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bunny584 · 9 months ago

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OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

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doctorbunny · 5 months ago

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MILGRAM Hallucination Booklet Translation pt.1 (Yamanaka and DECO*27 Interview)

Context: This interview was from a booklet handed out at the MILGRAM Hallucination live show on the 21st January 2024 (if you want a copy you can buy it here) This translation was made possible by the generosity of @maxpawb sharing images of his booklet with me This translation is mostly my own, but @maristelina helped me with some sections. Now without further ado:

Q.01 Introduce Yourself. I'm Takuya Yamanaka. I'm the creator/planner/screenwriter for MILGRAM. I'm DECO*27. I work as the music producer for MILGRAM. I like Hatsune Miku.

Q.02 What reactions from the guards have been the most surprising so far? Yamanaka: There are a lot of guards that were born overseas, aren't there? Even though it's created with rather Japanese sensibilities, overseas audiences didn't seem to mind at all. Though the countries and sensibilities are different than what I anticipated, votes have become more multifaceted, it's very interesting, isn't it? DECO: To forgive or not forgive the prisoners what do you do, whether it goes as you expected or the result turns out to be quite the opposite, its fascinating. Maybe your nationality affects the kind of criteria you use to make judgements? I've been thinking about something like that.

Q.03 Is there anything you didn't imagine would happen at the start of the trial? Yamanaka: I didn't write it with a large overseas audience in mind, because from the start I wasn't worrying about popularity at all, I simply didn't think I'd be watching over so many guards. Milgram was developed as a more underground project, but it's popularity is a good surprise, isn't it. DECO: There were more people who got into MILGRAM without already caring about my music than I imagined, it was surprising. I feel like MILGRAM has spread further beyond than what I thought it would. I'm very grateful!

Q.04 So far, what's made you the happiest? Yamanaka: Everything. As a creator it brings me great joy to see a work that existed in my mind, take shape and be enjoyed by so many people. Other than that, because I also love the characters I've birthed, seeing all the guards talking about them and sharing their thoughts, both positive and negative, has to be the best feeling. DECO: It makes me happy to see lots of people analysing the meanings I put in my songs! The theories get pretty close to the truth too, I think... the power of all the guards is really cool.

Q.05 So far, what has been the most challenging? Yamanaka: Because I have to change the script in accordance with the audience's decisions, I can't create the entire story in advance. Furthermore, as of the second trial, there aren't only individual character storylines, the prisoner's verdicts begin to emerge and they influence each other. That is to say, I can't start writing until after everyone's results are out. Willingly subjecting myself to doing something this unreasonable, is what I feel is difficult for me. But because DECO*27 is also going through the same hell, we're holding on to some semblance of sanity. DECO: The story changes in accordance to all the guards' choices, and the music has to be written to match. I think this is harder for Yamanaka-P, who writes the script, than it is for me... But though its tough, I feel its really worthwhile, It makes me really happy to be able to communicate with everyone through my songs!

Q.06 Do you have any regrets like "I wish I had done it differently back then!"? Yamanaka: I've thought it over quite carefully, but there's nothing in particular. I think everyone involved in the project is giving it their all and its a really passionate environment. DECO: Nope! I've been able to put all the things I've thought of into my songs.

Q.07 Which prisoners are the easiest to write dialogue/music for? Yamanaka: If I had to pick one, it'd be Fuuta. He's the type of person that's pretty easy to write because his brain never shuts up. Other than him, Yuno and Shidou are relatively academic kids in theory, so they're easy to write because they're very clear when it comes to what they want to convey. [TL note just because its funny, the idiom Yamanaka uses is lit. "There is barking in the inside [of Fuuta's] head] DECO: It went smoothly for all of them!

Q.08 Which prisoners are the most fun to write dialogue/music for? Yamanaka: Muu's lines were the very fun to write~. I'm fascinated by her approach to life and can't help but envy how fun it must be to behave like that. Yuno and Amane are my runners up. I enjoy writing the kinds of characters who plainly state their ideas and speak eloquently. DECO: Mahiru! From the start writing about the relationships between men and women has been what you might call my forte, its enjoyable to make. I feel like this is also why I find Yuno easy to write for.

Q.09 Which prisoners are the hardest to write dialogue/music for? Yamanaka: Overwhelmingly, Haruka's dialogue takes me the longest to write. I have to use the parts of my brain that I wouldn't normally use to figure out how to not just directly convey what he wants to say. DECO: None of them!

Q.10 What's your favourite combination of characters? Yamanaka: Amane and Shidou. They're on completely different wavelengths about everything, and the best part is that there's no getting around it. My second pick might go to Yuno and Muu. They don't get along at all so their fights are never just superficial squabbling. DECO: I always like the interactions between Es and the prisoners. I'm liking how over the course of the voice drama interrogations, Es seems to be gradually coming to understand the prisoner's humanity. Especially Es + Mahiru!

Q.11 Do you want to be friends with any of the prisoners? Yamanaka: Shidou and Kazui. I like the idea of being friends with professional people. I think that people who choose to go into something specialized, its clear they have a kind of resolve and that's charming, isn't it? DECO: Yuno! I feel like she'd be easy to talk to. She seems like she's used to friends who maintain a good distance from each other. [note: while 'good' here can mean a fair amount of distance, in Japanese relationships the concept of boundaries is also built into the idea of distance, so in English you might talk about someone who is a close friend but still has good boundaries, but in Japanese this is someone who has the 'right amount'/ちょうどいい of distance from you, so this could mean Yuno doesn't have any close friends or that Yuno is just a good friend because she isn't going to turn up to your house unexpectedly and eat all the food in your fridge]

Q.12 Do you want to date any of the prisoners? Yamanaka: I love all of my characters a lot, but, well... how should I say it... I don't think I would date any of them. [TL note: I had to shift the wording to be more natural in English but the Japanese Q is more like 'which prisoner would you want to be your boy/girlfriend?' curse english for not having an exact equivalent to koibito, so Yamanaka's answer is more like 'I think would break up with all of them' its a nominal difference but my friend said to mention it bc its funny] DECO: I'm sorry.

Q.13 What's your favourite line/phrase? Yamanaka:

[Scene from Muu's first voice drama Crying B, TL taken from MILGRAMMER]

Es: Judging from your facial features, are you what they call “half-Japanese”? [lit. haafu/Half] Muu: Yeah… I’m biracial. [lit. daburu/Double]

It would have to be that wouldn't it? I got goosebumps when I wrote it it. DECO:

"It's not my fault"

I think that single phrase was able to represent Muu's character really well, if I do say so myself.

Q.14 Are there any prisoners that you think its good they're in MILGRAM? Yamanaka: All of them. Without these 10 people, this Milgram would be a complete failure. DECO: Without these 10 people, MILGRAM wouldn't exist!

Q.15 Is there anything the guards aren't aware of yet? Yamanaka: Of course, there may be some minor details, but I don't think there are any major points missing. The mysteries have already disseminated, I feel the full picture will be clearly revealed if the theories and wild speculations, which have been shared around the world, come together. As expected. DECO: There are! I hope you look forward to the gimmicks I wanted to put in my songs that will come out in the third trial!

Q.16 Is there anything you haven't been able to do up to now, but you want to try doing after this? Yamanaka: I want to do a stageplay. Every performance would be a different story set in Milgram. If anyone reading this is involved with stage productions, please contact me. [I can't find it now but I swear a while ago Yamanaka tweeted something similar like "I'm interested in doing stage adaptations of Caligula Effect or MILGRAM, if anyone is involved with stage production please contact me" I hope he does it, a MILGRAM stage play would be awesome] DECO: Fortunately, I'm already doing everything I want to do! Writing the trial 3 songs couldn't be more fun.

Q.17 Represent "MILGRAM" in one word. Yamanaka: 『人』 "People" DECO: 『噓』 "Lies" [This one is both simple and interesting so as a preview I'll share how akka and DMYM answered] akka: 『幻』 "Illusions" DMYM: 『信』 "Faith"

Q.18 Give a brief comment about the future of "MILGRAM". Yamanaka: There have already been plot developments that I personally wish I didn't have to write. The guards have all chosen a very intense path. It's frightening. I've also been ready to obey these choices since the start of MILGRAM, so I think we all should enjoy this story that can only be told once together. DECO: I've already started writing the prisoner's songs. It's hell. Please prepare yourselves. Q.19 A message for the guards. Yamanaka: Thank you for always looking after the prisoners. Milgram is a work that involves the participation of everyone, including yourself. The thoughts you had, the actions you took, the joy, and resentment you felt towards this prison, all this became a part of Milgram too. I would like you all to please live healthily in your realities alongside Milgram. DECO: Thank you for your hard work as guards. Although MILGRAM is full of troublemakers, we would be grateful if you could continue to watch over us for a long time to come. We will do our best to meet your expectations.

[A link to part 2 will be posted here when its ready]

(Japanese transcript under the cut)

Q.01 自己紹介を。山中拓也です。ミルグラムでは企画・原作・脚本をしています。 DECO*27です。 MILGRAMのサウンドプロデューサーを務めています。初音ミクが好きです。

Q.02 これまでの看守たちからの反応で驚いたことは？ Yamanaka: 海外にもたくさんの看守が生まれるていったことですね。とっても日本的な感性で創っているので、海外ウケとかきにしていませんでした。やはり国が違う��感性も違うものだと思うので、より多面的な投票がされて、とても面白いですね。 DECO: 囚人が赦すor 赦さないのどっちになるか、と自分で予想していたりもしたのですが、結構それが逆の結果になっていることがあって興味深ったです。もしかして国民性で判断基準が違ってくるのかな？とか考えたりしました。

Q.03 審判開始時点では思い描いていなかったことはあるか？ Yamanaka: 海外ウケ気にしたことないと書きましたが、そもそもウケ自体あまり気にしていなかったので、シンプルにこんなにたくさんの看守の方に見守っていただけるコンテンツになるとは思っていませんでした。もっと、アンダーグラウンドで展開するつもりだったんですが、嬉しい悲鳴ですね。 DECO: 想像以上にDECO*27を知らない方にもMILGRAMを観てもらえたこと��驚きました。自分の思っていた以上にMILGRAMが広がったなと感じています。ありがとうございます！

Q.04 これまでで一番嬉しかったことは？ Yamanaka: 全部です。自分の脳内にしかなかった作品が、形になり、たくさんの人に楽しんでもらえること自体がクリエイターとしては大きな喜ぶです。あとはやはり僕は自分が産んだ登場人物のことが大好きなので、プラスでもマイナスでも看守の皆様が彼らについて語って、想いをぶつけてくれいることが最高に嬉しいです。 DECO: たくさんの方に自分が音楽に込めた意味考察してもらえた嬉しいです！かなり正解に近い考察もあって、看守の皆さんのパワーすごいな…と思っています。

Q.05 これまでで一番大変だったことは？ Yamanaka: ユーザーの選択によって、シナリオを変更をするので、あらかじめ制作することができないということです。しかも二審からは個人のストーリーラインだけでなく、他の囚人の結果による影響も出てくる。ということは全員の結果出てからじゃないと制作できないということです。そんな無茶を勝手に自分でやりはじめて、勝手に自分で大変な思いをしています。同じ地獄をDECO27も味わっているので、なんとか正気を保っています。 DECO: 看守の皆さんの選択に応じてストーリー変化し、それに合うように音楽を書くことです。これは僕よりもシナリオを書く山中Pのほうが大変だろうな…と思いますが…大変ではありますがとてもやりがいをかんじていますし、曲を通じて皆さんとコミュニケーションが取れていることが嬉しいです！

Q.06　「今思えばやっておけばよかった！」のような後悔はあるか？ Yamanaka: よくよく考えてみたんですが、特に無いです。制作に関わる全員がベストを尽くしてくれているとてもアツい現場だと思います。 DECO: ないです！思いついたことはすべて��曲で出力できています。

Q.07 シナリオや音楽の制作がスムーズな囚人は？ Yamanaka: 一人あげるとすればフータでしょうか。頭の中でわんわん言ってるので、かなり書きやすいタイプです。あとはユノや、シドウあたりの比較的理論的で偏差値高めな子たちは何が伝えたいかが明確なので書きやすいです。 DECO: みんなすんなりでした！

