#and then in ch6 it happens again. god.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-kaash-me-outside · 10 months ago

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a bit dirty - ch6

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch6 [masterlist]

// a really great idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ~ 7392 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, squirting, sex in a bed!!, a lot of feelings and love!!!!, intimacy in more than just the bedroom fr, names names names pet names a million pet names, oral f!receiving, afab she/her pronouns

tori talks: oh good god guys we're finally here. thanks to everyone who is going to read this last chapter even though it literally took me over 6 months to write it. i hope you enjoy it and i'm glad it's over and that it happened. ily all. hope u enjoy. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

you’re not sure you’d admit it to anyone, but walking into osamu’s apartment for the first time feels like coming home after a long day at work. you can see yourself here, more than you can in your own apartment or your childhood home. you feel just a little bit more like yourself, shoulders relaxing in a way that you didn’t think they needed to, breath a tiny fraction steadier. you’re not sure you’ve felt this comfortable in a really long time.

you don’t have to ask him where to put your shoes or where to hang your jacket, and he doesn’t take them from you either. he doesn’t put them away for you or tell you to hang them on the hangers in the empty closet down the hall.

when he unlocks his door and pushes inside, you mimic his motions, placing your shoes gingerly on the rack to the right of the closet between his white sneakers and black work shoes, hanging your jacket on the empty hooks above the spot where you've just retired your shoes.

stepping deeper into his apartment, he offers a small, “so, welcome,” he says, gesturing to the living room, one hand softly wrapped around yours as he tugs you along. stepping past the barrier of the front door, further into osamu’s space, you don’t feel like a guest here. you just feel like you belong.

“oh my god, it’s so clean in here,” you say, a few paces ahead of him now, but he refuses to break contact, to let go of your fingertips so he walks quickly along with you.

“well, yea, i’m not really ever home,” he explains, shrugging, as you walk around his living room eyes stopping at the neatly organized coffee table with cork coasters and a yellow hard-covered book titled this book will make you kinder, at the photos on his wall of him and his brother and him and his restaurant and him and suna, at the plants in the window sill and the dustless, dirtless ledge beneath them.

you shake your head, “no, that’s not true. you come home after work and you’re here before you leave for work, and i’m sure you’re super busy leaving in the morning and super tired when you come home at night, so it’s really impressive that it’s really clean.”

he lets out a half-laugh, a breathy light scoff in the place of a real response. you turn around, looking at him directly with a mischievous look on your face, “unless you cleaned your apartment just for me tonight?”

osamu’s quiet, a very telling silence, a wordless admittance. “oh my god!” you say, hands on your hip, and the slight hold that he has on your fingertips isn’t broken yet, his hand now pressed against your side, fingers curling around your hip as he pulls you a little closer.

“okay!” he admits, “so i am pretty tidy anyways, but there may have been a few dishes in the sink and the bed might not have been made and the couch cushions didn’t look that good before but-”

you shake your head, clicking your tongue, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you tease, “how presumptuous of you that i would come back here after our date?”

“i didn’t think we’d just fuck in the bathroom again, baby, what was i supposed to do, you literally said-” he says, trying to explain himself, unstoppable smile on his face as he pulls you even closer to him.

“do you think i’m that kinda girl? to just fuck you on the first date?” you ask, palm flat against his chest now, the other hand snaking up to lazily drape around his neck.

he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you tight around your arms and shoulders, holding you in place as he laughs so deep that it sends tingles and shivers down your spine and skin. “you’re very funny, y’know that?” he asks, squishing you against his chest as he presses kiss after kiss into the top of your head.

“you made the bed? fixed the couch cushions? samu, i mean, really, what did you think was going to happen tonight?” you giggle, emphasizing every other word dramatically as you squirm in his tight grasp.

“i mean,” he says, leaning back to look at the warmth on your face, the fluster that lies with it, “you are here, aren’t you? i couldn’t have been that wrong if the cleaning paid off.”

you giggle harder now, leaning up and pressing a kiss into wherever you can reach in his strong hold. “i sure am,” you agree. he loosens his grip, hand falling down your arm to thread his fingers with yours again. he pecks a small kiss against your lips and then your cheek.

“you sure are,” he says, warmly.

you really could’ve stayed in the middle of his living room forever surrounded by couches and books on shelves and an impressive entertainment system. you didn’t need any of it either, didn’t need a place to sit or things to keep you busy, you’d be really happy just staring at osamu for the rest of time, at hearing him laugh, at feeling his pulse in your palm.

“can i getcha a drink?” he asks, pulling you out of this mellow, love-struck state in the name of hospitality.

“only if i can come with you,” you say, looking over his shoulder into the kitchen. your motivation is 70% wanting to stay with osamu and 30% wanting to see what his kitchen looks like: what kind of mugs he has, where he keeps his silverware, if his knives and pans are on display or tucked away in cabinets.

“clingy,” he teases, smile huge because there wasn’t any way that he was leaving you alone for even a second.

“fine! i'll stay in here,” you pout.

he doesn’t respond, only laughs and pulls you by the hand, “come on, pretty.”

you don’t protest anymore, following along happily into the kitchen, forcing yourself to sit on the barstool in front of the bar rather than snoop in his cupboards and drawers. he’s hesitant to let his touch fall from yours, to let go of the contact he has on your hand and your hip, but he does, presses a small kiss into the side of your head, and walks deeper into his kitchen.

from here you can see the kettle on the counter and the knives on a metallic strip above the black countertop. the pans are nowhere to be seen. they must be hidden away somewhere safe. you don’t say anything and neither does he as he pulls wine glasses and mugs and cups out of the cupboard and places them on the countertop in front of you.

and you still don’t feel like a guest.

it feels like osamu getting you a drink is because he loves you, like you could get up and get your own if you wanted to, like you already knew where the tea bags were and the spoons and the shelf that the sugar resided, like next time you would return the favor, let him sit down for a minute while you made the two of you tea or poured another glass of wine.

“what’s it gonna be?” he asks, gesturing to your choices on the bar in front of you.

“y’know you could’ve just asked me that before pulling out all the cups?” you tease, eyes moving from cup to mug to wine glass.

he shrugs, “not as visual.”

“what are you in the mood for?” you ask, reaching to pick up the mug, black ceramic with a gray stripe along the base. you turn it over in your hand, running your fingers along the matte texture. yeah, this feels like a mug osamu would own.

“anything, really,” he says, smiling before the rest of the flirt even comes out of his mouth, “as long as i’m drinking it with you on my couch, i will be very happy.”

you roll your eyes. it’s really unfair how predictable, yet how adorable, he is when it comes to things like that. “alright, how about wine now, tea later?” you ask.

he rests both of his hands on the edge of the counter for a moment, nodding as he does, removing the cups from the counter and pushing the mugs towards the tea kettle. “sounds like a plan, angel,” he says, disappearing behind the pantry door and coming back with a bottle of wine.

he doesn’t recork the wine or put the bottle back, leaves it exactly where he sets it on the counter in a rush to just drink wine on his couch with you. he carries your glass for you as he guides you back to the couch.

sitting on the plush, perfectly set cushions, tucking yourself into the corner against the arm rest, osamu pressed up against you, pulling your legs over the tops of his, his hand resting comfortably on your calf, you’re not sure you’ll ever really be ready to go back to your own cold, lonely apartment. when you close your eyes, you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now.

your first glass of wine isn’t even finished before he interrupts your current conversation of favorite movies and media with a stupidly cute, nervous question, “so, can i ask you now?”

you want to be stunned or at least fake it, but you can only lean closer into him, setting your wine glass down on the coaster on the coffee table to wrap both of your arms around his bicep. “ask me what?” you tease.

he shakes his head, “y’know that night i thought you were so out of my league.”

you lean backwards, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “no fucking way.”

“swear,” he laughs, leaning forward to set his glass down next to yours, “and i was out of my depth, had no idea what i was doing, just couldn’t stop staring at you-”

“oh, i know,” you say, recalling his smitten, lingering stare so perfectly that your face feels warm, “every time i would look over in your direction you would be looking at me like this.” you mimic your recollection as best as you can.

he puts his face in his hands. “that’s so embarrassing,” he says, and it’s muffled by his palms. you wrap your hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his face and kissing the backs of them.

“no, no, it was cute,” you say, but he still groans. you continue, “samu, i was into it, obviously.”

he explains further, “sumu was like shoving me over there so blatantly that i almost didn’t go over there.” he shakes his head at the memory, at the alternate universe where his stupid brother alone failed to start the best chain of events of his life. “and then omi leaned over to me and was like, ‘i'll distract your dumbass brother, go have a good night, you deserve it.’”

“remind me to thank him then,” you say, softly, shifting against the couch to lean against his shoulder instead of the armrest.

“will do,” he says, smile in his voice as he snakes his arm around your waist, hand resting on the side of your thigh. “i’ve thanked him plenty for both of us, but it might mean more coming from a new mouth.”

“you just say the most romantic things like it’s nothing,” you say.

“i don’t try,” he admits, “just hard not to be romantic when i’m with you.” he reaches across you with his other arm, pulls you further into his lap until both of your knees are on either side of his thighs and you’re facing him. “sorry,” he mumbles, “wanted to look at ya.”

“you’ve gotta be doing this on purpose,” you whisper.

his fingers scrape against the tops of your tights before rooting on your hips. he shakes his head. “it’s all you, really,” he whispers back. “these thoughts just come into my mind and i say them. love you so much, you make it easy.”

you’re very grateful for this position because it’s effortless to lean down and crash your lips into his, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss, to feel his chest lift to kiss you harder. he tastes like expensive wine and a little bit like you still and you might cry, he’s just really perfect.

he places his hand on your shoulder, holds you in place as he leans back into the couch. the pout is already forming on your lip, so he runs his thumb across it gently. “will you be mine?” he asks, adding before you’ve even answered, “let me love you with labels.”

“oh my god, samu, you’re going to kill me, y’know that?” you say, hands cupping both of his cheeks before kissing him sweetly. “how do you expect me to keep up with this?”

“just say yes,” he says, quickly, “that’s enough for me.”

“of course,” you say, forehead resting gently against his, kiss placed on his nose and then the high of his cheekbone. you repeat it again just in case he missed it the first time, “of course.”

“i’m sorry that i didn’t make this happen sooner,” he says, soft sigh accompanying his remorseful tone.

“stop that,” you hush him.

“i mean it,” he says, sitting up into you a bit more, “if i would’ve figured my shit out sooner, we could’ve been doing this for months.”

“yeah, but you don’t know if everything would’ve turned out the same way,” you say, bringing your hands up into his hair, “if that would’ve been too soon or if we needed to go through all we went through to be as strong as we are now, there’s no way to know, really.”

he smiles at you, not opening his mouth to say anything, just soaking in the moment, humming at your astute thought. you continue, “i guess i just mean that, yea, getting more time with you would’ve been great, but we can’t do anything about that. so i’m just really glad to be with you now, here, drinking wine and sitting in your lap and kissing you.”

“and you say i’m the romantic,” he murmurs, kissing you once more.

“you are,” you argue.

/\ /\ /\

neither of you even finish your first glass of wine. even if you had, there was no way the two of you were untangling from each other and making your way into the kitchen for another, not in the middle of unimportance conversations about your thoughts on christmas lights or osamu’s thoughts on the type of pet he’d like to have one day.

but as the hours tick on, as the clock hands droop lower and lower, osamu knows that you need some sort of transition period to staying the night. “cup of tea before we go to bed?” he asks, head resting against the back cushion of the couch staring into your eyes with as much love as he can.

“are you being presumptuous again, samu?” you tease, but your eyelids are getting heavier and you can’t put a lot of effort into the taunting.

“i’m sorry, princess, do you want to stay the night?” he asks, gut-wrenchingly sincere.

“i would really love that, yea,” you say, flustered in the backfiring of your banter, “and tea sounds really nice too.”

he nods, once, short and happy, ready to move you off of his lap to go get the two of you a final drink before bed, but you get off of him first. “i’ll get it,” you offer, waiting with bated breath for him to fight you on it or to be weirded out by the forwardness of raiding his kitchen to feel the domesticity a little harder.

he doesn’t protest at all, lets the smitten, lingering stare last for a few moments before saying, “only if i can come with you.”

before you’ve made it to the kitchen with osamu in tow, he stops you, plants in place in front of the hallway to his bedroom, and nods towards it. “but first, can we get you into some comfier clothes?” he asks. “nighttime tea tastes better when you’re in comfy clothes,” he reasons. you can’t disagree.

you follow him down the hall to his room. you don’t get a good look at his plainly decorated room or the nicely made bed as you wait in the doorway. he returns quickly with a t-shirt of his. “you can change in the bathroom across the hall if you want,” he offers.

“you know you were inside of me in a fancy restaurant bathroom hours ago, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, pushing past him into his room and taking off all of your date clothes. osamu folds them neatly as you set them on the bed. when he picks up your torn tights, he can’t hold back his small laugh.

“oh yea, so funny,” you joke, “you can probably throw those away.”

“but they’re perfectly good for having sex in public bathrooms,” he jokes back.

you pull his shirt over your head, soft cotton taking the place of going out clothes and the difference is already lulling you to sleep. you’re determined to make osamu tea, but you can’t promise most of the cup won’t go cold on the counter.

it doesn’t take long for osamu to be on you, arms wrapped around your waist, hands roaming over your body, “you look so good right now.”

“shut up,” you say, pushing him away with the least amount of resolve anyone has ever had, “imagine how i feel looking at you wearing stuff like this.”

“you look better in it than i do,” he says, shaking his head.

“not possible,” you say back.

he leans down to kiss you once before reluctantly pulling away, walking back over to his dresser to change into comfier clothes as well. if you weren’t so stupidly tired, seeing osamu shirtless and in super casual sweatpants would’ve been the perfect catalyst for your first night together having sex in a bed.

tea. sleep. tea. sleep. tea. sleep. you remind yourself.

“c’mon, angel,” he coaxes, pulling you by your hand back down the hallway and into the kitchen. he leans against the countertop, doesn’t say another word or try to make you tea despite your earlier statement.

you start the kettle with the push of a button, pull the mugs from across the counter in front of you. you pluck two tea bags from the glass jar where they live. you have to open a few cupboards before finding the spoons, but the sugar is right where you think it will be.

“i think knowing that you take sugar in your tea is both the most surprising thing and also somehow completely aligns with who you are,” you reason, pouring the gently boiling water over the tea bags. by the time you finish your sentence, you’ve noticed the enamored look on his face, but you don’t have time to comment on it as he replies.

“that’s because you know me really well,” he says, nodding, loving smile still lingering. you put half of a spoonful of sugar into the cup, stir until it dissolves and then slid it against the countertop to him. he wraps his fingers around the warm cup, brings it to his lips, blows on it gently as if that’s going to do anything at all, and then takes the smallest sip. “perfect.”

you lean against the edge of the counter, holding the mug in your hands, waiting for the air to cool down the steaming beverage. “i think i’d be really okay with ending every single day of my life just like this,” you admit. if his eyes go wide or he recoils even the smallest percentage, you’ll blame it on the eventful day and the exhaustion that’s quickly overcoming you, but they don’t. his features soften, hand reaches across the counter to rub the back of your hand.

“me too,” he reciprocates. “you’ll have to stay over more often,” he doubles down.

“what?” you ask, taking a sip of your tea. you can feel the warmth hit your stomach. “have dinner ready for you when you come home and spend your nights off intertwined on the couch?” everything that you’re saying is getting closer and closer to practically asking to move in, but osamu doesn’t seem to mind.

“exactly that,” he murmurs, “you’ll have to see if you like my bed first, though, before you resign yourself to coming over every night.”

“every night?” you ask, cheeky smile the only form of teasing that you’re giving right now, “maybe we should go check it out then.” you take one more sip of your tea and then set the cup down on the counter. osamu doesn’t even do that, pulls you away from behind the counter and down the hall.

you climb into his bed, under his covers without asking or another mention. osamu joins you, climbing into the other side, and the two of you don’t waste a single second, curling up against each other, limbs lazily tangling, pressing up against one another as close as you possibly can.

“the first time we’re in a bed together and we’re not even having sex,” he says, softly, reaching over and turning off his bedside light. it takes a few moments for your eyes to get adjusted, to make out the shapes of his face in the dark.

“crazy, right?” you ask, smiling as you snuggling into his chest impossibly closer.

“i like this though,” he admits, traces his fingers up and down your arms, “just being in bed with you, falling asleep with you, means i get to wake up with you.”

you hum at his voice, soft and deep, and the darkness looks the same as it does with shut eyes, but you’re trying your best to not let the sleep take you that fast. “can you keep me awake?” you ask.

“you’re literally falling asleep as we speak,” he says, your eyelids fluttering shut as if to make a point. you shake your head, but you don’t say anything else. “why do you want me to keep you awake, babygirl?”

“cause i wanna be in this moment a little while longer,” you reason, breath taking over your voice as the darkness and warmth pull you into a comforting hug.

“we’ll have plenty of time for moments like this later,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “plenty of time, so go to sleep, angel.”

you’re not even embarrassed at how quickly you listen to him.

/\ /\ /\

if last night wasn’t enough to convince you that you were exactly where you needed to be for the rest of your life, waking up in osamu’s arms definitely was. they’re strong around you, wrapped tightly around your waist, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, legs intertwined with yours.

you’re incredibly surprised that you’ve woken up first, but the second that you start to stir, osamu’s grip loosens, and his head peaks over your shoulder and he places a small kiss on your cheek. “mornin’,” he says, raspy as he talks off the sleep.

you turn in his arms, laying flat on your back so you can look at him directly. “good morning,” you say back, lifting your head to kiss him. “very good morning,” you say again.

