m capable of!

Sanada: Don’t get carried away. Did you forget this was a team effort.

Kirihara: Huhh, would it kill you not to be a buzzkill for once!?

Marui: Hey, let’s hurry and get to the after-party or else we’ll miss out on all the good food!

Jackal: Right, let’s go.

Kirihara: Whew, so I guess that’s the end of being the lead role and chairman. Feels bad, to be honest.

Yukimura: You had a big role for the play though, aren’t you happy with how it turned out?

Kirihara: Hehe… Yeah, I am.

Kirihara: Well, to be honest, I did kinda panic when my sword broke.

Yukimura: Yet you handled the situation well, didn’t you? That’s good enough for me.

Yukimura: But, in the future, if you’re having a hard time handling things alone then maybe it’s not a bad idea to trust your friends and let them handle it too.

Kirihara: That’s the reason I was able to say those lines.

Yukimura: Heh… I see.

Kirihara: Oh! And didn’t you say “I’m counting on you” to me earlier?

Yukimura: Yes, in the play. I said that when you were playing the demon.

Kirihara: Oh. Well if that’s the case, I’ll definitely have you saying you can count on me in real life too!

Kirihara: Just watch and see, it’ll happen.

Yukimura: Of course. I look forward to when that time comes.

[Epilogue]

Kikumaru: “Forbidden magic of the Nekomata… Blindness!”

Oishi: “Not a chance! With this warding talisman…!”

Kirihara: Oh, you’re still at it.

Yukimura: Fufu, still performing huh.

Oishi: Uhh… Well, Eiji started saying his lines and I decided to go along with it.

Kikumaru: You were getting really into it, though.

Oishi: Haha… Well, I can’t deny that.

—

Sengoku: Aw man, I wish some girls had seen our play, they’d be all over me right now…

Sengoku: Everyone praised my acting, maybe becoming an actor is my true calling.

Akutsu: Stupid.

Sengoku: That being said, you did pretty good too Akutsu. Nice job out there.

Sengoku: Oh and by the way, Kawamura-kun had asked if he could record our play, I dunno why…

Akutsu: …That hag probably asked him to.

Sengoku: Probably. It’s good that she got to see your performance though, right?

Akutsu: Tch… They think they can just do whatever the hell they want.

Sengoku: Huh, where you going?

Akutsu: The courts.

Sengoku: Oh, how about we rally together then.

—

Yukimura: Seems everyone had a good time with the plays.

Kirihara: It was fun, but both tennis and acting are really hard to practice.

Yukimura: True. But we’ve gained a lot from this training.

Yukimura: Having courage when facing the world, knowing how to react to sudden situations… We learned all kinds of skills.

Kirihara: Right. And no matter what happens on the big stage that’s the tennis court, I’ll always win.

Kirihara: Even if my opponent is as powerful as a god, I’ll beat and surpass him.

Yukimura: Wow, someobody’s pretty motivated.

Kirihara: Of course I am!

Kirihara: Well, I’m off to do my own training!

Yukimura: Heh… I won’t lose either.

Yukimura: I won’t let you surpass me that easily.

[STORY END]

#tenirabi #tenipuri #my post

2 notes · View notes

plisuu · 2 years

Note

Hello! For DADWC, what about A9 from the DA-inspired dialogue list, which is "“I ruined your life.” “You’ve ruined nothing. You are my life.”" for whichever characters inspire you.

Boy uhhh was I inspired. A little OC x OC incredibly angsty action pre-conclave. This prompt got a little out of hand lol

wc: 1010 @dadrunkwriting tw: mentions of abuse (templar inflicted)

Day in and day out, night after night, the rebel templars never stopped moving. Weston wondered if they ever tired as he was dragged from camp to camp in the frigid, god-forsaken place called Ferelden.

Less than a week into reaching the region from the Free Marches, he and Connor had been ambushed by a group of the defecting knights. Weston had pleaded with the templars for their lives. Connor—a tranquil, a mage, impersonating a knight, lying about his identity—and himself for harboring his former knight-captain.

Eventually, they struck a deal. Their lives for servitude. The rebels were small in number, constantly involved in skirmishes with bandits and apostates alike, and simply didn’t have the bodies to run and defend a camp.

Weston did manual labor, mostly. Pitching tents, cooking, moving supplies, and the like. He wasn’t pleased, but it was far better than death. They still gave him lyrium. Not enough, never enough, but just enough to keep him from going mad.

The true deal they had made though, was for Connor. He was well trained in fighting apostates, imposing, strong, seemingly unaffected by fatigue and emotional turmoil… the perfect soldier. As long as Connor fought, Weston would live.

That was the deal they had made.

Weston only ever caught glimpses of his former knight-captain. Connor was constantly accompanied by other templars, armed to the teeth with phylacteries and staves from the apostates he killed. They exchanged glances when they could… Or Weston did at least. Connor always stared back with those cold, emotionless eyes.

It was a fateful night that they had a moment together, far after the camp had settled into the closest thing to what they might consider peaceful slumber. Weston had been wearily shuffling supplies from one crate into another when he heard armored footsteps slowly approaching.

The younger man would have moved to defend himself, had the circumstances been different, but instead he braced himself, tensing his shoulders and trying to subtly move his hands to protect his face. Usually, an approaching templar meant getting beat, whipped, or worse, and trying to stop it only ended in more severe punishment.

He was startled when there was a gentle touch on his shoulder, and he turned to face Connor’s familiar stormy grey eyes. He wanted to cry with relief—bury himself in Connor’s arms and tell him to run, to take them as far away from this place as he could—but instead, he took a deep breath and pushed the wishful thinking from his mind.

“You shouldn’t be seen with me,” Weston whispered, his voice weak with emotion and exhaustion. Connor simply looked at him with his unfeeling gaze.

“I thought you would prefer the company, but I can leave, if you wish.”

“No!” Weston cried, grabbing out for Connor and finding purchase on his tabard. Weston clutched at the fabric like a child. “No,” he repeated, lowering his voice again and looking around frantically for anyone who might have heard his outburst. “No, don’t leave me.”

Connor glanced down at him and made an effort at a hug. It was stiff and awkward, but Weston was glad for any contact, melting into the embrace. A sob tore from his lungs as he buried himself in Connor’s arms, trying to hold him as close as he possibly could while they had the chance.

“I apologize for the distress this situation has caused you,” the larger man remarked as Weston pulled them both behind the storage crates he had been unloading. “It was the only reasonable way to avoid more unnecessary deaths.”

Weston’s expression grew hard.

“You know that’s bullshit,” he growled. “You say that, but they make you hunt mages constantly. How long until they start having you kill innocent people?”

Connor tilted his head.

“They have Evelyn’s phylactery.”

Any words forming on Weston’s tongue died in his mouth. He turned and spat on the ground before turning back.

“You should have left while you could, Connor. They’re using you, you know. You don’t have to do this for me. You shouldn’t have to kill your own family for me.” Weston turned away. He could feel the tears beginning to spill and tried to force them to stop. “You shouldn’t have to do any of this. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“You are suffering. I did not mean to lead us to this,” Connor replied.

“Don’t apologize,” came the whispered response as Weston shook his head. He looked back into Connor’s eyes, searching for something, anything. “I would follow you into hell if you asked.”

Connor’s expression shifted slightly—or maybe it was Weston’s delirious imagination.

“I do not want you to die.”

There was a moment of silence between them, and the sounds of movement from the far side of camp.

“I leave again in the morning,” Connor stated. “I should go.”

He began turning when Weston reached out again, throwing himself into Connor despite his exhaustion and his body's protests. He took the larger man’s face in both his hands and surged upwards into a kiss. Connor didn’t pull away and he didn’t quite return it either, but Weston didn’t care. This is what would get him though the next round of lashes, through the next week of beatings, though the rest of his damned miserable life until he found a way to get himself and Connor out of there.

Connor tasted like smoke and dust and lyrium, and Weston relished every last lingering bit of him. The sounds of armor grew closer and Connor pulled away at last.

“Do not die,” he said simply before leaving to resume his patrol.

Weston watched him go, trying to dry his tears before anyone saw him.

“Yes, Knight-Captain,” he breathed. “I won’t.”

#connor trevelyan #dadwc #angst #gratuitous angst #oc x oc #templar abuse #templars suck #pre conclave nonsense #spoilers: weston dies #my writing #weston farley

13 notes · View notes

its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

Ok uhhh, how about Sean as a ghost? Haunting the gang post-Rhodes, but in a chill way

OOFT anon this was a hard one. I had no idea if i got what you wanted right and this is a whole mess. I kinda got weirdly angsty but tried to keep the "sean is a chill ghost vibe" so here goes nothing.

also a huge thank u to the 700 followers <333 even tho most of u are not from the rdr fandom oop.

----------------------------------

Fuck did things go bad in Rhodes and while you weren’t necessarily there yourself, you wished you had been. Maybe then you could have saved him.

You’re sitting out by the dock at Shady Belle, hoping the bottle of whiskey in your hand will drown out the negative thoughts again. Throwing little pebbles and sticks into the water is a nice distraction for a while but that voice in your head always comes back. The voice that tells you to relive the moments when Arthur rode into camp with his hat held in his hands as he told you the news about your beloved Sean.

Everyone knew how close you two were, how much you cared for each other. You were just a bunch of outlaws causing mischief all in the name of love. Of course, both you and Sean understood the risks that came with this sort of life, knew what could happen as an outlaw but you never imagined you’d see it so soon.

You never thought that some random sunny morning would be the last time you ever saw him. No, you always thought it’d be a train robbery or some other reckless job. You remember the day clearly, sat on guard duty watching as Sean, Bill and Micah all mounted up to head into town. He gave you a wink and a cheeky smile, yelling he’d be back for dinner with pockets full of cash and that had been it. The last time you ever saw Sean alive.

“Whatcha doing over here crying for darlin’?”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by a voice behind you, one that sounded so much like Sean. Jumping up and spinning around, the whiskey bottle in your hand smashes to the floor at the sight before you.

There standing in front of you is Sean. Well not quite, it’s still Sean only he’s covered in a greyish cloud of what you could only guess to be smoke. He seemed to hover slightly above ground and had an almost translucent appearance, it was all quite odd if you weren’t in such shock.

“SEAN?! What the actual fuck! You’re dead, I saw them bury you for chrissakes!”

“You thought I’d only take a couple of boozed up rednecks to get rid of me? Get’outta here love, gonna take a helluva lot more than that!”

Sean’s arms are open like he wants a hug and you’re mind is still trying to process what exactly its seeing that you just simply let it happen.

It seems Sean is still getting used to his apparent new appearance too as he falls straight through you. When you turn around, just as shocked Sean’s mouth is open in surprise. It seems he wasn’t expecting to nearly fall flat on his face.

Sean sat with you for the next few ours, telling you that he had no real idea of waking up a ghost or exactly how he got there. In fact, there was so few details that apart of you was sure he was only a figment of your imagination. But God it felt nice just to hear him again, to see him in front of you— even if you’d get called crazy for it. You wanted so badly just to lean your head on his shoulder like you had done many nights before but clearly his current state did not allow that.

Eventually Sean wanted to pester away at the rest of the gang, so in a spring of energy he bolted for the main campfire where many on the gang were sitting.

It seemed everyone was just as shocked as you to see Sean waving his hands about like an excited child— like nothing had happened.

“Looks like ya can’t get rid of old Dead Eye Macguire that easy eh? Oh lighten up a little guys, ya look like ya’ve seen a ghost! Wheres the whiskey fellas.”

Trust Sean to make a grand entrance, floating high above the fire so he could address everyone huddled around it. The flame turned the greyish smoke a bright amber and it matched the colour of what his hair used to be, for a moment he looked almost normal.

Everyone was completely shocked just as you had been. Javier had stopped playing the guitar while Dutch’s cigar burnt out slowly, completely forgotten in his hand. The silence was only broken when Pearson dropped the boiling stew all over the mudded ground.

“Williamson why so sour all the time? Lighten up will ya! Now that the life of the parties back. And Arthur! Wheres me hug aye?”

Sean spent the rest of the night going around to each member to see what they’d been up to, mostly it was just to annoy them but on this particular night I don’t think any of them minded.

At some point, your dear friend Charles came up to stand beside you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Charles… I’m not hallucinating am I? Thats really him?”

The shock of what had happened was slowly easing away and now all that was left was how tired and emotionally drained you were. First you were grieving and now you’re not? You didn’t know what to think.

“I’m afraid so, the annoying little fella is back… but everyone is happy to see him back.”

Charles always had a way of cheering you up. Knowing exactly the right time to throw in light hearted jokes and comforting reassurances, he was the one you could go to when dealing with Sean’s death was a little too much to bear sometimes.

A smile comes to your face as you watch Sean laughing with the other members, trying to drink a bottle of whiskey but failing as it went straight through him. Memories from when Sean returned from blackwater came flooding back and all the other times you’d spent with him and the gang. You couldn’t help but feel at home once more.

At some point you call it a night, wanting to get a least three hours of sleep before the sun would eventually come up. You’re lying under your blanket, trying to sleep when Sean comes flying through the wall of the tent to hover over you. It’s clear he can’t hug you like he used to but he sits beside you the whole night and for the first time in a while, you’re not afraid to go to sleep.

He’s humming some old Irish folk song gently under his breath and you’re slowly relaxing, letting sleep take you.

The last thing that you hear before you drift off to sleep is the soft whisper of his voice.

“Ain’t gotta worry about me leavin’ any time soon…”

#WHAT IS THIS #i honestly dont know #is this crack taken seriously? yes #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 headcanons #gn!reader #red dead redemption 2 #spoilers

112 notes · View notes

tsumusamu · 4 years

Text

nice receive [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: fluff and (once again, a sad attempt at) humor

word count: 3.8k

summary: eight months into your relationship, atsumu takes you to meet his family. things don't go as planned, but of course, everything ends up alright in the end anyway. alternatively, miya atsumu adores you and his family thinks it's easy to see why.

warnings: uhhh implied sexual content at the end but it is like barely there ok

commission for @ muppetz (it wont let me tag for some reason ugh) thank you so much for commissioning me!

a/n: this ended up being way longer than the word count requested but that’s no one’s fault but my own because i dont know when to shut the FUCK up anyways i hope this one shot is enjoyable lol

content under the cut!

You literally never thought that you would ever end up in this situation.

"C'mon babe, why the long face? Ya nervous or somethin'?"

"No." You purse your lips, huffily averting your gaze from your boyfriend's smirking face.

"Ya don't needa be like that." Atsumu drapes an arm across your shoulder, pecking your forehead as a sort of reassurance. "No one could ever hate this cute face, after all." He accentuates his words by squishing your cheeks, drawing out a yelp of protest from you.

"If you keep talking like this, you're gonna jinx it, you know." Your words come out softer and more hesitant than intended, and you startled even yourself at how utterly anxious you sound.

"Yer gonna be fine. Trust me, I wouldn’t take just any random girl to meet my folks, and they’re well aware of that." Atsumu ruffles your hair.

"I just... I hope they're not..." You pause for a moment, trying to find the right word. "...Disappointed?" You grimace when your boyfriend suddenly throws his head back in such voracious laughter, that you swear you saw a few hysterical tears.

"Are ya jokin'?" he all but wheezes. "Yer the libero for the national volleyball team, for God's sake. If anythin', I'd be the disappointment here."

"'Tsumu — " you start, but he interrupts you by pulling you in for a comforting hug.

"Don't worry yer pretty head anymore, got it?" he murmurs into your ear. "Yer wonderful, and I couldn't be luckier to have ya. My parents are gonna love ya. Honest."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you reach around his back to hug him back. "I hope so."

A year ago, if someone had told you that you would end up having Miya Atsumu introduce you to his family as his girlfriend, you would've laughed until your ass fell off and your stomach ached like no tomorrow.

You had been absolutely overjoyed when you were chosen for the women's national volleyball team, and you were so eager to start playing with your new teammates that you had decided to attend the national team's training camp without hesitation despite your recent knee injury at the time. However, you completely overlooked the fact that you would be working with the men's team as well, which would've been completely fine... if not for Miya Atsumu.

When you first met Atsumu, he was the cocky, annoying little shit of a setter for the Japanese men's national volleyball team, someone who you were stuck training with for the next two weeks.

You still remember the first words he ever spoke to you.

"The hell are ya doin' there, lil libero? If yer not gonna be able to save the easiest ones, then ya might as well sub out."

You also remember the first thought you had about him.

'Prick.'

And the first words you spoke to him.

"Can't you look at this — " You had gestured angrily to the knee brace supporting you. "And take a fucking hint, or what?"

He had sent some unapologetic, biting words right back at you and that marked the beginning of the time you have had the utmost pleasure of knowing Miya Atsumu. The two of you had bickered rather relentlessly (not too unlike literal children, despite the both of you being well into your twenties) throughout the rest of the camp, and by the end, for some unknown reason through some unknown method, he ended up with your number.

He started texting you constantly, and as much as you tried to convince your foolish self that he was just a nuisance, you found yourself responding to his messages like an idiot anyway. Throughout the next few months, you learned that Atsumu was far more than just his overly confident demeanor; he's genuinely kind-hearted, down-to-earth, and actually kinda hilarious. And eventually — neither of you quite knew how — the two of you were staring across a table at each other in a fancy restaurant as if daring the other to blink and lose an unspoken game, on a first date that neither of you thought would go as well as it did.

A little over eight months into your happy and committed relationship, Atsumu suggested that the two of you go to his hometown in Hyogo for a weekend to visit his family. You had immediately agreed with his idea, excited to meet his parents and twin brother in person, but now that he's leading you out of your shared hotel room to go do just that, your stomach's knotting uncomfortably.

Atsumu's been nothing but supportive and comforting ever since you started showing that you're nervous to meet his family. He was always happy to provide a never-ending flow of cheesy words and warm hugs, but you're genuinely afraid of embarrassing yourself. You want to impress his family and not have them see you as undeserving of their son, who you truly care for from the bottom of your heart. Atsumu is your first long-term boyfriend, and you would jump off your roof if you managed to mess anything up during the visit to his folks.

The taxi ride to Atsumu's childhood home doesn't do much to soothe your nerves either, with you fiddling with your fingers the entire way through while Atsumu makes small talk with the driver. As the cab pulls up to the address that your boyfriend had provided earlier, you instinctively clench your fists so hard that you think you might bleed.

A look of alarm crosses Atsumu's face as he notices that you're still just as anxious as you were when you left the hotel earlier. He thought that the ride to his parents' house would give you some time to cool down, but that had clearly not been the case. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he reaches over to grab one of your hands in his, giving you a comforting squeeze.

"Just breathe, darlin'." He runs his thumb over the shallow nail marks embedded in your skin. "If it means anything to ya, my mom's a huge fan of yers. For real. I didn't tell ya this before, but she's especially excited to meet ya. Keeps yappin' to me askin' how I pulled ya." You flush.

"R-Really?" you stammer, wide-eyed.

"Really. Who wouldn't be a fan yers?" Atsumu grins, pecking your nose. "See, ya got nothin' to be worried about. Just chill out and be yerself, 'kay?" You nod, some of the tension releasing from your shoulders as Atsumu leads you out of the cab, hand still clutching yours.