Q.08 シナリオや音楽の制作が一番楽しい囚人は？ Yamanaka: セリフを書いていて一番楽しいのはムウですかねぇ~。こんなふうにふるまえたち人生楽しいだろうという憧れすあります。次点でユノやアマネでしょうか。思想がはっきりしてて、弁の立つタイプは書くのが楽しいです。 DECO: マヒルです！自分が元々男女間の関係性を描くのが得意ということもあって、楽しく制作しています。そういった意味ではユノも書きやすいなと感じます。

Q.09 シナリオや音楽の制作に苦労する囚人は？ Yamanaka: 圧倒的にセリフを書くのに時間がかかるのはハルカです。彼が伝えたいことを、伝わらないようにする調整に普段は使わない脳を使います。 DECO: いないです！

Q.10 お気に入りの組み合わせはあるか？ Yamanaka: アマネとシドウ。すべての要素が噛み合わなさすぎて、どうしようもないところが良いです。次点でユノとムウかもです。表面的なケンカにならないだけでかなり気が合わないので。 DECO: エス対囚人の絡みは須く好きです。ボイスドラマの尋問によって段々とエスが囚人の人間性を掴んでいく様が気に入っています。特にエス＋マヒル！

Q.11 囚人を友達にするなら誰か？ Yamanaka: シドウとカズイ。友達にいてほしい職業の人たちです。なにかのスペシャリストを選択する人たちというのは、何かしらの覚悟が決まっている人だと思うのでそれだけで魅力的ですね。 DECO: ユノです！話していて気楽そうだなと感じます。お互い良い距離感を保てる友達になれそう。

Q.12 囚人を恋人にするなら誰か？ Yamanaka: 僕は登場人物のことを全員最高に愛してますが、まぁ、なんというか、全員やめとこうと思います。 DECO: ごめんなさい。

Q.13 お気に入りのセルフやフレーズは？ Yamanaka: 「その顔立ち、ハーフというやつか？」「うん...…ダブル」ですね。書いてて鳥肌でした。 DECO: 「悪くないもん」 1フレーズでムウのキャラクターを上手に表現できたなと我ながら思っています。

Q.14 ミルグラムにいてくれてよかった、と思う囚人は？ Yamanaka: 全員です。この10人でなければ、このミルグラムになっていないので。 DECO: MILGRAMはこの10人がいなければ成立しません！

Q.15 看守たちにまだ感づかれていないことはあるか？ Yamanaka: もちろん、些末な部分はあるかと思いますが、大きいところだとないんじゃないですかねぇ。既に問題はバラまいたし、世界中に発信された考察や妄想を組み合わせたらきっちり全貌が��らかになる気がします。さすがです。 DECO: あります！第三審で僕が楽曲を通じてやりたかったギミックが出てくるので楽しみにしていてください！

Q.16 今できていないが、今後やってみたいことはあるか？ Yamanaka: 舞台がやりたいです。毎公演、コンセプトの異なるミルグラムで行われる舞台。舞台制作に関わる方が、読んでおられましたら是非山中まで。 DECO: 有り難いことに、やりたいことは全部やれています！第三審の曲を書くのが楽しくてしょうがないです。

Q.17 「ミルグラム」を一文字で表せ。 Yamanaka: 『人』 DECO: 『噓』

Q.18 今後の「ミルグラム」について一言。 Yamanaka: 既に僕が個人的には書かないでいたかった展開が確定しています。看守の皆さんなかなか強烈な道筋を選びました。恐ろしい。自分もその選択に従う覚悟をしてミルグラムをスタートしているので、一度きりの物語を皆さんと一緒に楽しもうと思います。 DECO: 既に楽曲を書き始めている囚人もいます。地獄です。覚悟しててください。

Q.19 看守たちへメッセージを。 Yamanaka: いつも囚人たちのことを世話してくださってありがとうございます。ミルグラムとは、参加する皆さん自身を含めてミルグラムという作品です。この監獄に対して感じた思い、起こした行動、喜び、憤り、それらすべてが作品の一部になります。是非ミルグラムと共にある皆さんの現実を健やかに生きてくださいませ。 DECO: いつも看守としてのお勤めご苦労さまです。曲者ばかりのMILGRAMですが、これからも末永く見守っていただけると幸いです。期待に応えられるよう、尽力してまいります。

#milgram #ミルグラム #milgram translation #deco*27 #takuya yamanaka #long post

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softestqueeen · 3 months ago

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care for a dance?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer learns how to dance to teach you.

warnings: just pure fluff

wordcount: 764 words

a/n: this is just short and sweet! I’ve got the idea from @i-live-in-spite and just had to write it. I’m not 100% happy with it, but I had to get it out.

Spencer Reid knew how to do lots of things, theoretically. He could exactly tell you how to throw a ball perfectly for it to land in the net, at which angle you should throw it and from what position. He could tell you how to get checkmate in less than three moves across the checkered chess board, in this case he could even show you.

What he could also tell you, was how to dance a simple waltz. He couldn’t however demonstrate that, but he thinks he might want to learn how to.

“Spence, do you know how to dance?” his eyebrows shot up at the question.

“Uhm, I think you might have to be a bit more specific than that. There are thousands of dances in almost every culture, which all have different meanings. Are we talking about Salsa, flamenco, a waltz?” Spencer gave back. It was adorable to hear him ramble like that.

“Yeah, I meant more like a waltz or something simple. I really want to learn that for Rossi’s wedding and thought maybe you knew how to,” you explained further.

“I- Yes, I think I could do a waltz. It’s actually a remarkably simple dance that consists of the same few steps every time you do it. The music has a special beat and is written in a ¾ bar, as opposed to the usually used 4/4 bar. It is also most commonly danced to the song “the blue danube” by Strauss.”

“Well, if you’re that confident with it, how about you show me this weekend. We could practice it,” your smile was gentle as you slightly tilted your head. You didn’t want to miss any signs of discomfort in Spencer’s face.

“Oh, uhm, yeah that would be great! Saturday at 6 at mine? We could also get takeout,” he offered.

“Sounds good, I’ll see ya around, Spence!”

That was on Wednesday and now that Saturday is inching closer and closer he actually has to learn how to waltz. In theory it was easy, but the reality definitely looked different.

He was very glad that he has practiced before you came over. The amount of how often he tripped over his feet would have definitely gotten a laugh or two out of you, though.

Spencer was holding his hands out before him, his left arm stuck out curling around your imaginary palm, while his other hand was resting in the air at the approximate height of your waist. He tried to recall everything he knew about the basics, as well as the four YouTube tutorials he just watched.

Moving his foot forwards, he set it down before following with his other foot. He must have looked incredibly ridiculous while doing this alone, but for you, he’d do anything. Slowly, he continued the dance, his tongue peeking out between his lips in concentration.

The profilers’ eyes were practically glued to his feet. Once he tried it without looking, he immediately tripped over his feet and almost knocked over the lamp that was standing in his living room. He continued to practice though, his movements slowly getting more fluent. Deciding that he knew enough of the basics to teach you, he ended his training session.

A few hours later you knocked on his door. You were wearing relaxed clothing and carried a bag with your favourite takeout. Spencer gave you a smile before opening the door wider to let you in.

After removing your shoes, the two of you sat down in his kitchen to eat. Afterwards, you stood up, extended your hand, and asked, “Care for a dance?”

“Always,” he answered.

“But we can’t dance yet, I don’t know how to. Show me, please?”

And so, the two of you spent the next one and a half hours practicing. Spencer was the most patient person ever when repeating the steps over and over again. He guided you when you did your first attempts and was never mad at you for stepping on his feet.

“I think I got it now,” you said before getting in position again.

“You sure?” Spencer asked.

Only giving a hum in response, you put on the music again and start dancing. One foot forward, slightly tilted, then following with the other one. Repeat, repeat and repeat and you’ve got it.

You did it. You squealed in excitement before taking your hands out of his. Instead, excited, and not really thinking, you take Spencer’s face in your hands, lean forward, and press your lips to his.

Now, Spencer was definitely happy to have learned how to dance.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBananaa @i-live-in-spite

#x reader #love #reader insert #ao3 #fluff #no y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #romance #fanfiction

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jessmaybank · 1 year ago

Text

Right here - Rafe Cameron

Based on the song Right here by Chase Atlantic

Outer banks x chase atlantic masterlist

Navigation

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Summary: in which a secret friends with benefits relationship gets messy.

Warnings: drug use (weed), swearing, SMUT, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, nipple play, oral (f receiving).

AN: lots of mutual pining, teasing, jealousy & angst. friends to lovers. This is easily my fave thing I’ve ever written. Flashbacks are in italics, enjoy!

I'm so far from the line, yeah

I'm too deep in my mind, yeah

If she calls, I'll be right there

That's three calls in a night, yeah

“Hey” she says quietly, phone pressed to her ear as she answers his call in the middle of the night, something she still hadn’t quite grown accustomed too yet. her voice sounded so delicate and sweet, it made Rafe’s head rush.

This was the third call she had received from him this week, and it always ended the same. Each time she would tell herself that it was the last, but here she was, tangled within her lilac sheets, unable to let the call go to voicemail. She always seemed to bend her rules when it came to him.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?” He asks, voice tainted with something that sounded like concern, but she wasn’t quite sure. Rafe wasn’t exactly known for his ability to emphasise with others. Rather, his actions were always driven by his own selfish wants and needs, and he was extremely stubborn. That was was something which she learnt the day their arrangement started.

“Rafe, I swear to god, move. I shotgunned the couch” she said, arms crossed as her lips move into a small pout, her doe eyes hard to miss.

Rafe thought the expression was nothing less than adorable, observing the way her eyebrows were furrowed slightly to be more convincing, hoping to get some sympathy out of him. But despite the frown on her face, he knew she was biting back a smile. She liked being teased just as much as he liked teasing her.

The corners of his mouth upturned into an amused grin, something which should of annoyed her further, but it didn’t. Instead, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from matching his expression.

They were at toppers house, in the midst of a party which had just began to die down, the crowds of young adults sprawled around the large living room getting smaller by the minute. She had no intention of going home anytime soon, and neither did he.

“Not anymore, angel” he says, manspreading on the couch to get comfortable, but also just as a way to tease her further. But once again, the familiar nickname he picked for her, and only her, made it near impossible for her to be mad at him.

They had been friends for a long time now, so in theory she should have been used to it, but she just wasn’t. Every time the word left his cherry red lips, she felt like a giddy teenager again.

She sighs in defeat, tugging on one of the loose threads of his hoodie which he gave her, one of the many endearing gestures which made all the constant teasing seemingly tolerable.

“Stop being greedy and just sit next to me” he says, patting the empty space next to him. His shiny gold rings that decorated his fingers were a stark contrast to the dim light which began to engulf the room as it grew later into the night, and she began to wonder how one mans hands could be so attractive.

Maybe she was being greedy for wanting the whole couch to herself, but she was not about to be criticised by Rafe Cameron himself. He was quite literally the epitome of greed, even if she failed to recognise that sometimes, her delusion towards him a symbol of her naive nature.

She pretended to hesitate before sitting down on the couch next to him, the smell of her sweet perfume invading his senses, throwing him off track. She was the only person who could make his nonchalant nature falter so easy, and the feeling was so unfamiliar to him he almost felt uneasy whenever she was near.

Every time Topper threw a party, she had an end-of-night tradition. She would sprawl across the expensive couch with a blanket, smoke the pre-rolled joint she would bring with her every time, and slowly become one which the couch, her body melting into the white leather. Luckily, Toppers parents were gone for the week this time, so she had permission to smoke inside.

She turned her body, leaning her back against the armrest of the couch, before draping her legs over Rafe’s lap. They weren’t exactly used to such affections at this stage in their relationship, but she was a bit tipsy, and she certainly wasn’t going to let him stop her from getting comfy.

Her squeaky clean converse dug into his thigh a little, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sent her a glare, and he prayed he put on a good enough of a show to convince her it was real.

“What? I warned you” she said, shifting slightly to retrieve the blanket which was hung on the back of the couch, throwing it over them both.