“cute,” he murmurs against your lips, “stupidly cute.” you reach your arms up, draping them over his neck loosely to pull him down into you. “do you want breakfast or something?” he asks.

you shake your head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “no,” you say, “well, maybe later? i think right now i just want, y’know, this.” you gesture with a small nod not really towards anything in particular, just to the situation.

he laughs, kissing the side of your face, “alright, this it is.”

you don’t say much else. nor does he. it’s all stolen kisses and roaming touches and silent exchanges. you don’t feel the need to talk, don’t have much to say, you’re communicating just fine without them.

every touch is getting needier, every kiss is getting longer, sloppier, more desperate, and the only thing that you’ve been able to think about for the last hour is all of the promises that have been made to you about after date things.

it doesn’t help that he’s on top of you now, tops of his thighs resting between your legs, hands on either side of your waist just looking at you like that. the first thing you say in over an hour is, “what, samu?”

he laughs, pushing his fingertips up your body, under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and up until your entire stomach is exposed. “god, you’re so hot,” he says, grabbing onto your waist to pull you closer to him.

“samu,” you whine.

“what, doll? it’s true,” he says, pushing your shirt up even further now, tits on display so pretty that you can feel him begin to grow hard against your inner thigh. “so pretty,” he murmurs. he tugs your shirt off, tosses it to the side with no regard for the tidiness of his room anymore.

you’ve really never been this exposed before when you’ve had sex with osamu, always an article of clothes on, but now the only thing stopping you from being completely naked is the thin fabric of your panties and osamu’s fingers are already hooked in the waistband. you don’t protest as he drags them down your thighs, picks up your legs and rests them on his shoulder as he does.

he presses a kiss into the side of your leg, slowly drops them back around him. your stomach is in knots, can barely breathe with the way that he’s looking at you, eyes traveling down your body so slowly that you can see each point that they linger a second longer.

“fuck, you look good,” osamu says, leaning down to kiss your shoulders, your collarbones, your chest.

“shut up,” you murmur, fingers threading into his hair, scratching against the back of his head as he scrapes his teeth against your sensitive skin.

“no, i’m serious,” he says, leaning back, “you’re so fucking pretty, gorgeous actually.”

“ew, shut up,” you push him away jokingly, gently, “or i’m not going to let you fuck me unless we’re fully clothed ever again,” you joke.

he laughs against your neck, breath and vibrations tickling the wet skin. every single kiss feels personal, hand-crafted and perfectly thought of just for you. the placement is direct and purposeful and you can feel his love in every single one.

“god, i’m going to take my time with you,” he says, pulling away again. you can feel the blush blooming under your skin, warming up every inch of you, igniting fires in your stomach.

“first time that we have a lot of it,” you joke, coaxing him back up to your lips. “and first time that i don’t have to be situated on a sink or the floor.”

“so you’ll be perfectly comfortable,” he says, kisses trailing between your tits and down your stomach, “while i eat you all morning long.”

“samu,” you say, crook of your elbow rising up to your face to hide behind it. he reaches up, pulls it away from your face.

“don’t hide from me, doll, look so cute like that,” he says, laying between your thighs, pushing them open with familiar hands. you give in to the gentle pressure so easily that you swear you hear the faintest laugh coming from Osamu, but the light kisses peppering your thighs that follow gain your focus instantly.

it should feel agonizing, the way he takes his time dragging his lips across every part of the skin between your legs, kissing and biting lightly. but the longer he’s there the more laughter flutters through your chest, the more your cheeks flush, the more loved you feel. you bring your hands to his face as he rests his head against your knee cupping one under his jaw and using the other to push his hair back a little.

“make me feel so pretty, samu,” you mumble. he makes no attempt to answer, just holds your gaze with loving eyes as he brings himself to ghost near your already soaked pussy, the feeling his breath overwhelming any of your other senses.

“just want you to see yourself through my eyes, princess.” the end of his sentence comes with a long, slow swipe of his tongue against your hyper sensitive clit and it feels good to finally not worry about who can hear you.

you dig your head back into the pillow, hair already a mess after a perfectly restful night’s sleep. you can feel his eyes burning into you, even if you can’t see them, even if your focus is really anywhere but the agonizing feather-like touches between your legs.

it’s a shame, you think, but only for a moment, that his mouth is so busy that you can’t hear him call you pretty names or poke fun at you for whining so much. only for a moment.

if there’s one thing that osamu cannot be called it’s all-or-nothing. osamu doesn’t do all-or-nothing; he does slowly, consistently, comfortably, and then all. this is no exception. he runs his tongue between your puffy lips, smears your juices all over your sensitive pussy with the tip, and then he eats you- not like a man-starved, but like a man who he gets to indulge in his favorite dessert.

his fingertips are digging into the fat of your hips, palms pressing to keep you in place, to keep you from squirming, and it’s working. he lets you scratch your nails into his hair, down the back of his neck, resting on the tops of his shoulders. you don’t guide him, don’t buck your hips impatiently, you don’t need to. if he isn’t lapping exactly where you want him to, you know he will be soon, you know it’s deliberate, you know that he knows what’s best for you even if you have to wait for it.

you’re not sure you know how many times you come on his tongue, how many are attributed to just his tongue and how many are attributed to the noises that he’s making, the grunts that are coming from his throat, the mumbled praises that he’s whispering against your soaked folds, the squeaking of the mattress from the soft grinding that he’s doing against the blankets.

without a watch, you’d have claimed you were there for hours, all morning, just like he said. you’re not sure if he would’ve stopped either, if you hadn’t sat up on your forearm, somehow more out of breath than he was, and tugged on his hair. “samu, baby,” you whine.

you can’t help it, the even-more-breathless-breathlessness that hits you when he looks into your eyes, bottom of his face soaked with you, licks his lips, wipes the rest of it with his palm, and crawls slowly up to meet you. he kisses you hard, as hard as you’ll let him, and then he kisses you again, and then he kisses your cheek, and then your jaw, then your neck, mumbles against your skin, “what do you want now, bunny?” he’ll give you anything. “i’ll give you anything.” you know that he will.

the opportunities are endless. the world is your oyster. anything that you ask for, he will give you, and it will be wrapped with neat paper and a pretty bow with a handwritten note several miles long. you swallow, eyes searching his face for nothing in particular, just because he’s pretty and because he’s yours.

“i don’t think i have anything to ask for, because you’re already mine,” you whisper.

his face lights up, skin hot and flushed on the highs of his cheeks and traveling down his neck and chest. for a second it looks like he short-circuits, like you’ve broken him just by telling him the truth, and then, in a second, the world catches back up to him.

he shakes his head slowly and then you’re on top of him, sat with both legs on either sides of his, strong hands steadying you before you can even clock that you need to be steadied. “you’re really asking for it, huh?” he asks, and now you’re feeling warm.

“i- what are you talking about, samu,” you say, eyebrows furrowed. you can feel his hips- and yourself- lift off the bed as the fabric between the backs of your thighs and the tops of his is replaced with soft skin. you yelp softly as you’re lowered back down, hands on your inner thighs pushing you back just enough for his cock to rest between them.

you’re soaking wet, making a mess between your lips and on the insides of your legs and now all over his hard cock, slowly pushing through your pressed together thighs. he brings his hips off the bed, steady thrusts rocking the mattress ever so slightly, both his hands squeezing the outsides of your thighs. he clicks his tongue, “saying shit like that, angel, you know i’m not going to be able to help myself.”

“samu,” you repeat, breathless. “what ar-.”

he cuts you off, sliding his thumb from the tip of his cock to the base, his leaking head slipping between your messy lips until it’s teasing your hole. “sound so in love with me, baby, need to fucking feel you around me so fucking bad right now,” he breathes, sharp inhale punctuating his sentence as he pulls you by your hips until you’re fully seated on his cock.

you don’t know if the warmth is coming from the blush or touch of his skin or the desire that’s burning in your core, but it’s there, and before you can even fully register what he’s saying, he’s honest-to-god whimpering, spouting more lovey bullshit, “god, it’s like falling in love with you made you fit even more perfectly around me.” he lifts you slightly, fingers digging into your hips as he lets you slowly fall back down onto his cock.

he tilts his head into the pillow, but immediately picks it back up, locking eyes with you before letting his gaze fall down your body, like he can’t believe you really exist, like he can’t believe he let himself relax into a position where he couldn’t see you at all times, like he “can’t believe you’re fucking real,” he grunts, “and that you’re all fucking mine.”

“osamu, if you don’t knock it off,” you say. you’re only half-joking. you’re not sure that you could take him talking to you like this for much longer. you feel so full, every part of you feels so full. you slide your hands down his chest, palm against his rapidly beating heart acting as leverage as you start moving in time with him.

you close your eyes, partially to focus on the parts of you that are on fire right now, and partially so that you don’t have to keep looking at how much osamu is looking at you. he can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“can’t help it, pretty, not when i get to savor it like this,” he says, brings his chest up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you securely to him. he kisses the side of your face, whispers in your ear, “not when i finally get to fuck you in my bed and tell you that i love you and see you- all of you.”

“are you trying to make me cry or something?” you ask, placing both of your hands on either side of his face, forcing his attention on just your eyes and the hints of shyness strewn all over your face.

a slight smirk is followed by raised eyebrows and a tiny kiss to the temple. osamu flips you over, lying you gently on your back while you’re still fully encompassing him. “that can be arranged, puppy,” he says, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders and chest. he slams his hips into you and you can’t help the pleasured, high-pitched moan that comes as a result. in fact, you can’t help the ones that come one after another after another as he keeps snapping his hips, insides of your thighs growing raw from the impact.

you’re babbling at this point, a symphony of half-finished words and tiny whimpers, and when a single tear breaks free of your blurred waterline, osamu can’t hold back. “fuck, holy fuck, babygirl, you sound so good, don’t stop, princess, keep making those cute fucking noises, fuck, sound so good.”

you shake your head no and hope that he understands what it means, that you won’t stop as long as he doesn’t. you’ll cry and scream and make cute little noises for him forever if he never pulls out of you.

you’ve always known that fucking in bathrooms has been disadvantageous, you just couldn’t pinpoint it, not when it always felt so good anyway. you never thought the space bothered you or the hard, cold various materials of sinks or the fact that people were often only a door away; you never thought any of that mattered until now, now when you can cry for him and feel the softness of the blankets beneath you and the plushness of the pillow behind your head.

“baby,” you cry, “i’m- you’re gonna- fuck, i love you so much. i’m-.” you throw your head back, you can’t finish your half-constructed sentence before osamu is fucking you faster, harder, wrapping an arm around your lower back and lifting you up the slightest bit to angle you perfectly. your hand moves on instinct, reaches down between your legs and circles your throbbing clit for only a second before you’re squirting all over him, a release of pressure drenching him as you gasp for air, drawing in enough breath to cry out his name.

you place your hand on his lower abs, eyes closing softly to center yourself. you could’ve passed out right here, slept for a million years, and you’re not sure you would’ve completely recovered. your body is shaking, throat is sore, and when you open your eyes, osamu is looking at you with such adoration and awe that you’re certain you’ve missed something.

“the first time we’re not in a fucking bathroom and you fucking make me squirt,” you mumble, shaking your head, “what are we going to do with you?” you ask, removing your hand from his stomach, silently letting him know you’ve recovered enough for him to keep going.

“i don’t care,” he says, kissing your jaw, “i don’t care what you do with me for the rest of my life, that was the most amazing thing i’ve ever seen.”

“you made a mess,” you tease.

“i made a mess?” he asks.

you nod.

he breathes a laugh before accepting responsibility, “i made a mess,” he confirms.

“so you’ve gotta do one thing for me,” you say, circling your hips, matching his lazy thrusts as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“anything,” he says. and you know that he means it.

you use your loose grip around his neck to coax him closer to you, your lips now pressed against his ear. “need you to make a mess inside of me, samu, please,” you say, low enough to send shivers down his spine from the tone alone. his hips stutter. he wants to regain composure, to not give in to blowing his load deep inside of you just from you saying his name and asking him nicely, he really wants to savor it and last a little bit longer.

but you’re so wet. you’re drenched, but you’re still so tight and sucking him in so nicely, perfectly sculpted for him, gummy walls still clenching and fluttering from your orgasm, and you kiss the skin right below his ear and you say, “please, i’ve been waiting for it ever since i fucking met you, please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

and he can’t.

he wouldn’t.

he doesn’t.

he snaps his hips forwards, pressing himself flush against the insides of your thighs and releases deep inside of you. you can feel his cock pulse with each stream, feel yourself getting fuller and fuller and fuller with each throb and accompanying grunt. you can’t get enough. you don’t want it to ever stop, but it does. he keeps himself deep inside of you for a moment, not wanting to lose the feeling just as much as you don’t.

when he starts to get soft, he pulls out, come dripping out of your hole and onto the blankets below just adding to the mess the two of you have created in the span of a few hours. he doesn’t exactly know where to go, what to do. the two of you could’ve passed out just like this, intertwined together and had the most incredible sleep of your entire life, if it weren’t for the huge mess beneath you.

“what now?” you mumble, not moving.

you feel osamu flop next to you. you’re not sure if he’s avoided the mess or if he’s embraced it. part of you wants to stand up and apologize and start throwing his bedspread in the washer, but that part of you isn’t winning, not today. if that part of osamu exists, it’s not winning either. he wraps his arms around your waist, rests his head on your chest, pulls you into him.

“are we just going to lay in this?” you say, laughing. it sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth, but you’re sure it wouldn’t take much convincing for you to not have to move from this very spot. osamu doesn’t answer you, but you feel him unwrap from your body and then get off the bed. you go to sit up, but you don’t make it that far, opening your eyes as osamu pulls the blankets out from under you and throws them in a heap in the corner of his tidy room. he opens the closet door and comes back with a spare, small, but clean blanket.

he reassumes his position on the now-much-more-acceptable bed, throwing the blanket overtop of you and him and cuddling into your side. “is that better?” he asks, but he doesn’t really expect a response. your small smile and content hum is all he needs.

after only a few moments, recuperated by a clean blanket and strong arms, your body is ready to move onto the next thing, ready to get up and start making breakfast or start kissing him again or start getting ready for work despite how long you have until your shift. your skin is antsy, pulse is quickening. there are a trillion things in your head that you want to do with osamu, plenty of dull activities that seem like they’ll be much better with him by your side. you want to see them. you want to do them.

osamu shifts and pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head. “love you, angel,” he murmurs into your hair. “love you so much,” he says again. you feel calmer now, the most at ease you’ve ever been, because you know that there’ll be time for all of that, plenty of time, hours and hours of time to do all of the things that you want to do with osamu, more time than you know what to do with, you just know it.

for now, all you have to do is lay here, in bed, surrounded by warmth in more ways that you thought were possible, maybe let sleep take you again or stay awake in these passing moments, it doesn’t really matter. your exhale is steady, matches with his. you close your eyes and you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now.

you look happy there.

you look really happy there.

taglist: @miyaluv127 @useless-bicth @mushasstuff @unstaaableaf @mimivinx @tsukiran @kurapika-1999 @hehatesmati @karmakarter @hunny-hotline @bella009888 @um-no-ok @footjib @mon-cherries @privthemis @agashki @renster05 @greeniegreengreen @tokyo-banana @fandomtrash5092 @coyloves @heathsuii @pasta-water @ran-rangasma @ayz-it-they @ellesalzar @dabibreeder @s4m1 @perry-gallifrey @barely-coherent @katsunarii @thisbicc @jaynawayna @levis-wheelchair @sugar-crumbs @miyaslvt @sheeshizzy @i0nlyr343mut @ajbutasimp @snazzyturtles @idontevenknowlolls @nicerthanu @angelgvtzzz @lovely-part-time-whore @lilac-ski3s @dovenu @heirxx @kur0obaby @tetsuswhore @alienvarmint @georgettesand @misfit-megumi @bijuu-naginata @captain-alien-america @ti-mame @buckys-hoeee @whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @stargazing-girl @whoisgami @zany17 @privthemis @pennylanewrites @buckys-hoeee @avfox24 @reinertiddiejuice @poke-pia @its-simply-me19 @nahcho @sugamonster22 @destinyg237 @msbyomimi

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

tori talks more: i do not know if i'll be around to write more to be honest with you. like i probably will at some point, but who knows. maybe when the new movie comes out. maybe ill do a jjk pivot bc i just finished it. feel free to scream in my inbox abt it or this or whatever. ily all and im so glad i could finally finish this. <3 :)

#osamu x reader #osamu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #osamu x reader smut #hq x reader smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haiykuu x reader smut #miya osamu x reader smut #osamu x reader fluff #osamu fluff #osamu fic #hq fic #toriwritesshit #abd update!

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acescorazon · 2 months ago

Text

Changes

Chapter: 14

Title: Confliction

Rating: M

Word Count: 3248

Warnings: Su*cidal thoughts.

Chapter Excerpt:

Before anything can happen, though, Mihawk steps into the tent with Crocodile following close behind him. Buggy freezes up the moment that he sees the two imposing figures. The room feels awfully hot, and his body quickly becomes covered in sweat as he stares at his executioners. This is it, Buggy thinks, closing his eyes tight to prevent himself from crying.

Buggy holds his breath and waits for it: For mountains of sand to surround him and swallow him whole or for a sharp blade to pierce his chest (he won’t dodge any strikes that Mihawk might try and deliver to his frail body) he’s ready for the end.

No, he’s not.

Yes, yes, he is. He wants to be free.

No, he doesn’t. He wants to run, he wants to live so badly, but not like this.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|Ch12||Ch13||

Buggy’s lost track of time again, but then again, maybe it doesn’t matter what time it is or what day it is anymore. He lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to block out all of the thoughts that continuously pour into his head. He’s been in the same clothes for god knows how long now, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything at this point.