You're feeling a little better now, though your thoughts are still running through your head at the pace of a mile a minute as you watch Atsumu pay the taxi driver and thank him for the ride. Atsumu's mother is my fan? Your ears start to heat up. I hope I can somehow live up to her expectations of me…

“Ma! We’re here!” Atsumu shouts at the top of lungs approximately one second after simultaneously ringing the doorbell and obnoxiously pounding on the door.

“Comin’, comin’, ya brat!” A feminine, yet strong voice hollers in return. You freeze on the spot, your mind going blank once again. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

The door aggressively swings open, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a pink apron and carrying a wooden spatula in her hand. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun away from her face and her eyes, the same chocolate brown as Atsumu’s, are gleaming with annoyance. She briefly glares at Atsumu for his rowdy entrance before her gaze catches onto you, and her entire face lights up with excitement.

“(L/N) (Y/N)! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“M-Mrs. Miya,” you stammer out, trying your best to smile but you’re sure it looked more like a wince. “It’s good to m-meet you t-too.”

"Aw, hey now. What happened to my feisty girl? It's not like ya to be so lame.” Atsumu lays his forearm on your head, effectively using you as an armrest. You jerk away, scowling.

“Shut the hell up, asshat,” you snap without thinking. About half a second later, regret slams into your body like a truck. Oh, shit. I just called my boyfriend an asshat in front of his mother. You were about to run off into the streets in utter embarrassment if not for Mrs. Miya letting out a hearty laugh way too similar to her son’s and linking arms with you.

“No need to look so scared, dear. I don’t bite. And it’s good to see that yer willin’ to put this brat in his place.”

“Ma!” Atsumu whines, pouting petulantly.

“Yer really losin’ out with him though, y’know,” Mrs. Miya whispers to you as she leads you into the house by your arm. “I’ve got another son; Atsumu’s twin. Osamu’s quite well-behaved. If yer just likin’ the looks, he would be the better option.” You can tell she’s joking by the merry twinkle in her eyes, but instead of humoring her you end up shaking your head with a quiet chuckle.

“I think Atsumu’s perfectly good for me.” The two of you pause to watch Atsumu practically sprint into the kitchen, and a few moments later there’s an agitated yell as proof that he was on his way to annoy his brother. You smile. “He makes me really happy, Mrs. Miya. You raised him well.”

“Aren’t ya just the sweetest thing?” Mrs. Miya coos at you, pinching your left cheek. “And so pretty too. I swear ya could probably clobber my brat at volleyball as well. You and yer teammate… ah, Miss Amanai? The two of you always caught my eye while I watched yer matches. Make sure ya let her know.”

You blush a little and thank her, making a mental note to tell Kanoka that. She’d probably find it extremely amusing, especially since she was the one who had given Atsumu your number in the first place (which, as you had found out months later, was because he had practically groveled at her feet multiple times. Dumbass.)

“Come meet my husband, (Y/N).” Mrs. Miya leads you into the living room, where an older, balding man with rimmed glasses is quietly flipping through a book. He gives a start upon hearing your entrance, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

“Ah, hello!” Mr. Miya greets you. “I’ve heard a lot about you! From both Atsumu and the missus.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miya.” You nod once in a respectful manner.

“It’s about time that he settled down with a nice girl. Make sure ya keep him in line though, got it, missy?”

“Of course I w — “ you start, but Mrs. Miya is already dragging you towards the kitchen. You smile apologetically at Mr. Miya, and he just laughs and waves.

“Osamu’s makin’ dinner right now. He is such a hardworkin’ and dedicated boy. Both of them are, really,” she rambles. “But Osamu sure can cook a mean meal. He and his twin always used to fight over who’s the better cook. But I betcha Atsumu hasn’t touched the stove since he left for university years ago.”

You debate telling her that Atsumu had made quite a decent meal for the two of you just last week to celebrate your eight-month anniversary (which you hadn’t even known he remembered), but before you can formulate the right words in your head you’re suddenly shoved in the path of an unfamiliar man. Well, not really unfamiliar. He has the same face as the boyfriend who you see every day, after all.

Miya Osamu is (as expected) the literal carbon copy of Atsumu; same strong eyebrows, same hooded eyes, same angular jawline. The only thing that easily sets them apart is his black, ruffled mess of hair in stark contrast with your boyfriend’s bleached blonde.

Mrs. Miya pulls Atsumu away from the two of you, demanding that he help her with some mundane task, leaving you and Osamu by yourselves in the kitchen.

An easy smile graces his lips as he sticks out his hand. “Hey, I’m Osamu. Honored to finally meet the famous (L/N) (Y/N).” You smile back, gripping his hand firmly and shaking.

“And I’m honored to meet the famous ‘Samu.” At your words, Osamu bursts out laughing.

“Man, I don’t really let a lot of people call me that, y’know? But if yer gonna be part of the family, you could be an exception.”

“F-Family?” You pause, your sudden confidence dissipating as fast as it had come.

“Naw, no pressure. Just sayin’.” Osamu casually continues with his task of shaping onigiri. “I can tell he really likes ya.” You raise your eyebrows in curiosity without entirely meaning to. “I mean, we’re twins, it’s like a sixth sense. And also he never shuts up about ya when we text or call.”

“I hope you’re hearing all good things?” you quip jokingly.

“Oh, for sure. If I didn’t know who you were I’d think that he’s talkin’ about the reincarnation of a goddess with the way he talks.”

“Seriously?” You snort, and Osamu just laughs.

“So I’d like to ask ya the favor of continuin’ to take care of him. Guy’s just a huge ass baby. I can obviously see that yer good for him, though. He wouldn’t have stayed for so long if he wasn’t serious.”

The two of you briefly glance at Atsumu helping his mother set the table. They’re currently debating over whether Atsumu should go back to his natural hair color and “Stop makin’ yer hair look like fuckin’ straw!”

“He is a huge ass baby,” you start seriously, causing Osamu to smirk. “But he’s an honest and good person, so I’m not too bothered. I’ll take care of him, promise.”

“Thanks.” Osamu sighs, glancing rather fondly in his brother’s direction. “He’s an asshole, but at least he’s a redeemable asshole. I’m glad he’s finally got someone around to take care of him. Makes us all feel a little more relieved since he’s away from home.”

You suddenly feel warm inside.

Atsumu had been right; you truly didn’t have anything to be afraid of. The Miyas have been nothing but kind and welcoming so far, and they even seem to already have a positive opinion of you.

“Can ya help me carry these to the table?” Osamu holds out a plate of freshly-made onigiri.

“Ah, sure!” you accept hurriedly, taking the plate from him with careful hands. You take slow, calculated steps towards the dining room; the last thing you want is to accidentally drop any of the food.

Atsumu and his parents are already waiting in the dining room, and they all look up at you expectantly as you approach them with the onigiri plate in hand.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Mrs. Miya chirps. “Helpin’ Osamu out! How sweet of ya — “

She’s cut off as disaster strikes.

You trip on your last step to the table, causing a single onigiri to tumble off the plate and towards the floor. Your mouth drops open wide as you practically slam the plate down on the table and in practical slow-motion, watch the onigiri plummet down, down, down —

Then you dive.

You dive towards the floor, in the same manner as you do when you’re digging for a volleyball.

And you catch the rice ball in one hand, laying flat on your stomach. You have a moment of mental celebration; yes, you caught the onigiri! Then you realize that you look like a fucking idiot as you lay face down with one hand extended and clutching a rice ball like it’s your lifeline.

There’s a few seconds of agonizing silence.

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

There’s no way that you could ever show your face in front of Atsumu’s family or even Atsumu himself now; God you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, and over an onigiri too —

“Nice receive!” Atsumu suddenly bellows, clapping his hands boisterously. “(L/N) does it again!”

His brother, who’s standing a few feet behind you with a platter of chicken skewers, pumps his free fist into the air and joins in with a “Hell yeah!”

Mr. Miya starts laughing the same loud Miya laugh that you’ve heard way too many times today, and his sons soon follow suit. Shame is still flooding your body, but now you’re realizing just how ridiculous the whole situation is and you resist the urge to smile at your own stupidity. As soon as Mrs. Miya recovers from her initial surprise, she comes to help you up, and you can tell that she’s doing her best not to laugh as well.

“Are ya okay, dear?” she briefly inspects you for any sign of injury.

“All good here, Mrs. Miya.” You smile, genuinely and comfortably, as Atsumu comes behind you to wrap his arms around you and peck your cheek, still chuckling with a small note of pride. “All good.”

“See?” Atsumu’s smug as hell as the two of you enter the hotel elevator on your way up to your room. Osamu had dropped you off so there would be no need for another cab. “I told ya that they’d fuckin’ love ya.”

“Why’re you rubbing in something like this?” You scoff, dodging when he tries to pull you into a crushing hug.

“Because I was right.” He smirks. You roll your eyes to heaven.

“Well, you can’t blame me for being nervous! I still can’t believe that none of them got upset at me for diving for a rice ball at the dinner table.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Nah, why the hell would they? It was cool. Yer cool, Miss National Team Libero.” He laughs, reaching for you again and this time you let him bring you close to him. “Besides, like I said before, who could ever resist yer pretty lil face?”

“You’re a hopeless asshole.” You sigh, and Atsumu of course just chuckles, his laughter vibrating against your ear as you press yourself into his chest.

“I’m yer hopeless asshole.” He pecks the top of your head. “C’mon, babe. It’s our floor.”

You hadn’t realized how tired you are until the two of you enter your hotel room and you see the large, inviting bed. You practically jump onto it, burying your face into a pillow. “Goodnight…” you mumble sleepily.

“Ya gotta go shower and brush yer teeth first, idiot.” A pillow smacks you in the side of the head, and you leap up with a cry of surprise. “Damn, don’t be so loud, sweetheart. It’s late, y’know. Don’t wanna get a noise complaint like last night.” You turn bright red at the reminder.

“Shut u-up,” you retort. “I told you that we shouldn’t have tried to do it on the balcony.”

“It was fun, though, y’know! An experience. And ya sounded like you were enjoyin’ it, anyway.” He chucks another pillow at you, and you yelp as it nails you in the face. “Now get yer cute ass over here, we’re gonna shower.”

“You can’t make me.” You stubbornly lay back down and close your eyes, and you had peace for all but ten seconds before Atsumu’s plucking you off the bed and settling you into his arms bridal-style. Your eyes shoot open in shock and you flail desperately. “Put me down!”

“No can do. I’m not sleepin’ next to yer stinky self tonight, darlin’.” Atsumu laughs as you scowl.

“The floor’s always open for you,” you snap.

“Aw, yer no fun.” He steals a kiss from you in the blink of an eye; the only evidence of there being contact at all is a tingling feeling on your lips. You feel your heart melt just a little more.

“Fine. After we shower, we go straight to bed. Got it?”

“ And brush our teeth. Yer mornin’ breath is bad enough.” He lets out quite an unpleasant squawk when you smack him lightly in the shoulder. “Alright, sorry, sorry.”

“Is this just your excuse to see me naked?” you tease him as he sets you down on the bathroom counter before immediately removing his shirt to reveal his muscled torso. He grins wolfishly at you and shrugs.

“And if it is?” Atsumu’s eyes are zeroed in on the small hickey he had left right below your collarbone last night, which is now visible thanks to the way your shirt had rumpled after he had practically manhandled you into the bathroom.

“Well, I won’t complain.” You follow his gaze down to your neck, before glancing back up to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow at him. “If you’re going to make it worth my time.”

About an hour later, the two of you are lying in bed together, effectively tuckered out and finally ready to sleep. Atsumu’s strong arms are wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon as you snuggle your face against his chest. The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat rocks you towards dreamland, and all the worries from the past day are slipping away.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you mumble against his chest. He grunts tiredly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a small silence.

“...Thanks,” you finally say after a beat.

“Huh? For what?” he quips.

“For being patient with me today, even though I was so nervous. And for taking me to meet your family.” You crane your head to look up at him, contentment adorning your features. “I had a good time. I hope they don’t hate the idea of me coming around again sometime.”

Atsumu smiles that familiar smile, the smile filled with affection that others rarely get to see. His eyes are almost half-mooned with joy, his lips are curved up in genuine adoration, and his cheeks are flushed with color. You saw this smile for the first time when he set an incredibly low ball at training camp, earning the awe of everyone in the room, including yourself. Never did you think that you would ever have this expression of pure love aimed at you, nor did you think it would fill you with so much happiness every time you had the blessing of seeing it. He says nothing for a while, suddenly resorting to trailing kisses all over your face. You let him, closing your eyes peacefully as he showers you with his love, ending with one final peck to your nose.

“I'm sure they'd like to have you around again.”

And if Atsumu continues playing his cards right, he thinks there might be a possibility that in the next five or so years, you could truly become part of the family with a glittering ring on your finger.

Only time will tell if that possibility will ever come to fruition, but as you tilt your head up to give him one last kiss on the lips and whisper those three words to him, he knows for sure that he wants to continue building towards that future with you.

“I love you too.” He lets his eyes fall shut as well, before resting his chin atop your head and savoring the warmth of your body against his.

Only time will tell.

tip jar + commission info

general taglist (italics for people i could not tag): @aomineavenue @intheawks @deltahemm @bap-kingdom @shegoeshexing @brinnnx @crescentsteel @ dokidokisama @smellssharpies @dearhajime @plutoxxxworld @kritiiiii @ muppetz @ iscreamtea @rizzyrisso @makeitrainonsomehoes @maraudusk @kybabi @tsumue @thischickwritessometimes @angrylittleriri

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #anime #manga #fluff #humor #hq atsumu #fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #inarizaki #hq #miya osamu

443 notes · View notes

drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

The Only One︱Yandere Dabi x f!Reader

Synopsis: Friends with benefits aren’t supposed to be exclusive, but Dabi thinks otherwise. Too bad he waited until you fucked up to tell you that.

a/n: So uhhh y’all can thank @hawks-senseis for the inspo on this oneshot. Here’s where the idea came from if you want more context.

Hero Camp Bingo prompt: Hair pulling

@bnhabookclub weekly nsfw prompt: “Touch yourself.”

Bingo Masterlist

Warnings: Heavy dubcon/noncon, swearing, coercion, violence, injury, forced voyeurism, oral (giving), threats of murder, unprotected sex, degradation, hair pulling, light choking, spanking, gen. yan. themes, ambiguous ending (this one’s a doozy, PLEASE do not read this if the warnings make you uncomfortable)

6.5k words

_____

It felt good to get away from him―a certain pride to be had in the act of unspoken disobedience.

You should feel proud, he had it coming after all. Dabi might be a good mentor for passing souls heading down the path of corruption, like yourself, and he was an even better fuck―but that doesn’t mean he reserves the right to treat you like second-hand garbage.

No amount of wisdom from a seasoned villain or mind blowing sex could excuse his actions.

Dabi had a tendency to be lazy during all the worst moments. Avoiding the necessary like it was the plague, offering vague non-committal responses―sometimes not even that. He didn’t like answers that could make him liable, and so he never gave them to you.

When it came to the terms of your more intimate relationship, he didn’t care to set any ground rules. On many occasions you tried to pry an opinion out of him, but the most you got were heated glares and scoldings that didn’t assist you in understanding his preferences. Dabi never expressed concern over the level of exclusiveness the two of you were on.

So, you assumed he didn’t care.

Which made it all the more easy to disregard him when you couldn’t stand the thought of being around the flame user. If he wanted to be moody and take his frustrations out on you, that was up to him. But he shouldn’t expect you to come loyally crawling back when you needed to release some pent up energy.

Dabi would probably expect it though. Too bad for him.

You were still on a high, endorphins coursing steadily through your system. Part of you was bothered that even after you’d disregarded Dabi’s questionable feelings over you seeking others to fulfill your needs, you still found yourself thinking of him after the deed was done. Because as you lay in bed, a fellow villain in the works just about completely passed out next to you, your mind still drifted to Dabi.

You cursed yourself for the internal betrayal.

It only made you more pissed at the arsonist. Here you were, trying to enjoy yourself completely free of his mindless torment, and yet you still thought of him. Did he feel the same levels of distress as you did over such a menial thing?

Honestly, you doubted it. Dabi’s carefree attitude probably wouldn’t allow him a second thought towards your comfort. But maybe, under that tough exterior was a man who might actually give a damn about whatever the two of you have going on.

Unfortunately, his recent behaviour made you unable to sympathize. He didn’t deserve your energy that was put into thoughtful concerns and ‘what ifs’ over unspoken realities. What he did deserve was something to make him feel as uneasy as you did. It was worth a shot―to poke the bear.

Determinedly, you swiped your phone from the nightstand next to you, the warm glow of the lamp lightly illuminating your side of the bed. It was late, but you knew all too well about Dabi’s unhealthy sleeping habits, along with the other self-destructive tendencies you had to put up with many times before.

With a few taps on the smooth touchscreen, his contact was pulled up, and subsequently the ongoing conversation.

You were an independent woman, and he needed to know that. It wouldn’t surprise you if Dabi thought he had you wrapped around his finger. So, in this state of post-sex bliss, it only seemed right to let him know just what he was missing.

Well...sort of.

It was probably safer to keep the details of your night vague, for the sake of both yourself and the now slumbering individual next to you. A non-explicit, but still concrete in meaning message.

< How do you feel about the thought of me with someone else?

…

You figured he’d be up at this hour. And especially given the state of your relationship, you expected him to respond immediately. He might be a moody little bitch but he was almost always down to hook up.

But there was nothing.

Semi-defeated, you threw your head back against the flat pillow. Fucking typical.

Your phone buzzed in the light grip your hand held on it.

> i’d probably fuck you infront of them and then kill them.

Just slightly, your eyes widened at the message, an unexpected feeling of anxiety pitting in your stomach.

...Oh.

Dabi could be crude...so now was just him doing what he does best, right? Well, if he suddenly had such a strong opinion, then why shouldn’t you give him a taste of his own medicine?

Act like him―like you don’t care. That’ll rile him up.

< Yeah, okay…

You waited for a response in anticipation. It was petty, but you wanted so badly to make him hurt the way you did. Dabi never gave a shit about you enough to offer any form of permanency, or commitment to preserving your feelings. Realistically, you shouldn’t be so torn up over a guy who is that careless.

But as you lay in bed, eyes trained on the artificially glowing screen, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest from growing.

The text showed, ‘read 1:40 AM.’

And so, you could only resign yourself to fate.

_____

Dabi couldn’t technically blame you for your behaviour―but he was going to regardless.

While he never came out and said he was bothered by your spur of the moment, mixed-message text, you could tell that you’d struck a nerve. And now you were starting to regret it, for the most part.

Dabi didn’t get angry in the same ways a lot of people did. He didn’t curse anyone out, or make a scene out of putting someone in their place. No―he was silent with it.

From the time he’d spent accompanying you on missions, you slowly picked up on his habit for chatter amidst the fighting. Relentlessly taunting the enemy before burning them to a crisp, with a stretched grin on his face the whole time. Dabi knew his strengths usually tended to outmatch his opponents, so he grew cocky.

You hated him for it, but now you wished those teasing remarks he’d throw around the battlefield were still a thing of the present.

Dabi didn’t need to use words to show just how much your surprise text ended up irking him. The unbridled violence, burning any threat in sight that got close to either of you without so much as a hint of hesitation to think about his actions told you all that you needed to know.