Rafe placed his hands under the blanket and rested them on her legs, just below her knees, the evening breeze coming through the windows seemingly prevalent. He was a bit cold in his t-shirt, but he would never dare to ask for his hoodie back. He noted how warm she felt as his fingers brushed the bare skin of her legs, and suddenly he wanted to bury his head between them.

She dug her dainty hands into the pocket of his hoodie, retrieving a slightly crumpled joint and a dodgy lighter. Her manicured pink nails made her hands look so fragile, and Rafe couldn’t fathom how one girls hands could be so fucking cute.

She lights the joint, the flame lighting up her face in an orange tint, the warm hue painted over her features a perfect picture to him. He watched as she inhaled and exhaled again and again, and it dawned on him then that he could watch her do anything, and he would never get bored.

“Sharing is caring, angel” he says, placing his hand out in front of her. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small grin which graced her lips, her sweetness practically radiating off her as she passed him the joint, captivated in the way he inhaled before blowing a thick cloud of smoke into the living room, blurring their vision slightly.

Weed always made Rafe a little more touchy than usual. When he’s sober, his anxiety is always apparent in his tensed muscles or his clenched jaw, or the way he always runs his hands through his hair when he’s stressed out. But as soon as marijuana was flowing through him, his mind relaxed, and so did his body.

he’s pretty dazed by the time he passes the joint back. He digs his hands under the blanket once again, running the tips of his fingers innocently across her thighs, relishing in her smooth skin. but the feeling it caused her was anything but innocent.

“Do you mind?” She says, her voice betraying her as it came out shaky. He turned his head, and when she saw the mischievous glint which lay behind his bloodshot eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

He had to poke the inside of his cheek with his tongue to suppress a grin. He thought her flustered state was completely endearing, and he loved knowing the effect he had on her. “Am I distracting you, angel?”

“No” yes.

She hoped she was convincing, but he could see right through her, mostly as he observed the way she drew in a sharp breath as his hands travelled further and further up her leg, her skin tingling at his touch.

“You see, I don’t believe you” he smirks, shifting towards her, his hand stopping right at the hem of her denim mini skirt, fingers dipping under the material ever so slightly, as if he was daring himself to go even further.

“Rafe” she whispers. fuck. His name had never sounded so pretty until it came out of her mouth.

She took another hit of the joint, trying to distract herself from his dirty little games. But the higher she got, the more she melted into his touch.

She sent him a half-hearted pleading look, one which should of convinced him to back away, but unfortunately for her, he could read her like his favourite book, and the way her legs squirmed on top of him, parting ever so slightly, gave him all the confirmation he needed.

His fingers dipped under her skirt, the cold metal of his rings grazing the top of her thigh, cooling down her burning skin. She looked around, making sure no one was paying attention, and relaxed a little when she noticed everyone left was either passed out or too engrossed in conversation to notice either of them.

His lips parted as he made contact with her clothed pussy, coming to the realisation her lace underwear was soaked. His shorts tightened as his cock grew rock hard, and he prayed she couldn’t feel it under her legs, but of course she could.

Her legs squirmed once again as he started toying with her clothed clit, her calf’s rubbing right against his cock, and he swore she was hell-bent on torturing him.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand dove into her underwear, running his fingers up her folds, almost groaning as he felt her arousal. The heavy pants coming from her glossy lips were drowned out by the music which played from toppers speaker, and suddenly Rafe wished the room was silent.

The joint fell from her fingers and onto the blanket as he inserted two fingers inside of her, the pit of her stomach heating up as pleasure flows through her, sinking her body further into the couch.

He retrieved the joint with his free hand before it burnt a hole in the blanket, taking a hit before putting the roach into the ash tray next to him. She was shocked at how nonchalant he looked, pretending as if his fingers weren’t inside of her as they sat in a room with all of their friends, at risk of being caught at any moment.

He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, in awe of the way she struggled to keep her eyes open, the bloodshot whites in her eyes making her look even more fucked out. He draped his free arm on the back of the couch as he continued to finger fuck her with his other, and when their eyes met, electricity shot down her spine, entranced by his blown out pupils.

she lifted the blanket to cover her mouth as moans threatened to spill out of her, her legs now spread for him underneath the soft material. He didn’t care that they weren’t alone, he didn’t like the fact she wanted to hide her face from him.

He shakes his head slightly, tutting as he brings his free arm down, pulling the blanket from her face before cupping her jaw. “Let me see you” he said, his voice steady. And as she bit her lip to suppress a whimper, pussy clenching around his fingers, he knew he was in trouble.

“No, I can’t seem to sleep” she says, voice quiet through the phone, but he heard her clearly.

“I’ve been thinking about you today. Can you come over?” he says, and her eyes shut in defeat.

He would always do this, call her up and sweet talk her into coming over so they could fuck. Rafe never gave any of his feelings away, living up to his fuck boy reputation, and so everytime she would leave his house, thinking she was nothing but a warm body to him, she swore to herself she would never let him pull at her heartstrings like that again.

But just like him, her lack of self control betrayed her every time.

She takes a while to respond, and Rafe had to question if he managed to fuck everything up in a 2 minute phone call.

“I’ll be there in 10” she says, her voice sweet like honey, and finally he felt like he could breathe again.

Well girl, what do you think about

Staying right here in bed?

I didn't hear a word you said

I wasn't that high, I swear

Her eyes drifted open at around 8am, the morning sun making her wince as she tries to focus her vision, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Her movements come to a halt as she feels the weight of someone pressed up behind her, arm draped over her waist and head buried behind her neck.

Her eyes widen slightly as she turns so she’s almost on her back, observing how at peace Rafe looked as he was cuddled up to her, his chest rising and falling every few seconds, the sounds of his breathing relaxing her somewhat.

She must of passed out before she had the chance to leave last night, which happened sometimes whenever they were together super late. Sometimes, by the time Rafe was done with her, she would actually struggle to move, exhaustion overtaking her limp body.

But this was the first time they woke up like this. Usually, she would stick to her side of the bed, and he would stick to hers, abiding by Rafe’s stupid rule of no cuddling, as if it would somehow cure his growing infatuation for her.

He was not a relationship person, and that was something she definitely learnt the hard way. Growing up in the household that be did, Rafe had always struggled with letting people in. His father had made it impossible for him to trust, and whenever he got close, he would bolt, too scared to let himself feel anything.

For some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to let go of her. So instead, he made a bunch of stupid rules, in the hopes that it would stop him falling too deep.

Peering up at him with tired eyes, she came to the realisation that she would let him do anything to her as long as it meant he was this close. She would let him walk all over her, whatever way he wanted, if it meant she could stay in bed, like this, with him, just for a little longer.

She almost jumped out of her skin as Rose called for Rafe from downstairs, and the moment she could see his eyes battling to open beneath his eyelids, she turned back around, pretending to be asleep.

he shifted behind her as his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to his surroundings. He mentally cursed his lack of self control as he observed the position he was in, but surprisingly, he didn’t move.

Instead, he ran his fingers through a lock of her hair, the sweet smell of her strawberry shampoo making him second guess every single decision he’s ever made. He trailed his fingers all the way down to the curves of her bare hips, before planting a sweet kiss on the back of her head. It took everything in her to remain still, to suppress a bright smile, but she did, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine at his sweet affections.

Rose called for him again, and he rolled his eyes, but he still just couldn’t bring himself to move. He trailed his eyes to last nights hickeys that were littered across her neck and shoulder, and he realised then that maybe, just maybe, he would bend his rules, if it meant he could stay in bed, like this, with her, just for a little longer.

It's happening again

Well, I don't give a fuck about your friends

I'm right here

Oh, baby, take a look around

I'm the only one that hasn't walked out

I'm right here

His eyes spotted her as soon as she entered his house, seemingly uninterested in the party around him. She looked good, too good, as he observed her appearance. Her summer dress painted her figure in the most delectable way, and her glossy lips looked so succulent he had to hold himself back from kissing her when she sat down next to him.

“You look happy” she says, sarcasm dripping off her tongue as she speaks. The amusing look on her face subsided as she noticed the way he licked his red lips, his blue orbs filled with something she couldn’t place.

She lent back, still facing him, almost touching his arm that was draped over the back of the couch, his fingers close to her shoulder. It took everything in him not to run his fingers along her soft skin, a deep craving to trail his fingers over the freckles littered on her shoulder, and he had to question wether he was starting to go insane.

“You didn’t answer yesterday” he says, taking a swig of his bottle of whiskey, a usual favourite for him.

Is that why he looked so glum? It couldn’t be, it’s Rafe we’re talking about here. So then why did he look so doleful? She was burning to know, but she knew better than to pry when it came to him. So, she tried to comfort him in the only way she knew he would let him.

“Can I make it up to you?” She says sweetly, and that caught his attention instantly, head turning to face her. Her doe eyes were glistening with desire, her organs pumping with adrenaline, and she swore she saw his features soften.

Her sinful thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, and she caught the way that Rafe’s jaw clenched at something behind her before she turned around, revealing some touron she met at party a couple weeks ago. If she was being honest, she didn’t even remember his name, but she didn’t have the heart to be rude.

And just like that, she was ripped away from him, the missing warmth from her beside him making his insides twist in the worst way possible as he watched her disappear into the crowd, muscles tensing as he paid attention to how her hands were intertwined with his. Is that why she didn’t answer yesterday? Was she with him? His blood ran cold at the thought, his face contorting with disappointment as he ran a hand through his hair, taking an extra big sip of his whiskey.

He then focused his dull gaze on the empty seat beside him, and before he knew it, time started to slow.

They both sat naked in his living room, her heart racing as she straddled him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. The sweetness of her cherry lip gloss drowned his tongue as he hummed into her mouth, her insides tingling at the sweet sound as their lips moved together in a passionate kiss.

She realised then that she loved every single sound he made. Even if it was a rude remark, which wasn’t exactly uncommon with Rafe, at least it was something. At least she got to hear him.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you” he mumbled into her mouth, fingers entwined in her messy hair. His voice was low and quiet, but the words pierced through her heart as if he shouted it at the top of his lungs.

She noticed that he would only say nice things to her when they were fucking, and although she didn’t complain in the moment, she always felt uneasy afterwards, his empty words lingering in her mind.

“Yeah?” God. Her voice sounded so weak and fragile, she wished she could just lay on the floor and let the ground swallow her hole. Maybe then, her conflicting thoughts would finally subside.

But Fuck, he loved when she was nervous because of him. Her shaky voice made his lips curl up into a smirk, pushing her hips down in line with his cock, watching her lidded eyes as she pushed herself down onto him, stretching her out and taking him whole.

“Your so fucking beautiful, angel” he moaned, not being able to stop his thoughts whilst he was inside her. In fact, he never could. Whenever they had sex, he would just speak his mind freely, not being able to hold back.

Her moans were full of sin as she began to bounce on his cock, digging her pink nails into his shoulders and throwing her head back in pleasure. He took the opportunity to wrap a hand round her neck, squeezing just the right amount, making sure he didn’t hurt her too much. He brought his other hand up to play with her nipple, pinching on the sensitive skin, and she jerked on top of him, making him smirk.

“Fucking addictive” he mumbles, letting go of her neck and gripping her hair instead, pulling her head forward to look him right in the eyes.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean” she says, clawing her nails down his bare chest, leaving little red marks to replace the old faded ones.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and pushing her against the couch, her back sinking into the soft material. “Oh, I mean it”

Her eyes screw shut as he pounds into her, her breathing increasingly unorganised as his nails dug into her hips. His forehead glistened with a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking to it, and he had to bite back a smile as he saw how fucked out she was beneath him, her cheeks stained with a faint redness.

“I hate you” she says, a sincere look on her face. And if he didn’t feel her pussy clenching around him in that moment, he might of believed her.

“Earth to Rafe” Topper says, waving his hand in front of his face, and he snapped back to reality.

“Jesus man, what’s gotten into you”

He shrugs in response, an unamused look on his face. “You playing?” Topper asks, turning his head towards the circle of people sat in the middle of the room. Rafe follows toppers line of vision, and his jaw clenches. Usually, he doesn’t indulge in party games, but as soon as he saw her sat in the circle, he was making his way over.