(That’s not true.)

Buggy is lying there, rotting away. He hasn’t allowed anyone into his room, not even his nearest and dearest friends. Not this time, it would just be too hard for him - for them. His head pounds at all hours of the day when he isn’t asleep, and his stomach is painfully empty but he can’t bring himself to go out and look for food and medicine nor can he bring himself to ask for someone to bring him those basic necessities.

These last few months have felt like some strange nightmare that Buggy can’t wake up from. Everything’s happened so fast and every time Buggy tried to get a grip on the situation, something always went wrong. Just how much bad luck can one guy possibly have? Buggy feels like he’s at the end of the line, though. There’s nothing that he can do to salvage his relationship with the other two founding members of Cross Guild and live happily ever after. Then again, maybe those silly little hopes and dreams that Buggy had, the ones where he, Mihawk, and Crocodile actually coexisted and made Cross Guild a formidable force were just that, silly little hopes and dreams.

Buggy should know better than to get his hopes up or dream by now.

He wonders how his captain did it. Gol D. Roger made an ally out of even the coldest loner. Buggy has his children - his devout followers - sure, but he doesn’t have what Roger had, and he sure doesn’t have what Shanks has either. He never did, though. For the most part Buggy is either universally loved or hated and there’s never been an in between. It’s a stark comparison to Shanks who people fear and instantly love once they actually meet him. Shanks was always more like their captain, though. While Buggy was… Well, Buggy. Buggy the clown, Buggy the apprentice, Buggy the….man forever in Shanks’ shadow.

Whatever, It’s far too late to start again and figure out what makes people love Shanks or what made them love Roger. It’s also too late to figure out what makes them hate Buggy, maybe he should have stopped and thought about why Mihawk and Crocodile truly hated him. Sure, he’s a bit of a coward, there’s no denying that. There are also times when his mouth gets the best of him, but other than that…What’s so bad about Buggy? He…He just doesn’t get it. Out of all the pirates out there on the sea right now, Buggy can’t possibly be the worst person to be stuck with yet Mihawk and Crocodile have always seen him as a pest. A nuisance. A waste of space and air.

Why is Buggy wasting his time wondering about all this? It’s not like it even matters at this point. Nothing matters anymore. He hasn’t seen or heard from Mihawk and Crocodile, which should be a good thing, all things considered, but instead their absence fills him with anxiety. He can’t help but think that they’re planning his execution right about now and that eventually they’ll come, beat him up, and then finally finish him off for good. A scary thought, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t have it in him to run or beg for mercy anymore. After all, all attempts of escape or weaseling his way out of a beating were futile in the past, so why would they work now?

There are times when Buggy wonders if he should just off himself before Mihawk and Crocodile get the chance to. He finds himself thinking that he should piss them off one more time and take away the fun in killing him, but then he stops and thinks. He thinks about jumping into the ocean or grabbing a gun from their armory and just….finally getting the peace and freedom that he’s so desperately wanted for weeks, even months now.

The funny thing is: Buggy’s anxiety is protecting him. It’s keeping him alive for another miserable day. It’s his safeguard. Even though Buggy is rotting away and has even come to accept his fate…his anxiety is still putting up a fight. He’s stuck in a place where he’s ready for death, but far too scared to face it. He thinks about his captain again, and how he was so ready to face his own death. That could never be Buggy. Buggy could never laugh in the face of fate and death like that, he couldn’t even embrace it. He’s spent his whole life running away from death instead and living the life of a coward.

That same anxiety will probably make him run when Mihawk and Crocodile eventually come find him, or force him to seek help before he can truly rot away, when all he wants is to escape this never-ending nightmare. It’s painfully frustrating how consuming his fear and anxiety are at times, and he wishes he were just a little braver, but he’s not.

Buggy can faintly hear some noise coming from outside his tent, but it’s all a distant blur. He can’t make out who’s saying what, but he doesn’t think he wants to be able to hear what’s going on anyways. He’s given up. For all he knows, Crocodile could have finally taken over the island completely after their fight. If that’s the case, Buggy’s better off being in the dark. He doesn’t even want to think about what Crocodile has done to his poor children and island at this point, but it probably isn’t anything good.

“Buggy?” A voice calls out, but Buggy is too emerged in his thoughts to notice who’s speaking to him at first. He figures it’s just one of his crew, trying to get him to eat or come out of his tent finally, but then realization sets in. The voice is soft, masculine, and there are no formalities being used. No ‘Captain Buggy’ or ‘Chairman Buggy.’

A sigh can be heard from outside his room next, “Oh, come on, Buggy. This is starting to become…”

Buggy bolts up into a sitting position, and his heart starts to beat furiously in his chest. This is it. They’ve finally come to end Buggy, just like they said they would if he proved to be a burden. He doesn’t say anything at all, he just stares at the entrance of his tent, waiting for them to come in.

This is it. The day that he’s going to die, the day that he’s going to finally be reunited with his beloved captain after all these years, the day he finally gets freedom from this whole nightmare. He’s scared. He’s never been so scared in his life. Of course, he says that all the time, but he means it this time. His body is trembling on its own and he can feel the first few tears build in his eyes, as well as a bout of nausea.

Buggy’s anxiety is telling him to push past Mihawk (and probably Crocodile) and run as fast as he can to somewhere safe, but he knows that that would be pointless. He wants to run, but he can’t. He’s ready to die, but he isn’t at the same time. Goddamn it, he wishes he wasn’t a walking contradiction.

“Okay, enough of this nonsense. We’re coming in,” Mihawk warns, and it’s at that moment when Buggy thinks he’s actually going to throw up. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll just have a heart attack before Mihawk and Crocodile can get their hands on him. It seems like the ideal situation, as grim as it might sound. He’d be spared any pain or any conflicting emotions, and that sounds like a win-win to him… Kinda.

No, he’s not.

Yes, yes, he is. He wants to be free.

No, he doesn’t. He wants to run, he wants to live so badly, but not like this.

Buggy’s end isn’t swift, nor is it slow and painful. His end doesn’t come at all, actually. Instead, what comes next is rather unexpected. “Open your eyes. I assure you that we mean no harm,” Mihawk orders, and Buggy can hear him pull out his sword. He thinks it’s a trick at first, and waits for Mihawk to stab him, but he doesn’t.

A tense moment of silence goes by before Buggy opens his eyes. His vision is blurry at first but he quickly wipes the tears away and accidentally makes eye contact with Mihawk. “Look,” He says before slowly placing his sword down on the ground and raising his hands up. “We didn’t come here to fight.”He glances over at Crocodile who grumbles something as well as he raises his hands in the air:

“Yeah, we’re just here to talk…”

Naturally, Buggy doesn’t believe a single word that the other two are saying. He figures they’re just going to trick him into thinking he’s safe before killing him for real, but he has no way of proving it. It seems rather likely, though.

Crocodile clears his throat, “Look, I want to apologize again.” He says slowly. Buggy can barely believe that Crocodile apologized a first time, let alone a second time. “I’m not going to bullshit you. I really want this Cross Guild thing to work, and that requires me to have both you and Hawkeye by my side.”

Ugh, stupid Cross Guild. Why does everything have to be about their shitty organization? Crocodile pauses for a moment to gather his words before he continues to speak, “You are more than just a coward, okay? You’re actually an excellent leader, and your status as emperor of the sea makes you rather…invaluable.”

Buggy blinks, unsure how to respond to Crocodile’s praise and apology. It all feels surreal. Maybe he’s dreaming right now, or maybe he’s died and gone to a very bad place, but it’s still somehow better than where he was before.

Crocodile glances over at Mihawk, who nods at him, silently urging him to continue. “I know i’ve been a real dick and i know you probably think i just want to call a truce for Cross Guild’s sake… And, I’m not going to bullshit you, you’d be right to think that. But, look, Buggy, I’m asking you for your forgiveness as well. I’m asking you for your forgiveness and for you to ‘lead’ our little group like before. I swear on my life that I won’t lay a finger on you ever again, okay? I swear I’ll change. Can we please just get back to business?”

Crocodile’s second apology seems a lot more genuine than the first, but part of Buggy is still hesitant. How can he believe that Crocodile is being serious right now? Why would he forgive him for all that he’s done anyways? Is it even possible for Buggy to put aside all his fear and hatred so the three of them can 'get back to business?'

“Look, Buggy, i can tell you ain’t exactly thrilled at the idea of kissing and making up,” Crocodile adds, “But, look, you don’t have to forgive me right away. You don’t have to forgive me at all. I’m an asshole, i know that. Just… can we all agree to get along for the sake of Cross Guild? For the sake of money, land, and power? We don’t have to be best friends but we need each other now and if the government realizes there are cracks in our foundation, you bet your ass they’re bound to attack sooner rather than later.”

“While I agree with Crocodile and want us all to stop with this foolishness…” Mihawk says, joining the conversation again, “I won’t agree to anything officially until you do, Buggy.” Why is the pressure always on Buggy? Why is it that as soon as he’s freed from one situation, he’s cornered into another one? “You already know that I want us all to have a better relationship and if you forgive Crocodile then I’ll make sure he sticks to his word. I’ll make sure that there is a healthy amount of respect between the three of us maintained and that no harm ever comes your way.”

“What do you say, Buggy?” Crocodile asks, holding out his hand.

“We can’t change what we did in the past, but we want to make up for all of our mistakes.” Mihawk states before also holding his hand out, “What do you say? Will you give us another chance?”

Everything freezes in that moment. Buggy can’t wrap his head around the idea that Mihawk and Crocodile are actually apologizing to him again, that they’re actually trying to make this Cross Guild thing work. Their behavior is such a stark comparison to what it was just a few months ago, and it makes Buggy feel like he has whiplash. Is it actually possible for two people to change their ways so soon? he wonders. It’s definitely not possible for him to change that fast, he knows that.

After all the fighting, all the beatings, all the insults, they actually want to put things to bed? Dozens of memories flood through his mind at that very moment. The hell that Mihawk, but more specifically, Crocodile, put him through in the last few months has left permanent scars, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to heal from those scars.

However…Crocodile does have a point. Buggy hates to admit it, but Crocodile is right. They need each other now and if the world government finds out they’re having problems, then they’re sure to capitalize on said problems. And he would be stupid if he passed up an opportunity for a truce again…

Buggy stares at the two hands being offered to him, and as much as he hates the two men before him and wants to reject their offer, there's a voice in the back of his head telling him to shake their hands. To put aside his pride and not start any more fights or drama…

You don't have to like them, just accept the olive branch that they're extending, stupid, he tells himself as he slowly reaches out with shaking hands. He shakes Mihawk's hand first and then, after a moment of hesitation, he shakes Crocodile's hand.

If this is all a lie or a trick, then he'll just have to accept the fact that he fell for it. He slowly opens his mouth and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse and shaky, "W-What happens next…?" He asks.

"We'll have a meeting in a few days," Crocodile replies, "Now that we're all on the same page, it'll be business as usual." There’s that phrase again: Business as usual. Buggy doesn't know whether or not he should dread this new chapter for Cross Guild, but anything would be better than what they had previously going on for them.

"Yes, but, again, Crocodile and I can't stress how sorry we truly are." Mihawk tells Buggy, "And we're truly grateful for your forgiveness." Eh, Buggy wouldn't say that, but, okay. It's more like he accepted their apology because he had no other choice, but, it’s not like he’s stupid enough to say that out loud.

Crocodile heaves a sigh, "Yes, we're sorry. We're sorry. I'll have gifts sent to you first thing in the morning." He mutters, looking at some random corner in the room. Oh, now he's just trying to buy Buggy's forgiveness, isn’t he…? Well, It can’t be bought, but he’ll still take the presents, especially if it’s booze.

Buggy looks down at his lap, “Yeah, I…” He pauses, not quite wanting to outright say that he forgives Mihawk and Crocodile when he really doesn’t. He smiles instead, “It’s fine! Did you two really think you could bring me down?! Get real!” He fakes a laugh because that’s what he’s supposed to do, but it’s all another act. He thinks Mihawk can tell he’s putting on an act right away, and if Crocodile can too, he sure doesn’t show it.

��Nothing can bring Captain Buggy The Clown down!” He laughs again, but these are two men who are well aware that he’s been locking himself away and suffering alone because of all the issues he’s been having with them. They know the truth, yet they don’t say anything. “You didn’t even need to apologize, really! You could have just sent some booze over and all would have been fine!”

(No, It wouldn’t have been.)

Buggy guesses that means he’ll return to being more or less Crocodile’s personal secretary and the fake leader of the group… It’s not the worst gig, he supposes. “What’s with the tense faces, boys?!” He asks as he looks around and notices that Mihawk and Crocodile have rather serious expressions on their faces. “ This is a new chapter for us! For Cross Guild!” He cheers, “We’re going to take over the world, boys!”. No one cheers with him. They stare at him, reading him like a book. They know the truth. He wonders how they can read him so easily.

Mihawk stares at Buggy, and there’s feeling behind those icy eyes of his. Perhaps it’s pity, but Buggy has never once asked for Mihawk’s pity. “...” Mihawk finally looks away with a sigh, “I look forward to this new chapter as well…” He mutters as he turns to leave.

What the hell? Buggy can’t help but think. He’s done everything right, hasn’t he? Why does Mihawk still seem so…disappointed? Was that disappointment or more pity? Was it regret? There’s something that Mihawk clearly isn’t saying, but Buggy can’t figure it out.

Crocodile also begins to make his leave as soon as MIhawk starts to go, but then he suddenly stops. "One more thing," Crocodile says, turning around. Oh, God, he's going to ask for something unreasonable right away, isn't he? The more things change, the more they stay the same. "Go get something to eat and take a hot shower. It pisses me off to see you like that." He mutters before turning around and leaving.

Buggy stares at the entrance to his tent for a moment after his two partners leave. “Like you even give a shit…” He whispers to himself softly before lying back down and laughing bitterly at the irony of Crocodile’s words. Maybe, just maybe, if Buggy were a little stupider, he’d think that was Crocodile’s way of showing he cares, but he knows better by now.

A/N: An actual totally legitament picture of me walking out of the pits of hell to write and post this after disappearing witihout warning:

#changes #cross guild #i must not forget about my life's purpose (to post old man yaoi)#my fics #if i could gather the strength to post from now to like the end of the year i think that would be very on brand from me

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formulapookie · 2 months ago

Text

💛💛

Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4; ch5; ch6

Les fleurs du mal ch7 rosquez, 3,2k words

The flight is not worth any kind of notice, the air inside the plane feels heavy, as if someone just put tons and tons more worth of weight on Vale’s shoulder just to keep him anchored to the floor and not let him fly away.

The hostess passes by a few times, asking if he wants anything, Vale barely acknowledges her presence, shaking his head and saying he’s ok.

It’s still half an hour to Barcelona. From there it’s less than an hour drive to Cervera.

God he’s really doing this. He’s- what the fuck is he even doing?

They won’t let him near the body, or the fucking funeral for that matter, let alone close to his grave.

But he needs to see him.

Even if it won’t be sunny, happy Marc he’ll look at, but this strange version of him.

Still in his selfishness Vale wants. He thinks he’s owed that. To see Marc. To look at what he did, because he thinks it’s a suitable way to pay for his actions.

He wants to be the one in the front row saying his last goodbye, wants to be the one carrying the casket, it should be him.

Not Lorenzo, not Dovi, not Pedrosa, not Alex.

If he could, if he only could, he would carry him into the church and from there to the graveyard all alone.

He’d cry. Beg for Marc to come back probably. But at least he’d be close.

Unbeating heart next to warm skin.

Vale doesn’t cry often, before this the last time he cried was for Marco.

God how much had he cried for him.

Uccio and his parents tried to get him out of his room for days, he refused to eat, or drink for that matter. He thought about staying locked in there until the same fate that got Sic got him too, so that they could still ride together in the clouds, like he said Marco to be doing.

Only Luca had managed to get him out, shake him from the dark and rotten place he caved himself a shelter in, and bring him back out, but it was a long and difficult task.

Marco, he. He never fully agreed to the version for which he died before. The one saying that the moment he fell and slid on the track without his helmet he was already dead.

No.

He barely agreed to the one publicly accepted, which is that Marco was there, 50/50 with a chance of never recovering and he just sped up the process.

The fact is he believed and still secretly believes to this day that he killed him. Ran him over, snapped his neck, and killed his best friend. Because maybe he would’ve survived, maybe he could’ve gotten better, maybe they’d have raced again.

For what concerns Marc there aren't even alternatives or sets of opinions about what happened, or whose fault it is, or if it could’ve ended in a different way.

He killed him.

And even if he did it unintentionally he feels like he did it on purpose. Revenge, what a sick fucking felling.

It makes you think and act in ways you didn’t think were yours.

He feels his skin itching, cutting into his muscle and he wants to tear it off, but doesn’t move in the slightest, he wants this to hurt.

Pain is a way to punish himself, though not slightly comparable to the one Marc felt, but it keeps him there, tied to reality and unable to escape the fact he hurt so many people just by being an asshole.

He thinks about the night after Sepang. It’s not a good idea.

He gets up and runs to throw up in the toilet, the alcohol and the few bites of food he’s digested are now out of his system, and he cannot think about eating anything right now.

The image of Marc standing before him, pleading and begging for a chance to be them again.

He remembers the almost-tears in the boy’s eyes, those same eyes looking at his souls trying to get a hold of it.

The image of them two makes its way in Vale’s mind.

If someone had walked in, he would’ve seen a 20 something kid getting his heart shattered, trying to pick the pieces up from the ground as Vale kicked them around, smirking with that sick fun he proved that night.

How could he treat the person who loved him the most like that? Leave him to the wolves as if it had always been like this.