He didn’t say anything outside of the few worded offers of instructions during your brief outings. And even then, Dabi was uncharacteristically cold. Not that he didn’t always have a certain air of harsh sternness, but throughout it persisted a distinct playfulness. Something that suggested his arsonistic behaviour was amusing to a degree.

And now it boiled down to destroying anything and everything without batting an eye, with a look that could kill cemented into his features the whole time.

It was a mistake.

With each passing second spent in the heavy silence that was his presence, your resolve to stay proud of making him feel for you was crumbling into ash. The tension remained palpable, and some deep fury inside of him was practically buzzing off of his being.

So when he called you two weeks after the incident, you figured he was ready to tell you to fuck on out of his life. It would be better than the seething rage he quite clearly felt whenever you were near him. An act of mercy, so to speak. You still had potential as an upcoming villain, so perhaps he didn’t want to see all his hard work go to waste.

But then he invited you over.

Dabi almost had to repeat himself as you failed to comprehend his words for a moment. He wanted to apologize. In person, no less. To make up for his shitty behaviour, a result of something that wasn’t even your fault.

Surely you could spare him the time of day, or rather night, to hear the poor guy out?

You agreed.

But your gut feeling told you to run in the opposite direction and never stop.

Turns out, Dabi really did have you wrapped around his finger. Because despite that sinking feeling that just got worse and worse with every step in the direction of his place, you kept going. The voice in the back of your head screaming at you, telling you that something was wrong. That it’s Dabi you’re talking about, and he’d never just admit to being at fault―it was never offered the spotlight in your consciousness.

Because even though the two of you weren’t exclusive, what happened two weeks ago was the first time you were ever with another person like that. Dabi was your first, he taught you everything you wanted to know. But even then, as someone who held such an important place in your life, he couldn’t find it in himself to offer you anything more than those passing nights satiating each other’s carnal desires.

That’s why you moved forward. Hoping that this would be the turning point. That you’d finally be free from his vague answers that left you more unsatisfied than before you even asked them. You didn’t need his permission to be with other people, but you had a strange sense of loyalty to him for showing you the ropes.

What you wanted now was for him to admit that whatever was going on between you, it wasn’t anything more than friends with benefits. He was your mentor, and occasionally you’d fuck on the side. But that was it. Whatever this ‘loyalty’ was, it wasn’t enough to warrant his treatment towards you.

You needed to hear him admit that what he said was wrong, and that like you suspected, he was just too lazy to give you a concrete answer over whether or not he cared about your life outside of him.

In a last ditch effort to calm the nerves that were intrusively firing off in opposition against what you were about to do, you took a deep breath before knocking on his door.

Dabi eventually greeted you, leaning against its frame with eyes trailing up and down your form. “Glad you came.”

He was wearing only a pair of black sweatpants, putting the scars adorning his arms and chest on full display. The metal staples glinted in the cold lighting emitting behind him, and you did your best not to stare at the entrancing sight.

Just get what you came here for. An apology. An explanation. The truth.

You offered a small side smile, looking past him into the dimly lit expanse of his home. “I did. Can we get this over with please?”

He gave pause for a moment, before pushing off the door frame, stepping to the side and gesturing with his hand for you to enter.

Unspoken, you stepped through the threshold, trying to maintain a distance between your bodies as you slipped past him. Now inside, you noted how much warmer it was than the frigid nighttime air. Dabi always ran a little hotter than most people―naturally. Only now you could really appreciate it for what it was worth, wondering if he even needed heating in the colder months of the year.

Your body tensed at the lowness of his voice behind you, catching you off guard. “Before I say anything...there’s something I wanna show you, if that’s alright.”

You turned to face the flame user, quirking a brow at his characteristically vague offer. “I guess that depends, what is it?”

Like the time you spent on the way here, a distant feeling of dread settled in the back of your mind. A somewhat playful smirk crept across Dabi’s face, lightly tugging at the staples keeping his skin together. “Well, if I told you then it would ruin the surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

...

You didn’t trust him.

But, that didn’t mean your emotional state could afford to deny him. You wanted to get what you came here for and then get the hell out. If that meant some momentary setback, then so be it.

You gave the scarred man an inquisitive scowl, before lightly shrugging your shoulders in compliance.

That’s all the confirmation Dabi needed, as he began stalking to the back of the living space without another word. And if his back wasn’t turned as you trailed behind him, you’d be able to see the small grin just barely ghosting his lips.

The door to his bedroom creaked open as he pushed against it, only a dim light from a lamp spewing out. Dabi stepped aside, “After you.”

Once again, you regarded him with a sceptical look. It wasn’t the first time he’d acted in such a way, the man being generally shrouded in mystery. Yet, as he waited patiently for you to see whatever he had prepared, those alarms in the back of your head felt deafening.

With a deep sigh, you carefully stepped into the bedroom. And as soon as you were past that threshold, you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was him. Tied to a chair, gagged and sporting a painful looking black eye―the man from two weeks ago. You almost forgot his face, like yourself a budding villain only seen in passing. But you were positive it was him, shaking, scared, and wide-eyed for the flame user behind you.

Somehow, Dabi managed to find the now unfortunate soul you slept with instead of him, and as the door to the bedroom shut, a click of a lock falling into place under a key, the weight of the situation crashed down upon.

Your quirk isn’t offensive, nor defensive. It’s support class, and entirely useless now.

With a turn of your head, you saw Dabi pocketing a small key, a devilish smirk plastered across his face. As for you, such emotions never came.

“What the hell is this? Why is he here?”

Without acknowledging your distressed questioning, Dabi walked past you and towards the man now struggling against the bindings. “You wouldn’t believe the mouth on this guy, doll.” A little too aggressively, Dabi rested his hands atop the man’s shoulders, instantly stilling him. “Told me all about the fun the two of you had.”

Your eyes rested on the coldness of his, that gaze lingering with a dangerous amusement.

“Dabi...what’s this about?”

In truth, your intuition had already led you to the likely conclusion of this ‘surprise’ of his. But the cruelty of it all, the unexpectedness, had you praying it would play out in any other way than you were predicting.

Dabi’s stare drifted, taking in your still unmoving form, regarding you up and down before those cerulean eyes landed on yours again.

It was almost a sneer, laughing slightly at your disbelief. “You really don’t know how badly you fucked up, do you?”

And just like that, you felt the blood drain from your face. It was never your place to decide what he was and wasn’t comfortable with, even if it went against your own boundaries. With the meaning of his words dawning on you, it was clear that his long held silence in the matter should’ve been enough to sway you against seeking others.

All that was left to do was reason with him, and hope you and the man tied down would make it out of this alive.

With a shaky breath, you forced the words out of your system. “We’re not exclusive. This is taking things way too far, and he doesn’t deserve to be roped into your shit.”

Dabi lightly drummed a finger against the man’s shoulder, head tilting at your claims. “Tell me, have I ever once said you could go around fucking other guys?”

You swallowed nervously, shifting uneasily under his focused glare. “...Well no, but―”

“Then what the fuck were you doing whoring yourself out to him, huh?”

The room was completely silent, save for the heavy breathing of the terrified man, and the sound of your hammering heart reverberating in your skull. You flinched at his words. It hurt, when Dabi knew very well that he was the only man you’d been with, aside from this one time fling, an issue that was being blown way out of proportion.

He continued before you could give an explanation, voice low, eyes narrowed and piercing. “I should just kill him right here and now for touching you. Bet the fucker would deserve it anyways.”

Honestly, you didn’t think the feeling of your heart dropping in your chest could feel any more intense. But it did, and the tears welling and threatening to spill down your cheeks could attest to it.

“...You don’t mean that.”

Dabi’s lips pulled into a sinister smile, putting tension on the staples adorning his face. You weren’t sure if it was the look he gave you, or the words that followed which frightened you more.

“Oh, you know that I do, sweets. But...since I’m so forgiving, I thought I’d let you earn his freedom instead.”

Not a sound was to be heard as you processed his words. An offer so vague, but dreadfully explicit at the same time.

Your voice was quiet, barely audible. “How?”

Somehow, that horrid grin grew wider. “You care about him, right? So...you should be willing to do whatever it takes to keep him alive.”

At this point your nails were digging painfully into the skin of your palms, being the only thing grounding your racing thoughts. Reluctantly, you responded. “What do you want from me?”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn he waited to reply for dramatic effect alone. He should know what he wants, otherwise nothing would be playing out so smoothly for him.

“Strip.”

Your gaze flitted to the still restrained man, looking just as appalled as you. Dabi looked everything but the sort though, still immensely enjoying the reactions you so honestly gave.

“I―I’m not doing that in front of the both of you.”

At your words, Dabi simply shrugged, an expression of casualness crossing his features. “Suit yourself.”

And just like that, his hand gripped the back of the man’s neck, and in the dim lighting of the room you could see a blue luminance come from his palm. There was an agonizing shriek, but it was muffled by the cloth gag still nestled firmly in the guy’s mouth.

Your body acted before you could think through the actions. “WAIT!”

Some of the distance between the three of you had been closed, you now at the foot of the bed where they were both facing. Dabi ceased his actions, seeming greatly pleased with your frantic and pleading state.

There was a pause, and his hand just barely pulled back.

“You know what to do.”

With your lower lip slightly quivering, you stayed motionless, inwardly praying he’d change his mind. But that change never came, and instead it was the familiar flame in the palm of his hand, mere centimeters away from skin.

“Alright! Alright…” With raised hands, you watched as Dabi went back to gripping the man’s shoulder. And so, with shaky movements, you fumbled with the fabric of your clothing. Your shirt was pulled up across your body, maybe even a little hurriedly.

Of course, Dabi would have none of your rushed intentions. “Ah-ahh. Nice and slow now, princess. Put on a good show for us.”

Not before regarding him with a hate filled glare, regrettably, you did as he said. Still facing them, you slowly peeled the rest of your clothing off of your body, article by article. The pile of discarded garments eventually laid abandoned at your feet, and in a feeble attempt to preserve your remaining dignity, you shielded your body with your hands as much as possible.

Dabi’s command came abruptly. Short and to the point. Those lack of words told you all you needed to know of the silent and seething anger inside of him.

“Get on the bed.”

Once again, you could only do as he harshly instructed, words spilling from his mouth with no hesitation. The mattress sunk under your weight, the wrinkled comforter pressing into your legs as you kneeled atop the blankets.

There was an amused snicker, “There we go. Now, touch yourself.”

You hated it. You hated Dabi. You hated yourself for not reading his silence properly.

But you spread your legs on the bed regardless, jaw clenched and heart racing.

Like a predator taking in the sight of its prey, Dabi’s eyes followed your hand as it moved south, one still being used to cover your breasts. You hesitated, and he was quick to comment. “Go on, a slut like yourself shouldn’t give a damn who’s watching, right?”

That’s not true. He doesn’t mean it.

Dabi knows he was your first, and the poor man roped into all of this was the only other person you’d been with. But Dabi was cruel, and his words were meant only to sting, whether or not they held true meaning.

There was no room to argue his point, so instead you screwed your eyes shut, and let your fingers slide down your body. To ease your own discomfort in the slightest, you gathered up some of your own arousal, running the pads of your fingers across your slit. You surprised yourself to even find a build up of wetness, the feeling only messing with your head.

You weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t.

You began rubbing tight circles into your clit, desperately trying to move things along. Honestly, you had zero clue how far Dabi was going to take things tonight. But wherever it was going, you wanted to reach the end as fast as you could.

Unconsciously, your hips moved in tandem with the pace of your fingers. A familiar heat began to build, and you could feel the coil in your abdomen start to tighten. You knew their eyes were on you, Dabi’s piercing stare not being one you wanted to meet.

But the thought of it, knowing he was studying your every move with intent, had you clenching around nothing. It was never lost on you how he treated you in normal circumstances―uncharacteristically observant to the way you reacted under his touch. Sometimes you thought he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. And so your mind wandered to those moments where he’d have you melting into a pool of bliss, hoping to ease your nerves from the less than private situation you were being subjected to. You let out an involuntary whimper, your fingers picking up the pace.

You were so close, the urgency of wanting to finish quickly having you coming undone faster than normal. Desperately, you ground yourself into your own hand, focusing on simply feeling.

...

“Stop.”

Your eyes shot open, confused and now painfully aware again of what was going on. There was nothing to say, so you simply regarded Dabi in anguish. He wasn’t going to make things easy on you.

He moved out from behind the man and towards you as he spoke, slowly sauntering with menacing steps. “Aw, don’t give me that look, sweets.” Dabi stopped at the foot of the bed, peering down at you with that cold stare.

“You’ve gotta make up for what you’ve done, remember?”

_____

You could feel the drool seeping out of your mouth, running down your chin and pooling onto the bed sheets beneath your head. Dabi’s grip was tight, a hand firmly latched onto your hair. Pulling you back and forth in quick motions, groaning as you sucked his cock at a steady rhythm.

He’d long abandoned patience, once letting you go at your own pace, now taking control in disappointment for your lack of motivation. Almost considerately, his thumb swiped a fallen tear wetting your cheek. It didn’t do much aside from smearing the build-up of moisture, only showing you that he didn’t really care.

Hoping to move things along, you ran your tongue along the underside of his length, pressing into a prominent vein before feeling the cold metal of a Jacob’s Ladder. Hollowing out your cheeks, you attempted to bob your head to take back some independence. Dabi hissed in response to your ministrations, having disregarded the man behind him for a short while.

The flame user let out a breathy huff above you, “Fuck...just like that.”

You flicked your tongue around the head of his cock, dragging it against the weeping slit as he kept you in one place for a moment. But not a second later he was forcing himself back down your throat, earning a pained whimper from you as you remained kneeled over, propped up by your elbows and trying to grip his thighs for some semblance of support.

The vibrations made Dabi hiss, unrelenting in his ways as he fucked your mouth. “Look at you, fuckin’ drooling all over yourself―dirty little bitch.”

The way he pressed so deep into you, hitting the back of your throat with each harsh thrust had you gagging around his length. That only seemed to spur him on, the grip on your hair tightening and his movements becoming more erratic. You could feel yourself growing lightheaded, unable to breath as you desperately tried to keep up with his brutal pace.

Dabi had gotten talkative again―always did when he was close to cumming. “Ah, f-fuck. So goddamn good, babydoll. Takin’ me s-so well.”

A hand pushed against his thigh, trying to pull yourself from him. He laughed at your feeble attempts. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it. N-not letting you off that easy…”

Black spots started to form in your vision, it taking everything you had not to anger the man relentlessly face-fucking you. Pained, you whimpered around his cock, and that must’ve been the final nail in his coffin.

Dabi let out a strangled groan, and you could feel the hot ropes of cum spilling down the back of your throat. Finally, he pulled you from his length, and you sputtered out in a fit of choking the second you could take a breath of air.

Exhaustedly, your body sank into the bed, a sedating lightheadedness clouding your mind as oxygen returned to your system. A certain muffledness enveloped your senses, being so drained from his actions. Your eyes were closed, so you didn’t see where he moved next.

Not until the bed dipped behind you, and a hand weaved its way into your hair once again did you realize what he was doing, and what he had planned next.

Dabi yanked your head towards, and you could feel his exposed and partly scarred torso pressing into your back as he leant down to speak into your ear. “I wasn’t fucking kidding when I said I’d fuck you in front of him.” He was laughing through the statement, clearly having much more fun with the situation than you were.

Yet, as much as you told yourself that you hated Dabi for what he was doing, as much as you repeated in your mind how you’d never come back to him again―his words still got to you. Unfaltering and honest, not a threat―but a promise. Knowing how good he always made you feel only had your headspace heading down a foggy path of conflicted acceptance.

Your head fell back onto the bed as he released his hold on your hair, opting to grip your hips with calloused hands instead. You let out a whine as a finger dipped between your folds, coming back to run across your slit.

“Fuck, dollface. Like a goddamn faucet back here―you enjoy bein’ watched like this?” Dabi punctuated his question with a harsh smack to your ass, the skin stinging under the impact and you lurching forward in surprise.

A high pitched yelp escaped your lips. “N-no! I―”

Another smack, this time on the opposite cheek. The sharp pain radiated through your backside, and you could’ve sworn the contact of his hand on your skin felt hotter than it should be.

Typical.

“Try again, cause this dripping pussy says otherwise.”

You balled up loose parts of the comforter in your fists, limbs shaking from his actions. “I’m n-not―”

It was much harder this time, his hand coming down causing a more strained wail to involuntary leave your body.

Dabi leaned down once again, “I’m not gonna move on ‘til you admit you wanna get fucked in front of this asshole.”

Another hit.

“Say it.”

You stayed silent.

Another hit.

“Beg for me to fuck you.”

Another hit.

You sobbed into the bedsheets, chest heaving with the exertion that the searing pain was causing you. Somewhere distant, you felt certain inhibitions and reservations leave your mind, bogged down by the suffocating presence of the man behind you. Your voice came out ragged, choked and cracking. “P-please, Dabi…”

His rugged palm collided with the reddened flesh on your ass again, no doubt to be sporting bruises by the morning. “Speak up, slut.”

A shaky breath was exhaled from your system. “Please, I―I want you to fuck me...”

There was a bout of silence, and you feared that the scorching pain would resume.

But it didn’t.

Dabi chuckled lowly. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

You gave a deep sigh of relief at his words. It baffled you how he could switch back and forth like that. One moment savagely aggressive, the next nonchalant and disregarding your pains and aches.

He didn’t disregard certain needs of yours however. Or his, for that matter.

A crease formed between your brows at the sensation of the tip of his cock slipping down and up your aching heat. A mewl left your parted lips when he pressed into your abandoned and needy clit. Unconsciously, you moved yourself against his length, coating it in your slick while trying to gain some much needed friction.

In the moment of countless intense sensations coming together all at once, it felt like you and Dabi were the only two people in the room.

You could feel the velvety tip pushing past your entrance, sliding in with ease with how much you were already dripping from being previously denied release. Dabi went surprisingly slow, letting you feel each and every inch of his length as it rubbed perfectly against your walls. The metal piercings that ran up the underside of his cock were a stark contrast to everything else you were feeling, but it was mouth-wateringly satisfying regardless.

Dabi let out a groan as he bottomed out, now not wasting a moment before he began thrusting in and out of your sopping core. The grip on your waist only grew tighter with each passing second. That, and as he was digging his blunt nails into the plush skin, the palms of his hands were also heating up. But as Dabi continued to relentlessly bury himself inside of you at a near brutal pace, the temperature never made it past something that would leave a mark. It stung, but the low burning was distant when the rest of his presence was so much more intense.

The always lingering smell of smoke and cigarettes invaded your senses, the haze over your mind growing thicker. It was sedating, emotionally subduing, coaxing you to drown in the entrancing state until all that mattered was Dabi.

You could feel your limbs growing weaker, legs shaking as a warmth developed inside of you. Your walls clamped down around his length, growing more and more sensitive with each thrust. Your orgasm was creeping up on you fast with the way his cock kept brushing up against that sensitive and spongy bundle of nerves.

Dabi groaned at the way you were sucking him in, catching on to how close you were to release. It only egged him on further, a hand detaching from your hip to push the side of your face into the mattress. “Fuckin’ do it, slut. Cum on my cock.” With a sharp thrust, the back of his thighs colliding with yours with each movement, you felt yourself beginning to come apart underneath him.

“Why don’t you show the fucker who makes you feel this good, huh?”