She sat with her best friend, Tara, laughing and giggling as she sips on her vodka soda. He sat down opposite her, their eyes meeting, and suddenly it was like they were the only two people in the room.

“Rafe looks good tonight, doesn’t he” Tara says, a small smile painting her features, snapping her out of her daze. No one knew about their arrangement, and so she didn’t really have a right to be mad, but she couldn’t deny the way her heart sank at her friends words.

“I guess” she says, doing her best to mask her jealousy with a bored look, but it didn’t really work.

The games started off innocent, a few harmless truths and dares, but as always, it turned sexual very quickly. Topper was always the one to blame for that.

“Okay, this round is 7 minutes in heaven. You know the rules, if the bottle lands on you, you have to spend 7 minutes locked in a room with whoever it lands on next. No backing out” Kelce says, and her heart began to beat a little faster.

Kelce lent forward, gripping the glass beer bottle and giving it a spin. Rafe looked across at her, observing how her eyes were glued to the bottle as it span, and he hoped to god he wasn’t going to have to watch her go into a room with somebody else.

His thoughts were interrupted as their eyes connected, and confusion filled him as he took notice of her wide eyes. He looked down, and when he realised the bottle was pointed at him, it was like all the colour drained from his face.

People began to cheer around them, topper leaning over to pat his back, but she couldn’t do anything but sit, completely frozen. Kelce then span the bottle again, and her heart sank to her feet as it landed on Tara.

Tara giggled as she stood up, smoothing out her dress with her hands, but Rafe didn’t move, clearly hesitant. He tried to ignore the alcohol induced encouragement from everyone around them, and she had a sliver of hope that maybe he wouldn’t do it.

But when she saw him stand up and begin to lead her best friend into one of the downstairs bedrooms, it was like a dagger straight through the heart. She sat there for a minute or two, in her own world as she pinched herself, over and over again, to stop the tears which threatened to spill out of her.

She made her way outside, pushing through the back doors of the house and into the empty garden, the evening breeze giving her goosebumps. She knew she only had herself to blame, he told her what it was from the start and she didn’t listen, but that didn’t make the pain any easier.

She sat down on the stairs of the outside decking, arms crossed as she rubs her arms, trying to warm herself up. She heard some commotion from inside, and turned her head to see through the glass doors.

Everyone cheered as Rafe and Tara made their way out into the living room, and she struggled to breathe as she observed the way Tara pulled her dress down and fixed her hair, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what went on.

Rafe’s heart sank as he returned, scanning around the room to find she was no where to be seen. His gaze landed on her figure outside, and he didn’t hesitate to make his way to her, ignoring the confused looks from Topper and Kelce as he walked straight passed them.

She didn’t have to guess who it was as she heard the door open, and she shot up, walking towards the pool, not wanting to speak to him just yet.

“Where are you running off to?” He says, a quizzical look on his face as he follows her down the garden, shoving his arms in his pockets.

“My best friend, Rafe, really?” She says, sass laced within her voice as she runs a hand through her hair, halting her movements as she stands right in front of the pool, the moonlight reflecting in the water ever so slightly.

“Nothing happened” he replied, and although he knew she would never believe it, he was telling the truth.

Yes, it’s true, Rafe may be known for having a wandering eye, but as Tara sat on the bed, trying her best to seduce him, he just knew no one could ever compare to her.

“Bullshit”

She scoffs at him, her features contorting with anger as she stares at the water ahead, knowing the second she looks at him, she would give in. “I know that we’re just friends” she starts, ignoring the despair in the pit of her stomach as she cringes at her own words.

“But friends don’t disrespect each other. And believe it or not Rafe, fucking my friends falls under that category” she shouts, her voice raised as she now turns to face him.

“I don’t give a fuck about your friends, okay. I’m right here with you, am I not?” He replies back, his frustration evident in his tone.

He wished she believed him. He wished she knew that sometimes, he couldn’t even sleep at night, too wound up in thinking about how soft her hair was, or how cute she looked in the mornings when they would wake up together, and she was wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“Yeah, after you had your fun” she mumbles quietly, but he heard it. Something in his mind clicked, and he wasn’t sure why it took him so long, but he finally figured out what was going on.

The corners of lips turned upwards into a shit eating grin, and she swore she had never been so close to punching him.

He takes a step forward, their shoes touching, and brings a finger to her chin, pushing her head up to look him straight in the eyes.

“Your jealous” he says teasingly, his features a picture of pure joy.

“Your insufferable” she says, rolling her eyes, trying her best to be rude even though he was right. But all he could concentrate on was the fact she didn’t even deny it.

Her poker face disappears as he moves her hair off her shoulders, bringing his head down to plant harsh kisses along her neck, biting the sweet spot in the way he knew she liked it.

“Admit it” he mumbles into her neck, his hot breath making her insides tingle.

She debated it for a second, before she decided she had a better idea.

She palmed his cock through his shorts, trying not to get distracted by him as he lifted his head up, mouth agape, his darkened eyes illustrating that he wanted to devour her mercilessly.

And when she knew he was fully distracted, she pushed him into the pool.

Rafe emerged from the rippling water, his wet hair clinging to her forehead, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“I wish I could say I’m sorry” she giggles, bending down and crouching to get a better look at him, ignoring the glare that painted his features.

His glare didn’t stay for long, too caught up in how cute her laugh was. The cogs in his brain turned as his eyebrows furrowed into a thoughtful look, and before she could react, he was tugging on her arms and pulling her into the pool with him.

“Fuck you!” She shouts, almost chocking on the water as she laughs, making sure to splash him in the face.

“All you have to do is ask, angel” he smirks, trailing his eyes down to her breasts, rejoicing in the way her hardened nipples were poking through her dress, like they were begging to be touched.

He swims towards her, skin glistening with water droplets, and she just couldn’t help but stare at him in absolute awe.

He dipped his head down, brushing his lips against hers, lingering there for a moment as he grabs her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and pushing her back against the pool wall. Her hands clung to his wet hair, and as she registered just how heavy her breathing was, she knew she was too far gone.

“Someone’s ganna see” she whispers, unable to concentrate when he’s touching her like this.

“Let them” he says, his voice hoarse. He brought his hand up to cup her flushed cheek, before their lips connected in a sweet kiss.

One draw at a time, yeah

One more, you'll be fine, yeah

And I swear she was right there

The blue glow and the night wear

“Tell me how you want it, angel” he mumbles into her collar bone, trailing sloppy kisses all the way down from her breasts to her stomach.

He had turned up to her house in the middle of the day, not even bothering to phone her. It was rare that they spent time together during daylight hours, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. And as always, it had taken him all of 5 minutes until he had her striped down to her underwear, her black lingerie set making his head rush.

“Slow” is all she says, and he’s a bit taken back, lifting himself up so their face to face again. Rafe was an experienced man, but never has he once had slow sex. She lifted her head into the krook of his neck, planting sweet kisses along his skin and up to his jawline, occasionally biting, but not enough to actually hurt him. He came to the conclusion then that as long as she kept kissing him like that, he would try anything for her.

He hooked his fingers in her underwear, pulling them down her legs and revealing her drenched pussy. It didn’t matter how many times Rafe saw her naked, each time still felt like the first.

He buried his head between her legs and kissed her throbbing clit, before lapping his tongue teasingly over the bundle of nerves, small whimpers leaving her mouth at the sensation. She dug her manicured nails into her sheets, and she could feel him smirk against her pussy.

“You like that?” He asks lowly, even though he already knew the answer. She nodded her head, screwing her eyes shut as his licks got harsher, but remained slow.

He placed one hand on her stomach as he ate her out, looking up at her blissful state, and as she moaned his name, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

He pulled away, climbing up her body to meet her face once again, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth as he lined himself up with her entrance, pushing his cock into her painfully slowly. The pit in her stomach grew heavier and heavier as he stretched her out, and he practically groaned into her mouth.

He started fucking her with slow but harsh strokes, gazing deeply into her eyes, and it dawned on him then that this felt like more than just sex. He trailed his thumb along her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth, watching as she sucked on it with lidded eyes, and as she looked up at him, she realised that his blue orbs had some green in them.

What he didn’t know, was that when he knocked on her door earlier that day, and she peered at him through her window, she decided that this had to be the last time they fucked. The jealousy and sadness that he brought on her was turning her into someone that she didn’t recognise, and she knew she had to stop before it was too late, before he had broke her completely.

She savoured every minute as he thrusted into her, digging her nails down his back, leaving little red marks. He replaced his thumb with his lips, tongue diving down her throat as she hummed into his mouth, their kiss sloppy as they were both moaning messes.

He buried his head in her neck, biting her shoulder gently as his eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed at how good this felt even though it wasn’t what he was used to.

The feeling was so bittersweet as she let a single tear roll down her red cheeks, tangling her hands in his hair, only now realising that she had fallen in love with Rafe Cameron, and now she was going to have to heal.

Girl, I've been taking it slow

You know I've been taking it slow

You're sitting alone, why are you sitting alone?

Baby, just pick up your phone, oh

'Cause I've been rolling all damn night, whoa

She took a sip of her champagne as she walked through the beautiful flower garden, mentally praising Toppers parents for choosing to get married in such a picturesque place.

Her hair was plaited into two, with daisy flowers weaved into her hair, sticking to the floral theme of the wedding, and her lilac silk dress was accompanied with matching heels.

She walked to the end of the establishment, making sure no one else was around, before retrieving a crumpled up joint and a lighter from her purse, wasting no time in lighting it, staring at all the luscious plants around her as her body started to relax.

She’s interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and she almost gave herself whiplash with how fast she turned around.

“Jesus! Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to creep up on people?” She asks, eyes slightly wide as she takes a look at the man in front of her. He stood in a black suit, which she could tell was expensive, and a glass of whiskey sat in his ring clad hand, the condensation from the glass rolling down his fingers.

“Says the one getting stoned at a wedding” he says, smirking as he gestures to the lit joint in her hand.

“Hm, touché. But its the only way I’m going to be able to get through Toppers mums speech. I love Top with all my heart, but that woman is the devil” she says, taking a drag of her joint, watching as some of the loose embers fall onto the floor.

He laughs then, a real laugh, which for some reason melted her insides, and her cherry red lips turned upwards into a bright smile.

All Rafe could think about was how someone as beautiful as her could exist, and he didn’t even know about it. He made a mental note to punch Topper later for not introducing her to him.

“You like daisies?” He asks, and confusion fills her features for a second before she realised he’s talking about her hair.

“Uh, yeah. They were my mum’s favourite” she said, a certain dullness laying behind her eyes. His hands grew clammy as he put two and two together, but he didn’t say anything, not wanting to intrude on the personal life of a complete stranger.

“I like it. You kind of look like an angel” he says, and he clears his throat as he realised what he just said, his forwardness even shocking himself.

Her smile never wavered as he spoke, features lighting up at his kind words, and suddenly she needed to know who on earth this man was.

“I’m Y/N” she says, leaning her arm out to shake his, her dainty arms no match for his muscular ones.

“Rafe” he responds, mirroring her actions, and as soon as his skin touched hers, she had a feeling he was here to stay.

She sat alone in the island club, watching her phone light up as his contact came onto the slightly cracked screen, the small vibrations of her ringtone filling the room. Her head fell into her hands as she sighed, doing everything she could to go against her urges to answer the call.

She had been ignoring him for a few days, trying to detach herself, but every time he called, she got closer and closer to caving. Everything she did was for him, and now, everything she was doing was because of him, and it was so painful.

Rafe was at toppers with the boys, sipping on his whiskey as he held his phone up to his ear, listening to his ringer as the call went to voicemail for the third time that night.

“Fuck” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he shifted on the couch, the same couch where he had his first sinful encounter with her.

“Who are you calling?” Kelce says, eyes squinting with suspicion as he looks at Rafe, registering his stressed out state.

“No one” he replies, and it was impossible to miss the look that Kelce and Topper gave each other.