Then a memory from Valencia comes up.

The one moment who revealed to him what Marc was going through.

“You like helping him uh? You sucked his dick too? Did you go to him and let him fuck you as a thank you for letting him win? Did he fuck you well Marc? I bet you enjoyed his dick so much given how you ran to me immediately after to suck me off”

“Stop it Vale please”

“Ah stop what? I’m having fun here aren’t you? Does he know how you like to be treated like the whore you are?”

Then Marc had thrown up. Those petals, horribly yellow and blue.

“I’m sorry”

But sorry doesn’t fix anything, doesn’t fix the hole in his heart shaped like a shot wound.

Sorry doesn’t bring Marc magically back and places him onto his plane, sorry doesn’t give him the chance to tell Marc he loved him still.

Sorry doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t even make him feel better. The only thing that could brighten his day is Marc’s smile.

Or a kiss from him, a hug, holding hands. An action that told Vale “I’m here, I’m here with you”

The only noise is the signal that tells him to fasten his seatbelt because they’re landing. No laugh, no “Vale you want me to hold your hand? I know you’re scared of flying”, no little yelp Marc did when they started taking off.

Vale never liked flying. Not private, not commercial. He doesn’t like lots of factors, height, pressure, danger, noise.

He hates taking off and landing most of all.

And when he’s alone he always grips the seat so fucking tight he had to replace armrests more than once. The jet company had told him he should be sure if he wants to have something so fancy he’s so scared of.

He hadn’t cared.

“Vale? Are you ok? You look a bit - a bit pale. Have you eaten? Do you want me to take you something from the bag?”

Vale shook his head, put on a reassuring smile and sat in his seat, Marc beside him smiling so much Vale though it had to hurt.

“Are you excited? For our holiday?”

Vale had gone overboard that time, something he never did for his past girlfriends, not for anyone but Marc. Marc. A shooting star that came into his life to stay.

He planned a 12 day holiday in the Philippines, just the two of them, in this apartment far from the rest of the world, where they could be just themselves without the fear of being discovered.

“I already told you amore no? Really excited, we’re gonna be in this very beautiful house surrounded by nature and near the sea for twelve days, and most importantly I get to have you all to myself for twelve days. I have already planned a few things I’d like to do once there, you know?”

Marc had blushed, looked away.

Of course he “planned” a few things as well, they were completely alone for more than a week, having sex is the most expected thing there.

And he really wants to spend at least two days straight without getting out of bed. Vale’s tension hadn’t worn down during their small chat, Marc could see how he kept on looking outside the window, and how the armrest of the seat Vale was on looked like a wild cat attacked it.

“Vale, are you nervous?” “Uh? No no I’m ok don’t worry baby” “You look strange” “No no I just am really excited about going there with you”

Marc had watched him again, until a particularly sharp noise came from the plane’s engine.

At that, Vale had shut his eyes and his mouth morphed into a thin closed line, even with his eyes closed Marc could feel the fear.

“Vale, are you scared of flying?” “No” “Amor I won’t judge you, but are you?” Vale opened his eyes, the plane was ready to take off. “Yes. I don’t like it” “Ok then uhm I can maybe hold your hand? To make you feel more secure?”

Vale also doesn’t like to ask for help, or make it obvious he needs it, but the way Marc was looking at him moved something in his chest, it made him vulnerable, but in a pleasant way. A sweet kind of it.

“Ok. Yeah yeah ok you can just-“ “Yeah I solemnly swear I will never tell Valentino Rossi wanted me to hold his hand because he’s scared of flying”

They had laughed, and Marc had brought him a kind of warmth and comfort he hadn’t felt in any other moment of his life.

Right now he’s alone. There’s an enormous emptiness beside him. An obvious lack of warmth and doe eyes looking at him with love.

Those eyes, God. How many times has he looked at them, how many times has he seen them open at the first lights of the morning in creamy white sheets they shared, how many times has he fell in love with them.

The memories are almost enough to distract him from the impending touch with the ground.

Maybe the plane will break, or crash. Save the others and leave him a carcass twisted below tons of metal sheets, unrecognizable at the sight.

Maybe this would be the right way to pay back Marc. Maybe just this could be enough. Dying of a horribly painful death, like Marc did. Alone. Cold.

The plane lands, and there’s no explosion or collision. Valentino is alive, and painfully so.

He never understood people who said they wanted to die until now. Because there’s something about thinking that it can all be over, that he can get away with it without having to face the others.

Lorenzo, Dani, Dovi.

They will be at the funeral. They will be on track. And they will know it was him.

The hostess comes up to him, tells him they’re securely landed and he can climb off the plane.

He gets up, a hoodie and a pair of du glasses on. Phone in pocket and some cash in the other.

He doesn’t need anything more, he reserved a car during the flight, it’s already there waiting for him.

He gets off the plane and in the car as fast as humanly possible, fingers tapping uncomfortably on the steering wheel, a tightening sensation in his throat.

He’s crying once again, at this point he’s surprised there’s even tears left inside him.

He stays there for ten whole minutes, then convinces himself he has to do this. He has to go.

He starts the car and gets out the airport, he doesn’t need a navigator, he knows the route by heart, him and Marc made it lots of times.

Once he’s twenty minutes away from destination he feels worse and worse about what he’s doing.

How will he even hide himself? Cervera is not a big town, and he’s not sure Marc’s family chose to have an open doors funeral.

He’s going there blindly, in the vague hope he’ll get to cast a glance at his body.

The graveyard won’t be as much of a problem, he can confuse himself with people who will want to say their goodbye. He’s sure he’ll find a way to sneak in, stay far from the family as he too mourns with them.

The town is packed, as he expected, tons of people gathered there to give their last farewell to Marc.

There’s flags, cardboard signs, sheets, all in his honor. In the honor of the rider he was. They are mourning the icon, the sportsman he was. Not the man, the wonderful person he actually was.

And it hurts.

To them it’s an idol that died, an inspiration. To him and his family it’s a person, a brother, a son, a friend, a lover.

The square before the Church is barely noticeable, a sea of orange and red combing it whole.

Then he sees it, the side entrance Dovizioso in suing to get in. He can do it. He can get in somehow.

He squishes himself through the myriads of people waiting for Marc to come out, waiting for the men dressed in deep black to carry him out in a coffin.

But Vake knows they’ll never come out from the front door, no they’ll come out the side one, take another car with the corpse and go to the graveyard.

And he’ll find a way to follow.

He doesn’t manage to surpass the barriers tho, he has to just wait, wait until the function is over and he can follow them to the place where his love will be buried forever.

Once he notices the funeral procession, he’s the fastest he’s ever been, running back to his car and quietly following the one with Marc in it.

It feels shady, and it is, but that’s all he can do.

He parks fairly far from the spot where he knows they’ll place Marc, climbs down the car and makes the rest of the way by foot, quietly in the December freezing cold.

He’s lucky, he knows he is, he could’ve arrived too early, or too late, or be recognised and probably publicly executed.

The graveyard is gray, gloomy and unsettling. He can see Alex from this distance, and a priest reciting something.

He wants to be there.

He’s hidden behind a tree, a bit closer now, he can hear the sobs coming from the people there and the incomprehensible words said by the priest.

Alex is holding their mother, their father is just a few centimeters to the left, heavy eyes filled with tears.

Other family members gathered around the coffin crying as well.

Their colleagues stand a bit further, crying as quietly as they can, Dani especially seems broken, hiding his face in Lorenzo’s chest, while he strokes his back gently, Dovi has marks on his knuckles, red and blotchy.

He must’ve punched something at the news.

Once the person Vale supposes to be Marc’s grandmother moves out of the way he can see him.

Soft, pale and pure skin. Frozen, unable to move. Restrained in this position for eternity, It’s a sickening view, it’s unnatural for Marc to be like that.

He wants to come out of his hiding spot, under the soft and cold light of the December sun.

Walk to the coffin, say goodbye, say sorry, cry, beg for him to come back, then accept the truth.

He can’t think of leaving a flower, not with the way Marc died.

And now that he pays more attention he can see little flowers growing out of his mouth.

He’s heard of people whose ribcage got broken by roots and flowers growing out of it, and he’s glad Marc’s situation is not like that.

The unmistakably bright yellow being the only thing of his still attached to Marc.

He makes a small mistake, a little movement and Roser turns around.

He got caught.

Roser just saw him at Marc’s funeral and now he truly is doomed.

Vale begins walking away, wants to run between the graves and go back to his car. Once he’s almost out he feels a hand on his back. He stops and turns around, ready to face a blood thirsty Alex.

But he just sees Roser, eyes red and glassy.

And he feels even worse for it, feels like a fucking cancer once again. There’s hatred in her eyes, rightfully so, and anger, and so much pain. “Take the glasses off”

He doesn’t expect that, but it’s not a punch in the guts, so he takes them off. Icy blue eyes matching with the surrounding atmosphere, eyes Roser notices to be filled with so much more than she thought.

“Why are you here?”

Her English is tentative, broken, but it can transmit all her emotions well enough. Vale can’t answer, he wants to burn a hole into the ground and fucking disappear inside it.

Words are dying inside his throat, he just looks up at Marc’s mother to feel something close to that hate he has for himself.

And there is a lot of it. But there’s also - compassion?

Or at least something that is not just pure pain and anger.

“Rossi. My son loved you” “I know” “You not” “I did. I do now too. I came here to see him I - I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

The last part he speaks Catalan, which shocks Roser.

Valentino Rossi, the rider, the legend, the man who hurt her son so much is now crying in front of her, knees against the icy-cold soil of a graveyard, speaking her language, saying he’s sorry.

She would want to be strong enough to just leave him there. But this man is crying like a kid lost in the woods looking for someone to help him.

There’s anger in her heart, obviously, lots of it. There’s hate. But she will never not have compassion in her heart too.

The tears, the eyes, the words, they all seem genuine to her.

“estimaves el meu fill?” (did you love my son?)

“sì. no tant com es mereixia” (yes. not as much as he deserved)

“però ara ets aquí” (but you’re here now)

“ja és massa tard. ell és mort” (now it’s too late. he’s dead)

“ell mai va deixar de pensar que hauries tornat per ell” (he never stopped thinking you would’ve come back for him)

“ho sento” (I’m sorry)

And vale just stays there, crying, but without a sound, Roser standing in front of him. And he wants her to do something, maybe call for Marc’s father, or for Alex, or the other riders.

Instead he receives pity. And a hand on his shoulder.

“Go away before they see you, if you want to speak to my boy you should go to Church, ask for forgiveness, ask for him to be well”

And then she leaves. The mother of the boy he killed leaves. Lets him go, as if he didn’t commit the most atrocious and horrible act towards Marc.

He gets up from the ground, dirt and grass staining his jeans, the cold has made its way inside his bones, under his skin, pointy, stingy. He puts the glasses back on, tears don’t stop falling when he does, the sensation of being observed doesn’t fade.

The ride back is monotone, gray, and silent. The radio doesn’t work, and if it did Vale would turn it off anyway.

He gets to a lay-by and stops, he can’t hold it anymore, he gets out the car and vomits, it's almost just bile, maybe some alcohol still, no food. The image of Marc laying like that is too much.

It accompanies him until he reaches the airport again, leaving the car where he found it, it accompanies him while he climbs on the plane and when it takes off.

It fucking follows him to the bedroom door once he's home.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #mcd mentioned #TW: intrusive thoughts #tw death wish #TW: funeral #mention on Marco Simoncelli #and his death #angst #angst no comfort

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bg-brainrot · 9 months ago

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WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 5: Guidance from a Druid

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, tw: death, nightmares

WC: 2.7k words, 5/?? chapters

Summary: After finally setting off to find Astarion, you receive a confounding memory from your past life. Ignoring what it might mean, you focus on your task and visiting Halsin, one of your past-self's friends.

A/N: people seem to disagree about how elves age, but I’m operating off of: they age at a human rate up to ~30 years old, then they age super slowly, maybe looking ~50-60 at their eldest.

A quick definition of Arvandor: where the souls of the elven dead reside while they wait for elf god Corellon to give them a new life. It’s seen as a paradise, and elves aren’t forced to reincarnate if they’d prefer to stay. Due to how long-lived elves are, souls can spend many years waiting to reincarnate.

Ao3 | [Ch4][Ch6] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

You hear your name yelled– it sounds distant, but the voice calling you is familiar. For some reason, you’re unable to pinpoint who or where the call is coming from, and you find your mind a foggy mess. When you open your eyes, all you feel is pain. Where am I? You think.

Trying to take in your surroundings, your eyes are only met with darkness and the occasional small spot of light. It’s difficult to tell through blurry eyes, though you think you might be indoors? Your sight is so spotty, you wish you could rub your eyes, but you find that your arm refuses.

Oh right, you think, This is a memory. It’s not your mind that’s clouded then.

Again, you hear your name yelled. It’s not your name though, it’s the hero’s name– you’re in the hero’s memory. You wish that they would hurry up and answer, because the scream is stabbing at your already throbbing head, its desperation twisting at your heart.

Your whole body feels heavy, and you register how it aches everywhere, but your past-self doesn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. Their breathing comes in short, ragged breaths. Their lips part, and only a trickle of air escapes.

What’s wrong? You think, not sensing any panic, any stress or sadness. Are they unconscious?

Once more their name is yelled, and you recognize it as Astarion’s voice– he seems to have enough panic for you as he barely chokes out, “Where are you?!”

You must be lost, nothing to worry about then. Get up, valiant hero, you think. Your lover is waiting for you.

A harsh wheeze leaves your mouth, and, judging from the pain in your chest, the retching cough that follows, that was the best your body could do to make your presence known. You wish you could look down at your chest, your limbs, anything other than this inky blackness above you. The spots in your vision begin to swim, and you realize that you’re crying.

You can feel liquid welling in your eyes, feel it spill out into streaks of tears. The tears fall down your cheeks silently, as if your body has given up on any further attempts at noise.

Oh you see now. You’re dying.

For all of the times you thought you might have died in previous memories, now that you’re experiencing it, you’re surprised by how little your body seems to care. There’s no struggling, no clinging to what last moments you can. Only a deep heaviness in your muscles, a dim light of emotion underneath it all that you’re unable to place.

If your past-self won’t feel the sorrow, you certainly will. No! you want to scream at them. You’re not done. You still have so much life left in you. You can’t give up now. But it’s not like they can hear you, this all happened years ago. You’re not sure how long, but judging from when stories of the Hero of Baldur’s Gate began to disappear, this is almost 150 years in the past.

“NO!” you hear from the memory, and while you can’t see him, you hear Astarion running. You hear him stumble, slide to your prone body. Your vision is still shot, so when he holds your face and looks at you, all you can see are two spots of red, a blur of pale skin, and a splotch of white hair. “No, love, get up.” His voice is pleading with you, its pitch high with despair. He coughs and you see his head turn left then right. “I need to get you out of here.”

“Get,” you manage to croak out. “Get… out.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?” Astarion all but yells. “I can’t leave you to die.”

You feel that dim emotion spark at his words, and one of your hands reaches up weakly to grab his on your face. “No.” Here, in your dying breaths, all you can feel is concern. You’re so worried about Astarion, that it almost seems to grant you the strength to push him away. It’s entirely ineffective and you’re left barely conscious, unable to impress upon him the need to leave you here.

“I– I can’t leave you,” he repeats, voice thick with tears. You feel a few droplets fall on your face. He must realize that you’re on the very precipice of death. “I can’t–” A sob escapes him, then another cough. “I can’t live without you.”

Your head moves in a miniscule shake. “You… can.”

“Love, darling, please– don’t leave me,” he gasps out. “Please fight.”

“I… won’t be…” You cough up blood, and the spray of red covers your last lingering vision of Astarion. “Long.” The words are less than a whisper, and you’re not sure if Astarion even hears them before you’re abruptly wrenched from the memory.

When you come to, you find yourself gasping for air, as if making up for that which you couldn’t get in your past life. Your breathing slows, steadies, and you find yourself staring at the wall of your tent, mindlessly. As soon as your mind catches up to what you’ve witnessed though, you only find yourself left with questions.

Why didn't they do everything in their power to live? you think, a rage building within you, all on the poor vampire’s behalf. Through all of the haziness and pain, you could hear his heart breaking. He asked them to fight for him, for their love, and the hero just… gave up. How could they do that to him?

You wouldn’t blame him for hating them for the rest of his days. Hells though, that would mean hating you in turn, wouldn’t it? He may not want anything to do with them or you at all. I knew I should have waited to see how my life ended…

“What do I do now?” you say, to no one in particular. After teleporting to Baldur’s Gate, you had spent the next several weeks receiving clearance in the city, stocking up on supplies, and traversing the land formerly covered in Shadows to find the settlement where the druid Halsin was supposedly said to live. There’s no use going back now, is there?

So despite your new worries, you push on to meet with the druid. It's taken you this long, you’ve invested the gold and energy– you will see this through, whether or not Astarion turns away his failed love.

You're in a place formerly known as the Shadowlands, and, if your instructions are accurate, Halsin shouldn’t be far now.

The druid had apparently taken in many refugees after the calamity that struck Baldur's Gate, and after more than three centuries of growth, the place was thriving. It looked almost nothing like the half-built huts that your past-self visited. There are rows of neat, earthy houses, streets bustling with people and activity, and, as if out of a fairy tale, flowers of all colors under the sun lining every pathway. If you weren’t so focused on your mission, you imagine a stay here would prove to be quite lovely.

As it is, you’re only catching glimpses in passing. You nod to a pair of tiefling women who seem to notice your confident stride. You barely manage to dodge a few deep gnome children running undertow. You refer back to your map for a moment, only to give up and ask an elderly man for the fastest route to the druid.