There was a moment of white hot bliss, and then the waves of your orgasm were crashing down upon you, your walls clenching around Dabi’s cock. You let out a silent scream, drool seeping into the fabric your head was being shoved into. He continued with his rough and skillfully well aimed thrusts as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it, good fucking girl…”

Your release sapped almost all of your remaining energy, but not everything. Dabi continued to ravage your worn out body. You whimpered at the overstimulation he was inflicting.

“I-I can’t, Dabi. It’s too...t-too much…”

He huffed in response, his thrusts growing erratic and faster. “Aw, you can’t handle it? Well...maybe you should’ve thought about that before pissing me off.”

In a pitiful attempt to relieve yourself from his ministrations, you tiredly pulled away from him, arms shaking and threatening to give out.

“The fuck do you thing you’re going, doll?”

Dabi dragged you back, snapping his hips against you hard. His back pressed into yours, and you shrieked when his teeth sunk into the skin of your shoulder blade. Not breaking it, but drawing dangerously close. His dick twitched inside of you at the strangled noises escaping your mouth, rutting into you without pause.

You could tell he was getting close, breathing heavy against your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle across your body. An arm snaked around your waist, you mewling as two fingers began rubbing tight circles against your clit.

Dabi continued leaving marks along your back, one arm bracing him beside your head while the other was tasked with rolling and pinching your sensitive nub in between his fingers.

That familiar heat began pooling once again, you not even being able to think straight as Dabi practically fucked you stupid.

You heard the flame user laugh slightly at your state. He couldn’t see your face with the way you were positioned, but if he could, he’d be met with your eyes glossed over, nearly rolling back in your skull with how well he was working you over.

The hand not circling your puffy clit wrapped around your throat. In one swift motion, Dabi pulled both of you up, your back leant against his, eyes shutting tightly closed as your head rested against his shoulder. He kept up the fast pace, his length pressing even deeper and in new places than it was before.

His breath hit the shell of your ear, a shiver running down your spine as the raspiness of Dabi’s voice permeated through the blissed out trance you were in. “Tell me, could he make you feel as good as I do?”

…

The question didn’t quite resonate with you.

You didn’t know who ‘he’ was.

But you were sure that nobody could please you like Dabi did.

“N-no…”

The pace of his fingers quickened, you barely able to stay upright as you gripped the wrist of the hand latched around your neck.

“That’s right, I’m all you’ll ever need.”

Dabi wasn’t asking for your agreement. It was a statement. As far as he was concerned, Dabi was the only one who could satisfy you. Nobody else could do what he did to you. Not now, not ever.

With a particularly sharp and well angled thrust, you came on his cock for the second time. A strew of moans spilled from your wetted lips, full body shudders wracking your system.

And like that, Dabi’s hips sputtered, his cum spilling out inside of you and painting your walls white. His fingers constricted around your throat harder for a few seconds, before releasing his hold completely.

You haphazardly slumped back down into the mattress, chest heaving in exhaustion. You barely registered the feeling of Dabi’s cock slipping from your abused cunt, cum dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the sheets.

...But you did register the force of your body being flipped over so that you were laying on your back.

Fighting against the heavy weight of your eyelids, you peered up at Dabi’s towering form. He was settled between your legs, spiked hair sticking to his forehead and eyes unmoving from yours. A look both satisfied, but aching for more.

“Don’t get all tired on me now. I’m not even close to being done with you.”

_____

Warm light spilled through the space of the room, the defined rays in the dark picking up particles slowly drifting about in the air. The curtains stayed closed, save for that small sliver letting such contrasting luminance in. It landed upon the blankets, your eyes following the ripples in the fabric while you came to.

It was comfortable, the heat of the sun, and of the room, wrapping around your mind and body. A sereneness to it all, unmoving and unworrying.

Until you shifted, and a dull aching throb brought you to your senses.

A glance to the foot of the bed. Eyes searching for evidence. The chair from the night before was nestled back into the corner of the bedroom, tucked neatly under a desk. You thought you were alone.

And as you rolled over onto your other side, the collision with another body proved otherwise. Still a little slow from the grip of sleep, and of the pains settling in your body, your head tilted up to observe the other occupant of the bed.

“Mornin’, doll.”

Blue eyes met yours. A small smirk adorning his face, yours remaining blank.

“...Where is he?”

A sigh escaped his lungs, the air hitting your skin. Dabi brought a hand up to your face, slowly, fingers ghosting your cheek. He paused, cupping your face lightly, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“I let him go.”

His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. If you weren’t mere centimeters apart from him, you’d miss the short confession completely.

Dabi’s gaze lingered, locked with yours. You flitted between both irises, searching. Answers unspoken, a truth untold. Something that he wasn’t telling you.

A static doubt flickered in the back of your mind. There was a challenge to be had in the way he regarded you. His words playing out in your own conscience.

Do you really believe that?

Breaking the stare, but not the tension that only you could feel, he pulled your body into his. Your head laid atop his chest, the smell of his cologne permeating, and unmistakably Dabi.

You felt the reverberations of his voice as he spoke, said with a breathy exhale. “Go back to sleep, ‘still early…”

A hand remained carding through your hair, motions slow and soothing. The other lightly squeezed your exposed hip, a gesture reassuring, but it didn’t completely feel as such.

There was no denying the tiredness your body felt. His touches, soft and affectionate, coaxing you to heed his words. Dabi knew how your body reacted to him. He was your first. Your only.

And you knew him too. You knew better than to not listen.

So you did.

#yandere bnha #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yanderecore #yandere x you #yandere #yandere writing #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw coercion #tw swearing #tw violence #tw injury #tw degradation #bnhabookclub

1K notes · View notes

buglife · 3 years

Note

Ghost and Tiso? Maybe about how they became friends?

Depictions of injuries and some sad stuff ahead, but this the longest request to date! Apologies my eyes are bad lol.

Tiso didn’t know what to think when he first laid eyes on the little knight, sitting alone on the sole bench in Dirtmouth. They were one of the strangest beings he had ever saw, with their big white helmet-like head, their weird little nubby body, and the fact they had a nail. How could something this tiny hold a nail? It had to be someone’s lost grub, he was sure of it. There was no way this little squib wasn’t about to be ambushed by some angry parent, furious that they were carrying an actual nail. He waited a moment and looked around, but nobody came.

He supposed someone would come sooner or later, he had a mission after all. He had wandered the wastes since he came of age with just himself and his shield searching for some sort of purpose in life. Sure, he had over time, became a rather competent warrior, but he failed to find challenges that would actually test his mettle. Then, he heard tales of a lost Kingdom where many bugs have gone and never returned. Said Kingdom was rumored to have an arena where one could compete for glory. Tiso had already bested many arenas and moved on, ever searching. If there wasn’t an arena than he could at least look around and recount what he saw.

Maybe here, he’ll find himself, and find a measure of happiness.

His shield felt heavy as he sighed and looked at the well. The Elderbug, kind as could be, had warned him of the dangers below. Bugs sometimes lost their minds, trapped in a dreaming world where they couldn’t remember anything but a bright, burning light. Bugs died from the claws of the infected, most no more than empty husks driven by a malevolent will. The thought horrified Tiso, he had never heard of such a thing. The dead walking? Still, the old bug was serious as he let his old gaze drift around the nearly empty town.

Tiso was inclined to believe him.

So there he was, ready to take the plunge down below and took one last look at the grub sitting on the bench. He happened to catch their eyes, and the little grub straitened up a little. He was surprised to see them leap off and stride toward him quickly, waving their arms.

“What do you want, Squib.” Tiso had no mood to deal with any little kids.

He watched them move their hands out from under their cloak, their tiny paws and equally tiny claws making a flurry of movements. They then stared at him expectantly.

“Uhhh...the fuck was that?” He had no clue what the little grub was doing with their hands. They deflated a little and then brightened, reaching into themselves with a hand and suddenly, they had a little book and a pen.

“...what...did you, did you just reach inside yourself!?” Tiso boggled, the hell was this? What the hell was this kid?

He watched in stunned silence as the little being ignored him to start scribbling quickly, turning over the book once done to display their writing.

“Hello, please be careful down there. It’s dangerous.”

“Ppfft. Nothing dangerous for the likes of me.” Tiso couldn’t help but grin. Aw, how precious, they were worried about him. “I’m a seasoned warrior, I faced a lot and I am sure I can handle myself.”

The being frowned, at least, Tiso thought they did. They tilted their mask in a way to convey some measure of unhappiness and then started writing again. They turned over the book with a flourish once done, the ink smeared a bit in their haste to write it.

“I am also a warrior and there are things down there that can kill you without hesitation. I’ve seen corpses of better armed and armored warriors scattered below. All thought the same that you did. Please be careful.”

Of course Tiso ignored most of the writing to focus on the first part. “Oh, a warrior you say, you know how to use that nail you have there?”

They nodded, shoulders tense as they again, pointed to the part about the dead bodies. Then tapped it.

“Obviously they weren’t as good as me then.”, he huffed. “Say, if you do fancy yourself a warrior, I hear there’s a place for us, an arena of sorts. Maybe we’ll meet up there, and you can show me what you know.” He held up his shield, the metal glinting in the lights of the lumafly lanterns. “That is, if your parents let you, Squib.”

The grub sighed with their whole body, and wrote back to reply.

“I am not a kid. I’m probably older than you.”

Tiso couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. You got a name, little Squib?”

The being rubbed their face for a moment and wrote back. “My name is Ghost. You?”

“Heh, you’re speaking to Tiso! Remember that name, it’ll probably be famous.” He preened a little, slightly disappointing to find that the little Ghost was just staring at him. Once again they presented their scribbles.

“Or I’ll remember it to put on your grave marker.”

Bummer, kid. Tiso at first thought the squib was mocking him. He opened his mouth to call them a little shit, but he took a second look at them. They looked tired and weary. They looked like someone used to hearing bad news. Inside, he felt a little guilty at this. Clearly this thing...Ghost...was genuinely worried about his safety and he went and spit it back in their faces. It seems that foot-in-mouth disease is a reoccurring issue with him.

He sighed. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I promise that I know what I’m doing. If things are too bad, I know when to cut my losses and run, alright?”

Ghost brightened up at that and nodded. Tiso snickered to lighten the mood, reaching down to pat them between the horns (something they radiated a scowl at, but said nothing about).

“No worries, if anything, I do wanna see what you can do sometime!”

And with that, Tiso jumped down the well.

---

Well, Tiso should have listened to the little Ghost. Because he had to fight every inch of the way to reach this one stag station. He had learned the name of this wretched section, ‘the Forgotten Crossroads’, and he wished it could be forgotten. He had barely landed on the stonework below when an infected bug lunged out of the darkness, hissing. He had swiftly decapitated it, getting some orange gunk all over his shield. He had wanted to clean it off then and there, but the buzzing sound of vengeflies made him rethink his plan. The feral Tiktiks and Crawlids didn’t give him much trouble, except the time he stepped on one by accident and their spikes hurt like hell. The vengeflies were bastards like usual, screeching as they tried to dive bomb him.

And oh, the aspids. The fucking aspids. How he hated them. He felt so much satisfaction every-time he threw his shield and popped their horrible little glowing abdomens. The only problem was the orange that splashed out burned any exposed bit of chitin he had. Never before, had he been glad to own his armor. He would be extremely happy if he drove those little bastards to extinction. The husks though, were very horrible. Not in a fighting way, in there they were stupid in that they only knew how to run straight at him. He could take their heads off at a distance, shield returning to him with a flash of soul. In the end, he pitied them. They were once bugs, like him, but something had changed, and they became infected. He had been happy to find a hot spring that he could scrub himself and his equipment clean. He didn’t know if he even could be infected, but he decided to err on the side of caution. The orange...goo...he couldn’t call it proper hemolymph, didn’t seem to cause him trouble for now. But still, better safe than sorry. He made camp there for the night, but not only because he didn’t want to get out of the water.

He had braved the crossroads again the next day, ducking under aspids and slaughtering husks until he found the relative safety of the stag station. He sighed and sat on the bench, leaning backwards to rest a spell.

Then came the sound of rumbling. He was instantly alert, shield at the ready and his eyes trained to the tunnel. He expected many things to come out of that tunnel, but he didn’t expect to see little Ghost so soon. The stag they are riding slid to a stop, bending down to let the little warrior off. The stag spoke to him, Tiso didn’t catch what exactly, and watched the warrior wave goodbye as the stag took off down the tunnel again.

They turned and saw him and seemed just as surprised. They bounced a bit in delight and rushed over, waving.

“Hello to you too, little warrior. See? I’m perfectly fine.” Tiso gestured to himself with a grin. “Though I will admit, those aspids suck.”

Ghost nodded rapidly in agreement, going as far as to draw their nail and stomp a little. Tiso laughed.

“No worry, If you’re going up I have thinned their numbers a bit. Seems like having a big gross abdomen makes it easy for someone to cut you down. It’s the perfect target! You can’t miss!”

Again Ghost nodded in agreement. Remembering that he couldn’t understand those weird hand sign things, they took out their journal and pen once more. It was once of those fancy ones that held the ink on the insides but still needed refilling from time to time. They hopped up on the bench to join him, there was plenty of room after all.

“So,” Tiso began, “What have you been up to?”

“I’m trying to figure out a way past the fungal wastes.” They wrote. Tiso could easily look over their shoulder so they didn’t have to keep turning their book around.

“Fungal wastes?”

Ghost chirped, which absolutely did not make Tiso jump a little. They were just, so quiet. They were obviously mute but he didn’t expect them to make sounds. Tiso hid his reaction and watched as they fucking reached inside themselves again and pulled out a map. They opened it up, showing an incomplete map, each section in a different colored ink. Tiso whistled, impressed.

“You did that all on your own?”

They shook their head and wrote out. “Cornifer sells basic maps. I find all the hidden stuff.” They gestured to the various lines on the paper. Some of the ink was newer than others, which meant they back tracked and found new places. They even did little doodles of interesting things they saw. The sheer amount of drawn spikes and thorns make him question just how much fun he’s going to have traversing some of this kingdom.

“That’s still hella impressive for such a little grub.” He teased. He was arrogant, but he could recognize talent. “Maybe if being a warrior doesn’t work out, you could be a map maker in the future.”

Ghost just held their map for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. It looked like they wanted to write something, but passed it up to put on a more cheerful demeanor. “It’s nice you think I’m that good.” They wrote.

“Heh, I can recognize talent. By the way, since you’ve been all over the place, have you figured out where this arena is?”

“I hear that it’s called the ‘Colosseum of Fool’s. It’s somewhere near the City of Tears, I think.” They make sure Tiso read what they wrote before drawing a line with a claw from the stag station where they sit to somewhere east. They had a place marked ‘Crystal Peak’ and ‘Resting Grounds’, so it was probably near those places.

“Thanks, Squib. You probably saved me a lot of walking.”

Ghost innocently pointed to the stag station’s bell.

Tiso shook his head. “Oh no no no, true warriors don’t convenience themselves like that! True warriors make it to where they go on their own efforts alone.”

He was so full of shit and he could tell that Ghost knew. He honestly didn’t’ want to be in any dark, tight spaces. He couldn’t help thinking of the colony he grew up in. How dark and how crowded it was. You couldn’t find a moments peace to yourself and cave ins could happen at any time. How close the walls were to each other. How you never knew when the ground would rumble and stones would start to fall. No sir, he won’t take the stag way.

Ghost gave them the ‘whatever you say’ look before they rolled their map back up and tucked it away again.

“Where the fuck are you putting all that?” Tiso exclaimed as Ghost also put away their book and pen. They only shrugged in response and then gleefully bounced away with a wave goodbye. He heard the patter of little feet, and then the shriek of a vengefly, only to hear the sharp slice of a nail and the silence after.

Hrm...perhaps this was a warrior after all?

Tiso leaned back, determined to rest a little more before continuing his journey. With how big this place is, he wasn’t sure he’d see the little warrior again, and something about that statement saddened him.

---

Tiso had no idea there’d be an entire lake this big in Hallownest. Sure, water in caves was common, it’s how the caves were made after all, but this was something else. He sat on the sand, a campfire crackling softly as a tiktik roasted on a stick. All around him were fossils of shells, creatures long since gone and lost to time. One made for a nice seat and he wondered a bit to whom it may have belonged to. Some water snail, maybe. The water was clean and clear enough that he could take a dip to rinse off the grim of travel and found it most refreshing.

It had taken him a couple days to make his way here. Some paths were blocked off, either to cave ins or rusted closed, so he had to improvise. Moving through the Resting Grounds was eerie. It was full of graves, yeah, but once you fight empty husks for a while, tombstones start loosing their spookiness. There he had run into another stag station and swiftly turned back around. He took another pathway he didn’t try and ended up here, at this lake.

He thought of all the empty houses along the way. He poked inside to take a look here and there and only took things that he needed. The dead weren’t going to use them, he was sure no spirit would begrudge him for taking a few spices or a blanket. It did make for useful places to rest, as he could just shut the doors and windows to keep out husks. But still, he couldn’t help but feel like a trespasser in this dead kingdom.

He mused on this as he poked at the roasting tiktik. It’ll be done soon and then he can eat and continue his journey. A warrior needs their energy after all.

He poked up his antenna as he heard a distant noise over the crackling of the fire. He turned and looked over the lake, watching a white dot in the distance grow steadily closer. Water kicked up around bent air currents as the figure flew just above the surface. When close enough, he spotted the horns.

Oh, it was them. Small world, huh?

Little Ghost seemed to spot him as well. As soon as they reached the beach, they cut off whatever power they were using to run straight at him. They were all waves and ‘smiles’, tilting their head up to look at him in obvious glee.

“Hello, Squib!” Tiso grinned, he wouldn’t admit it but he was glad to see the little bug. “Still in one piece I see?”

They nodded and gestured to himself.

“Yeah, told you I’d be fine!” He took a moment to poke at the tiktik again and caught a flash of light on metal. Little Ghost had drawn their nail and was holding it out for Tiso to see. Oh, it seems like they got a new one, or they fixed up their old one. The other was dull, and this one had a soft pale light to it. Nothing fancy so far, but he could tell it was sharper.

“Nice.” He was impressed. “But I’m a shield guy. I don’t know much about nails other than that you shouldn’t get stabbed by them.”

The little bug ‘laughed’, huffing air in amusement as the reached over and pointed at his shield. They looked at it, and then back at him, titling their head.

“Sure, you can look, but be careful, because it can do this.” He attached his shield to his arm and squeezed his hand just so. There was a click, and the sides of the shield unfolded into blades, a perfect circle of pain. Ghost vibrated in response, the dark eyes within their mask shining brightly in the light of the fire. Tiso grinned and flexed again, withdrawing the blades to make a normal shield again. “And that, is how I deal with aspids. It can also come back when I throw it.”

He wasn’t sure why he was telling this to Ghost. Weren’t they going to fight sooner or later? If so it would be best to hold his cards close to his chest and keep his surprises as surprises. But there was just...something about this bug that made him want to talk about the things he knows. They were paying rapt attention, eyes scanning all the details made in the shield. Bugs that only wielded shields were not very common, he had found, so maybe they just never seen something like the one he has before. Maybe he wanted to be the one to cause the air of wonder and awe in someone else.

Maybe he just wanted a bit of attention that didn’t result in getting bruises.