“Rafe, you might think you were being sneaky, but we know you’ve been seeing Y/N for months now. You guys are kinda obvious” Topper says, eyebrows raised as he confesses to his best friend, a small smile on his face.

“Plus, I saw you guys fucking in the pool the other night” Kelce says, and Rafe’s eyes widen.

“Shit” he says, not really sure what to say. For the first time in his life, he was stumped.

“You really like her, huh?” Topper says, always able to know what his best friend was thinking.

Rafe hesitated before nodding his head, taking another sip of his whiskey, rejoicing in the way it warmed his insides and numbed his pain.

“She won’t return my calls” he says, his mind a spiralling mess. He was trying to rack his brain to figure out what he had done wrong, but the more he thought about it the more confused he got.

“you have to make a gesture, something to show you care. Girls eat that shit up man” Topper said, patting Rafe on the back, Kelce nodding along with him. And as he was racking his brain for ideas, one thing did spring to mind.

Oh, baby, take a look around

I’m the only one that hasn’t walked out

I'm right here

She scanned the perimeter as she stepped onto the boat, the salty smell of the ocean wafting through the mid-day air. She spotted topper at the bar almost immediately, making some sort of cocktail concoction, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she walked up to him.

“Your late” Topper says as he spots her, the sound of the blender making it hard for her to hear, but she did.

“Fashionably late” she corrects him, gesturing to her matching bikini, lifting her sunglasses off of her eyes and resting them on her head, her hair cascading off her shoulders elegantly.

“Why am I here anyway? Frozen Margarita’s don’t really seem like much of an emergency” she says, eyebrows raised as an amused look paints her features.

“Oh but it is. I need you to test my recipe” he says, and as much as she wanted to be annoyed for dragging her out here for no reason, a margarita did sound good.

“Can you go get me some more lime juice from downstairs?” he says, and she nodded her head in response, placing her purse down on the bar before heading for the stairs.

The heels of her wedges clicked as she walked down the wooden stairs, heading straight to the downstairs bar. She flicked through the cupboards as she tried to find the desired lime juice, before her eyes landed on a glass vase which sat in the middle of the bar.

She drew in a sharp breath as she gazed at the bouquet of fresh daisies, accompanied by a card with her name on it, and her eyebrows furrowed. She brought her hand up to stroke the fragile petals, and the memory of her mother plagued her mind.

“What the-“

“They were your mother’s favourite” a male voice says, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “I remembered”

He pulled on her heartstrings as he stood in the doorway, a baseball cap sitting backwards lazily on his head, and a crooked smile on his ruby red lips that she could never get tired of, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t believe he remembered such a small detail like that, and she began to think maybe her prejudice towards him was all wrong.

“Rafe” she says quietly, clearly in shock, her doe eyes wide as he makes his way to her, and holy shit, he never really could get over how his name rolled off her tongue so sweetly.

“What are you doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to do since the day we met” he said, and she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but stare at him in awe as goosebumps formed along her tanned skin, melting into his touch as he brought a hand up to her cheek, stroking the skin with his thumb before cupping her cheek in his hand.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick. I’m sorry I made all these stupid rules for us, like no cuddling, or keeping us a secret, because the truth is, every time your near, it takes every ounce of my self restraint not to touch you, or not to tell you that every inch of me belongs to you” he says, wrapping one hand around her waist, pressing her body against his, and she prayed he couldn’t feel how fast hear heart was beating right now.

“I only did those things because I was scared of actually letting someone in” he says, finally letting himself breathe as he paused. “Scared of having to admit that I love you, angel”

She grinned like a cheshire cat as he finished his sentence, admiring the way his cheeks blushed with a faint redness as he poured his heart out, and she swung her arms around his neck tightly, never wanting to let go.

“I love you too” she says, before reaching up on her tiptoes and claiming his lips in a gentle kiss.

“You know i would do anything for you, right?” She whispers against his lips, practically breathing the same air as him, and just like that, his signature smirk was back.

“Well in that case, how about you start with taking this flimsy thing off” he says, pulling on the straps of her bikini top, a small giggle leaving her glossy lips as she playfully hit his arm.

“Gross. Please don’t” Topper says, and they both jumped out of their skin as they spotted him in the doorway, arm leant against the wooden frame with a smug look on his face.

“Jesus! How long have you been standing there?”

Oh, baby take a look around

I'm the only one that hasn't walked out

I'm right here

#obx #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fwb #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

Note

🎶🎻 let's see if this actually helps me find this later

WIBTA for marking up my friend's sheet music?

ok so I (15m) have a friend (17f) and we both play cello in the classical music ensemble at our school. we have both been playing cello for approx 7 years. we had very different musical upbringings: she learned to play cello in a class with a bunch of other kids, and from what I gather there were many other instruments and the teacher took kind of a hands-off approach, which is typical for the kind of elementary school she went to. I, on the other hand, learned through private lessons (which I don't think I'm better for, it's just different) and my teacher (who I still take piano and cello lessons from) is a little bit obsessive when it comes to correct technique and stuff. I care a little less about technique than my teacher, but I definitely developed quite a few of her habits: I always pay really close attention to what the sheet music tells me, especially dynamics and which direction my bow needs to go in, or how many notes I'm playing in a bow stroke. part of this is because that's what the composer would have wanted and also because when I started my teacher would make me mark everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in my sheet music. we're talking fingerings, bow markings, highlighting every chreschendo and decrescendo, putting the counting in for all of the rhythms and more. now I typically only mark super important things, like if I keep forgetting a note or something, and I rarely mark my cello sheet music in ensembles, though everyone has seen me mark my bass music, since I'm new to bass.

Recently, since it's about 2/3rds of the way through the school year and we have a good group, my ensemble has been playing more challenging stuff. the parts or more intricately layered and dynamics are a pretty big thing, especially for the cello section, since we basically have one line for half of a piece which is just to play some half notes that crescendo and decrescendo over and over. and it's like, all we do, like it's a pretty big part of the song. the issue is that my friend just kind of ignores the dynamic markings and bowings in the music and what the other cellists are doing (there's three of us, including me and her and she sits in between us) so she just kinda plays the piece at the same volume. the whole time. and it's written right there. and she's heard me play it solo without the ensemble before, so in theory she knows how to do it. and after seven years of playing the cello, you should have the bow control to play quietly.

now, this wouldn't annoy me so much if her ignorance wasn't a recurring thing. last year, we played aquarius with the jazz ensemble and we both really liked the piece. except we had this one part. we had to play a bunch of tied whole notes in the beginning. just two in a row and then we'd change bows. (if you don't play an instrument, a tied note is basically when the note is played over two measures, in this case we would play the same note fore eight beats, and then reverse the direction of our bow) now, I can hold my bow in one direction for eight beats. it's not fun or easy and I'd rather play a melody or bass line to begin with, but if you're playing quietly (like we were supposed to be) you can maintain a pretty steady pace for eight beats in one bow. my friend NEVER did this. she would just run her bow back and forth on the note until we moved on to the next and then do the same there. and I'm talking like she'd play maybe ten notes while we played one. which, obviously, through off the rhythm. we weren't as close last year and I didn't know she'd been playing as long as she had, so I ignored it. but, she kept doing it and she still does. I've confronted her about it multiple times, saying how it's like if you breathed half way through a note on a wind instrument, how it messes us up because her bow will go in a different direction than the other cellos and hit me in the elbow a lot, and how it makes us look weirdly messy. every time she just kind of says okay and walks off.

now, I think my friend could benefit from having her sheet music marked like my teacher used to make me, because clearly just mentioning it to her is not enough and as we move on to harder music it's making us look worse. so, wibta if I brought some extra pens and highlighters and reminded her to circle or highlight different dynamic, rhythmic and bowing notations if she doesn't play them the first few times?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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takamimami · 2 months ago

Text

How Much I Care For You

Pairing: Eustass Kidd + f!Reader (no use of y/n)

I haven't written anything in three years and my obsession with this tulip-headed bitch has brought me out of my hiatus. This fic is inspired by the song Bad Girlfriend - Theory of a Deadman (I'm in my divorced dad rock era)

CW: SMUT, light dom/sub, kidnapping, dub-con if you squint, power play, Kidd calls you 'pretty girl' --- word count: 3.1k

NSFW; MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS KEEP IT MOVING

Summary: You're out with your crew for one last night before setting sail - and you find yourself drunk and alone, looking for entertainment. Who you leave the tavern with is not whose bed you end up in, however... OR You're a bit of a flirt and like to piss off your captain/lover/boyfriend(?), and like usual it ends up with him power-hungry and trying to show you who you belong to.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since the rest of your crew left the tavern, but as you hazily scanned the crowd below you all you could see were unfamiliar faces; their eyes looking you up and down as you swayed your hips meticulously to the sound of the guitar playing in the background. The alcohol coursing through your veins had distracted you from your fatigue up until this point, but as your movements slowed you became harshly aware of the aching in your legs.

Deciding you either needed to call it a night or find another sucker to buy you a drink to further dull the pain, you hopped down from the bar you stood on to search for any familiar faces. You grimace as a few hands make their way towards you, swatting away the overzealous men trying their best to grab your attention. After a few moments of searching for your crew, a rough hand on your shoulder has you lunging in the direction of the poor fool who dared get between you and your pursuit.

The punch intended for the man’s face instead meets his calloused hand, and your eyes follow his muscular arm up to his face, the look of amusement on it catching you by surprise.

“Woah there, little lady,” he chuckles deeply, the vibrations of his voice ringing through the room even with the loud music still playing. “Careful who you’re throwing these pretty little fists at, wouldn’t want you to piss off the wrong person.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at his condescension, all of the interest he had piqued in you leaving once he opened his mouth. You pull your hand from him, dropping your shoulder slightly to make your way past him, but he instead shifts to remain in front of you, his large frame making it impossible to continue.

“Easy, little lady,” he grins, lowering his head down closer to yours. You curl your lip at him and give him a warning snarl, and this only seems to amuse him even more. “I just wanna buy you a drink, alright? If you still can’t stand to be around me after that then you’re free to go.”

You hesitate before looking away from his grey eyes, looking down to see his hand extended to you as he opens a way for you, motioning in the direction of the bar. The scowl doesn’t leave your face as you brush past him, begrudgingly taking him up on his offer as you saunter over to the bar.

You take another look around the tavern as you order a glass of whiskey, hissing as you feel your admirer approach from behind you and attempt to snake his hand around your waist. The look in your eye deters him enough, and he raises his hands in defeat as he leans against the bar and orders a glass for himself. The two of you stand in awkward silence as you wait for the drinks, your eyes casually glancing around the tavern every so often to see if there is anyone left from your crew you had come into town with.

When the bartender finally slides the drinks over, your instinct tells you to down the drink and be on your way, but much to your dismay the man speaks up before you can bolt for it.

“You looking for someone, little lady?”

You finish your swig of whiskey, letting the liquor glide down your throat slowly to savor the burn. You pull the glass down from your face before looking at the man again, your vision already starting to grow hazy again. You watch silently as his eyes look you over, stopping on your chest as he awaits your answer, his eyes glossing over slightly. You can feel your nipples poking through your shirt, and you giggle lightly as your admirer notices as well.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, unable to hide the flirtation in your voice. You lean closer to him, “I would tell you who I was here with earlier, but I don’t want you to piss yourself.”

The challenging tone in your voice has the man’s eyebrow quirking, and a thunderous laugh bellows out of him as he leans down to meet your face. As he approaches you can see a few superficial scars marking his cheek, adding to his edge. Though most people would be intimidated by a man of his stature, you were used to far worse and couldn’t imagine the man being any bit of a threat to you and your crew.

“Little lady,” he chuckles, earning a sneer from you, “You’re talking a big game, but where are these big bad friends of yours now, hm?” He looks you up and down again cockily, and you can sense him puffing out his chest defiantly, “Seems they don’t care too much for you if they left you alone with me and my kin around.”

Your vision blurs and coats the room a deep red color, your anger almost getting the best of you in your inebriated state. You let out a deep chuckle of your own before pulling away, deciding the only thing you’d like more than plunging your dagger in his throat for insulting your crew is to see him at your captain’s mercy. So instead of lashing out at him, you simply finish your drink and slide the glass back to the bartender before walking in the direction of the entrance, wagging your finger back at the man and beckoning him to follow you.