“Lookin’ fer Halsin?” You nod, trying to contain your anxious energy. “Aye, ‘e should be off in the woods right about now. Communin’ with nature or some such. Thata way.” He points in the direction of a thriving thicket of trees.

You thank the man and head the direction he’s pointed. Wandering through the grove for a few minutes, you find yourself at an empty clearing. Looking around at the surrounding trees, you begin to wonder if you should have been this trusting of a random old man.

Just as you’re about to leave the area, you hear rustling behind you. You whip around to see a massive brown bear climbing down from a tree. It lands and stares at you from across the clearing.

To be quite honest, in your nearly hundred years of life, you had never been in any type of real danger. You had lived through memories, gone through training, and, of course, you had practiced and prepared for this journey in particular. But now that you’re here, facing down a bear at least five times your size, you’re afraid that you’re in way over your head.

Luckily, your head is quite good at quick thinking, and you anticipated running into animals around a grove so you’re prepared for this. You put your palms up in a show of amity, then quickly cast Speak with Animals.

“Hello?” you ask, voice coming out with a slight rasp as the spell takes effect.

The bear looks like it might be smiling. It sits on its hind legs and waves at you amicably before responding in a deep voice, "Hello there traveler – excuse me, have I encountered you before?"

“Uh, I don't believe so?” you say, unsure if you’ve met a bear at all back in Neverwinter, let alone a bear of this magnitude. It seems friendly enough though, so you continue, “But perhaps you can help me? I'm looking for a druid named Halsin.”

"Ah, I must have been mistaken. You'll have to pardon me, this old man's eyesight isn't what it used to be,” the bear says, tilting its head at you as a pair of brown eyes inspect you. A second later, the bear stands, and a flash of energy bursts forth– druidic magic, you realize belatedly. Where moments ago there stood a bear, now before you is an enormous elf, clad in brown leathers, wearing an intensely familiar face. “I am the druid Halsin. What can I do for you?"

You freeze, as if struck by a spell. Gods above, I’m meeting a memory. You know you should respond, but you can’t help but drink in his appearance, so close to that from your reveries. He seems to have garnered a few more scars, a couple more wrinkles, but otherwise appears to be every bit the imposing former-Archdruid from centuries past. You realize you’re staring, but luckily the man seems to have the patience of a tree, smiling at you pleasantly until you find words.

Clearing your throat, you try to meet his eyes, only to find that same searching look the bear had. You dart your gaze away before finally responding, “T-thank you, Halsin. I’m looking for a man you used to travel with… do you possibly know where Astarion currently is?” As you speak to a man who actually knew him, Astarion’s name sounds foreign to your lips, in your voice. You’re almost afraid that Halsin will see you for the fraud you are.

"Astarion?” he asks, and you turn back to see him staring off into the distance. “I haven't heard that name in decades, haven't seen him in almost a century. Why do you seek him?"

You expected this– after all, Astarion’s former companions wouldn’t send just anyone to his doorstep. However, now that you’re standing before the druid, you’re not sure how honest you’d like to be. So you tell a lie, one that won’t raise too much suspicion but will hopefully still warrant an answer. “I’ve heard stories about him, from your days together. I’m actually a scholar, and I wanted to ask him a few questions about his undocumented days with the Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

He looks at you, brows furrowed ever so slightly in thought. Finally he says, “A worthy endeavor, to be sure. What about the Hero compels you?”

You hadn’t expected this. “Oh,” you say, all but admitting your surprise. Out of your depths, in unfamiliar territory, a bit of the truth slips out. “I– well. They were truly very… fascinating? And their relationship with Astarion was a bit of a mystery.”

"Ah,” the druid says, eyes crinkling in a gentle joy. “The Oak Father understands such matters well. You wouldn't be the first to try to mend his broken heart."

His response takes you aback. You recall the memory you experienced just last night, and you’re asking your next question on bated breath, “Broken heart?”

The joy never leaves his face as he looks at you, “You must not have heard– He's become somewhat of an… eccentric since the death of his love.” The word ‘eccentric’ seems to be hiding the truth of it, but you don’t have time to interject. “I'm not sure of the exact details. The last I saw of him was not long after the funeral of his old love, but his pain was plain to see. Many sought him out after that day, to try to warm his cold heart. I'm not certain if any succeeded.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, and, as if on instinct, a hand comes up to your chest to temper some of the ache. “Oh, I see,” is all you manage to say aloud. Of course, he may have another lover by now… How could I be so daft?

Halsin’s face looks at you with a deep understanding, one that unnerves you slightly. “If you still wish to seek him out, I should still be able to set you on the correct path.” He comes closer to you, and, again, you’re struck by how large this elf is. “He may yet reside in a house on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Do you have a map?”

You nod, pulling out the map you purchased in Baldur’s Gate, a quill, and some ink. Wordlessly, he searches the map and makes a mark on it to indicate where you must head next. “My deepest gratitude, Halsin,” you say with a slight bow. “I appreciate this more than I can say.”

He smiles at you, returning your quill and ink. "May Silvanus guide you, young elf.” Help administered, the druid starts to take a step away before continuing, “And may your soul finally find the rest it seeks, my friend."

Again the druid leaves you speechless. “What? I’m not–”

The large man chuckles. "I may have an old man’s eyesight, but I would know that spirit from here to Arvandor.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so, once again, you find yourself just staring at the man. How in the nine hells does he know who I am… was? Is it that obvious or just an old druid’s intuition?

Sensing your hesitation, he continues to speak, addressing your very soul. “I'm pleased you managed to make it back to this plane before my own time expired. I would expect no less from you, of course."

Uncomfortable at the compliments meant for someone else, your eyes fall to the ground at his feet. It was your soul but it wasn't your deeds or your tenacity. The guilt you feel spurs you to finally form words, "Mmm, thank you. I'm– I'm glad I got to meet you again as well." It's not a lie, after dreaming of him and the others, it’s like meeting a myth.

He only nods gratefully at your words, and you’re starting to believe he may know you better than you know yourself currently. That doesn’t stop him from continuing to confuse you, “If you find Astarion, be sure to remind him that the cycle of rebirth is a blessing, one that he's been lucky enough to receive.”

“I'll try my best,” you say, a bit dazed from this entire encounter, only wishing to be on your way as soon as possible. “I should go?” you hazard, taking a step back.

“Of course,” he agrees, his perceptive brown eyes never leaving your face as you continue to retreat. When you’re about to turn tail he speaks out again, “A request if you’ll permit it: I still have some years left in me. I expect you both to come visit.”

His voice is so full of hope, its low timbre welcoming to you despite how flustered you are. Perhaps due to a lingering fondness for this man from your past-self, you find yourself agreeing easily, “You have my word. Assuming it all goes well.”

He only smiles at you warmly. “I'm sure it will.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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amywritesthings · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! I am currently rereading Silver underground because that’s the only thing that keeps me alive and sane right now tbh, and I wanted to ask - what did James want to say here??

“Thought we didn’t do draws,” he states.

Your forehead drops to his shoulder, lost in a belly laugh when all you want to say is—“

Please tell me, I know the flashback with the whole piece exists, but it’s just a dialog and ngl I REALLY need to know what she was thinking, I can’t get that out of my head for a couple of days straight (though I can imagine what you were implying here *wink-wink*)

I'm sitting here wondering if you're in my walls LSDJFSKADFJ I NEVER THOUGHT ANYONE WOULD ASK ME ABOUT THIS???!? I'll put the explanation under the cut because it got long I'm sorry.

You chose a particular scene I had written out differently in the flashbacks (as you mentioned, the whole piece exists where they're talking about 'thought we didn't do draws/i don't want to look shitty for the party' in Flashback Three.) FB #3 was written prior to Ch6. I wrote a lot of the story out of order, back and forth, so different scenes would match up to when we got into James' mind.

BUT you picked up on Chapter 6's version being different because in that flashback, she never drops her forehead to his shoulder or laughs. She just gets onto her feet and helps Levi up, then they commiserate about the upcoming birthday party.

Beeeecause in Chapter 6, what James is remembering is the version that she wanted to exist before they were together, because she didn't know Levi liked her like that. Like you know how you sometimes ponder 'god i wish i did this differently?' and that scenario sticks into your mind where you often go back to it? I liken it to that.

So, to me, Ch6's flashback is a mixture between fantasy and what really happened. So when they're arguing, rather than just being stiff about it and getting off of him, her mind's stuck on her dropping her head to his shoulder laughing freely. Like they're a couple. Like they've skipped all of the awkwardness of doubt and dove straight into being intimate and soft with one another.

And I hope this line isn't disappointing to you, but this would be the answer you are looking for:

"Thought we didn't do draws." Your forehead drops to his shoulder, lost in a belly laugh when all you want to say is, "All we ever do is draw."

Because they're equally matched, they're the same coin on two separates sides, two different fonts, and the story revolves around two people unwilling to let each other go - so it's always a draw.

Again, I hope that explanation doesn't kill your vibe SKJDFKSF I hope your week looks up and I'm very honored that you like SU again I'm seriously like 'holy shit i never thought anyone would catch those differences and ask' BUT HERE WERE ARE!!! thank you again for this amazing message

#questions.#levi ackerman fanfiction #feedback.#fic: silver underground #the way you had me unearthing year-old docs

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ryuichirou · 9 months ago

Text

Replies

A couple of short ones today!

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

LOVE AZURID SO MUCH SO THANK YOU FOR DRAWING THEM IN ONE OF MY FAVORITE SCENES OF THEM IN CHAPTER 6

HEHEHE YOU’RE VERY WELCOME their relationship really blossomed in ch6, this entire interaction was very funny. I’m glad you liked the sketch!

Anonymous asked:

i always imagine rookvil is a Thing in any scenario but now i’m wondering. do ortho and rook silently beef over vil, or are they currently collaborating on a threesome as we speak? or do they go back and forth with him like a pair of divorced parents sending their kid to the other every week? 😭

It always depends on a scenario, I think. In general, I agree that no matter the ship, RookVil is always a Thing at least in some capacity. It’s just way too obvious to write it off completely. So in Ortho/Vil or Jack/Vil or Rook/Epel, chances are, RookVil is still either happening at the same time or happened at some point or has a potential to happen. That being said, we just don’t always focus on this side of the story, because it’s not always about this ship.

So once again, depends on a scenario! Sometimes it’s just Vil and Ortho, and sometimes OruVil and RookVil happen at the same time. And if the latter is the case, I think they wouldn’t have a beef, but instead a collaboration or a very playful friendly rivalry. Rook and Ortho actually have a lot in common… they’re so open-minded, but also so possessive and obsessive lol with both of them being able to watch their beloved person 24/7, notice the tiniest things about them and all this stuff. Both of them would probably recognise that it’s better for them to be friends and to love Vil together. Would that be a safer option for the world? Probably… hopefully…

Anonymous asked:

ceo jade. ceo. jade. CEO JADE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my god, did he take Kalim’s place?? Usurper!!

And it’s always that one person that you expected the least… shaking my head…

You missed your chance, Jamil.

#replies #rookvil #oruvil

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stillmumu · 1 year ago

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What was writing Sasha’s confession scene like?

oh god, it was such a bitch to do !!!

ch6: truthfully, in the entire leadup to the confession i was just as much in the dark as anetra was about whether or not sasha was actually going to tell her what was wrong. DTIE literally writes itself, i never know what's going to happen.

She's speaking softly now, simply, like she's talking to a child. It’s her last card to play. She doesn’t know what else she can say to convince Sasha to let her in.

Sasha’s gnawing at her lip, red transferring all over her teeth. For a second, Anetra thinks she’s going to deny her again.

But then Sasha lets her shoulders drop.

like writing this, i literally had no idea if sasha was going to open up or not. i was ready to be heartbroken for anetra, that she laid all her cards out and still couldn't get sasha to open up. i had a whole different development arc planned just in case sasha ended up keeping her walls up.

but then i had such a clear mental image of sasha just completely coming undone, surrendering, this lipstick on her teeth and shoulders sinking the physical manifestation of that. and i was like oh wait no, that's it.

if she doesn't do it now, that's just going to be it. they'll be over. there's nowhere left to run for her, no way for them to come back from that. so she's got to stop being hyprocritical and just face it, the same way anetra had to in ch1.

and then ch7: it just wasn't flowing with netra's pov, so it was pure desperation that made me do it from sasha's angle. i loved getting to give sasha that voice though, bc she didn't have one when everything was happening to her.

i also had sm fun getting to weave in and out of past/present tenses. originally i'd planned everything as a flashback, but that felt too immediate, like sasha hadn't done any healing in the meantime (which just felt so off since she isn't that same scared girl anymore.) entirely recounting felt too detached on the other hand, bc sasha still has enough fear in her to be haunted by everything for so long.

the tone of the dialogue and inner monologues were so hard for me to strike right too. sasha tries to brush things over with humour, a few times, with varying success:

“You don’t think a receding hairline and raging cocaine addiction are sexy?” Sasha clasps a hand to her chest in mock outrage.

“I’m trying to build an empire, over here,” She says, trying to make it into some kind of quip. It falls flat, sits dangerously between them like a live wire.

but i also wanted to drive home the fear that sasha still feels:

“They did it to Janet,” She says, and can’t help the way her voice shakes. “And Mariah, too.”

“It’s safer, there,” Sasha adds, like she can see Anetra’s hesitation. She’s rushing her words, now, getting desperate. “Please, I have to lie low for a bit, I- it’ll be lowkey. People there don’t talk.” (from ch6, but the sentiment is still there)

as well as expand on kerri/sasha's bond and how fiercely sasha believes in her & protects her, at the cost of her own self:

Kerri had looked at her, eyes wide, and Sasha had reached for her hand almost on instinct. She had just known, then, that they were kin, in that way that queer people often do, in that way they recognise each other and cling tight and don’t let go.

If she leaves her dreams behind… she won’t be Sasha, anymore. She won’t even recognise herself. But Kerri is her priority now, and so is keeping the Colby name alive.

it was so many thoughts, so many feelings--so overall, it reads hysterical, maybe even messy or jumbled, too many ideas all at once.

but i think in the end it actually makes sense with all the emotions sasha's feeling. of course she'll be all over the place, she's literally terrified out of her mind and voicing things she thought she'd never get to say! so it worked out, in a funny way.

(ps would love to hear your thoughts on this scene/these chapters bc the section is one i can't rly reread,,, i overthink it too much skdjks. tysm for the ask though bc it forced me to think it through, and i realised i AM proud of it and how it turned out, despite the struggles.)

#don't think it's easy #sasha colby #anetra #sashnetra #mumu gets asks

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tsukiyadori · 10 months ago

Text

Reading Log 2023.12-2024.01 - December-January

Previous: Reading (+Watching) Log 2023.09-11 - September to November

Reading languages: German, English, Japanese, not listing which was what

Titles are as I’ve read them either first or most and thus remember it for that title mostly

Not going to bother putting in the original titles of translated reads

Cursive titles have been completed

——————————————————————————

DECEMBER

Managed zero anime again...

Hovered before Jeweler Richard and bolted out from reading again for health reasons and upholding certain deadlines...

Novels:

The Old Man in the Corner

Light Novel:

86: Eighty-Six v12 Anime Supremacy v1 Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki v7-V8

Manga:

100-nengo ni Tenseishita Watashi ch14.1-2 A Couple of Cockoos V7 A Side Character's Love Story Ch15-25 After God Ch40-39 Ano Ko no Kodomo v1-v2ch8 Ano Natsu ga Houwa suru. ch13-14 BL Game no Shujinkou no Otouto de aru Koto ni Ki ga Tsukimashita ch18 Boku no Diamond Star ch14 Brutal Ch8.2-14 Buta no Liver wa Kanetsushiro ch32.1-2 Daijuukou to Unicornis no Otome ch12-13.2 Dein Verlangen gehört mir v2-4ch33 Dein böser Blick v1-2ch7 Delinquent Daddy & Tender Teacher v2 Der Duft der Apfelblüte v1-v2 Dienerin des verfluchten Kindes Ch39.1-46.1 Fall in the Night with You Ch46-45 Fuck Buddy Girl Crush ch58-59 Harebare Biyori ch22 Hari to Hitsuji no Fune bangaihen Higurashi no Naku Koro ni Meguri ch17.2-18.4 I don't want to work anymore Ch12-19.51 Inked: Unter deiner Haut Isekai de Ane ni Namae wo Ubawaremashita ch15 Kakan no Oukoku no Hanagirai Hime ch8.4-9.4 Kakegurui Ch104-105.2 Kemono to Waltz ch19 Killer in Love Ch31-39 Knitter's High bangaihen1-2 Koisuru (Otome) no Tsukurikata ch75-76 Kono Koi wo Hoshi ni wa Negawanai ch10 Loop 7-kaime no Akuyaku Reijou wa ch28 Love you till you die v1-5ch24 Mehr als Tausend Worte Meine Wiedergeburt als Schleim in einer anderen Welt V12 Midnight Secret Sex Minikui Yuukaku no Ko ch1-13 Miryou no Otome to Katabutsu Hittou Majutsushi no Hatsukoi Kiroku ch3.1-16.3 Okazari Ouhi ni Nattanode ch22.3-23.2 Oshi no Ko ch133-135 Phantom Seer V4 Requiem of the Rose King V9.half Sakura Saku v1 Scroll of the White Silk Cloud ch24-58 Shangri-La Frontier v1-v3ch25 She is also cute today Ch48-51 Shinde Miro to Iwareta no de Shinimashita. ch6-8 Shuumatsu Touring ch33-34.2 Sonna Kazoku nara Sutechaeba? ch59preview, ch60-63 Sweet & Tart Boyfriend Ch6-9 Taberare Usa ch80-83 Tales of Reincarnation in Maydare: This World's Worst Witch Ch1-2.2 Taste of Desire The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten Ch1-11.3 The Mermaid Wears a Dress Ch26-37 The Saint's Magic Power is Omipotent bangaihen5, ch38.1-2 To be Winner Ch49.1-71 To the Abadoned Sacred Beasts v10ch52 Together Forever Ch17-28 Und jeden Tag liebe ich dich mehr Unnamed Memory ch33 Watashi wo Tabetai kaimaku1-2 Yomei Ichinen to Senkokusareta Boku ga ch9.1-2 Yuna aus dem Reich Ryukyu V7-8

Webtoons:

A Royal Princess with Black Hair Ch50-59 AoT no Requiem ch1-3 Beauty as the Beast Ch16-35 Breed my Dear Enemy Ch44-76 Can the Grand Duke and the Marquis be Friends? Ch1-12 Corridor of Mirs Ch20-55 Marry my Enemy Ch1-7 Spirit of Peach Blossom Ch28-47 The Giantess wants Love Ch61-72

Notes:

86: Eighty-Six 12: It feels a bit like a sort of extra quest, but it weaves itself very nicely into the world building.