Ghost touched the shield gently with a paw, feeling the metal a little before they withdrew, satisfied. They nodded their approval and sat down, looking up at him expectantly.

“Oh? What’s this? Do you want tales of how I used this shield?” A giddy happy feeling welled up in his chest as Ghost nodded rapidly. They moved their hands, signing a word he didn’t’ know how to understand. He could figure it either meant ‘thank you’ or ‘please’, either way they were polite. They shuffled and got comfortable and watched Tiso as he began to talk.

Tiso talked for so long that he forgot all about his tiktik.

–

Tiso sat on the bench, the roar of the crowd above him shaking loose the dust on the ceiling. It fell around him in motes of light reflected from the fires in the pit. There were other warriors there too, waiting their turn to engage in the carnage above. So this was the Colosseum of Fools. A crowded arena where a corpse sat as the seat of honor, empty gaze watching as the combatants did their damndest to kill each other. Geo was rapidly exchanged between hands as fighters either won, yielded, or died. Most died, but so it was in the way of the arena. He had taken time to watch to get a scope of what he was dealing with and concluded that the bugs in this kingdom were fucking insane. He was not used to this style of games, but he supposed he’d have to learn. He met the little fool chained up and dangling from the ceiling. He paid his fee and waited for his turn in the pit. There was a shriek above, and something big slamming into the ground. He imagined that he could expect to fight more beasts than warriors.

What he was not expecting, was little Ghost to jump down into the pit.

“Hey, you made it!” Tiso couldn’t help but exclaim as Ghost ran over to climb on the bench as well. “This is the place for us, I can feel it. There’s finally a challenge for me here.”

Ghost nodded, and in a flash held their journal and pen. “Are you doing the trials?”

He snorted, “Of course I am, and you?”

“Not yet, just exploring.”

“Hey what, are you afraid of being paired against me?” Tiso tugged his hood a little, smoothing down his antenna to try and stifle the intense smell of infected hemolymph. For a moment, he felt a flash of relief at Ghost’s prior statement. He didn’t quite believe that this bug was an adult, but they seemed to be a good sort. Did they really need to do this, taint their soul with battle just for the glory of it? For a bug like Tiso, he was okay with it. He was okay with it ever since he found himself alone with only a shield to protect him and bad memories to keep him company. He had to get tough, but did this little being who asked him for stories really need to get tough?

They shook their head as their shoulders shook with mirth. “No, I have things I have to do. I’ll fight you later and I’ll make you the one scared.” Their shoulders kept shaking, so Tiso assumed this was all said in jest.

“Bold words from a little shit.” Tiso was interested in seeing just what they can do, but later in a spar. Away from a place like this. This wasn’t a place for them.

They nearly rolled over, chirping in laughter and getting strange looks from the other waiting combatants.

Tiso rounded on them. “Mind your fucking business.” He snarled, and the combatants averted their gaze to go back to polishing their weapons. Good.

Ghost took a few deep breaths to calm themselves down. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“Sometimes you gottah be mean.” Tiso countered. “If they tried to throw you out or something, I would have cut off any limb that touched you.”

Woah, where did that thought come from?

Ghost looked at Tiso for a moment, really looking at him. Tiso felt like those eyes could see into his very soul and he suppressed a shudder. Ghost looked back to their book and wrote again.

“Why?”

Tiso gulped, time to bullshit and fast. “Well, because we were practically destined to battle each other. Hell, we keep running into each other in this dead fucking kingdom. What are the odds of that? What are the odds of both of us, meeting multiple times, and then meeting up here? It’s destiny!”

They tilted their head.

“If we are going to have a proper spar, none of us can get hurt before then. We have to be at 100%, right? So I won’t let anyone lay a claw on you until then.” There, nailed it.

They nodded and tapped their pen against the bottom of their mask in thought. They took a while to write, in which Tiso glanced around to make sure the other combatants weren’t about to get bored and try to pick a fight. Finally, they tapped his arm and showed him what they wrote.

“I understand. That means you have to promise to be okay until then.” They gestured above as more dust shook loose and rained down in a shower of gray. The crowd roared again, along with the sounds of something big screaming.

“Sure, I can do that. If I break my promise I’ll give you five thousand geo.” This was a prop bet for sure. He didn’t have that kinda money yet, he’d have to earn it in the arena. But he was confident in his abilities, he would be fine and he’d be able to take off time to have a proper spar with his little companion friend buddy fellow warrior.

They nodded and held out their hand, which he took and shook. Gods, they had such little paws. “Good doing business with ya, Squib.”

They did their odd version of ‘smiling’ again. “I got to go, gonna try and go up more.”

“Good luck with that.” Tiso watched them put away their book, and with a hop, skip, and a jump, vanished up the pit. He had time now, to sit and sort out his feelings. He had that weird ‘big brother’ urge, and it wasn’t because they were so small. Nah, this person listened to him and liked him. He figured he can try and do the same.

---

Tiso was in a world of hurt, agony seeped into the broken crack in his chest. Hemolymph kept flooding his lungs and dripping out the corners of his mandibles. There was a fog around him in his mind, his barely open eyes blurry and seeing only smudges of green and blue. Flecks of white occasionally crossed his eyes before vanishing again. He had long since given up on trying to move, each pull of muscle only made the hemolymph flow faster. He struggled to recall what was happening as the pain moved in and out, like it was happening to someone else.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The only thing he can do was just lay there and breathe wetly. Each breath he had to mentally will and it took up all other functions for now. He had no mental power to spare on anything else, so when a bigger fleck of white took up his vision and didn’t leave, he had no clue what to make of it. What the hell? He took a breath, momentary forgetting too when he pondered the white. A cough tore into his chest and he could feel the broken edges of chitin rubbing together. Something was touching him. Something was trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t spare the thought.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The white vanished suddenly and Tiso found himself unable to bring himself to care or wonder about it. He had to keep breathing. Something deep and hot within himself had refused to give up. He had something to do that was very important and he couldn’t miss it. He wouldn’t. The weight of his shield was his only current comfort. Just as suddenly, the white appeared again, with a flash of red and gray. He peered at the smudges as distant sounds tickled his antenna. Was he underwater? Why couldn’t he understand them? A flash of pain and suddenly his world twisted. Colors spun around and around and it made it hard to concentrate on breathing. More sounds. More pain.

Breathe in. Breath out.

Breathe in. Brea-

It seemed like only a second and he was consumed in fire. A burning ache spread over himself as he saw only darkness. The darkness and a shriek as round orange pustules throbbed and vibrated. The sickening sound of hot fluids spilling and the nasty pop as pustules burst in a shower of gore. He was there. He had his shield, as a giant thing of teeth and screams jumped into the arena. He could barely raise his shield and then there was so much pain.

Trapped. Trapped like the fallen tunnels as the air got stale and lungs burned. Instead of the cries of the dying there was the roar of a crowd.

Take my breath, his sister had said. A little tiny thing with a tiny heart. A stone had hit her. The cave was too crowded and there wasn’t enough air. She was dying. Tiso couldn’t move the stone or she’d die faster.

Take my breath, she said. Then she breathed no more.

She always wanted to be a warrior.

She wanted to help people.

She never got to grow up.

You wasted her breath, the mawlurk shrieked as it fell toward him. You wasted it. You wasted it to die like a Fool!

Then was falling and falling and falling and falling an-

He felt cool hand in his, so tiny and small. They held on tight and Tiso stopped falling.

---

Tiso cracked his eyes open, still blurry and still in pain. He felt odd. The pain was there, but a large portion seemed locked away, just barely felt on the surface. He felt a hand in his, and with a colossal effort he managed to tilt his head to the side.

He was in some hut, on a bed, and holding his hand was the little Ghost. They must have felt the movement, because their head snapped around and looked on his eyes. A rapid flash of emotions, anger, grief, relief, joy, and others he didn’t have the ability to process, cycled through their very being. His hand was gripped with both paws now and a dribble of black welled up in their eyes to drip down their mask. Tiso wanted to say something, but it was taking a bit to remember how to do so. A large shadow fell over him, and he instinctively turned his head up to look.

Standing over him was an enormous beetle with a nail the size of Tiso himself. They looked down disappointingly at him.

“You must be Tiso, eh?”

He could only nod in response.

“You have to be the luckiest bastard in this whole dead kingdom.” The beetle moved over to a table, clinking glasses together and pouring some liquid. “You landed in just the right spot for Ghost to find you and close enough for me to come get you.”

He returned and handed a glass of water to Tiso, waiting for him to grip it before letting go. “I am Nailmaster Oro and you are here because my pupil insisted. You are going to be bed ridden for a while. Be glad I am more patient than my brothers, because after a whole week of putting you back together, I’m going to be glad when you leave.”

Tiso gratefully took the water and sucked it down, letting the liquid cool his dry throat. Once hydrated, he looked down to the ocean of bandages covering his front and one of his arms. His shield lay tilted against the bed, in arms reach. A whole week was gone, just like that. Oro must have felt the questions in his mind, because be continued to talk.

“You nearly got crushed to death, you goddamn idiot.” Oro tutted, looking over the bandages with the bedside manor of a primal aspid. “The Colosseum of Fools is just that, a collection of fools looking to die for no good reason.”

Tiso opened his mandibles to retort but only managed a wheeze. His lungs felt particularly awful and Ghost patted their hand in sympathy. Ghost let go just long enough to run over to Oro, tugging on his cloak. Once Oro bent down, Ghost gently embraced as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot. He saw Oro sigh with the tiniest glimpse of affection, before roughly patting them on the head. He glanced back to Tiso, and scowled when he realized that the ant saw the whole thing. Ghost stepped back to return to Tiso, taking his hand again.

“You’ll be okay after a bit of healing and time in the hot springs.” Oro went to squat by the fire, stirring something that smelled wonderful in a pot. “But I hope you found what was so damn important up in the coliseum.

Yes, Tiso thought to himself, I did find something. He looked at Ghost in a new light, and smiled as best as he could. They couldn’t replace her, but maybe, he could learn to not be a colossal fuck up. Maybe in that way, he can be okay with himself.

Ghost patted Tiso again for a bit and then reached in their ‘whatever’ space to pull out a pre-written piece of paper. Seeing what was written on it made Tiso almost want to take back everything he had just thought.

“You owe me 5000 geo.”

#hollow knight #fanfiction #tiso #ghost #nailmaster oro #tw: injury #tw: suffocation #found family #the knight #big brother tiso #tiso doing tiso things #ghost adopts yet another random bug #tiso is a dudebro #Anonymous #my writing

67 notes · View notes

neon-junkie · 4 years

Note

Okay, headcanons. Uhhh well I personally was a big fan of the Obedience Training fic, got any headcanons for how other members of the gang would need to be taught obedience?

yaaaa I’m glad to hear that u enjoyed it!!! Okay, heres a few headcanons for Arthur, John, Javier, Trelawny, Bill, Charles, Dutch, and Kieran!!! They’re overall quite good with obedience and submission, but some of them are a bit hard to properly break. These are gender-neutral :0) everything is under the cut as it’s very NSFW.

Arthur

Arthur is always a very good boy, does what he's told without question, and knows that you'll stick to his limits.

Feeds off praise, you need to praise him over and over to remind him that he's doing a good job and that he's your good boy.

He's happy to wear anything you want him to wear; harnesses, collars, outfits, etc. As long as you don't put him in a bunny suit then he's fine with it.

He's personally quite a fan of the harnesses, he thinks they really suit him - big rough hairy mountain man with a pretty leather harness on. Yeah, he'll gaze at himself in the mirror whenever he puts one on.

Talk to him kindly, even if he messes up. Politely point out what he's done wrong whilst cooing him and ask him to try again. Be like "good try, Arthur. But let's try it once more for me, hm?"

Says yes sir/madam/owner/etc a lot. He never forgets his manners. Ever.

Overall, a very good boy!!!!!

John

Lazy. Stubborn. A bit of a brat.

"Why do you want me to do that?" you'll hear him questioning your methods a LOT.

Doesn't mind the occasional slap whenever he's acting out of line. He thinks it's kinda kinky.

You basically need to break John in, and once he's broken, he'll do as you ask. He may still question things every now and again, but he'll eventually do as he's told once he's well worn in.

Likes praise here and there but you don't need to over-use it with him (like you do with Arthur.) John KNOWS he's a good boy, he likes to hear it, but if you say it too much he'll just be like "ugh, I know!"

Doesn't mind some outfits. Collars are 50/50, sometimes he'll wear them, sometimes he won't. Won't ever put a harness on cause he thinks it looks silly.

You'll need to keep reminding him to say yes sir/madam/owner/etc because he'll forget A LOT.

Overall, a bit annoying to tame but once you've finally broken him, he'll be good. Kinda like a wild horse, I guess.

Javier

Brat.

"You want me to do that, huh? And what happens if I don't? hehehehe."

Like John, he needs breaking in, but he's definitely the hardest to break in by a mile. You're gonna be working on his obedience for... so long... you may just give up lol.

He's happy to wear anything you want and will take pride in some outfits. He personally thinks collars suit him best, but if you try and put a leash on the end he'll run off.

Javier is quite independent so he doesn't always like the idea that he needs you to survive. You two are gonna spend a while finding a middle ground, lots of trial and error with him, but he's always happy to just laugh things off.

He doesn't need too much praise, but he does enjoy compliments. Tell him how handsome he looks, especially in specific outfits and such.

The main thing that'll break him is ordering him not to cum, especially if you're giving him a handjob/BJ. You will have to blackmail him, something like "You can't speak to me for a week if you cum." He'll pout about it, but he eventually becomes a subby mess who bats his lashes at you whilst asking if he's allowed to cum yet.

Overall, if you have the patience to train him, then he'll eventually be worth it.

Trelawny

Lovely. An angel. Such a good boy.

He takes a while to get into the mindset. He'll continue to joke/giggle a lot with you, but once he slips into the zone, he'll stay in it for hours.

LOVES dressing up. LOVES roleplaying. Doesn't mind collars, and harnesses just aren't for him.

Bring out some silk rope to tie him up with and that's it, total submission from that fancy man.

He doesn't need to be told that he's a good boy too often; he prefers compliments instead, like how good he looks in that outfit, or how pretty he looks when his cheeks are bright red.

As long as you stick to his limits, he'll do as you ask. He just takes a little while to get into the mindset.

Doesn't mind getting roughed up a little bit but please do not slap him :(

Overall, super good boy but is probably better suited for somebody a bit giggly and less-serious.

Bill

He will do ANYTHING. NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

You could be like "you're gonna go down on me for 10 hours." and he'll just say "yes sir/madam/owner/etc," and get to it. Like, Bill is the biggest sub you will ever meet.

No backlash, no questions, no pouting or complaining. Just pure obedience.

He's very touch starved so that's probably why he's so happy to do anything you ask.

PRAISE HIM. Please tell him what a good boy he is, how good he's being for you, how proud he's making you, etc. There's never too much praise for Bill, he feeds off that stuff.

Will put on anything you give him, but thinks harnesses really suit him. They make him look/feel big and somewhat superior, and knowing his s/o has so much power over a man his size makes his cock throb.

Overall, super subby but you need to praise him every 3 seconds.

Charles

He's very relaxed with whatever you wanna do, just make sure you stick to his limits as he has quite a few when it comes to kinkier stuff.

Loves praise but more directed at specifically what he's doing, such as "you're doing so well down there," though he won't mind if you call him a good boy!!

He'll wear whatever you ask him to, but he may pull a few faces whenever he puts on something that he isn't too keen on. He'll be like "hmm idk why you want me in this, but whatever you say."

Charles will submit to you without question, but it may take a while to fully break him. He'll do whatever you ask, but to really grind him down to total submission is going to take a while.

You kinda need to make him dependant on you, maybe order him not to cum until you say so a few times and he'll eventually break.

Overall, very good but will need a lil bit of breaking in.

Dutch

Kinda bratty at first, but once you show him you mean business, he'll eventually get into it and submit to you.

He doesn't backchat, but he does talk back? Like, instead of just saying "yes sir/madam/owners/etc," he'll say yes and be like "of course I'll do that for you. I'd do anything you ask, my dear."

He just likes the sound of his own voice, and if that bothers you then gag him. If he still won't shut up then slap him. He'll be shocked, but he's also fine with it.

He'll break pretty easily if you do orgasm denial with him, but do it really brutally. Say, tie him up and go down on him for a while, but really make a show out of it. Keep it going for aaaaaages, and eventually, he'll just become this massive whimpering mess.

Oh my god, he LOVES the sight of himself in a collar or harness. Dressing up is fine, but you'll sometimes walk into your tent to find him already wearing the harness and waiting for you.

Loves praise of every kind. It's more of a reassurance thing for him, like he KNOWS he's doing a good job, he just likes to hear it.

Overall, needs a bit of breaking in. Very chatty but will do anything you ask without question.

Kieran

A good boy but a LOUD one. I hope you've got a hotel room booked for him, you're not gonna get away with any of this in camp.

Even if you gag him, he'll still be loud... There's no shutting that boy up.

Loves praise but don't over-do it, it'll eventually feel belittling to him if you spam him with it. Just give him the odd compliment here 'n' there.

He won't be bratty or refuse any orders, but he may make the odd comment about it (until he's broken in,) such as "you want me to do that? well, okay then..."

Doesn't like harnesses, collars are meh, doesn't mind dressing up. But hey, if you ask him nicely, he'll wear whatever you want.

If you try and do orgasm denial with him, it'll end up messy. He just can't quite get the hang of it. You'll get used to hearing "whoops, sorry... I just... you know."

He'll submit to you straight away but he will take a while to break, like, almost as long as Javier. He just can't quite get into the mindset.

Overall, obedient but very loud/talkative, and takes a long time to properly break him into the submission mindset.

174 notes · View notes

alwaysthrowsscissors · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Questions!

Thanks for the tag @venhedish dont mind if I do darlin'! Loved reading your answers too!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

17 and I started May 2020

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

84,430! Sooooo close to that 100k milestone I just need to get off my writing hiatus since I have a beefy one shot WIP and a couple kink-meme prompt fills started that will get me to the finish line!

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On Ao3/as an adult, just Supernatural.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well Jung – This was my first and I’m still super surprised it took off so well considering all the head-hopping. I also hadn’t written fiction since high school so it’s pretty technically rough!

I Can’t Forget the Time and Place Where We Just Met – Who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned double amnesia fic! This was a SPN Masquerade fill and it was super fun to write!

Kiss the Cook – Another SPN Masquerade fill inspired by Dean in an apron in S15. Kitchen fucking is fun fucking!

Iodine and Stitches – 3/5 SPN Masquerade fills that I did fall 2020. Seriously such a fun event to participate in I cant recommend it enough. This is one my only fics with a serious tone throughout which is tough for this clown.

Double Jeopardy – Written for my buddy after finding out she has an intelligence kink! Cut to us giggling about Sam losing his damn mind when he plays Jeopardy with clever Dean!

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Listen…I can’t fully express how much comments give me LIFE! I want to know what you liked about my silly musings, I want to know your fav part, I want to know that I gave you a boner! I'll take a button smash, I'll take an emoticon. Anything, everything! I make a point to always respond back to show my appreciation for people taking time out of their day to make my day.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Without a shadow of a doubt Yesterday Don’t Matter if It’s Gone about what would happen if Sam and Dean hooked up during Mystery Spot and exacerbated Sam’s downward spiral during the months of Tuesdays. I write a lot of humour and this sucker is humourless PLUS has an unhappy ending! Weeee!