The man waves over to a group on the other end of the tavern before stalking after you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer to him as he walks next to you. This time you let him, feeling him run his finger over the exposed red thong on your hip a few times before snapping it against your hip, causing you to look up at him mischievously.

“So, little lady,” the man slurs, “Mind telling me where we’re going?”

The grin on his face drops as the sounds of footsteps approach from the distance, and both of you turn to see a group of men approaching, your admirer bristling at their presence. But before the men can reach the two of you, you feel a boot connect with the back of your knee, your legs buckling and a hard arm pushing you onto the ground, causing you to tumble forward. Before you know it your admirer is turning around to swing an arm at the assailant, who easily dodges the blow. Then the man draws a gun, only for it to come scattering towards you on the floor as you try to wrap your head around the sudden chaos.

The group of men that had originally drawn your attention finally approached, one of them throwing a sack over your admirer’s head and the other turning towards you, a familiar head of shaggy light blue hair approaching and bending down to you.

“You’re such a pain,” he grimaces as he holds a cloth to your face, the pleasant scent of the cloth a stark contrast to the face looking down at you as you slip from consciousness.

~~~

You open your eyes to darkness, the room feeling as if it's spinning as you try your hardest to adjust your eyes. A dim light on the other end of the room flicks on, sending a skull-splitting pulse through your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, teetering on the verge of vomiting.

A familiar low growl comes from the other end of the room where the light is radiating from, and you immediately feel chills run down your spine as the sounds of boots on hardwood approach. You open your eyes to a pair of golden orbs staring down at you, and in that moment you feel a damp heat begin to pool between your legs.

You swallow harshly as he continues looking over you, letting out a deep sigh and sending his warm breath dancing over your skin. It's at that moment you realize your captor had removed most of your clothes, leaving you in only your red bra and thong. You lift your arms to cover yourself only to have your captor trap your wrists in his large metal hand, leaning his face dangerously close to yours.

“I thought maybe you weren’t gonna come home,” he chuckles sinisterly, earning a smirk from you as he runs his flesh hand up your torso, stopping to cup your breast and squeeze it roughly through the fabric of your bra. “I got a little impatient, so we came lookin’ for ya, only to find you prancing out of the tavern with that scrawny little prick.”

You hiss as he reaches behind you, unclasping your bra and tossing it across the room before pinching your sensitive nipple between his thick fingers.

“You’re fucking insane, Kidd,” you breathe, earning a smirk from him as he drops his head to take the other nipple in his mouth. Your body was alight with desire as he flicked the bud with his tongue, alternating between licking and teasing it with his teeth. You try to pry your hands free from his grip but instead, he tightens his grip, making you yelp as the metal from his prosthetic arm digs into your wrists.

“You know I don’t like being teased,” he growls, raising his head to look up into your eyes, his own glossy and heavy with desire as he stares you down. “And yet you let him wrap his arm ‘round you like you were fucking his. You must want me to kill ‘im, hm?”

Your reply is cut off by Kidd crashing his lips to yours, his kiss hard and almost desperate. You could taste the rum on his tongue still as he claimed your mouth for himself, leaving no corner of your mouth untouched before moving his lips to your jaw, smearing his lipstick over you messily. A slight moan escapes your lips as he kisses his way down your neck, stopping at your favorite spot on your jugular and sinking his teeth into it, sucking and marking you before licking over the abused area.

Again he raises his head to look at you, a pleased grin adorning his face as he looks over the mess he’s made of you so quickly. “Where were you going to take him?” His question comes out as a command, and your legs tremble at the sound.

“I-I…. I was b-bringing him back to the ship,” you answer truthfully, your voice trembling with need as you attempt to grind your hips up against him. Kidd notices your attempt and sinks his hips down to you, grinding his groin against yours teasingly.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he hisses, making space between the two of you suddenly.

“I wasn’t!” You cut him off, trying to hide the whine in your voice as you reach your legs up and wrap them around Kidd’s waist, pulling him back down to you. “He pissed me off and said my crew didn’t care about me, so I wanted him to find out for himself.” You do your best to steady your voice, but you know deep down the desperation is bleeding out of you.

Kidd only chuckles as he drops his hand down to your thong, pressing down on the cloth and rubbing your clit through it.

“Is that so, pretty girl?” Kidd practically purrs into your ear, growing hungrier for you after feeling how wet you were for him. Your back arches as he adds pressure to his ministrations, your hips bucking into his hand. “Well, I was gonna kill him before coming to deal with you, but now I want him to hear just how much I care about you.”

You smile wickedly as Kidd tugs your thong down your legs, pulling away from you momentarily to free himself from his trousers before hovering above you again, his thick erection pressing into your thigh as he brings his face back down to yours.

“Want you to scream real loud for him, m’kay, pretty girl?”

You have not a second to react before Kidd’s hands are grabbing your hips, positioning his cock at your entrance before pressing inside you hastily. The sound that leaves him vibrates through the room, both his and your eyes screwing shut as you gasp loudly at the sudden stretch of him. He pulls himself out of your wetness fully before snapping his hips back into you, and the cry that leaves your mouth has his eyes flying open and searching yours, a glimmer of concern flashing over his face before the lust takes over again, and you feel yourself clench around him as he begins rocking his hips into you rhythmically.

“Fucking hell,” he growls huskily, leaning forward and adjusting the angle of his thrusts, earning another cry of pleasure from you as you feel his grip on your hips tighten. As he pistons in and out of you, you remember his request and let your moans fill the room unapologetically, your voice only spurring Kidd on as he fucks you mercilessly. Now that your wrists were free, you reach around and claw at his back, trying desperately to pull him impossibly closer to you.

Just as you feel the familiar flutter in your abdomen Kidd pulls out of you, and before you have time to protest he's flipping you onto your stomach, forcing your hips into the air before bringing his flesh hand down to your ass harshly. You yelp and he runs his metal hand over it soothingly before repeating the action with the other cheek.

“That’s for being a tease,” he growls, giving your ass another swat, this time a little more playfully that the ones before.

“I’m s-sorry, Captain,” you mewl pitifully, playing into the power play you know drives Kidd wild. Your words earn a growl from the man behind you as he presses himself back into you, his growl growing louder as he feels your walls embrace him.

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, the snap of his hips pushing you forward hard enough to nearly fall on your face. Kidd notices your instability and grabs at your forearms, pulling your chest up off the bed and bracing you as he fucks you, the sound of skin and your moans echoing through the room and surely down the halls of the ship. Your legs begin to tremble as the knot in your stomach tightens, the new and deeper angle you were taking him at allowing him to brush against your g-spot effortlessly.

Sensing you teetering on the edge, Kidd tugs your arms back farther and wraps his metal arm around your chest, the pleasure he was bringing you enough to distract you from the conflicting roughness of the cold metal. You whine as his flesh hand reaches down to tease your clit, his fingers fluttering over it lightly, but not enough to give you your release.

“You know,” he snickers, panting in your ear as he holds you to his chest, “I’m not too sure you deserve to cum on my cock.” His statement leaves you whining, knowing he would make you work for that sweet moment of bliss you craved.

“Kidd, please,” you pant softly, leaning back into him as he slows his thrusts slightly, keeping you on the edge.

“Uh-uh,” he says, kissing his teeth before continuing, “I don’t think your friend has gotten the picture yet.”

Your pussy clamps around him at the possessiveness in his tone, your legs going numb as you throw your head back against his shoulder.

“Kidd! P-please!”

The desperation in your shout nearly made Kidd cum on the spot, but he ducked his head into your neck to focus and keep himself afloat for a few more moments. He increased his pressure on your clit as your mouth fell open, your orgasm rearing its head as he thrust into you harsher.

“That’s it, pretty girl, let him hear how much I care for you. How good I make you feel.”

With his words you tumbled over the edge, his teeth sinking into your neck as you cried out his name like a prayer. Your walls fluttering around his cock pull his own orgasm from him, and he contemplates finishing inside you before he decides against it and pulls out of you, ropes of his cum falling on your ass as he pumps himself in his hand.

For a while Kidd holds you close to his chest again, leaning back to take some of the strain off of your knees. When your breathing begins to level out he lets you collapse onto your stomach, climbing off of the bed to pull his pants back up and grab a towel to clean the two of you off.

Your eyes, which hadn’t opened since your orgasm, fluttered open at the feeling of a rough cloth along your ass, the tender flesh still sensitive from Kidd’s punishment. He then dips back into the washroom for a moment, returning with two glasses of water, which he extends to you before taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

The room is filled with a comfortable silence as you sip the water, your mind racing back over the events of the night as your headache slowly creeps back up to your temples.

“Was the chloroform really necessary?” You giggle.

Kidd looks over at you, the look in his eye paired with the evil smirk on his face making the butterflies in your stomach stir.

“Well, it was intended for your little friend,” he chuckles, turning his head towards the door. As if on queue, a wail echoes down the hall and Kidd grins mischievously. “But he didn’t put up much of a fight, and I didn’t want to have it go to waste.”

He winks as he stands up from the bed, crossing the room to grab his vest and coat, giving you a view of the marks you’d left on his back. You knew he’d curse you for marking him, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Instead, you just smile at him, drunk off his smell as he leans down to kiss you lightly before heading towards the door.

“Try to keep him quiet,” you call out as you settle into the bed, snuggling under the blanket as Kidd pulls the door open. “I wanna get some sleep before we set sail tomorrow.”

Kidd just laughs, though the sound is more ominous than humorous as he heads down the hall to pay your friend a visit.

If you made it this far, hai :3 I am trying to get back into writing so feel free to message me if you have something you want written, or just to let me know what you thought 💗

Do not repost or translate.

#eustass kid x reader #eustass x reader #eustass kidd x reader #eustass kid x you #eustass kidd x you #eustass kid #eustass captain kidd #eustass kid smut #one piece #op #ek smut #limitlesswrites

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grey-sorcery · 2 years ago

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Suggested Reading

Threshold Theory Energy Work Fundamentals The Subtle Body Spell Design Spell Dictation Sigils: How-to Intro to Gnosis Anchors

What is a Spell Circle?

Spell circles, while they aren’t necessary, are a tool that is used as a focal point for a working. They are also very helpful in aiding in headspace via the implementation of aesthetics. Spell circles are technically hypersigils, or a complex sigil that is typically constructed of multiple sigils in tandem. They are typically constructed of three parts: Incantations, foundations, and root sigils. They are used in a ritual format, typically with each practitioner having a standardized approach to using them for spell work.

How do they work?

A spell circle is similar to a sigil in the way that there is an incorporation of intention, energy, passion, and focus in their creation. Spell circles operate most effectively within the energetic model or something adjacent. The psychological model will be entirely ineffective; at least as I have prescribed their creation in this article. They often contain sigils as well as some other elements that serve to connect the circle to the overall working. These elements include incantations, words, phrases, symbology, geometric/organic designs, numerology, etc.

Incantations, words, or phrases can be said out loud as part of the working (provided that doing so doesn’t break gnosis), or written out and burned into ash and incorporated into the working through that process. Though they can also be incorporated in other ways as well. As an example, you could write a song and record it and have the tablature or staff wrapped around the perimeter of the spell circle. You could then listen to the song while casting your spell using it as a centerpoint of your gnosis.

The other elements of a spell circle are used to enhance the threshold of the root sigil or purpose. Each additional element adds a node, or correspondence, to the threshold of the spell. Doing so helps refine the accuracy and potency of the working.

Designing a Spell Circle

If you have experience working with sigils, then designing a spell circle can be pretty easy. I highly recommend using programs like procreate to make these, or drafting tools! Freehanding them can be quite difficult without any experience with technical drawing. I use my tablet to draw them digitally and then trace them onto a burnable substrate such as paper.

Incantation(s)

An incantation is a phrase that is said that astutely states the intent of the spell. It is important to have this memorized, if you use them. Without having them memorized, using them will pull you out of gnosis by disturbing your focus. Incantations are like the thread that binds the spell circle to the rest of the working, especially if you use other tools, sigils, etc. When I construct my spell circles, I use the pronunciation of my sigils as the incantation, which are all aspects of a conlang that I developed. This can be seen as a sigil chain. So long as the incantation is written somewhere on or near the circle, then it is capable of being connected to the burning of those sigils via the incantation. I find that having the incantation encircle the root sigil is the most aesthetically pleasing for me.