Anime Supremacy: 2/3 in, I'm already liking it ten times more than I ever did Shirobako. There is less pathos, more just passion and sincerity. .... And a strange view that not even takes the working conditions cynically, but rather as a matter of a fact.

Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki: V7 has been an excellent read. At beginning, I was once more crying hell, that I did not want to see a Tomozaki-Aoi ship sailing as an endgame, because really Aoi is everything anti-cheese there is so far. But everything is littered up for this to happen, but if it manages to either make a twist with that or make it organically happen, I suppose that'll be fine, too. Anyway, as for this book's main plot, it was quite beautiful with all its allegories that transported across all the characters. What I found most mesmerizing was how this certain mid-term ship sailed. I say mid-term, because I can't really see it as anything else. Fuka even says as much, while both the female characters in the play loved the guy, he was the only one the one who wins her love in the play, which was Hinami not herself. Tomozaki breaks that, but he's also bringing up how they started at opposite ends and are now meeting halfway. They are definitely a good match, they vibed from the start, but somehow there is also a sort of time-limited beauty to it, and it's not entirely normatively (and me tooth-crunchingly thinking Aoi so much looks like the set-up endgame). It's like they will live their lives and in the future will diverge again, simply because their lives will move away from each other. But just now it matches, and it doesn't make the time any less precious, and certainly it will be a valuable experience to build on for anything that comes after and a treasure memory to look back into. This somehow reminds me a lot of the charm the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button postulates with the "meeting in the middle of their lives" notion, but didn't really pull off even half as beautifully for me. But the other motifs are very high up there, too. The allegory of firelings and the outlook of 'finding your own', the internet as one chance for that and just this whole pointing to a sense of 'the world is vast, much bigger than this one little place (school)' is quite a nice and healthy one. Actually, the biggest plot contrivance may not that Tomozaki gets to have an Aoi in his life. It's everyone else getting to have an improved Tomozaki in their life. If Aoi is a sort of catalyst trigger, Tomozaki is in many ways a sort of enabler. Characters like these are rather exceedingly rare in both fiction and reality, imo.

A Royal Princess with Black Hair - I caught up ._. But the titular princess is a kinda cool. The hazardous-sort of cool and the two definitely have a nice chemestry of bantering. (Also Tsundere-in-denials features.)

After God - The plot is a bit… ok, I guess, and the characters bar maybe one across the board awful (even the bunny-moonface one), but then after some 40+ pages some strings come together and they make a few of the characters into far more complex creatures. There is also the whole absurdity of things (gummy bears, really?). The art has always been the thing that drew in with its mixture of macabre, morbid contrasted with and just really astonishing amounts of details. The chapters in Vollof's moon castle however, definitely had art that was positive stunning to look at. The sheer amount of surrealism, from classic paintings and contemporary things of civilization or nature, even just mundane little things just mixed in like that, it's pretty great….. It's just kinda missing actually interesting characters for me. But at least the plot finally started to have a real air of mystique about it that made me want to read more. And then that is when it's caught up on the latest chapters on Comikey. The Irony.

Ano Ko no Kodomo - Very educative and treats the emotions pretty sensibly. Although of course also obviously very Japanese, so now I kinda know more about getting a child in Japan than I do elsewhere...

Delinquent Daddy & Tender Teacher v2 - So v2 is actually a spin off bonus, while being a sequel in the timeline and I think you can really see that fanservice-y air about it. It doesn't have too much of a plot, the spice levels have gone up and otherwise it's mostly compf and cute. Looks like from the next volume on it was greenlit to be an ongoing series, so probably may get more cohesive after that. The series quite stands out for having an ongoing relationship as a couple after coming together (and a child at that), which is very rare. Other than that "gentle" is probably what fits its air best.

Dienerin des verfluchten Kindes Ch39.1-46.1 - How to read v1-6 in German print vols, go up to the penultimate chapter on comikey and going "oh I'll just skip to the last volume", you get the latest of those German print volumes and that one (v8) turns out to be the penultimate one, too. The stupidity… Anyway. Kinda nice drawings, but just so, so, so much pathos. Anyway, think i'll just consider it closed now even with half a chapter missing.

Girl Crush ch58-59 - Aftermath of the last climax in a new little climax, and it's just so good.

Isekai de Ane ni Namae wo Ubawaremashita ch15 - yes of course. OF COURSE. Oh, but that twist is for the better, because now we're not in a problem of a triangle after all. Also, somebody license this already. :<

Killer in Love - Finished. Uh. Well. Erm. Last time I thought it was kinda like Azure and Claude that author (Sugaru)'s style of they are gonna be doomed, totally gonna be doomed, just in edgy. But Sugaru's style has a penchant is more like 'everything is gloom, but we desperately try to hold onto something to keep going, and maybe in the eyes of the world we failed, but we've found at least a little measure of happiness for ourselves'. So it's like very predictable gloom, but with a silver lining. This one is just them failing, and they had absolutely nothing. The end doesn't really leave much open, but I prefer to guess it was axed or some such. The message it tries to phone otherwise is kinda hard to swallow otherwise.

Koisuru (Otome) no Tsukurikata ch75-76 - We have moved on from the sorta Aishiteru Game-arc to a competition arc? And next it's school theater arc? It sure moved on quick, but it does so quite neatly without any of these bits getting too long and old.

Oshi no Ko ch133-135 Arimaaaaaaaaaaaa

Shangri-La Frontier v1-v3 - I think the gaming aspect actually works against its adventuring aspect for me. Now ok, fine, it's cool, that it's not yet another Isekai'ed-into-game plot, but also, with it just being a game the stakes also are… just a game. There are no real stakes in there beyond a sense of pride in what they themselves call "bizarre taste" and a stubbornness of conquest. If that was an actual fantasy world defeating the monsters would be meaningful for the safety of the residents in it, but with the gaming aspect it's literally just a game. And as somebody who doesn't game at all, it kinda stopped being interesting. Despite an actual bunny MC there…

Shinde Miro to Iwareta no de Shinimashita - Good heavens, it took its sweet time with the explanation arc and finally turning the asshole romance interest into not so assy-just-misguided poor fellow.

Taberare Usa - I do not know what this is anymore, but it still has buns. Some at least, right now.

(break because of tumblr complaining about max character limits per block)

The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten Ch1-11.3 - Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!!! This is fluff paradise. At least for now. The series clearly is romance, and it's gonna go there, but the way it is right now in the beginning, that doesn't really have exactly something to do with just romance. They are drawn to each other, but it's expressly not because of the romance factor, they are attraction factors all over the place from every other realm and while there are romance sparks there, it's almost never just romantic/sexual attraction at play alone (and much less is it the driving factor). And even those, they are still very far and in between, but everyone else is already going grinny-grinny that they surely are dating. This is such a mood and if we remove a few of the more spefici sparks, it's almost a bit like my teenage dream incarnate, as in this is how I assumed a friendship looked like, if it was one that has any right to call itself an actual friendship. (Yes, my idea of that concept was a bit nuts at the time…) Now I am wanting both more, while I half dread that once it moves on to be just any classic romance and it is gonna move on for sure, but this is already perfect endgame mood for me. T_T

Original ramblings for the record: The two kinda vibe quite nicely, it didn't start with the sparks and feels, but really just how they complement each their needs. She in terms of all the practical things of cooking, cleaning and he at being introvert-style observant and emphatically being able to guess her needs without having to even think about it. All framed into how it expressly defies gender stereotypes (he doesn't expect much less asks for her cooking and she does it because she likes cooking and enjoys trying some out and serving it to someone happily chomping it down who is neither a glutton that is happy about anything or unable to do a culinary evaluation as to how things taste good) and just at its core it's about a safe space of just being free to be. There's already titbits of the bog standard cheese, but all those blushes of surges of happiness also overlap with something else at the same time, just simple embarrassment over unusual situations (she stumbling) or suddenly close distance (the back carrying), which just doesn't entirely scream cheese for the sake of narrative, but just also being unused to it, because they're introverts. His letting his chopsticks fall at her being happy after seeing him so happy about her food may be a breathtaking thing, but it may also be simply being awed by the sheer prettiness of happiness itself. It also goes an extra mile at how to distinguish that not any other girl/guy would do - the other guys just swoon over her, and he's too overwhelmed by the too extrovert girls - while it's also not it has to be her/him because of crush. It's also just funny how the prospect of a girlfriend gives him headaches thinking about how to explain a certain neighbour angel's presence rather then to go for the most "obvious solution" of just making her his girlfriend herself. Which isn't rooted in just denseness, it's rooted in respect for her boundaries. (And she gives the same air for him, altho obviously if badly made this can turn into a misunderstanding trope.) Some which he often questions just to be sure they are on the same page. (And then there's some delish soft tsundere.) And it's just, neither are going in there with any romantic ambition whatsoever, it just organically develops. and slow burn as it it is and with overlaps to it's also some other thing, this also just reminds me extremely of what was originally my idea of just friendship. (Just remove some of those physiological blushes.) Now I do have an urge to bury my head in my hands, because the idea was so wildly extremely off, but just right now, at this slow burn that probably is (obviously has to be) cheese, this is perfectly an amount that is… fluff. But I surmise it won't stay that way, eventually it'll have to move or any other average reader will just get mad at no development. This atm however to me almost feels like near-perfect endgame vibes. It… doesn't need much of anything more.

Und jeden Tag liebe ich dich mehr (a.k.a. Everyday, Love Me More in English) - What I expected: Dumpster Cheese. What I got when I read some preview of chapter 1 or parts of it a long while ago: Cheese train departing at full speed ahead What it was:

still cheese, but the cheese is, while entirely predictable, actually also surprisingly buyable.

MC has a friend who is touchy-intimate, and it's just a friendship like that with absolute no airs about it

has a fairly weird misunderstanding trope, but they were children nicely placed back into the plot to denote a change development manages to have some comedic situation comedy even in serious moments

the climax/penultimate chapter already feels like what would have been the ending of any other bog standard BL volume. (I totally was expecting the cursed spice extra chapter for checking of the genre checklist.)

turns out after that there is an actual last chapter, with a time skip, which is a a whole arc in at out itself, in any other bog standard volume this would have been an entire sequel volume. has some pretty sensible and mature approach to getting the spice woven into the actual relationship. (Just the mentions of of course you'd want to do such things can die already, at least as a justification of having such desires at all.)

there even is even an cursed extra chapter of spice, with yet some more time skip, which is to say, the reader gets to see them at three stages of their ongoing relationship (plus their childhood precursor one) IN ONE VOLUME. huh. How did this manage to be so compact. There's even plenty of side elements. Some homo jokes getting trashed in a badass-hilarious way, morphing from some childhood scar healing nostalgia to something else, some family drama, entrance exams, slight doubts about one's orientation or how to categorize it, but also it never becoming a focal point or identify crisis drama. Also nice, it has a whole self expression-honesty drama subplot but nothing about it has anything to do with the queer aspect of it all. Just why does this have to have such a damnable cover (that really only makes sense after reading and then is still just… not very eye-caching) and cheese ass title.

——————————————————————————

JANUARY

Managed zero anime again... Bar some zapping

Jeweler Richard v6 came out in English, I went to some favorite places and the translation of those places is a little bit errrr? And then it got stalled (next to having to put it aside for deadlines and I'm still not reading v13 for health reasons, despite the deadline now over...)

Anime:

Sailor Moon Cosmos (quick tapping and watching 1/3-half)

Light Novels:

Anime Supremacy v1 Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki V8, v8.5, v9

Manga:

100-nengo ni Tenseishita Watashi, Zense no Juukishi ni Kyuukonsaremashita: Heika wa Watashi ga Moto Oujo da to Okizukidenai you desu ch14.3-4 A Side Character's Love Story Ch26-35.1 After God Ch51-52 Blank Canvas v3-5 Boruto: Two Blue Vortex ch4-5 Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki Manga Ch1-7 Dance Dance Danseur v1-2 Girl Crush Ch61, ch79 Isekai de Ane ni Namae wo Ubawaremashita ch16-17.1 Kakegurui Ch105.5 Koisuru (Otome) no Tsukurikata ch78 Liebe in Zeiten der Taisho-Ära v2 Loop 7-kaime no Akuyaku Reijou wa, Moto Tekikoku de Jiyuu Kimama na Hanayome Seikatsu wo Mankitsusuru ch29 Love you till you die ch34 Mine est Asexuel v1 Miryou no Otome to Katabutsu Hittou Majutsushi no Hatsukoi Kiroku ch16.4-17.4 Mr. Mallow Blue ch28 My Summer of You v3 My Ultramarine Sky v1 Noragami ch109 Okazari Ouhi ni Nattanode, Kossori Hataraki ni deru koto ni Shimashita ~Usagi ga Iru node Hitorine mo Sabishiku Arimasen!~ ch23.2-24.1 Oshi no Ko ch136-138 Parasyte v7-8 Queen's Quality v18ch81 Reincarnated as the Daughter of the Legendary Hero and the Queen of Spirits Ch1-19.3 Sakura Saku v2 Sweet & Tart Boyfriend Ch10-30 Taberare Usa ch84-88 The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten Ch11-13.2 The Giantess wants Love Ch73-97 The Ice Guy and the Cool Girl Ch1-11 The Moon On a Rainy Night ch1 The Witch and the Beast v2-3 Together Forever Ch29-36.1 Und jeden Tag liebe ich dich mehr v1

Webtoons:

Breed my Dear Enemy Ch76-91 Fall in the Night with You Ch65-68 Ice Lamp: The Chronicles of Kira Ch1-7 To be Winner Ch72-76 Westwood Vibrato v4

Notes:

Sailor Moon Cosmos - Galaxia is bdass cool to look at, and Cosmos is also cool and just like most of everyone is darn cool, but as a fairly faithful adaption (that actually looks good) it just has the same issues as the manga as in, it's very, very Usagi-centric and everyone else is downgraded to almost just being cameos (although that moment with Rei and Minako still rocks). There's minimally more Galaxia flesh outs in her flashback, and it's a welcome addition to imply, she originally probably had died, that's how ultimately she wasn't so different to all her underlings who were at the mercy of needing the bracelets to survice. And so she gets killed the moment she's purified. Misguided, probably manupulated and cruel as she is, I still think she is a really great villain. She comes from a place of despair seeking nothing more than a home, but nowhere in the whole universe can she find it, so she sets out to just create it. But also knows how powerless she actually is, despite the vast amounts of it she does have in comparison in face of a true enemy. So then you have somebody who really just wants a glimmer of actual hope struggling hard (and in a few wrong ways), but also while at it, uses not just vast overwhelming powers but also psychological tactics. The old anime always had her sit on her throne, while the underlings did their monster of the week, but this incarnation, she's on the frontline right from the beginning. And she doesn't reply on those underlings, they are just an optional nice to have extra she doesn't care about and remains true to them. They fail and they don't deserve anything but disgust. Also she she is just so darn badass, like whoever other villain literally walks up in her (technically) negligle dress to the battlefield and then she just rocks the place so hard. ..... Sailor Moon the manga is flawed in so many ways, but like, how come we've never seen any other so badass female characters that transcend frills of justice, since? And I'm not even asking for an assembly like this franchise has but like just one would be could that comes even close the the epitome of elegant badassness. (The closest is probably dark Homura in Madoka Magica Rebellion and upcoming Walpurgis Night.)

Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki V8 - If v7 was beautiful, this was more of a low point for me. But also has probably the nicest Tomozaki-Hinami moment in there. It's back to focusing on games, which I accept is part of this serie's DNA and not neglecting it is fine, but it's just also the least interesting bit of it. Rena otherwise can go screw herself. As for Fuka and Tomozaki I'm kind of surprised just how quick it moves on to start having things fall apart again. But yeah, it's distastefully teenage-romance-waffling, that just doesn't do anything for me....

Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki Manga - i was a bit turned off about the artwork, turns out the insides look better than the key illustrations in color. I think it is worth mentioning how much effort it tries to make it visually entertaining for a series that is just really lots and lots more of talking. It just sometimes feels like it's overdoing it a bit...

Dance Dance Danseur - This is a very good series. But also like every single ingredient in there is one that impulsively makes me want to run. Ouf.

Girl Crush - I found out there's some other place than geolocked line where the JP chapters show up, so can read those now. It's gooood. But chapters are always so short. ;_;

Mine est Asexuel - I bought this in Japanese a good while ago and then dragged my feet around reading it forever. Which is funny, because I have read reviews etc about it, so I perfectly knew what it was about and how it ended and it's basically the manifestation of one of my worst nightwares. (That IRL I never allowed to happen at least.) Now the JP doujin book kinda just went MIA in my piles and Irodori's French translation was on sale, so, duh, let's just get over it. And like. It's just really really exactly that: A personal nightmare.