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

Never have but not opposed to the idea.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope, I’ve been pretty fortunate but I also write pretty tame shit. So if I start dabbling more in the archive warnings it may change. I do have a fun multichap wincestiel non-con WIP in the works 😈

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

AHAHAHAHAHA I’d say a good 90-95% of my 84k wordcount is smut! All M/M all explicit! Fun times over at Casa Scissors 😏. I do have some upcoming stuff that’s more plot heavy though which I’m looking forward to.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I fucking hope not that would be a big bummer.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! And as a noob I had to pinch myself, it still fucking blows my mind! A lovely Ao3 user Yigelulu translated I Can’t Forget the Time and Place Where We Just Met into Chinese. It was so incredibly cool to see my words in another language and a great honour that they liked my fic enough to put in all that work!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yup! Turn Your Head and Cough with my budbud Wearingdeantoprom. Dean gets his prostate rubbed for the first time at the doctors office.

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Wincest wincest all the wincest! My brain is infected and there is no cure! I am a pro-shipper though ship and let ship my dudes. I also dabble in wincestiel and LOVE any combination of winkline and may write it one day. I don’t really read much from other fandoms. I’ve read some George/Fred (I like brother fucking ok?) and I love me some Jess Mariano/Dean Forester over in the Gilmore Girls camp (the perfect enemies to lovers) but its unfortunately such a small ship. Any souls reading this who like those ships, please drop any recs into my box!

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Anything I am passionate about I will finish. I’ve only killed one thing because I got bored with it but I posted my fav part for a fic challenge. I hate not having something to show for my spent time (I know it's a hobby but it's the principle damnit!) and I hate unfinished things. Those damn little ao3 red circles haunt me 🚫

16) What are your writing strengths?

Christ uhhh I’ll say I’m most consistently praised in comments for my dialogue and it’s what always flows the smoothest for me. I think my humour is also a strength, it comes very naturally when I write which is why I have a hard time keeping it out of my fics! Times are tough I just wanna make y’all giggle ok?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Frankly, my greatest weakness is that I don’t take it seriously enough to look at my past writing critically for improvement. I also write (non-fiction) for my job and had extensive training to do so, so when its for this hobby I honestly whip it out, edit a couple times, and slap it up ‘good enough’ styles and I don’t go back to re-read once posted. I think if I looked back, I could see lots of opportunities for improvement and could go from a fine writer to a good writer. I’d also say that I’ve written pretty fun fluffy cracky smutty stuff so I guess another weakness is a lack of depth of plot and subject matter. I do want to explore this stuff more though.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

My concern is if you don’t speak the language fluently, then native speakers reading your fic might feel a big disconnect if you get colloquialisms and euphemism etc. incorrect. It could take them out of your fic if its not authentic enough. I don’t speak any other language fluently so it would END BADLY. I can speak and read French VERY POORLY and that’s it so no, I will never write in another language unless its jibberish I invented myself!

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The only fanfic I wrote before SPN last year was a handful of super cracky, gen Gundam Wing fanfiction in high school!! They are on a broken USB stick which kills me I want to read them so badly! All my other creative writing was original fiction mainly horror/thrillers. I stopped when I started my undergrad cause...that shit is a lot of work yo.

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

My first love is my first baby Well Jung. I love the plot, I love the humour in it, I love the heart, and it’s still some of my fav sex I’ve written. And the title makes me giggle too who doesn’t love a bad pun? I'm so thrilled it was so successful but it would still be my favourite even if 3 people read it. It made me rediscover writing as a hobby and helped me explore this wonderful (yet insane) fandom. I love all my babies and I even think the writing is stronger in other fics, but he will always be #1 in my heart.

OK this was fun I love talking about fic writing! If any of you read my stuff and want to know more, hit me with an ask; I love making new frans! Tagging @oddsocksandstuff @samanddeaninpanties @raidens-realm I think my other writer mutuals have been tagged by Ven!

#ask game #about me #fanfic writing #spn fanfiction #my writing

16 notes · View notes

hopingforromanoff · 4 years

Text

Not As Beautiful As You {N. Romanoff}

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: uhhh I don’t think any. There’s one scene that really seems like it gonna turn into smut but nothing actually happens, I promise😂

Requests are open, so feel free to send in requests and I will do my best to get them posted ASAP. i’m gonna keep them open for now but please be patient with the length of time it takes to finish them.

A/N: I KNOW I said that I was gonna post soon and then I disappeared again, but my dog had her puppies so it’s been a bit crazy over here. Anyway, this is for @versdan 800 follower writing challenge! Congrats, you deserve every single one of them, love you!💗

Hope you enjoy!

My Masterlist

_______________________________________

The sound of your laughter joined the crackling of the fire, and crickets chirping in the nearby trees and tall grass. Bucky cheered as his throwing knife hit dead center on the makeshift target on the rotted tree stump. You narrowed your eyes at him and marched the short distance to retrieve your knife from where it landed just off the center.

“Aww Y/N, don’t get all upset just because i'm better at this than you” Bucky’s playful banter caused you to turn back around to face him.

“Listen Barnes, just because you’re a highly trained assassin doesn't mean you can rub it in people’s faces” you jokingly swung your arm back as if you were going to throw your knife at Bucky this time instead of the target.

“Keep goofing off and you’ll seriously get hurt” Natasha glanced up from her book, closing it and setting it gently next to her on the red and black checkered blanket that she had placed down to protect herself from the damp grass.

“Sorry Nat, he was being mean” you giggled lightly and then slowly made your way around the campfire to your spot next to her like a kicked puppy. It was beginning to get dark so you were gonna stop messing around soon anyway.

“It's fine lyubov moya , I just don’t want you to get hurt, this is supposed to be team-bonding camping or whatever Steve called it, not watching my girlfriend be an idiot and getting hurt” Natasha grabbed your hands as soon as you were within reach, pulling you down onto her crossed legs.

Your hand found Natasha’s cheek and you pulled her into a soft kiss as the last rays of the sun began to fall behind the trees and the first specs of twilight fell upon the campsite.

Soon the bright moon and flickering of the fire were the things lighting the campsite. Natasha tightened a blanket around the two of you as the damp evening air chilled your skin. A light breeze ran through the campsite, causing the flames to flicker. The blanket did little to stop the chill that ran through you.

“Are you cold, baby?” Natasha tightened her arms around you even tighter as you turned into her to bury your face into her neck, seeking warmth. Natasha let out a soft laugh as your nose brushed the side of her neck when you shook your head yes.

“Did that tickle?” You pulled away just long enough to shoot her a mischievous smile. Natasha knew that meant trouble and she raised her eyebrow to scold you, but it only lasted for a few seconds before she was pulled into a conversion with Steve and Wanda about a recent mission.

You settled for a moment allowing Natasha to get engulfed in the conversion. Once Natasha was distracted, you let your bottom lip brush over her collarbone, a shiver ran through Natasha when you let your lips pause at her neck, leaving a few kisses there.

“Y/n, stop” Natasha whispered sternly under her breath as her hand squeezed your hip.

You ignored her, continuing to pepper kisses up and down the side of her neck. Your hand fell to Natasha’s waist and you began to fiddle with the waistband of her pants as you felt her begin to crumble underneath you. She took a strained deep breath as she tried to maintain her composure as most of the team had now gathered around the fire and joined in the conversion. You almost felt bad for torturing her like this, and then you remembered the similar stunt she pulled during team movie night a few weeks ago. Natasha allowed you to continue your assault for a few more minutes before she abruptly stood, nearly causing you to fall to the floor in the process.

Natasha made an excuse for her quick exit as she began to march the short distance to your tent, dragging you with her. Natasha groaned when Steve reminded her that they needed help with something.

“Bed. Now.” Natasha growled as she pulled you tight against her hips. You softly whimpered in response to Natasha’s tone before scurrying into the tent.

You managed to play a few rounds of a game on your phone before you heard the zipper on the tent and Natasha appeared. You silently watched her for a few moments while she gathered her things and placed them on her side of the air mattress. Natasha sat down on the bed, and scooted closer to you.

“You know…..two can play at this game, kitten” Natasha’s hand fell to your bare thigh and she began to stoke up and down it. She finally locked eyes with you for the first time since she came in. Her hand tightened around the back of your knee as she used it to pull you closer to her. A satisfied smile appeared on her face at the surprised squeak that fell from your lips.

As soon as you were what Natasha deemed closer enough she placed a few gentle kisses on your thigh before crawling up the bed to lie next to you. Her lips gently brushed yours, almost as if she was gonna have mercy on you but you knew her better than that. She placed a gentle kiss there before abandoning your lips entirely, opting for the same method of torture you had used earlier in the night.

Her breath hit your cheek as she moved painstakingly slowly, her lips merely brushing against your skin but nonetheless the light touches still sent shivers through your nerves. Once she reached your collarbone, she paused for a moment, leaving a few stray kisses there before she began to work her way back up your neck. She began to lightly suck on the skin once she reached just under your ear. A soft moan fell from your lips as you threaded your fingers through her hair and pulled lightly.

Natasha smiled against your skin as her hand bunched around the bottom of the fabric of your shirt, her lips only leaving her body for a brief moment as she pulled it over your head and discarding it at the bottom of the bed. With more skin now exposed, Natasha began to kiss down your body.

Natasha made her way slowly, paying special attention to where your breasts were falling out of your navy bra. You moaned softly when she reached the waistline of your pants, she left a line of kisses along there. Her hands found your hips and slowly your sleep shorts joined your shirt at the end of the bed. Your breath caught in your throat and you moaned out her name when she slowly began to kiss down your thigh. Once she reached your inner thigh, you began to squirm under her.

“Relax, baby” Nat purred, pushing your hips back down onto the bed. You whined in frustration once you realized that you weren't going to get what you wanted anytime soon.

“Kitten, you’ve gotta be patient-” Natasha was not able to finish her sentence before she was interrupted.

“You guys do know that you’re in a tent, right? And that we can hear everything?” Sam's voice came from outside the tent.

“Then don’t listen” Natasha continued to softly bite your inner thigh, but one look at your bright red cheeks told her that you were far too embarrassed to enjoy the rest of the evening.

-------------------

“Y/N, wake up” Natasha's warm hand falls to your shoulder as she tries to gently arouse from your nightmare. No matter how peaceful Nat tried to make it, the shock of being woken up caused the blanket to fall into your lap as you shot up in bed.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, kitten, I'm here, it was just a nightmare” Natasha grabbed your hands to ground you.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up” you mumbled softly trying to shake the dream out of your head.

“Don't be sorry, it's okay, I promise. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Natasha’s voice was laced with concern.

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, you began to rapidly search for a way to escape the confined area of the tent. Natasha dropped one of your hands to reach up and brushed your hair out of your face. Her hand paused behind your ear before letting it settle on your cheek, her thumb lightly stroking your skin in an attempt to calm you.

“Y/N, look at me. We don’t have to talk about” Natasha paused as an idea came to her mind. “C’mon, I wanna try something”

Natasha guided you out into the cool night air, a vast difference from the scorching summer heat that would be felt once the sun arose high in the sky.

The leaf covered path opened up to the mountainside, you could barely make out the outline of the path below you, but you remembered enough from your hike up to the campsite earlier that day. Natasha grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the ledge. Once you were close to her, she turned you around to look over the edge once again, her hips pressed against yours

“Look” Natasha wrapped her arms around you and pointed out into the vast ocean of black that had millions of stars dancing in it. The shadows of the tall trees faded into the background.

Natasha began to point out some constellations, keep her arms tightly around you trying to fend off the cold air, but mostly because she just liked it when you were close to her. In the distance you could hear the rustling of the trees as the wind picked up for a second.

“How did you find this place” you intertwined your hands with hers as they sat around your waist.

“I found it when I was collecting firewood with Steve when we first got here, I wanted to show it to you” Natasha sounded distracted but you weren’t paying too much attention, too focused on the stars that shimmered like freshly fallen snowflakes in the night sky.

“Natasha...its beautiful”

“Not as beautiful as you” you broke your gaze from the stars for a moment and saw that Natasha was no longer looking at the sky but you instead, her eyelashes brushed against your cheek. And she kissed you, soft and gently. It was all silent, the best kind of silence though. The kind of silence where words weren’t needed, where you could just enjoy each other.

________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @sebbbystaaan @starspangledseb @sirinaheart @mushyjellybeans @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @natasha-danvers @stop-drop-and-drumroll @imma-new-soul

#versdan800wc #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #avengers x reader

201 notes · View notes

dai-ou-sama · 4 years

Text

Atsuhina; fluff fic. (Pt 1?)

Atsumu playing it off like he didn’t develop the biggest fucking crush on Hinata ever since the first day he saw him during Nationals, until he comes back from Brazil two years later and joins the black jackals, and really, he’s just helpless.

(So...my fingers slipped and this (which was based on this) turned into a pseudo-fic of Astumu falling in love with Hinata.)

((This is really just a fluff vomit.))

Atsumu’s first experience with a certain type of helplessness began with casual curiosity - completely unbidden, and later, deeply regretted: “And also...who is that?”. In the grand scheme of things, in other words his twenty-two years of living, that can be considered an extremely miniscule moment, inconsequential almost, but really, that was the last moment he’d been free from years of confused pining and emotions his brain and pea-sized emotional range could barely comprehend. What came after, was the first ever match he played against Karasuno, and boy, did that roundhouse-kick him down the rabbit hole of feelings™.

Now, Atsumu had rarely given thought to things as trivial as feelings before Hinata, in fact, he had rarely given thought to anything at all. His thoughts had mostly consisted of: volleyball, how good playing volleyball felt, how good being a setter felt, how hungry he felt and how he could possibly fast-forward time to the next time he played good volleyball. When anything other than volleyball and hunger had cross his mind, like feelings, he had taken them in stride - because he was god damn Miya Atsumu - worldwide hotshot, mr-steal-yo-girl-and-guy, mr-anybody-who-can’t-hit-my-sets-suck-that’s-all-there-is-to-it.

Exactly. Feelings were beneath him.

That is, until a certain ‘Shouyo-kun’ came along and hurled that routine cleanly out the window.

That single match in his second year of high school had engraved the memory of Hinata into his mind, and like an idiot who didn’t understand what crushing on someone big-time felt like, he’d declared, “Shouyo-kun, I’ll toss to ‘ya one of these days.” A little promise more to himself than Hinata perhaps.

Yeah well, that went well. The year following that, he’d spent much of his volleyball and non-volleyball time thinking about how mesmerizing Hinata and Kageyama’s play had been. He’d been impressed - and annoyed - by the sheer improvement Kageyama had made in a matter of weeks since the training camp. There was even a certain level of admiration involved. His thoughts in training often returned to the bar the freak-pair had set, and it wasn’t false to say that they inspired him to push his limits with Osamu further; faster, freer, wilder.

But then, his thoughts often wandered off to wondering what it’d be like to have Shouyo-kun as his partner too. (He couldn’t really help it. After nationals, thinking about volleyball had always led to thinking about Hinata, and he was always thinking about volleyball.) He thought that about how fun it would be to jerk his opponents around on court using the monster that was Hinata. He thought about how fun it would be to have to keep up with someone else other than Osamu for once; that maybe that over-energetic ball of sunshine would drag him way beyond his current limits as a setter too; maybe he would force him to play volleyball ‘till he was sick of it, just so he could feel the thrill of falling in love with it all over again. (Was that a little masochistic?) If it was even possible, Hinata made his love for good volleyball burn even brighter. His passion had touched him; he had captivated him.

Atsumu thought his heart raced every time he thought of Hinata because of the prospect of being able to play volleyball on a whole new level - the idiot.

But then Hinata had walked through the doors of the stadium for the Black Jackals tryouts three years later (after disappearing for two years and crushing Atsumu’s surprisingly fragile heart because he thought he’d never see Hinata again, causing him a lot of confused sleepless nights thinking about how he’d wished he’d gone to ask Hinata to play with him before he’d left) and you could say Atsumu had choked on his own breath. You could also say he was so stunned he’d frozen mid-step and dropped the ball he’d been tossing around, and froze for so long, Bokuto actually had enough time to bend in front him to ask if he had just been to Antartica. What would ‘ya have it, his spur of the moment declaration had proven true. He was going to toss to Hinata. Atsumu stared straight at the ground without looking up after that because his heart was beating abnormally fast and for some reason, he had lost control of his lips - he couldn’t stop them from pulling into a smile.

And my god, was it fun playing with Hinata. The months of training that followed after that fateful day made Atsumu feel as good as he had expected it to, even better in fact, because while he’d thought about all the new and experimental sets he would be able to make with Hinata, he hadn’t really thought about the wide smiles he would get in return for the good sets he made; or the excited high-fives they would have after each play; or the liberty he now had to bask in the warmth of Hinata’s body whenever he threw an arm over his shoulders and held him a little closer than he would have Bokuto or Sakusa (not that the latter ever let him close enough to really touch him at all).

It wasn’t just that too. Even if it wasn’t about his tosses, about how good it felt to have the little monster Hinata under his command, just watching him made his breath catch. How did anyone make him go crazy over volleyball more than he already did? Or maybe, he was just going crazy now.

Alright, so maybe he really liked the way “Atsumu-san” sounded from Hinata, and he almost always had an arm around his shoulders or waist when they were walking, and he called out “Shouyo” more than necessary just so Hinata would turn to meet his eyes in question with his head tilted, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for him. He was just more drawn to Hinata because he made his sets feel real good, and that made him feel good around him. Always.

Besides, lots of people were drawn to Hinata the same way he was. He was always surrounded by people - god knows where and how he became friends with all of them - and he was always laughing. They were always laughing because he was laughing. Even Sakusa tolerated his presence enough to take off his mask when he’s with him after training sometimes. And that’s exactly what Atsumu believed in, until Bokuto spoke up one day after practice when they’d been alone in the locker room.

“Man, for all the talk you have about us dancin’ to your tune, you sure are wrapped around Hinata’s little finger.”

Atsumu shrugged and continued packing his bag. “Well, Shouyo-kun is one scary little spiker.”

Bokuto shook his head. “Nah man, I’m not talkin’ about spiking. He’s got the ability to control the entire court to his liking if that’s what we’re talking about. I’m talking about you outside’a court.”

Atsumu’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Bo-kun, would’ja mind talkin’ with a little more sense? I don’t understand what’cha trying to say.”

“You see! That’s exactly what I mean!” Bokuto jumped up and pointed at Atsumu from the other side of the bench. “With all of us, you always talk like such a snotty brat, and you look like you want to die half the time-”

“-Ouch, okay dude, that kinda hurts-”

“-but when you talk to Hinata- no, scratch that. Even when you’re just looking at him, it’s like you’re seeing stars. You drop that snobby smile you’re always wearin’ and it turns all...uhhh...mushy! Then there’s also the way you’re always calling out to him, and you just sound like you really like saying his name; and the way you’re always staring whenever Hinata laughs even though you’re, like, across the room. And I mean, you’re always talking like you’re all that hot stuff, but sometimes, you have lapses of silence where you just sit and watch Hinata talk. Oh! And do I really need to talk about how he’s always hanging off your back when we’re resting in-”

“-OKAY. THAT’S ENOUGH!” Atsumu shouted, covering his face with his arms. “What are ‘ya, Bo-kun? A freak? Why do you know all that? Have ya been stalking me? And who said I did all that? There’s just no way I did all’a that. That’s so embarrassing. There’s no way I did all that.”