Root Sigil

This is a sigil that is at the core of the circle. It should represent the base goal of the spell. This sigil is connected to the rest of the circle via the Foundation(s). Like all sigils, it is important that it is drawn while channeling its meaning through your mental state, emotions, and subtle body to be most effective.To create them, I will draw the enclosing circle first before drawing a grid within it. This grid is then used to ensure that the root sigil is centered and scaled appropriately. The sigil is always the first part that I draw. Here are a few examples of sigils I have used for spell circles:

Foundation(s)

Foundations are simple designs that each have their own correspondences. Some foundations use numerology to derive their meaning, others are given their meanings based on how they interact with the root. The foundation(s) used should also align with the purpose of the spell; but more specifically, to describe the means of manifestation of the spell to some degree. They can also be used to expand the context of the root sigil, ex. Whether it is intended to be a blessing or curse. I am always sure that when I draw them in the grid, that they appear to be a part of the sigil, yet also behind it by having the lines stop and continue any shapes that are a part of the sigil, like circles, triangles, and squares. Here are a few foundations that I use:

Associative Symbology

These symbols are things I don't really implement in spell circles myself, but include things such as astrological symbols, alchemical symbols, magical alphabets, color, and imagery. These symbols are typically incorporated in equal distribution around the circle in radial fashion, but can also be used in other configurations. The number of symbols can be implemented with numerology in mind as well. Colored line-work can also be used to further the correspondences. Imagery such as pictographs can also be used, following similar implementation as other symbols.

Applications

Spell Circles can be used for all sorts of workings, typically in a ritualistic fashion. However, they may also be used as passive sigils, meaning that they are placed and affect a specified space gradually over time. If they are used in this fashion, they will need to be revisited and charged periodically. When using a spell circle in a ritual, place them underneath the central spell elements such as cauldrons, candles, bowls, etc. Please use discernment. Fire safety is of the utmost importance. Once the spell is in motion, use the incantation that connects the circle to the working. I highly recommend rehearsing your incantation until it is memorized so that your spell’s effectiveness isn’t hindered. I highly recommend placing a spell anchor onto your spell circle as well so that there is a direct medium holding it. This way the spell can be recharged, broken, or altered as necessary.

Ritual Closing & Disposal

As part of closing any working, it is important to close off all energy that is connected to the working other than the anchor. Part of this is disposing of the spell circle in a responsible manner. This can be through responsibly burning it and burning the ashes, burying the spell circle itself (Provided it is on a biodegradable medium), soaking it in water to dissolve the ink and then cleansing the medium, or if it is drawn on a dry-erase board you can just erase it and cleanse it. When burying the ashes of your working, try to use your discretion as to which direction it is buried relative to your sleeping place or place of casting.

Identifying a Spell Circle

A few popular designs for spell circles have been misidentified in the past, specifically those of John Dee, who was a prolific cryptographer. These designs have a lot of the hallmarks of spell circles; however, they are enclosed with 72 latin letters, which don’t have any magical or mystical correspondences, but are very common in encryption wheels, and then are encoded through biblical reference. The influence his work had was very substantial in the development of spell circles and their design. While his encryption circles can be used for magic, like any other design drawn through intention, passion, and gnosis, it is obvious that it was not intended as such given the historical context of his life.

Interested in my other articles? You can find my masterpost here.

Patron Shoutouts!

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#informational post #spellwork #spellcraft #spell casting #spell craft #spell circle #witchcraft #witchcraft resource #witchcraft guide #ritual #beginner witch #sigil #sigil creator #energy work #sigil magic

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luna-writes-stuff · 1 year ago

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As Long As It’s Not About Love, Dean Winchester

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Fluff

Word count: 2141

Tw: Brief mentions of injuries/blood, spoilers for all SPN seasons, you get a dog (no excuses). Dean struggles to say ‘I love you’. Some pining, but it’s all resolved. This was written in an hour and you can tell.

Summary: The three times Dean wants to say the L-word, but he can’t. And the one time he does.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“From the first time we touched with our eyes Only magic could take away my heart. I am always afraid for my heart.”

For as long as you’d known Dean, you knew he could never say the L-word. You had known this when you became friends and you had known this when you became a couple. It never seemed to bother you. Friends around you had thrown it around like a casual thing, but Dean seemed to attach more meaning than most to that word. He never outwardly discussed it with you, but you knew it bothered him at times. It never bothered you, though. No matter how long the two of you had been dating, you found peace with his reluctance.

Dean, however, did not. He loved you - he knew he did, which was exactly why it bothered him so much. If his feelings told him one thing, but his mouth couldn’t voice it, where would that leave him?

He had tried to tell you. Many, many times. But there was always something, or someone that would interfere. More often than not, that was his own conscious.

“So lay beside me now and tell me lies, sweet lies. As long as it's not about love.”

The first time he almost said it, had been a sheer moment of fear. Hunting halfgods sometimes appeared to be more challenging than you were originally led to believe. He and Sam had sprung the perfect trap: you and Dean would serve as easy bait as Sam would try to sneak from behind. But plans always worked better in theory.

The god had been aware of your scheme, and had set his very own trap, leaving Sam unconscious on the floor the second he had opened the back door. Neither you nor Dean had enough time to react before you were both on the floor.

When you awoke, all three of you had been tied to a chair, your wrists bound tightly together, almost restricting the blood flow. Dean remembered all too well how he had felt that day. The halfgod had loomed over your figure, taunting and threatening you, almost enjoying the way the Winchesters reacted.

From the back of your chair, you managed to clumsily reach Dean’s hand, clinging to it tightly. When he felt it shake within his own, he would have whispered any words to comfort you, but there hadn’t been much else he could besides show the same stone cold expression, not daring to let the god know he had been pushing all the right buttons.

“Shall we sail off the edge of the world? Fall forever and never look behind. But I must keep my heart from my mind.”

It was when you finally returned to the motel after slaying him, that reality began to dawn upon him. You had been frightened that day - mortified. And there was nothing either of you could do besides watching it happen.

When it took you longer than usual to get out of the bathroom, he had entered the room and found you upon the floor, your head in your hands as you silently wept out all the left-over stress. He had sat down on the floor beside you, not saying anything. His arms wrapped around you as he forced you into his hold, his embrace grounding you as you found yourself slowly coming back down to Earth.

The blood on his shirt was a rude interruption to your eyes. Where calmness had finally begun to settle in, you now found yourself reliving it again. Your sobs grew harder again as Dean began to gently shush you, his fingers tracing figures on your back.

Mumbles of desperation escaped you without full context, and - though he had no idea what you were saying - Dean knew you were trying to make everything make sense in your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” He muttered into your hair. “I…” His breath hitched slightly, a dawning feeling settling in his stomach.

He couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lay beside me now and tell me lies. As long as it's not about love.”

The second time was after Dean came back from the post-apocalyptic dimension. You had stayed behind with Rowena, watching over Lucifer. Rowena had insisted she didn’t need the help, but Dean would rather have you safe in the bunker than possibly stuck in a world where angels ran haywire.

When Lucifer had shown up on the other side of the portal, his blood had almost run cold. First, he lost Sam - who eventually came back -, then Lucifer would be terrorising Jack, and to top it all off, the devil loved to boast about how terrified you were of him.

In truth, you had kept yourself standing for quite a while. You had almost gained his respect for it. But you were still a mortal, and you stood no chance against an archangel. Not even a fallen, half-fuelled one. Not when he was pissed.

Rowena had cast him out before he could deal any severe damage, so the words he had spoken to Dean had been nowhere close to the truth. He hadn’t gutted you, tortured you or put your head on a spike. Dean hadn’t truly believed all of his words either, but they chilled him to his core nonetheless. There was no easy way to check up on you; nothing would soothe him but perhaps his own mind. And it caused a terrible distraction to him in the whole escaping plan.

“Oh, the last time we touched with our eyes And the magic was stronger than the heart. Oh, I can't run away with my heart.”

When Dean finally resurfaced, he was met with your bloodied face, a hasty plaster just beneath your left eye. Confusion was evident on your face, but he dismissed it. The people behind him could be introduced later.

His bag immediately fell to the floor, a heavy sigh escaping him as he walked towards you in three long strides. His arms wrapped around you tightly, squeezing your back as his head fell in the crook of your neck.

“You’re safe,” He uttered, swallowing down the urge to let out a choked cry. “You’re alright.” His hands rose to your cheeks as you parted, his eyes staring into yours with relief. A comforting kiss was placed upon your lips as he revelled in the feeling of your warm hands covering his. You were alive - you were well.

“I…” Again, that dreadful feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. Your eyes showed empathy; you knew. He didn’t have to say it. He wanted to. He just couldn’t.

“I missed you so much.”

“So lay beside me now and tell me lies. As long as they're not about love.”

The third time was during Chuck’s impending doom situation. Worlds had already been destroyed, and you knew it was just a waiting game now until yours would be next. You had lived through apocalypses, dimensions and times, but impending doom had been your worst experience thus far. There was nothing you could do to stop it. Sam and Dean were adamant and stubborn, always ready to fight, but even now they began to see that perhaps, this truly had been the end.

“So, what’s next?” Sam sighed, multiple papers strewn on the table in front of him. You and Dean sat on the other side of him, a bored expression on both of your faces. “I hate to be the one to say this,” You sighed. “But I think acceptance is really all there is now.”

You felt Dean’s eyes turn to you. “Really?” “Yes, really, Dean.” You clarified. “We’re fighting God. We can’t win that one.” “We can’t just give up.” “Then, what do you suggest we do?” You shouted, all pent up frustration suddenly tumbling out. “Bring him a gift basket with a note ‘please, don’t kill us’? Maybe he’ll show some sympathy!” You rose from your seat, the chair falling on the floor behind you with your movement. “We’re going to die! The sooner we accept that, the better! Makes it a lot easier.” Though the last part was mumbled, you were sure the guys heard it too. You didn’t want them to respond to it. You turned around, heading out the library towards your room.

“Sweetheart, come on!” Dean called after you, also rising from his seat, but you had already disappeared. Sam cast him an apologetic glance. “Ah, save it.” His brother groaned, taking off after you.

“Shall we sail off the edge of the world Fall forever.”

A soft knock was heard on the door before the knob slowly turned. “Sweetheart?” “Leave it, Dean.” You groaned, curled up on the bed, which you had almost forgotten you shared. “No,” He answered, before the door closed. A moment of silence fell over the room before the bed slightly dipped behind you. A hand gently made its way to your shoulder, placing comfort there.

“How do you find any solace in all of this?” You muttered, hugging a pillow closer to you. “I don’t.” He answered honestly. “But we can’t afford to stop fighting. If I did, I would have been dead ten years ago.” “You were dead ten years ago.” You countered. A chuckle escaped him at your remark. You turned your head at the sound, showing him a faint smile.

“We’ll keep fighting,” He returned, his voice equally hushed. “Until we fall down. We don’t stop fighting until we stop breathing.” His hand lowered over your arm, finding your hand instead. As his fingers intertwined with yours, he gave you a pleading look: “Please, don’t stop fighting. If we can get five more days, I’d like to spend them with you.”

You let out a low scoff at that. Not in annoyance, but in agreement. You brought your hands up to your mouth, placing a light kiss on the back of Dean’s hand. “I love you, Dean.” You whispered against it, your eyes looking up to look into his. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“Take my heart away but, no You can't say words about love.”

When he finally managed to say it, he didn’t even think of it. Where he had once tried to find proper words for every situation, he had now come to accept things as they were.

When Jack had brought everything back, you and Dean decided to take off on your own. Sam wanted to leave the hunting life behind, and after everything the three of you had been through, you completely understood him. And to your surprise, so had Dean. Both of you had settled into a typical white fence house, the occasional demon traps hidden under doormats and salt lining every window. But besides that, you seemed to have found somewhat of a normal life.