Original Ramblings for the record: He starts with suggesting, that she may be better off with somebody else, but at the same time she is kinda deperate, so if yourefuse you are causing heartbreak. If you don't you know fully well that she'd surely have certain expectations that you aren't going to be able to fullfill like that. He then proceed to explain what he is like, what consequences that is to inform her of what she'd be getting into. She says she gets it, but she actually doesn't (like hell that scene where she worries about her underwear....) although she respects it. Which is already very grand, but ultimately just inevitably raises false hopes. But as she says to her friend which he accidentially eavesdrop (which he probably didn't even need to, you'd pick that up anyway), it is to her just so very lonely. And there's nothing he can do to alleviate that. Like even if he engaged in all those acts, it would come from a different place of motivation, which isn't what she wants, as long as she knows it and if she didn't he'd be lying which is also nothing he'd like. And they got along with everything else, it mostly failed on this one bit, but it was crucial. It's a try as you may do, it was bound to go wrong and there was no way to prevent that beyond not letting himself into a relationship to begin with, but that still would mean causing heartbreak and on top it's not like he's not liking her either - the JP title says nonsexual, so for a change this meaning asexual actually a correct translation and he's ace not aro - so no matter what he would have done, it would have always being a pain.

"I don't think I can give you a day as you wish for". That whole admission of hoping for something that just was impossible and also why?. Nobody's fault but tragic all the same. Those are the worst cases, because there is nothing you can do to fix it. And yeah that whole thing about her condition to breaking up. While she thinks hell refuse and she'd still get stay at his side. And the whole air about that. How that that even sound to him? It's just looks like from all the things to connect one another to her this was the most paramount important thing, something he can't and everything else she shared (which was a good amount), has the weight of less than smoke. And to her it's just like how serious he really was all along with what he said and probably that is the first time it actually sunk into her what this even means. That he'd be so desperate to get out of her expectations that he'd do what he hates so much just once. And also the final line, this experience lingers, and while it isn't exactly a trauma given how they moved on and apparently found what they needed and not all of it was bad, but at least to her it's established that it has left a mark on her heart forever. Over something like that. This is not a way I want to be remembered at all. (Especially not, as I probably am anyway over some other traits of mine already.) And well, some other to-be-expected comments, like what that friend of her says or the author depicts in the afterword. All a can of worms.

Which is to say

The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten GIVE ME MORE FLUFF. This manga runs at a snail's pace. I wanna more like it, in this exactly bracket why this is fluff perfection, but I just can't find any. ;_; Just one chapter a month is cruel, but I am suckering up like nothing. I mean. Just look at this FLUUUUUUUFFFFF!!!!

My Summer of You - I had to chuckle how there was a scene, that's basically the same as in I hear the Sunspot Limit v1, except here they go for it whereas Sunspot went "it's not wrestling", lol. I still marvel at how the character templates look so incredibly similar in both series. Overall I think Sunpot has more to offer, but that includes a lot of thorns that make it into a heavy read at places. This one's more softer in that regard.

My Ultramarine Sky - Good heavens, this is I became an Omega today levels of there would be absolutely no plot, if they actually talked. Except it coems around to have a very grounded, buyable and sensible depiction of why now that is anchored in teenage confusion x internalised homophobia. As in the internalised taboo sort, rather than actual external pressures happening. Those friends of them they actually see like pretty good, supportive guys, and the whole BL joke makes for a nice contrast that not everything is active oppression. It's also jokes like these that may hurt that have no malicious intent behind it at all. They just don't know and nobody's told them. Original ramblings for the record: It's like The Two Lions, but each with way less personality and character, absolutely no side plots and the characters aged down. In terms of cheese it's kinda structured almost the same way, except that since it has really nothing else going on there's a lot of sentimental cheese waffling filling in. While a case could be made that it's just teenage confusion and anguish and just lotsa cheese angst, to me that just felt super like Today I became an Omega since you already know the obligatory ending anyway so is rather patience wrecking. In terms of actual cheese dosing it's not all that heavy tho so no cheese deaths happened It attempts some allegories with the ultramarine sky, but I think that one failed pretty much. It shows up fairly at the end, suddenly out of nowhere (or if it was there previously, it was so irrelevant it dried up from memory immediately.) There's some more attempts at allegories with shogi, but I think that didn't work out all that great either, as the shogi never is never really firmly part of the setting (more like a btw. happenstance) and much less does it establish what shogi lingo there is, so that last page so feels kinda errrrrr. …. sounds probably more negative than it should be… Think that bit about "It's not funny at all" was well hit, and the whole air of internalised or passive homophobia despite no active external pressure feels well grounded and kinda also comtemporary with the BL tropes jokes. And the cheese waffling is probably decent, if you have anything to resonate with it, but as we previously already established, puberty probably just flew over my head at the time together with the cheese instincts. Feel like it does hide a lot behind that confusing age era thingy. Conversely it just reminded me of the Lions even more by contrast, because that one didn't have any of that ready as an excuse and didn't even allow it and like it entirely doesn't help that this pair and that pair look rather very similar, both in visual setup and character (minus Leo's angry face, outspokenness and fighting skills). But well, I guess, it is an earlier work, so probably a sorta prototype Think also at this point the following Nagisa Furuya Bingo can be made: Blond hair vs. dark haired, bad with booze, drunk mumblings, one has a few self-control dilemmas, one of them has a need to run away, the other one comes chasing, talking is important!!!! but they have to learn that the hard way-patience wreck, low cheese calories, innocent Zzzs, sleeve/hem tugs, wrist grabs My summer of you also still feels a whole lotsa lot like a I hear the Sunpot, but without the disability plot and Taichi having a need to be obnoxiously loud (which he has in that plot, because that's why Kouhei always hears him) and extra denseness (where one may or may argue ace-vibes) to combat Kouhei's everlasting gloom-tendency. A deal more toothless, but also a deal more even in exchange.

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berenwrites · 2 years ago

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Whole New Us Ch14 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Whole New Us: Trauma Bonded and Beyond

A/N: Please be aware still bad things happening to Steve - I wouldn't say any worse than what the actual show likes to put him through (s3 I'm looking at you).

Also on AO3 | Or here CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 | CH13 | CH14 | CH15 | CH16 | CH17 | CH18 | CH19 | CH20 | CH21 | CH22 | CH23 | CH24 | CH25 (Mature) | CH25 (Fade to black) COMPLETE

Summary: Steve has been ignoring his own problems, he’s been busy. They’ve all been busy, preoccupied with fixing everything that was broken. Vecna has been defeated, but the Upside Down is still there, and the gates are not completely closed even though Hawkins has almost returned to normal. It’s been a couple of months and the aftereffects of Steve’s encounter with the demobats is about to come back to bite him. However, it also brings some unexpected hope.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Rating: Teen (with mature content in later chapters)

Chapter 14. None Left Behind

Nothing made any sense anymore. There was pain, there was humiliation, there was degradation, and all Steve could do was endure. He was a thing to be studied. A lab specimen to be dissected. It didn’t matter how he begged, how he pleaded, nothing seemed to matter to his captors. They took their samples: a fang, a claw, skin, blood. They did their tests: drugs, reflexes, pain tolerance.

They seemed determined to figure out how he worked, taking him to the very limit without actually killing him.

Time was measured in agony, and it felt like a lifetime.

“No more, please,” he begged over and over again, voice cracked and almost gone from all the screaming.

It never did any good.

When he heard gunfire and sirens, it barely registered. Not until he felt a presence. Eddie, it was Eddie, and it was the only thing that his tangled thoughts could grasp onto.

“Get the fuck away from him,” he heard someone growl.

As hands touched him this time he whimpered. Eddie’s presence solidified in his head, dragging him back from the abyss.

“Steve, oh god, Steve, can you hear me?” Eddie’s desperate words made it into his brain.

All he could manage was a small moan.

“Dustin, we have to get him down,” Eddie said.

“I’m trying,” came back Dustin’s familiar voice, “I don’t speak Russian. If I hit the wrong button, I might hurt him.”

A distant explosion shook the room. Steve whined as Eddie’s touch left him and someone gasped.

“Show him,” Eddie’s voice was full of menace, “or I promise, I’ll skin you alive before eating your heart.”

He tried to see, to understand what was happening, but his eyes refused to focus. Everything was a mess of confusion. Then he was falling, and he couldn’t stop, but strong arms caught him.

“Steve, Stevie,” Eddie sounded desperate. “Fuck, what did they do to you.”

“Eddie, we have to get out of here,” Dustin’s worried voice made it through the fog. “There are more soldiers coming.”

“Fuck, we’ll be sitting ducks. I can’t carry Steve and deal with Russians,” Eddie said. “Dustin, if you’re squeamish, turn away now.”

“What? Why?” Dustin asked.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, this is going to hurt,” Eddie told him, cradling him gently.

The smell of blood hit him first, before warm wetness dripped into his mouth. The taste exploded on his tongue, and he swallowed automatically as every fibre of his being screamed Eddie at him. He arched away from Eddie as his system lit up like the fourth of July and every sense he had turned on at one hundred. The fog lifted from his brain, burned away by a firestorm, and he came down with a thump, gasping for breath.

Every hurt in his body telegraphed like it was new. He clung to Eddie as he shook, and Eddie clung back.

“Holy fuck, that hurts,” he gasped out as it finally began to fade.

“God I’m sorry,” Eddie said.

“Fine,” he promised, patting his boyfriend’s arm as the overload began to ease.

“Not fine,” Eddie told him, stroking the side of his face, “but you’re with me?”

Steve nodded.

“We have to move,” Eddie said.

Steve nodded again.

Eddie helped him to stand. He swayed, but he stayed on his feet. For the first time he got a real look at the lab and the mess it was in. The woman who had tortured him was cowering in the corner, two guards and the thug with the cattle prod were unconscious on the floor and everyone else was gone. One of the men definitely had claw marks.

“God, you look like shit,” Dustin said, looking at him from across the room next to the computers.

“Probably look better than I feel,” he said, blinking back dizziness and nausea.

How Eddie and Dustin were here was a question he really wanted an answer to, but they didn’t have time. More gun fire came from somewhere outside the room. Eddie’s blood was coursing through him like a wildfire, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, pushing the otherness to the surface.

“I’ll clear the way,” Eddie said, “you stay with Dustin, keep him safe until we get back to the others.”

It went against every instinct Steve had to let someone else go into danger in front of him, but he also knew Eddie was right. He wasn’t strong or fast enough to take the lead. He had so many questions, but right now was about survival.

As soon as they slipped into the corridor, Eddie was off. The two soldiers coming towards them had no chance as Eddie moved faster than they could react. Both went flying as Steve kept himself between Dustin and the melee, following his boyfriend down the corridor.

Now that he was properly aware, the sirens were loud, and it was clear the base was in pandemonium. It looked hauntingly like the one under Starcourt had, although not as grand.

“Where the hell are we?” Steve asked as they ran down the corridor.

“Russian base under a farm about twenty miles out of town,” Dustin told him. “Best guess, they built it at the same time as Starcourt as a backup. How the fuck the government missed it I will never know.”

“Language,” Steve said automatically, which made him want to laugh hysterically, because it was so not the time.

He definitely wasn’t completely with it. As he was worrying about not being able to protect Dustin if it came to it, a door they were running past opened. A man with a gun pointed it at them and Steve reacted without thinking. With one hand he grabbed the gun, with the other the front of the soldier’s uniform and threw him hard across the corridor. There was a satisfying crunch before the man slumped senseless to the floor.

“Any idea how to use this?” Steve asked about the gun in his hand.

“Nope,” Dustin replied.

“Don’t think I could hit anything even if I did,” he said and bent the barrel slightly before tossing the weapon away.

Eddie was waiting for them at a door at the end of the corridor.

“This way,” Eddie said, leaning through the door before leading them into another corridor.

Steve was pretty sure he had never seen anything as impressive as the way Eddie took out another soldier.

“How did you find me?” he asked as Eddie went on ahead, dealing with anyone stupid enough to get in his way as Steve and Dustin followed.

“Eddie,” Dustin explained. “When they grabbed you, they tried to grab him too, but he got your warning. We contacted Owens, but they were taking too long, so we came anyway. Eddie led us right here. This base isn’t deep, it’s just under the surface and we broke in through some vents. Took us a while to figure out how, sorry. The others are causing a diversion so Eddie and me could get to you before anyone did anything drastic.”

“Appreciate that,” he said, but he stumbled into the wall.

“Need help?” Dustin asked, by his side immediately.

He shook his head, refusing to give in, in the slightest.

“Let’s go,” was all he said.

After a couple more turns, they made it into a bigger room, one that had a large door at the far end. Steve had to assume it was the way out because there were four heavily armed guards on it. However, they didn’t have to worry about it for long, because the three men and one woman flew backwards and thudded against what they were guarding. Eddie zeroed in on them to make sure they stayed down as El appeared from the other corridor off the room, flanked by Hopper, Robin, Nancy, Mike, Lucas, Gareth, Jeff, and Frank.

Robin crossed to him immediately as the others flooded into the room.

“Get that door open,” Hopper barked.

Dustin and Nancy headed to the front as Robin pulled Steve into a hug.

“I’m okay,” he told her.

“Yeah, not buying that,” Robin replied. “You’re paler than my Great Aunt Rose and she’s ninety and hasn’t seen the sun in decades.”

“Be fine once we get out,” he did his best to reassure her.

Rather than reply she reached out and pulled off one of the sticky pads he hadn’t even noticed was still attached to his chest. Most of the monitoring devices must have come off when Eddie and Dustin freed him, but apparently one hadn’t.

“We need a key card like at Starcourt,” Dustin called out.

“Check the guards,” Hopper told him while keeping an eye on the corridors.

Steve couldn’t help noticing that both Jeff and Gareth were holding guns and seemed to know what they were doing. Not what he had expected.

“Got one,” Nancy declared.

She was at the panel and using it before anyone could say anything. The large door began to lift immediately, rising a few inches before more sirens went off and a loud recorded Russian voice began speaking.

“They’re overriding,” Robin yelled even as the door began to close again.

Apparently, El was not having that. She stepped into the middle of the room and threw out her hand with an incredibly determined scowl on her face. The huge metal door shrieked as El forced it upwards, hydraulics hissing and spitting as they failed against her power. Steve could feel her energy in his veins as if he was part of it. They were almost there, almost out, but the tiniest click made it to his ears over the maelstrom.

There was no gap between thought and action as he stepped between El and the sound. Semi-automatic gun fire joined the cacophony and three impacts tried to throw him forward, but he held his ground. Hop turned and fired once, and the gun fire was silenced.

“Run,” El screamed and they all did.

They poured into what Steve realised was a barn, only to be faced with yet more soldiers. It took him a second to realise these ones were in American uniforms.

“That way,” Owen’s said, waving his arm to the left as the soldiers converged on the door.

No one was arguing. Steve kept moving, not even thinking about what had just happened. Only once they were all out of the way and he had reassured himself they were all there, did his higher thoughts start moving again. As the relief they were safe hit, so did the pain. He curled in on himself, sliding down the wall as the damage done to his body finally made it into his head.

“Harrington, don’t you dare,” Eddie was right there instantly.

Strong hands held him in a sitting position as he tried to slump sideways.

“Steve, look at me,” Eddie demanded.

He tried, he really did, but Eddie’s worried face swam in and out of his vision.

“Stupid damn hero complex,” Eddie complained at him. “Stevie, stay with me, you’re not allowed to check out after all the trouble we went to rescue you.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“Steve, Steve, fucking wake up,” were the last things he heard as the world faded away.

End of Chapter 14

Chapter 15

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st: whole new us #fanfic #post season 4 #vampires #kind of vampires #hurt/comfort

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exhaslo · 11 months ago

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Puzzle Pieces Ch.9

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, masturbating, praise

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

There was something about waking up after a night of passionate sex that made the morning better. Miguel inhaled deeply as he woke up first. Your head was nuzzling against his chest with his arm wrapped around your body. This was the most relaxed he had ever felt. That and this was the first time he had woken up with a woman in his arms.

Humming lowly as he checked his messages, Miguel hoped for some good news. His smile turned into a disgruntled scowl as he saw no news from Miles and a stupid party night video from Hobie. This was why Miguel had them do missions separately. They were fools and childish together.

"Mhm, Mig..." You mumbled tiredly.

Miguel put his phone down to stroke your head. The smile you had on your face was worth the trouble. Hearing your phone buzz, Miguel quickly reached for it and shut off the alarm. You had a notification for work under the alarm. Chuckling softly, Miguel quickly called out for you.

There was no need for you to work if you were going to be with him. Glancing at the time, Miguel let out a grunt as he got off the bed. While you got to stay home and relax, Miguel needed to take care of both of his businesses.

"I'll be back later," Miguel whispered as he kissed your head.

--------

Hearing your phone go off, you yawned before lazily reaching for it. Remembering that you were at Miguel's you squeaked and buried your face into the pillow. Last night was amazing. Never had you felt that good. Never had you gone through so many orgasms. Everything about last night was a whole new experience.

"Miguel?" You whispered, calling out for him.

Not hearing a response, you went to reach for your phone again. A small whimper came out since you could not feel your legs and your arms were weak. Who would have thought that such slow and intense sex could make your body feel like jello?

"Ah! Work!" You gasped, looking at the time, "H-How can-Hm? H-Huh, M-Miguel called out for me??"

You finally noticed a text from Miguel. Not only had he called out of work for you, but he even told you to stay and rest at his place. Your cheeks warmed up at the gesture. You had already overstayed, but Miguel did not mind at all.