“You’ve repeated that twice now, Tsum-tsum!”

“...Just shut up, Bo-kun.”

“I didn’t stalk you. It’s been pretty obvious at trainings, and it’s been going on for months. Omi-kun thinks so too!”

“...Oh no.” How bad must it have been for Bokuto to be able to give him an in-depth run down on what a mess he’d been like? There was just no way. Miya Atsumu, the Miya Atsumu, national volleyball heart-throb, MSBY setter number 1, acting like an idiot in front of- of Shouyo-kun.

And why?

He paused to think about that, and memories flashed through his mind without much prompting: sunlit smiles; light, tinkling laughter; spontaneous high-fives; the warmth of Hinata’s chest against his back and his warm, breathy laughs against his ear whenever Hinata had been amused by what Atsumu scrolled through on instagram.

Well, damn. And as if the rate of his heartbeat wasn’t evidence enough, Bokuto’s following “Woah, bro. Your face is totally scarlet!” really drove home the understanding that Miya Atsumu was absolutely gone.

Here’s part 2!

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyu!!#atsuhina #atsuhina fluff #atsuhina headcanons #miya atsumu #hinata shoyo #atsumu x hinata #msby black jackals #my writing ew

170 notes · View notes

redplanets-animeblog · 4 years

Text

My Little Quarantine

~~~

“sho-ball!!!”

the tape boy smiled happily once he was finally connected to his boyfriend. shoto waved at the screen, sharing the same smile.

“hi hanta.” he giggled.

winter break had unfortunately separated the two lovers from each other and sadly, corona happened to them, forcing them to increase their distance. they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, almost two months but still kept steady contact.

“how’s your quarantine been, love bug?” hanta asked, propping up his phone on his pillows and laying on his stomach. shoto shrugged and cuddled into his blankets.

“’ts been meh without you. but otherwise, it’s pretty okay. only problem is my dad though he’s not a very big problem for us.” he said. “and you?”

“honestly, yeah i agree. it sucks not being around you.” sero muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ve been practicing my tape distance like we did at the training camps before-” he moved his arm to showcase his elbows on the screen. “they’ve never been sorer honestly.”

shoto blinked in surprise and laughed quietly. “so you’ve just been working out for me huh?” he teased and sero shook his hands with a blush on his face. “i’m kidding, han!!” shoto laughed.

“y-yeah i knew that!” sero waved his hand at the phone screen. todoroki hummed a last laugh and moved himself to lay on his stomach, propping the phone up. at this moment, sero’s mother came in and handed him a couples of small oranges for a snack, waving to the boy on the receiver as well.

they talked for a while (like they usually do), ending up quietly singing songs to each other. they were currently starting on “level of concern” by twenty one pilots before-

“han?”

shoto’s voice interrupted their singing session and sero tilted his head to the side, interested in what his boyfriend was going to say. “...i know it’s only been...two months but...are we gonna see each other again? like...in person...?”

“yeah! as long as we wear our masks, and keep our distances and uhhh...just stay safe, we’ll be able to be together all the time.” sero smiled. “i know it doesn’t seem like enough but we’ll get through it. and hey if you want, mom always welcomes the door to you and trusts you so, you could be over almost all the time if you wanted!” he did his best to cheer up his lover and a small smile appeared on shoto’s face.

“i guess but-” he stopped to chuckled and hold his blankets closer, hiding his face. “-i kinda just really wanna cuddle you so bad right now.” he muffled. sero blushed again and laughed, grabbing his phone and holding it close to him.

“there! a virtual cuddle.” he hummed. shoto giggled and did the same, turning on his back. “i love you sho, and no virus can get between us and change that.” sero gave a little kiss to his screen. “nowwwwww....can we get back to singing love bug?”

this made shoto laugh. “yes, we definitely can, my love.”

“would you be...my little quarantine?”

Day 4: Distance

#serorokiweek20 #seroroki #todosero #sero hanta #todoroki shoto

13 notes · View notes

randbwrite · 4 years

Text

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 1 Part 2

Words: 1907

TW: Blood, graphic violence, death

CW: War, attempted assassination, vampires

B: Near silent footsteps didn’t announce Derrick’s presence so much as the scampering of a happy stoat pattering across the stone ahead of him did. The man was massive, how on earth he could move so quietly was a mystery Rapscallion wanted to solve one day. Whenever he got around to it.

“They’re waiting for you upstairs.” With his bland tone of voice, Derrick could’ve been discussing the weather.

For all that Rap could be seen to care, they might as well have been. “I know.”

“It’s inadvisable to make them wait.”

“So?” Indifferent shrug.

“There’s a difference between cute and stupid. You crossed a line earlier, and you’re going to drag your feet now?”

“Yep.”

“They want me to drag you if necessary.” Both of them knew how that would end.

“Aww, I knew you cared!”

“Never tried to hide it, unlike some people.”

“Oh stop it, you’ll make me blush.” Rap’s devil may care smirk nearly brought one to Derrick’s expression, but he had to be serious!

“Palavering isn’t going to change the situation...”

“Yeah, but!! If they’re annoyed enough, they’ll give the orders without the imperious preamble and pomp. Here’s your orders and off you go! Works like a charm.”

“Right.” Massive arms were crossed over an equally broad chest, the quirk in his eyebrows reminding Rap his friend really will carry him off if need be.

A huff lifted a pesky lock off his forehead momentarily, exposing the brilliant emerald orbs beneath. “I’m going, I’m going! I’ll catch ya later. Or not.”

Derrick shook his head, one scarred hand messing up the extraordinarily unkempt rusty mop Rap called hair. He knew what was meant. They couldn’t promise anything, nor really ask, but the unspoken request every time was to take care. Try and survive, eh? Wouldn’t be quite so exciting without the other around. They should probably wonder about how much nonverbal communication went on between them, but such was life. Full of the oddities that made it...so alive.

.....

The board of impassive faces that met Rap would be unreadable to most. Decades of training had refined their poker faces, but everyone has their tells. Tiny twitches, the way certain coifs had been fixed endlessly before he arrived, notebooks, bracelets, rings all adjusted to the nth degree...they should really watch their perfection of accoutrements more carefully. It all but telegraphed their mood. Course they’d never asked him.

Uhhh...okay, wait. They all had that same creepy dead look in their eyes except one. Dude off to the left, madness gleaming usually signaling blood lust. Did he do anything to tick that one off recently? ...No, not that he could remember...few times over the years, sure. The last prank hadn’t been his, but he took the blame for it. The crazy stunt had gotten a larger contingent of the assassins caught up in it and made them all want to kill him for a few weeks. That wasn’t too much of a deviation from the norm however. With a bit of time they’d all drop it, move on to the next frustration or take it out on their targets. They’re not allowed to kill one of their own anyway.

Missions were usually handed out by one person. Not a tribunal. Must be another meeting taking place, killing two birds with one stone. This wasn’t set up as a retribution either or he’d sense more of his fellow assassins in the shadows. That’s a delayed relief and he knew it, but hey! He’ll take what he can get.

“So! Whatcha got for me? Who’s incurred the wrath of the great and powerful Assassin’s League? Besides me of course.”

A minuscule draw to the head assassins’ brows was his reward, but the gleam in the other’s traveled from his eyes to a wide, manic smile. It was also he from whom the instructions came, a mission that per the norm wouldn’t allow for denial in accepting.

“Your target is la Comtesse Arcanum. She will be taking part in a battle between the French army and the German forces. Shoo now. Off with you.”

A noble. Right! That should be easy enough. So why was that gleam now being shared among most of his peers? He almost preferred when they all were content to be blasé about everything to...this. Esh.

Rap was on his way quick enough. It only involved avoiding the booby trap someone had set for him in the hallway to his storeroom. Place didn’t so much count as a bedroom as he rarely bothered to sleep there: gathering up an array of...necessary supplies and hopping a horse he’d leave in the nearest town to the battlefield; he was good to go.

Mission was simple, least to his mind. These commanders tended to do their leading from behind, strategizing based off of reports and keeping themselves safe in a tent far removed from those who gave and lost their lives for whatever ideal or land being quibbled over. Surrounded by soldiers, they thought themselves to be safe. Protected. Untouchable. Heh. People assume in order to be an assassin you have to melt into the shadows. Not true. Humans jump at shadows! They distrust their own even. Disappear into the mundane though...no one will look twice.

Think about it. Your water boy scurrying to keep the retreat horses fresh? What about the cook’s kid running rations, a medic’s assistant supplying fresh bandages, even an officer with the bearing and urgency demanding he not be stopped for anything or anyone, ducking into the command tent. It was always some variation and pretending to be in a hurry was the only steady requirement. When he got to this battlefield however, he couldn’t stop the swear word from being muttered.

“What the—? Lemon juice.”

No bustle to a central command tent. No commander in that one large, ostentatious tent either. A map, little flags which could surely help anyone intending to spy on their contingency plans, but no female commander. He was going to have to go into the fight himself, and he was beginning to see why they’d thought this would be such great fun. Fun for them.

A survey of the map showed him the general lay of the land, an idea of the commander’s intentions, how she had spread her troops, and where he might lure her to take her out. It wouldn’t be easy as she had plenty of people who were going to be trying to kill her. An entire army as a matter of fact. But if they sent him out there, the army wasn’t going to be enough to take her out.

Something about how the pattern was laid out was bugging him: only when he discerned she wasn’t the singular high ranking officer on the field did he understand. Sort of. Who fought with their own vanguard rather than dividing forces? There must be a purpose for it... He was going to need a vantage of the battle before he went out to join it.

Donning a uniform of the French army, he fished out a spyglass and took a cursory view of the battlefield, suppositions holding true. A maelstrom of blood and chaos was the field, soldiers and grass on fire, blades flashing, one of the soldiers fighting seeming to be made of fire and still plowing on. It was a mess. Rap shrugged and put away his tool. He’d picked out a spot to lead la Comtesse and his target to distract her with, which just so happened to be the second most dangerous force on the field to contend with. Who was on fire. According to the excited rumors in camp, that was the man he was looking for all the same. His own eyes confirmed it from the way the two moved in concert as well, even if logically what he was seeing was defying rationale.

By the time his traps were laid, set for both his target and those who may get between them, the battle had become more of a slaughter than an even fight. It was a matter of time before the opposing commander sounded the retreat; with the lack of officers on the field of battle it seemed surrender wasn’t to be the intention.

Anyone approaching the man on fire had been incinerated, disturbing visions of boiled metal and bent airwaves lending credence to the notion that whatever was actually happening over there and however the frak it worked, it wouldn’t be a bright idea to get anywhere close. Instead, Rap took advantage of the pile of discarded corpses surrounding the indefatigable duo and...played dead. The winds were probably changing soon, based on the way the clouds were moving. He was gambling on the hope this fire man wouldn’t want to risk accidentally burning his commander or allies, never mind the fact Rap had NO IDEA how in the name of insane bonfires anyone could survive being in the middle of those high temperatures, let alone send them off.

It worked. It worked!! Fire man moved with the wind, using it to carry his incendiary discharges towards his enemies rather than risk his own. A useful breeze, the coat that surely served to project further fear in his enemies and protect the backs of his legs lifted. Just enough. A series of tainted projectiles fired in quick succession, more than half hitting the small target that was the back of fire man’s knee. Good thing Rap had gone with his metal options rather than the more innocuous wooden ones. Easier to hide the evidence afterward, but they wouldn’t have survived the heat. Then again, usually his targets weren’t walking infernos. A notion for further consideration later. Much later.

It didn’t take long, though fire man must’ve had an elephant’s metabolism to not have dropped immediately, but in under a minute he was finally down on one knee. It would continue to work through his system; the flames guttering along with his strength. The delay gave Rap enough time to move into position though. He would lure the commander to his choice in battlegrounds. Not far from where they were, but just enough that his traps would remain untouched by the unwitting and unintentioned. He held his blow gun aloft, a short sword in his other hand. France’s coat of arms emblazoned on his chest and a very unsoldierly smirk on his lips completed the visage.

Make her feel rage. Take away her calm. Peel back the strategy and finesse that made her a terror in her element. Force her to step into his world, one without rules of combat, and that would be the only chance he had to take her out. Then again...something made it seem like all his efforts wouldn’t matter. As if she would step just as easily from her realm into his and beat him at his own game. He would not, should not consider defeat. That would mean accepting death, and this had only just begun!

The cocksure rise of lips and brow would not betray fear’s frigid grip trailing sweat down his spine nor the faint tremor of nerves knowing this time, among all the others, the League had no intention that he should come back alive. They might just be right. But he’d never willingly give them the satisfaction.

Standing stock still in the open went against every single instinct in him, nearly all the training he’d received and the adrenaline screaming he move! Fight or flee, pick one!! But for this to work, she had to come to him. A few steps were all it would take and the first of his traps would be sprung...

#tw: blood #tw: violence #tw:death #cw: war #cw: attempted assassination #cw: vampires #oc #dark fantasy #fanfiction #au #ikemen vampire #whump #rapscallion #comtesse #assassin #battle field #derrick #whumpfic

6 notes · View notes

dorksndisasters · 3 years

Text

Session 2

[[<PREV]] | [[NEXT>]]

Let’s pretend I didn’t almost forget about this, ok? Cool? Good stuff.

episode 4 went up on patreon.com/scmalarky, if you want ahead!

players involved: Siana, Ophibwynn, Carric, Uriel

“Should we – we should take this back to the city. Right?” Ophibwynn asks, pausing in the act of cleaning her new golden flute.

Carric shrugs. “I guess?”

“But why?” Uriel sighs. “They’ve already lost it, we could just... make it stay lost?”

“No!” Ophibwynn shakes her head. “No, we’re definitely taking it back. We can’t just keep it all.”

“Oh?” Carric raises an eyebrow, glancing at the flute in Ophibwynn’s hands.

“Finder’s fee,” Ophibwynn replies, after a pause.

Carric laughs. “Alright.”

They find a handcart and load the rest of the stolen goods onto it, and pile Siana in on the top of it all, since she hasn’t yet woken up.

“How long does that mushroom effect last?” Ophi nods at Siana.

“Uhhh...” Carric shrugs. “She’ll be fine. Probably.”

“Alright...”

“Come on,” Uriel says, stalking out of the camp. “If I do not get to keep everything, I would at least like to be in a proper bed tonight.”

Carric and Ophi share a glance and, between them, create a magic sending that will pull the cart for them.

When they arrive at the citadel, the gates are closed and Rarder, the human in charge of the guards at the gate, is leaning over the wall atop it.

“Any chance you can let us in?” Carric calls up.

“Depends,” Rarder yells back down. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“The... missing items?” Ophi says. “We found the bandits that had stolen them.”

Rarder whistles, sounding impressed. “Well.” He turns to yell – roar, maybe, is the better word – down to whoever’s below to open the gate.

He meets them inside and glances over the group, gaze resting on Siana’s sleeping form for a moment. “You’d best take all that over to Captain Aewyth. Annan, you show ‘em the way.”

One of his guards – a human, tanned skin, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail – nods to Rarder as she steps up to the group. “This way.”

They follow her away from the gate.

“So,” Annan says, seeming to relax as they get further from Rarder’s watchful gaze. “Bandits, huh? How did you find them?”

“I took-”

“We found a map,” Carric says quickly, talking over Uriel. “And we thought we’d check it out.”

Annan nods, glancing at Uriel. “Where was it?”

“Out in the woods. Not too far off the path, honestly. Nice little clearing.”

Annan nods again, and the whisper of a frown passes across her face, too quickly for the group to notice.

She leads them to a local command post which, despite the late hour, is still fairly busy with guards coming and going.

“Can we leave – oh, Siana! You’re awake.” Carric looks back to see her sitting up, still fairly groggy.

Annan whistles over a guard. “Keep an eye on this cart until Aewyth works out what needs doing, alright?”

She walks into the building without waiting, and the four hurry in after her.

Annan leads them past the first two doors – one of which is slightly ajar, and sounds of training can be heard coming through it – and to a closed door just off the main hallway. She raps her knuckles against it, and the conversation behind it halts.

“Yes?”