Much to Dean’s demand, you had gotten a dog, caring for it as if it had been a child. Walks were always shared together, a great way for both of you to get some exercise without having to hunt everything that hadn’t seemed relatively normal.

“If the magic comes between us And we never meet again. Take a part of me away.”

And that was exactly how he had found himself in that situation. On a bench in a dog park, sitting directly next to you, your head on his shoulder. He never thought he’d find himself enjoying a simple life, but there he sat, watching his dog run with the others while both of you sat in blissful peace.

“I was thinking of going to that new steakhouse downtown tonight.” You mumbled, a faint smile on your face as you felt Dean’s shoulders shift slightly with his laughter. “Bought some pie for when we get home afterwards.”

“That sounds amazing,” He groaned. “Good,” You laughed, looking up at him. “Because I already made the reservation.” A fond smile crossed his face as he leaned his head against yours.

“God, I love you.”

Your body tensed simultaneously with his as his words were spoken. Lifting your head, you gave him a surprised look, unable to suppress the grin growing on your face. Dean copied your look, a low chuckle escaping him as he processed his words.

“I do,” He reassured. “I love you.” You laughed at that, your hands falling around his shoulders as you brought him in for a hug. “I love you.” He repeated between kisses placed on your collarbones. Then, he kept you at arms distance, unable to deny a second laugh. A firm kiss was placed upon your lips - one you gleefully returned. “I love you.” He spoke again, placing a second kiss on your forehead.

“God, I love you too, Dean Winchester.”

“'Cause maybe it's all about love, love.”

#november writings 2023 #spn #supernatural #dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Jensen ackles

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rosaline-black · 2 years ago

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̲R̲̲o̲̲m̲a̲̲n̲̲t̲̲i̲̲c̲̲i̲̲s̲̲e̲ ̲t̲̲h̲̲i̲̲s̲

Summary: you’ve gone through life living vicariously through the characters in the novels you so regularly read. But when a rambunctious curly-haired dungeon master decides to insert himself in your day, maybe you’re forced to tare your eyes from the page.

Category: Eddie Munson X Fem!reader

Warnings: very very mild sexual references. Swearing. Kinda angst but not really. Just intensely fluffy tbh. Minors dni.

You romanticised everything. Whether it was walking home with the rain pouring down and pretending you were in some crappy rom-com or listening to music while you sat in the library, everything had to be romanticised. Your theory as to why was quite simple, romance had never come easy to you. Nobody had ever asked you out, nobody had ever as much as flirted with you before. Your love life was, and had always been stagnant.

So, when a rambunctious metalhead was leaning against your locker, twiddling his hair between his long lean fingers like a schoolgirl in love, you stopped in your tracks. Maybe he was high and thought your locker was his? That made the most sense logically.

With hesitant steps, you simply walked to him, eyes already wide at this bizarre scenario. Slipping off your headphones and clearing your throat, the boy in question jumped in his spot before chocolate brown eyes were staring at you. He had those classic glowing doe eyes that could be mistaken for street lamps in certain lighting. Eddie Munson was just so pretty. Prettier than you had ever realised. The more you stared wordlessly the more you began to romanticise this meet-cute. That was until he finally spoke, and you were reminded that romance movies were not real life (and usually written by women).

"Can I help you?" His words were colder than you had expected. Could you help him? The nerve of this boy to question you when he was the one standing before your locker.

"Well, you're blocking my locker..." Unfortunately, the words didn't come out as strong as you had hoped, you should have limbered up your throat before speaking. Now you probably came across as some random scared girl who was afraid of the big bad freak at Hawkins High. In reality, you were scared of pretty much anybody.

The guy in question's eyes softened at your voice. He looked almost apologetic. Your heart fell into your throat at his next action. With a flourish of his arm, Eddie twirled nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, trying to make a big drama out of moving from your locker to the next. Instead of acknowledging this you simply put in the combo and grabbed what you needed, basically hiding your face in your locker out of embarrassment.

It's not that you were ashamed to be seen with Hawkins's resident king of freaks, you just didn't enjoy the attention he warranted. Since starting high school, you had done everything in your power to remain as forgettable as possible. You only had one real friend, Robin the band girl, who had the same strategy you did. Survive. Get in, get out with no trace. Then you could live your real life once running away from this shitty town.

"Ignoring me won't work..."

His voice was like a song, and you screwed your eyes shut once more. You were sort of using that child-like defence. If I can't see him he can't see me. Annoyingly he was right though, ignoring him was futile. You'd provoked him, proved that his company wasn't something you craved, and now he would do anything to hold your attention. Slamming your locker shut you turned to him, crossing your arms across you like a form of protection, a coat of arms if you will.

"What do you want Eddie?"

"Ah, nothing princess... just bored you see..."

That love-obsessed sado within sighed once again. Obviously, he didn't seek you out for any particular reason. This wasn't a romantic gesture or a sign of fondness, he was just bored. They were always just bored. You didn't stop to talk any longer, turning on your heel and walking as fast as possible down the hall. Your headphones went back on, and new order pumped around your body. Your steps grew faster with every fast beat, completely missing the body who was following behind you like it was their only mission.

Eddie had spotted you months ago, although you probably didn't remember your interaction. It was menial at best, you dropped your cassette, and he picked it up and passed it to you. That was all. Yet you didn't leave his mind. The scared animal look you had going on drew him in. Not because he thought it was entertaining but more intriguing. Why did you hide from everyone? Never present, just keeping your head low, letting the music be your distraction from everyone and everything.

For whatever reason, you hadn't left his mind over the past couple of weeks, and after many lunch times spent bumbling about you to the other hellfire members, Dustin snapped and ordered him to just go speak to you. Maybe he hadn't realised it yet, but it was pretty obvious to everybody else that he was harbouring a crush on you.

So, when the interaction started with you looking around shamefully, almost fearful of his presence in itself, his guard went up just like your own. Stupid was the only word he could think to describe himself right now. In a fit of desperation, Eddie reached for your shoulder, tapping it lightly which caused you to trip, landing on your knees.

His chocolate eyes widened and as you slipped off your headphones he could practically feel the humiliation. A few kids were laughing to themselves, pointing at the girl who had just stacked it. When you turned around your eyes were filled with fury, in all honesty, Eddie was frightened (and a tad turned on).

What annoyed Eddie even more, was that you didn't shout at him, call him out on his admittedly dumb behaviour, no, you simply walked the other way towards the school exit. The attention seeker couldn't take it.

This was exactly why you were the way you were. Those leaches that joined any bandwagon they could to make themselves feel better laughed at you. In theory, nobody would care in an hour, but you would. Your over-obsessive brain would replay the cringeworthy moment over and over until you wanted to puke. As you fell asleep that night you were betting on the fact that your heart would plummet and your toes would curl just at the memory of your embarrassing blunder.

What was worse was that damn pretty metalhead had been the cause of your humiliation. He had sauntered after you and caught you off guard, again. What pissed you off even more was you couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him. His wide terrified eyes told you all you needed to know about his intentions, and really that's all that mattered.

Coming to a stop in the middle of the woods behind campus, you stumbled across a bench that you could rest at. Screw the rest of the day, biology could miss you for just one period. Taking off your blaring headphones, you let your head rest in your palms for a moment, just taking in the sounds of the wind blowing the trees, the scurrying of squirrels and the approaching footsteps-

Wait, footsteps?

"I come in peace I promise..."

Eddie freaking Munson.

Raising your head to look up at the voice, you couldn't help but frown. Was he here to mock you? Were your presumptions wrong about his guilty expression?

"Can't you just leave me alone? Can't you bother someone else with your boredom?"

You rarely spat venom like that, but the built-up stress and anxiety spilt over. You regretted the minute he pulled his pink bottom lip between his teeth like a scolded schoolboy.

"I just wanted to apologise... I think we got off on the wrong foot..."

His eyes were dripping with longing. You almost felt guilty, even though you hadn't done anything wrong. And to be fair to the puppy dog-eyed dude before you, he hadn't done much wrong either, well not on purpose anyway.

"Fine... I accept your apology... can I just listen to this in peace please?" You gestured to your Walkman and instead of leaving Eddie took tempered steps even closer.

"Uh... what are you listening to?"

He looked cute when he was nervous. Did you make him nervous? I mean you were probably the most calm person from day to day, the fact that you made him nervous was quite perplexing. Finally thinking over his question you sighed and pulled out your mixtape, sliding it to him. All of the songs were listed on the side and as Eddie wrapped his long ringed fingers around it, you had to force yourself not the choke on the air. Get it together.

"Woah... some real obscure shit on here... impressive..."

He seemed genuinely happy with your selection and it made your heart grow hotter, well your entire body for that matter. It's not that you sought out his approval or anything, it's just the smile that had formed on his face was something you wanted to stare at over and over.

"Thanks... uh... I might head home now..."

Just like always, the minute something felt nice or out of the ordinary, you ran. With a brief wave, you left Eddie Munson staring at the place you had just been sat.

The following week nothing much changed for either of you. Eddie had made no effort to seek you out again which was relieving but also... disappointing?

That night when you went home your embarrassment had been fought by the aching in your chest. The kind of longing you'd feel diving into a shitty romance novel you'd gotten for a dollar at the thrift store. Shamefully the difference this time was the man in your head wasn't some six-foot-seven muscled Casanova but a lanky tatted dork.

His hand caressed her inner thigh as his large brown eyes met her own and-

NOPE. No no no. You wouldn't allow yourself to turn whatever the hell that arbitrary hour was into some sick romantic fantasy just because you were lonely. Though maybe you didn't have a choice? Since every time your eyes would read the page your brain would shift the words to fit the description of the dungeon master walking towards you.

Walking towards you?

Shit.

"Hi sorry... hi... uh are you busy?" His palm collided with his forehead like he had said something obscene "Sorry of course you are you're reading... I'll leave you to it..."

The fact that the boy, before you seemed so apologetic for merely speaking with you, put your heart in a vice shaped like his ring-clad hands. It was clear he was as used to being thrown aside like you. Always conditioned to believe he was an inconvenience, too much or not enough. No matter how terrified he made you, no way could you allow yourself to make him feel that way.

"Stop... no I'm not busy... the books shit anyway..."

Pivoting on the ball of his foot, Eddie was now face to face with you. Two pairs of eyes locked in the middle of the library.

"I just wanted to say hi again... and uh I was wondering if you were busy later? They're doing a reshowing of the breakfast club tonight at the movies and well... shit I don't know if you wanted to go... with me?"

If you were to compare yourself to any creature at any point in your life, a goldfish wouldn't have come to mind straight away. Your memory was pretty swell. However, the way your mouth opened and then closed... and then opened again contradicted the fact. You were a fucking goldfish.

"If not it's totally cool... you probably already have like plans or something so no worries-"

"I love the breakfast club..."

Finally, words formed. Dumb words. Very very stupidly obvious words. But words nonetheless.

"I know..."

He knows?

"You... know?"

The nerves on his countenance began to morph into a darling shyness. The big bad Wolf of Hawkins High was certainly more a red riding hood type, his cheeks matched her hood perfectly.

"Well, I heard... well asked Buckley what kinda movies you liked and uh... she said that... I coulda guessed honestly simple minds were on your mixtape... and uh you got the whole pre-makeover Alison look going for ya which is sick by the way..."

Maybe you were both red riding hood. Your face is set alight and it was only then did the romance novels and the unrealistic tropes fly from your mind. Not only had this delightfully odd creature before you ask you out, but he'd gone to the effort to ask about you. Not just ask about you, but know you. Know you enough to ask you out to your favourite fucking movie.

Clearing your throat, and finding the courage to rise from the safe zone of the library desk chair, you let yourself warm into a grateful smile.

"Im free tonight... and I'd be happy to watch the breakfast club for the eighth time with you..."

"Only the eighth time? Well sweetheart my chariot can pick you up at seven..."

The shyness melted into that same bravado you assumed he exuded during D&D campaigns.

"Well good sir I look forward to it"

Your dorkiness matched his. And in that moment Eddie Munson decided that his favourite princess was not Leia. But you.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie x reader #rosaline black

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