“Rarder sent me,” Annan says, opening the door. “This group found the stolen items.”

“Send them in.”

Annan opens the door and lets the group file in past her.

The office is mostly neat. The desk is not quite covered in small piles of loose notes and empty cups. There‘s a long table along one side with a couple of plants and a small shelf of books on it, upon which a kobold sits, practically bouncing with badly restrained energy.

A magelight hovers in the corner next to the covered window, which seems to be the only source of light in the room. It’s dim, casting a comforting sort of glow.

Annan doesn’t wait to be dismissed before she’s closed the door and left them there.

“So. You found the stolen goods?” Aewyth scans the group.

“Yeah.” Ophi nods. “They were, um, just... outside the city...?

Carric and Uriel engaged in a minor tussle, in which Carric is victorious and holds out the map.

“Found this,” she says, and passes it over. “But we brought them back in, they’re in a cart just outside.”

The kobold shifts to sitting cross-legged, leaning forward with his hands on his ankles, studying the group with unabashed curiosity.

“Who are you?” Carric asks.

“Bituin,” he replies, grinning.

“You don’t... need to pay him any attention,” Aewyth says.

“Wrong, you should pay me lots of attention. I know things.”

“Yeah?” Carric smiles. “What do you know? Anything interesting happen recently?”

Bituin hesitates, appearing to think. “Oh!” He smacks his tail off the table beside him. “Yeah! There was someone new in the city last night. They came in near the waygate, but not through it. That interesting?”

“Did you see them?”

“Yeah, they were all dark ‘n’ mysterious! Wearing a cloak that reached the ground, I couldn’t see their feet at all.”

“Bituin.” Aewyth casts him a slightly tired look.

He giggles and pulls back against the wall.

“I am. sorry about him.” She rubs her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Tell me – was the Hanging of the Empress amongst the stolen items?”

“The Hanging... I don’t think so.” Ophi shakes her head.

Siana sits upon the floor and pulls out a bag of runemarks. “It wasn’t, but if I just...” She passes them from hand to hand and then pools them across the floor.

The others move back, giving her space to work.

Bituin rocks forward onto his knees and peers down, and his eyes seem to glow briefly before he blinks.

“It’s... it’s the reason everything was stolen,” Siana says. “It’s long gone.”

Aewyth leans back in her chair, sighing. “Right. Thank you. I... will pass that on. And get everything back to its original owners.”

“Ok, uh – we'll... be at the Knave and Cauldron? I guess?”

Ophi winces. “I am so late for my shift.” She turns to hurry from the room and the building.

The other three follow her, Siana hurriedly picking up her runes and piling them back into their pouch.

They’re partway across the square in front of the command post when Bituin comes running after them.

“You dropped this!” He holds out a note to them.

“Thanks?” Carric takes it. “I don’t think we did, but – he's gone.”

Bituin has darted off down a side street, disappearing in an instant.

She unfolds the note and squints at the elegant writing.

This is the last of the items from Malpha that we need you to acquire. Once this is completed, we no longer require your services; your reward is on its way. Keep out of sight, and await any further orders.

It is unsigned, but the front of the note is addressed to “Aelfswild”.

“That’s... that’s the guy we bought the gems from,” Carric says. “Right?”

“Think so.” Siana shrugs. “It doesn’t say who it’s from?”

“No.” Carric passes the note to Uriel, who inspects it closely.

“Well, he might be at the Knave and Cauldron,” Ophi says, all but running ahead of them. “So come on!”

The sun is mostly set by the time they arrive.

Aldehrt, the owner of the inn, grunts at them as they arrive, and gestures Ophi to the small stage.

She dives up there, shedding her bag and coat on the way, and stumble to a halt at the seat, pulling out her carrot flute to start up a jaunty tune.

“Do you know Aelfswild?” Siana asks. “He was in here last night, with an elf.”

Aldehrt frowns. “You think I know everyone that comes in here?”

“Well-” Siana starts.

“I don’t, alright? Don’t know the name.”

“Maybe we could jog your memory?” Uriel asks, before Carric can quiet her. She’s spinning a knife between her fingers, and her tarantula is sitting on her shoulder.

“She doesn’t - she doesn’t mean that,” Carric says, pushing Uriel’s hand down. “But do you know someone who might know where to find him?”

Aldehrt narrows his eyes, drawing his shoulders up like he’s squaring for a fight.

Ophi, from the stage, bleeds a little bit of magic into her flute playing, and a calming sensation takes over the room.

“Bondua,” Aldehrt says, still a little gruff. “He’s not here tonight, but he knows everyone.”

“Thank you,” Carric replies. “Appreciated.”

She pulls Uriel with her and Siana to a table out of the way. “So.”

Siana pulls out her runes again, placing the note on the table and tipping them over it. “Looks like this is from an elf sorcerer.”

“Not from here, I’m guessing. Not if everything’s going out of town.”

Siana nods and tosses her runes again, but doesn’t get anything new.

As Ophi finishes her shift, she talks to a few of the regulars, asking some questions. When she sits down with the group, a tray of drinks in hand, she announces that the Hanging of the Empress – a tapestry depicting one of the Elder Gods in their high form – was formerly displayed in the Scriptorium, before it was stolen.

The group decide to head there in the morning, and proceed to down their drinks and find their rooms to crash in.

Over breakfast, the four decide to put together disguises and fake their way into the Scriptorium as religious personages from out of town.

The Scriptorium is an imposing building. It’s taller than the others around it, and built of heavy stone blocks, without any kind of intricate moulding or design.

Siana stares up at the slanted roof and thinks about climbing up there to see across the city.

Ophi tugs her attention back to the door of the Scriptorium as they reach it, and Carric knocks.

The doors are closed; it’s early, maybe even too early.

Carric knocks again, and Uriel gleefully calls out, “Open up, or we’ll kill you!”

“No we won’t,” Carric hisses.

Uriel shrugs.

The door opens, just a crack, and Uriel brightens up.

“See? I knew it would work!”

“Can I... help you?” The kobold squints up at them and pulls back into the shadow of the door, out of the soft morning light.

“We’d like to talk with... with whoever’s in charge,” Carric says. “Important matters.”

“And you are?”

“Visiting dignitaries?” Ophi suggests. “I mean – we're. From a religious branch. Out of town.”

“Yes,” Siana says, her eyes still on the roof. “We’d like to talk things over. About the heights we can reach.”

The kobold squints at them and hums. “You two.” He points at Carric and Uriel. “You can come in.”

“What did we do?” Ophi looks affronted.

“Limited visitors,” the kobold replies. “I’m sure you understand.”

Carric glances back and shrugs at Ophi and Siana as she follows Uriel and the kobold in.

Ophi tries to follow, but gets the door shut in her face. “Huh.” She turns to Siana. “So... what should we do?”

“I can climb it.” Siana was still staring up at the roof.

“I think... I think that might make it worse.” Ophi crouches to pick up Gordon. “But if we can get Gordon through a window, maybe he can help. Somehow.”

Siana nods and circles around the corner of the building and into the slim alley. “Here, pass him over.” She looks up at a window, a little above the low building next to them.

Ophi passes over the rabbit and steps back as Siana scales the side of the building with relative ease.

She sets Gordon on the window ledge while she jimmies the window open, and leans in to drop the rabbit onto the floor.

“Alright,” Siana murmurs, as she drops back to the ground. “He’s in.”

Ophi nods. “Back to the inn?”

Siana glances up at the roof again, and sighs. “Alright.”

Inside the Scriptorium, Carric and Uriel are led through tall, straight corridors with only a few off shooting paths.

He knocks at an unadorned door and waits for the person inside to call him to enter. “I have visiting dignitaries. They’re like to speak to you.”

“Let them in, then.”

As they enter, Gordon comes hopping down the corridor, and Carric crouches to pick him up. Her own familiar, a wren, hops down her arm to greet Gordon, and something seems to pass between the two of them.

All the grandiose austerity of the scriptorium comes to a head in this room, which seems too large for the person sitting behind the slab of a desk.

She seems young. Lightly tanned skin, round glasses, auburn hair that almost impossibly fades to purple at the ends. She’s already watching them as they enter the room. There’s only a few things on the desk that she could have been paying attention to before they entered, but it isn’t clear which held her attention.

“Visiting dignitaries? We weren’t informed of any visitors coming our way.” She doesn’t stand up to greet them.

“Surprise visit,” Carric replies, smiling. “You are...?”

“Autag. I run the manuscriptorium. That will be all.” She flicks long fingers in the kobold’s direction.

The kobold leaves them, closing the door in his wake.

“We’re investigating the thefts,” Carric says. “I believe the Hanging of the Empress was taken from here?”

Autag stiffens, almost imperceptibly. She spreads out her fingers, like she’s merely stretching them. “Where did you hear that?”

“Aewyth,” Uriel says, and Autag almost frowns. “We managed to find some of the stolen goods on our way into the city. I am sorry that the hanging wasn’t amongst them.”

“I suspect it is long gone. It has been two weeks, after all.”

Carric clears her throat. “Have you any clues? About how it might have been taken.”

Distaste flashes across Autag’s face. “I suspect an inside job. There was a kobold who was more interested in it than his work.”

“What happened to him?”

“He disappeared, not long after the Hanging was stolen. I should have known. He was hired as a favour to someone, but he wasn’t quite so particular about the job as I was told.” She lets out a chuckle. “Well; he wasn’t particular about the job I gave him.”

“Do you remember who asked you to hire him?” Uriel is stalking the room, studying the edges of it like she’ll find something out of place.

“... No.” Autag watches her, face carefully blank.

Carric closes her eyes, focusing. Her familiar stands on her shoulder and whistles an odd, fluting tune.

Its eyes glow, its feathers darkening into a swirling sort of implacable void as her patron speaks through it.

“Į̵̪͚͚͈͙̦̝̓̀̐͌ ̸̡̢̮̯̖̙͌̎̑̃̌̊́́͛͌̿͐͠͠͠à̶̡̧̭̣̮̥̠̠̲͉̥̘́̉̋̚m̸̧̘͚̜͍̰̭̳̼͔͌̌̈́͑̏̔̊͘ͅ ̷̨̛̥͉͇͖̉̅͂̄̎͋͗͜l̵͓̇͐̋í̵̧̦̭̠͍͚̲͕̙͍͇̕͜ͅs̷̢̧̭̠͚̖͙͈̱̹͍̤̝͍̋̐͘͝t̶̳̯̪́̿̈̒̑̑̏̈́̀̕͝ȩ̵̛̰̞̣̭̤̝̫͉̞̜̺͆̍͌̋̍̋̓̔́͋͒͝͝ͅͅn̵̡̧̳̝̪̭̪̬̰̾̀́̚ì̷̢̻̩̜̬̹n̸̢̛͇̝̺̯̗̱͍͙͓̍͆́̀͂̚g̴̟̳̞̖̪͉̙̦̭̱̮̤̈́̒͛̓̉̎͌̚͘.”

“Can you tell me who hired this kobold?” Carric asks.

Autag is watching, curious.

The wren tilts its head, and after a pause, “T̴̨̧̞̬̭̲̯̣̰̥̲̙͒̇̌̉̎̂̈́̎̇͛̂͋̍ĥ̸̞̻̣̬͚̟̝̟̞̩̈́͂͂͘͜e̶̜̓̓́́̀̉i̸̹̬̗̙͎̳͉̙̫̞̹̐̇̄̈́́̽̊́̒͌͗ͅr̵̠͔͇͗ ̷̡̡̢̡̨̘͚̬̬̠̹͕̞̂̀̒̅̽̾͋̏̓̕̕͝ņ̷̘̜̥͎͈̟̰̈̂̄ą̶̛̖̼̫̫̦̳̗͈̓̋̎̈͑͒̈́̓̈͘m̵̯͓͔͈̰̘̤̖̝̙̜͉̾̉̌̓̓̇̀̃̀̀͘͠ě̶̢̨͉̠̳̭̝͚͖̻̫̓̆̌͐̋̒͗̀̿͑̕͝͝ ̸̬̭̻̦̥̱̿͆͌̈̾̅͂̕̕͝ȉ̵͙̜̣͈̯̰͚͎̍͋̒̇̂̊̐̕ͅͅs̶̡̡̢͉͇͙̝̞͚͚̦̿̌͋̈̄́̆̀̔͋̅̈́̐͝ͅ ̴̢̛͉̠̟͎͇̒̍̐̏̿̅͂̂͑̒̐̄Ǐ̷̩̗͓̗̲̫̰̜͍̜̪̹́͊̀̄͋͆̓̐̇̽̏͝͝l̴̡̧̬̘̰̲͎̝̖̬̖̥̙̂̿́̓̋̀̽̎͛͜͝r̵̛͖͈̭̝̱͕͚̟͎͎͚͆͛̀̌̋̅̿́̔̓͗̀̎͠ͅǫ̵͖̹̝̦̗̮̱̤̦̤̦̥̟̫͐͂̍̉̀̋̀̉̄̊̽̊m̷̡̳̟̞̬̞̬̳͚̻͈̖͛͛̊̄͒͜͝ͅĭ̵̢͈̮̻̖͍͓̲̟̱̫̇̓̋͂̂̍͒̃̓̃.”

Gordon shifts like he wants down.

“Nothing more?” Carric asks, relaxing her arms.

Gordon drops onto the ground and lollops over to where Uriel is trailing the room.

“Ouch.” Carric presses a hand to her head. “Ok. Thank you.”

The wren whistles again, and returns to normal.

“Uriel.”

Uriel puts down the heavy paperweight – a solid orb of wood – and looks over. “What?”

“We should find the others.” Carric turns to Autag. “Thank you. Are you hiring? To cover the loss of Driany?”

“Are you looking for a job?” Autag’s lip curls. “No. There are no openings.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Carric hefts Gordon back into her arms, and nudges Uriel towards the door. “We’ll not take up any more of your time.”

Autag watches them leave, inscrutable.

They find Ophibwynn and Siana in the Knave and Cauldron; Ophibwynn brightens up considerably as she sees Gordon in Carric’s arms.

“I have an idea,” she says, and takes Gordon back.

Gordon is almost instantly lined with an unearthly glow, becoming less a rabbit and more a rabbit shaped window into the void, much like Carric’s bird had done.

“Where can we find Bondua?”

Uriel almost scoffs, but she falls silent when Carric raises a hand to stop her.

“W̸̨̛̪̠̠̽̄̔͌̌͒̌͐i̴̳̣̍͊̋̾ẗ̴͔̦̫͉̦̖̘̪̯́h̸̙̤̖̹̫͆̌̀͗̈́̃̐́̅̚i̸̧͚̟̼̔n̶̤̤͖̝̥̟̭̞̻̩͇̍̽͆̿ ̷̭̠̬͖͔̘̬̙̠͎́́t̴͎͕͚̠̺̙̘̜̹͔̯̻̯̳̐͑̊̍̒̉̓̎̓̽̓ͅh̶̙̲̠͕̮͛͆͆́̂̐͒̐̑ȩ̸̡̡͖̤͍̦̭̱͚̣̭̿̿̏̈͐̎̇͌͜͜͠ͅ ̷̡̛̰̮̣̱̟̋̎͆͠w̸̛͉͌̚ą̶̰̩̟̘̦̞̭͉͖̪͈̐́̎͌̒͑̅̀͋͝l̷̡̧̡̘̲͈̭͚̳̠̀͑͋͊̊̊̿̑̌̋̅͑̆͠l̸̛̙̦̦͌͆́͛̏̌̅̕s̷̫̀͑͊̓͂̈́͊͆ ̵̡̢͕̹̰̺̱͖̦̀̀̂̽̚o̴̡̤͍̪̥͚͈͓͔̻̔̊f̵̺͒̿͋̊̇̑̊̎͆ ̴̱͓͍́̆̃̊́̍̽̅͂t̵̠̗̪̲̥͖͍͇̮͈͌h̸̙̜̮̗̫̯̥̭͙͉͈͈̫͉̎̒̇̌̚e̷͎̹̻̻͝ ̸̡͕̞̞͚̣̙͕̬͍̟̺̈́̀͜͜S̴̺̖̜̜͇̅̌̌̌̽͐͒̆̈́̈̀͠e̴͇͎̬̊͊̌͂̓͋̒̓͑ř̴̨̧͖̤̗͙͎̻̽͐̀̓̒̒̔̏̕͝ͅp̵̨̪̙̳̟̼̗͍̱͔̺͛̇͌̓̔̚e̴͈̮̤̭̘͉̗̤͙̝̩̫̎̔̎̒̀̔͊͌̃͂͐͘n̴̡̛͙̐̂́́̽̽͋̋̐͠͝͠ͅt̷̡̖̦̲͚͔̲̤̯̲̯̻̫̄̏̽͗̓͛̑̀͆̈́̂͋͑ͅ ̵̢̞̪̜̈̓̇̎́̑̀͒̒͌̚͘͠I̶̫̬͍͉̎̅͒̂̈̋̿̈́͆́̈n̶̪̲̱͈͎̙̙͇̻̟͇̪͋̅̐̌͗̇̋̾̈̎͐̿̃̾͜n̴̨̡̢̛̛̤̥͕̝͍̮̎̍̈́͐̔͆̓́̿̊̋.”

“Is that a... wise way to find out?” Siana asks.

“Thank you.” Ophibwynn strokes Gordon’s ears.

“We’ve already made the deals with them,” Carric says. “So we might as well use what we’ve got, you know?”

“The Serpent Inn...” Ophi frowns. “Aldehrt, do you know it?”

He’s walking past their table as she asks. “Sure. It’s in Highlamp. Will you be back for your shift tonight?”

“Probably?” Ophi shrugs. “We... might be onto something here.”

Aldehrt grunts. “Alright.”

Uriel looks up as the rest stand and make their way towards the door. “We just got here!”

“And now we’re going somewhere else. Come on. There’s another inn with drinks at the end of it.”

Uriel stands, grumbling, and follows.

The Serpent Inn is a strange place. They say it was built by an elf in the early days of the stabilised waygate, as either a peace offering or a levelling of the field. It still has those marks of elvish creation, most notably the spells laid like carvings into the woodwork that allow everyone to know each other’s names from the minute they walk past the threshold. Those same spells also prevent offensive magic from being used within the walls.

Elfgild – the current owner, a half-orc – is working on pulling the magic from the walls, but until then, the spells remains.

It is almost noon; the inn is quiet, but for Elfgild behind the bar, and two patrons sitting at a low table in front of one of the arched windows. These are Bondua, an elf, and Coirpre, a half-elf. They’re deep in conversation as the group come closer.

“You really think I can get in, this time?” Coirpre is asking. He seems younger, in attitude and face. Middling brown skin, amber eyes, glasses that half conceal the glyph mark burnt into his skin. His hair is almost amber, shaved close on the sides and swept back on the top.

“Of course,” Bondua replies. His skin is almost ashen grey, his hair piled on the top of his head in a bun of coils, leaving his long ears free to move. “I truly think the Scriptorium is the place you should be.”

“Oh, good luck getting in there, mate,” Carric says, dropping into a seat. “They aren’t hiring.”

Coirpre’s face falls. “Oh.”

Bondua frowns. “Where did you get that information?”

“From Autag. Talked to her this morning.”

“I - uh, I should be going.” Coirpre gets to his feet. “Thank you. I think.”

“Any time, little one.” Bondua smiles almost fondly at Coirpre. There’s something just slightly threatening behind it, like a spider eyeing a fly.

“Let’s get drinks,” Ophi says, attempting to catch Elfgild’s notice.

“What can I do for you?” Bondua sketches his gaze over the four of them as they shuffle seats about.

“We were hoping you could tell us about this,” Carric pulls the note from her pocket and passes it across the table.

He takes it, examines it. “Since none of you are Aelfswild, I do have to wonder where you picked this up.”

“Handed to us by mistake. Do you know who it’s from?”

Bondua shakes his head, accepting one of the drinks that Elfgild brings over.

“Look, we just want to return it to Aelfswild. Seems important, right?” Carric takes a tankard and drinks first.

Bondua hums. “I think I can get it to him, if you like.”

“We’d rather meet him ourselves,” Ophi says.

“Do you know where to find him?” Carric asks, as she casts the smallest truth spell she can, trying to avoid detection.

“I don’t know where he stays. But I know someone who does.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

“Can you... get them to meet us?”

“Why are you trying to get Coirpre into the Scriptorium?” Uriel asks, leaning over. “Did you help to steal-”

“Nothing like that.” Bondua laughs. “I simply think it would be... prudent to have a man on the inside.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

Bondua stands. “I will send for my friend, shall I?”

“Please.”

As Bondua leaves, the group lean in.

“Ok,” Opih says. “What else did you find out in the Scriptorium?”

Carric and Uriel fill them in as they wait for Bondua to return.

They’re eating, when Bondua arrives with Annan in tow, and drinking a little heavily.

There are more patrons now, the place filling up as the afternoon draws on. The influx of names as each one crossed the threshold takes some getting used to, but after a while it becomes easier to tune out. The drinking helps a little.

Annan tenses as she crosses the threshold, whipping her head around to stare at the group.

“Oh, it’s you!” Uriel grins. “Hello again.”

“... Hi.” Annan slips into a seat beside them. “Bondua said you wanted to meet Aelfswild.”

“How do you know him?” Ophi pushes a tankard over to Annan.

“Old friends,” she replies, taking it up.

“And you can take us to see him?” Ophi smiles, leaning back against the chair, head lolling slightly onto Siana.

“... Sure. It’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my shift.”

“Ugh, night shift.” Ophi wrinkles her nose. “The worst.”

Annan laughs, slightly awkwardly. “As long as it pays, right?”

Ophibwynn hums, taking out her current flute and beginning to play half notes.

“In the morning?” Carric asks. “The Knave and Cauldron?”

Annan shakes her head. “The market between Orchard and Crystalfane.”

“Alright.”

Annan glances at Bondua, who smiles cryptically at her. “I’d best be going.”

“Tell your boss not to be such a hardass,” Ophi mumbles past her flute.

Annan laughs, and leaves them to it.

“You won’t be playing your shift tonight, will you?” Siana asks Ophibwynn.

“I can play it here,” says Ophi, and returns to shakily playing her flute.

#dnd #homebrew #campaign

4 notes · View notes