Pressing the phone to your chest, you laid on your back and stared at the ceiling. This was happening. You were entering a healthy relationship. Wincing, you attempted to sit up. Your lower back hurt, but you were so willing to do it again.

"Hm, I wonder...if he would...like a good...morning message?" You whispered.

--------

Miguel tapped his finger against his desk as he listened to a boring explanation for a fuck up at Alchemax. His scowl was more prominent that usual, causing his associate to sweat. It was hard, but Miguel had a reputation to keep at Alchemax. He could not do his usual tactics that he would in his mafia.

"Dios Mio (My god), would you cut to the chase? I need to know if I have to prepare for a lawsuit." Miguel huffed.

"N-No sir! I made sure that there was a proper apology and-"

Miguel tuned the man out once he heard the magic word, 'no'. Normally, Miguel would just buy out of the lawsuit, but he couldn't do that here. Once his associate finished speaking, Miguel had him leave. The day was starting to drag.

"Hm?" Feeling his phone buzz, Miguel checked his phone and saw your name, "(Y/N), good morning, mi amor (my love). How are you feeling?"

"A-Ah, g-good. I'm...a little s-sore, but um, l-last night was amazing. Um, I-I hope...I...I was okay for-"

"You were more than amazing," Miguel leaned back in his seat, smiling to your shy voice, "I wasn't too rough with you, was it?"

"N-No,"

Miguel smirked, already knowing that he was going to get rougher. He had this urge to make you melt under him. You already came undone by his touches alone. Miguel winced as he felt his dick harden at the memory of your moans.

"Amor, don't feel shy to treat my place as yours. I am more than willing to take care of you." He hummed, pressing a button to lock his door.

"Y-You don't h-have too. I...I don't want...to be a burden." Your voice was trembling.

"You're not a burden. You're my girl,"

Miguel inhaled to the sound of your happy hums. He stroked his dick, requesting that you simply say his name. It was cute how confused you sounded, but did so willingly. You were just perfect. Miguel was ready to burn both heaven and hell for you.

"Miguel."

"Nh, Una vez más, cariño. Oh, cómo desearía que estuvieras aquí rebotando en mi polla, conejito. (Once more, baby. Oh, how I wish you were here bouncing on my dick instead, little bunny)" Miguel groaned as he cam against his desk.

"Um, M-Miguel...do...do you think...if it's not...t-too much trouble, c-could you teach me...S-Spanish?" You asked. Miguel inhaled deeply to your request as he cleaned his desk,

"Of course,"

"Yai!" You chirped and giggled over the line, "A-Anyway, I d-didn't mean to keep you so long. I-I'll see you later~"

"Mhm, later."

Miguel held his phone as you hung up. Miguel could not tell you no. He should have. Now you were going to be able to understand all of the dirty things he wished about you. All of the fucked up and cruel things he said to his men and associates. Shit, you'd be able to understand everything.

"Ah, (Y/N), you take away my strength."

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It took a few hours, but you finally regained your strength. You decided to explore Miguel's place. It was huge! Miguel had a few things of value, which made you wonder what Miguel liked. He did mention that he had no reason to go home.

You wanted to change that. Pressing your puzzle to your lips, you smiled after finding an empty bookshelf. You placed your puzzle facing forward and giggled to yourself.

You wanted to feel weird being in such a fancy place. You wanted to feel like a stranger, but since it was Miguel...You felt right at home. Just the thought of him made you feel like you belonged. It was different and comforting.

"I wonder what he likes?" You mumble as you stepped into the kitchen.

You wanted to thank Miguel and make him a home cooked meal. He had a decent amount of food in his fridge to cook. That and all of his pots and pans looked like they had never been used. It made you wonder if Miguel ever cooked for himself.

"I hope he likes what I make~"

---------

"What do you mean he isn't there? I want that fucker brought to my knees!" Miguel yelled over the phone, all of his men quietly waiting for his order.

"Hah, much have fled. But how would he know?" Lyla scoffed, filing her nails. Miguel threw his burner across the room,

"Miguel, calm down." Jessica added, standing beside Lyla. Miguel shot a glare towards the both of him,

"Let me get a run down about what happened last night, again!" Miguel demanded as he leaned over his desk.

"Yes, sir. A new group calling themselves Venom appeared overnight and ransacked one of our ports. Our men were overwhelmed, but we did manage to take back the base after a rough fight." Another Peter said.

Honestly, Miguel tried to ignore how many men he had with the same name.

"So, on top of a new threat knocking on our door, our scouts could not find one man whom needs a lesson." Miguel hissed lowly. He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking about you, "Lyla, tell those fools to get any information as to where (Y/N)'s ex went. They won't be allowed back until I know where he is."

"Yes, sir."

"Everyone else, find out whatever we can on this new group. We won't forgive anyone who disrupts this family."

"Yes, sir!" Everyone yelled in unison.

Miguel kept his brows furrowed as he thought about what happened last night. He knew that Halloween was always a bad night, but for a new group to appear and attack his wares. This only angered Miguel more. Depending on how this went, Miguel might have to prepare for war.

"Jessica, Lyla, I'm leaving for the day. Inform me of any changes."

"Sure thing, boss man." Lyla popped her bubblegum and turned to Jessica, "Let's go."

Miguel sighed once more, needing to destress. Thinking about you, Miguel grunted. That ex of yours was a pest. The bugger flew off who knows where. Miguel was determined to find and kill him. He would love to bring that fucker's head to you as a trophy, but you would freak out.

A finger might be good enough?

Maybe not.

Miguel was going to find something for you as proof of his revenge for you. Rubbing the back of his neck, Miguel decided to get back home for the day. He didn't want to leave you waiting too long.

---------

Once Miguel opened the door, a new and interesting scent caught his nose. Kicking his shoes off, Miguel made his way to the kitchen quietly. His eyes widen as you hummed to yourself, making dinner. Miguel licked his lips, seeing that you were wearing one of his shirts as a pajama.

"I can get used to this," Miguel whispered as he wrapped his arms around your body. You jumped slightly,

"M-Miguel! W-Welcome home," You stuttered.

Miguel rested his head in the crook of your neck. You smelled so good. Just showered. This was what Miguel wanted. You to get comfortable at his place-with him. It was still too early to ask you to move in with him, but Miguel was tempted.

"You made dinner, how thoughtful. I could have taken you out to eat," Miguel kissed your neck. You grew flustered, turning around to face him,

"B-But...I wanted to t-thank you. T-The best I can do...is c-cook you a meal,"

"You do so much more than that," Miguel held your hips close to his as he brought you in for a kiss.

-------

If this were a cartoon, hearts would be popping up all over your head. You gripped onto Miguel's jacket, happily returning the kiss. This felt like a dream. Feeling Miguel's hand snake around your ass, you whimpered, wanting to finish making dinner.

"Haha, alright. That can wait until later," Miguel whispered after breaking the kiss, "I'll go shower."

Watching Miguel leave, you could only hold your cheeks in awe. You could only wonder how you manage to snag a man like him. Especially with how you were. Shaking the thought away, you hurried back to dinner, wanting to finish.

Once it was done, you and Miguel shared the meal together. It made you happy as he enjoyed your food. It made you happy as you asked about his day and him actually answering you. Everything brought your heart to flutter.

"Now then," Miguel placed the dishes in his dishwasher before turning towards you, "Time for my dessert."

"D-Dessert? O-Oh, um...I...I didn't make any-"

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he silenced you with a kiss. Lifting you up with ease, Miguel carried you to the bedroom for another night of passionate sex.

---------

"Aight, only one place left to check," Hobie said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "Bet we can't go ruff on em, can't we?"

"No. They are still our business partners." Peter said as he followed the small group. Gwen and Miles were chatting with each other while Pavitar gasped,

"Ohhhhhh, but what if they don't anything and then we won't be able to go home? That would be such a bummer, but I suppose my calculus test can wait."

"Shit, I forgot about that." Gwen groaned. Miles chuckled lowly as they stopped in front of a supermarket,

"That's why I brought my notes to study. Might let you borrow them, Gwen, if you can get the manager to talk."

"Uh, guuuuys?"

"That's an easy bet." Gwen snorted.

"Guuuuuuys!"

"What's wrong, Pav?" Peter asked. Pav pointed towards Hobie's direction as the tall man started to cause havoc,

"We're in soooo much trouble."

"Hobie!!!"

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

next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x #miguel x you

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vespertin-y · 2 years ago

Text

afternoon liveblog! GUESS WHO’S GOT TWO THUMBS AND MORE STUFF FOR THEIR SACRIFICE KOKICHI PINBOARD BABEYYYY

-not tsumugi’s idea of god just being izuru 😭 how did i not catch this easter egg before,,,

-”...cults like these can be reaaally annoying if you get on their bad side.” how do you know that, kokichi?

-i HIGHLY doubt angie was meant to smash that flashback light...in a more interesting version of ch3, tsumugi kills her for this and gets away with it until ch6....i just really wanted them to use the first-come-first-serve culprit rule ok.

-”ummm...what if we get another time limit motive, like the one that got rantaro killed? ...shouldn’t we have a sacrifice prepared, just in case?” “you mean...if someone has to die, we should volunteer someone we resurrected?” COLD, angie, cold. anyway this scene is made WAY funnier if you imagine an extremely offended kaede, rantaro, ryoma, and kirumi watching it on TV.

-kaito is Going Thru It...it’s impossible to tell how much of his suffering is because of his illness worsening and how much of it is his genuine terror at the supernatural, but either way he is straight up not havin a good time rn.

-ok so shuichi and kokichi proceed to have a very long (and completely optional!) side conversation and literally all of it makes me insane so here it is, line-by-line:

-”oh, but angie wants to make rantaro the transfer student, huh? i don’t want him to come back to life.” “why?” “it’s cuz...i love you most, shuichi. i’m always thinking about you...and you’d rather see kaede brought back to life, huh?” “th-that’s...” “you’re so admirable! that’s why i wanna support you! oh wait, that’s a lie!” “...” the og explanation i made for this got a little too personal and a little too sad, so i’ll just say a) again, it’s much easier to make people *think* you’re lying than it is to actually lie, and b) adding ‘but that’s a lie!’ is like saying it’s not gay because you wore socks, OUMA.

-“come to think of it, i once saw this anime that was also about a death game...the mastermind sacrificed a family member as the first victim to get the killing started.” PIN! BOARD! PIN! BOARD! PIN! BOARD!

-“sacrificed a family member? as in...killed them?” “yeah, as a show of force. maybe that’s what happened to rantaro...what if rantaro was working for the mastermind? bringing him back might be a bad idea.” “n-no, that’s idiotic! rantaro couldn’t have been working for the mastermind...” [but...is it really impossible? we only knew rantaro for a short time. he did seem as though he was kind of used to the killing game.] “nee-heehee...looks like you’re starting to understand what i’m getting at, shuichi.” FROTHS AT THE FUCKING MOUTH,,,they both clocked how sus rantaro is but because of the way kaede’s death spent them tailspinning in opposite directions (natural extrovert kokichi becoming isolated and paranoid bc he thinks he’ll end up like her + natural introvert shuichi fighting his own caution to integrate into the group bc he has to fulfill her wish) they can’t have a real conversation about it. I Am So Normal About This.

-FTE time - this time kokichi’s second one! (this is just his episode, apparently). the fact that we know his love of yu-gi-oh is genuine because he really obviously based his outfit off of seto kaiba is fantastic, but my favorite bit is that he “plays” by drawing random cards and seeing who’s number is bigger - the hallmark of kids who collected the pretty cards but had no idea what the actual rules were (like me and all seven of my siblings hpshjdhbsgdh).

-one of maki’s next! shuichi telling her her backstory sounds fake is funny for like, eight different reasons. the holy salvation society’s strategy of being so suspicious for cult reasons no one realizes they’re suspicious for assassin reasons is also great. (shuichi is...bizarrely slow on the uptake here, though. maki saying ‘god really doesn’t exist in this world’ and shuichi responding with ‘so, you’re a devotee in the cult?’ made me ?????. it’s so out of character i can’t even be mad at maki calling him a fucking dumbass. she’s right!)

-kaitoooo :[ don’t call yourself pathetic for being sick, please,,,,

-”i think...himiko has gotten so lazy, she’s given up on thinking for herself...that’s why she’s depending on angie.” bold move to describe joining a cult because you’re suicidally depressed as “lazy”, but i suppose i can’t fault tenko for something that’s more a flaw with DR itself. her heart is in the right place, at least.

-”she thinks she’s [kami-sama]’s vessel, so she doesn’t feel guilty about anything she does.” “and that’s why you want me to kill her?” “huh!?” “asking someone like me for a “favor” can only mean one thing.” “...i...won’t deny that. i’ve wanted her gone even before all this happened. and i think everyone has wanted someone to die at least once in their life...but going through with it is a different thing! it’s wrong for a person to commit murder! it doesn’t matter what the reason is!” i disagree but i think it’s Neat seeing where all the V3 characters fall on this moral spectrum!!

-not maki and kaito having the exact same ‘just bang on the door 1 billion times’ strategy 😭 that’s rlly funny actually.

-”no, angie. that’s not possible. the bodies were not fakes. i’m positive. especially after seeing the wax effigies. the effigies were nearly perfect, but the real bodies still had traces of a soul. a soul desperate to live, struggling, fighting for life...that’s something that can never be replicated. no matter what technology you have, you can’t fake a soul.” how does he apply this to kiibo, i wonder...?

-”[kami-sama] says that if we do the ritual, everyone who has died up till now will come back. so...if those four really are dead, then the resurrection ritual will surely work.” she’s switched from bringing back rantaro to bringing back everyone...!? that’s not what monokuma promised.

-”if you’re gonna slow me down, i’ll turn you into a wax effigy! nyahahaha!” JESUS H CHRIST

-tenhimi breakup scene :((( the babygirls r so toxic,,,

-”you should let shuichi tell you how to apologize. he’s really good at it.” i...can’t tell if this is meant to be an insult or not......

-that’s the end of day twelve! see you next time :]

#dr #mem liveblogs

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valleynix · 2 years ago

Note

Before I go further into the story... I'VE DONE RESEARCH. And I have one more theory. I hope I managed to make it make sense it was hard to gather thoughts into words.

So the Megamycete can store the consciousnesses of people that are infected/died. It is also capable of creating a whole new realm.

So, I think when the blackouts happen Reader finds themselves in the world created by the Megamycete. The people they see are pieces/versions/copies of their and other people's (like Dimis) consciousness. Since there was a calmer version of Daniela, I assume there can be a scarier, more feral version(s) of the Reader too.

Now I think Miranda is, perhaps, running tests on the Reader, on the different copies/versions of their consciousness like it was with Rose in the DLC. Maybe they're supposed to go through some kind of scenario(s)?

To see which version will succeed and in what circumstances.

But it seems most (if not all) failed. That's why the "Not enough, not good, can’t help" lines.

That would explain the feeling of deja vu, that Reader already spent time with Dimitrescus. Those could be the memories of a different version of the Reader that had already gone through the scenario.

But I don't know if this is the version that Miranda chose as destined to succeed or if it's a random consciousness on loose?

(Or the Reader the story we follow is still a test subject and none of this is actually real like idk they're trapped in their body, their mind stuck in the fake realm)

But... yeah, what was Miranda's goal. This is the part of theory I have doubts about but let's go.

It's strange but for me it looks like Miranda wanted Reader to like... neutralise the Dimitrescus? But Reader became attached to them so they didn't want to hurt them. So Miranda forced them by getting into their head. (Since it was mentioned she can do that)

In those blackouts I feel like Reader becomes hostile toward them sometimes, like they're not completely themselves.

The ch6 blackout looks like Reader (even if didn't want it) attacked them (perhaps even killed one of them) but failed at defeating them all.

And Miranda(?) said they weren't ready, but she can try again. As in, use another copy of the Reader perhaps? To make them go through this all again and see if this time they'll be successful.

So when those people the Reader sees say they're not good enough, they can't help. Maybe they mean they can't fight against Miranda to stay sane and not hurt the people they grew to care about.

There was a line "I can't let her win" so perhaps they mean they can't let Miranda take over their mind and make them fight against Dimitrescus.

Idk why she would want them dead tho😭 so I may be so horribly stupidly wrong about this part but yeah

before i get started partially answering your theory (because i don't want to spoil anything), can i just tell you how much i ADORE this theory??? like... oh my god. i love the thought and work you clearly put into making it and i will cherish it <33

i will say that you did pick up on a few things!! and something you did hit PERFECTLY (but i will not say which part >:) ). it's very interesting seeing theories pop up before the reveal because, truthfully, everything is written as if there are several possibilities, if that makes sense?

like, it's intentionally misleading so that you won't really know what's going on until the reveal, but the clues/hints/foreshadowing can lead to multiple outcomes. i am tired and my vision is blurry so i hope this makes sense BAHA

i believe Miranda's motives are either hinted at or said in chapter eight/nine, but when/if you get there, i'd be happy to clarify her reasoning for doing All That and why she wants to Dimitrescus (and everyone else) dead. i really can't remember if i did go into detail about it or if it was all simply implication; i'd have to go back and reread :o

but listen, nah. we don't insult theories here >:( i had fun reading what you think is going on and all the evidence you have to back yourself up; no theory is a stupid one! i intentionally wrote it so that you most likely wouldn't know what exactly was going on, but you did come very close in some areas and 100% got some others :D

i do look forward to hearing what else you have to say as you continue reading <33

#asks #mmm this is exciting skdfhjs #i think only like #one person ??#actually guessed what was going on before the reveal #ezzie partially guessed iirc #but again it's all intentional #you are being intentionally misguided >:)

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archer3-13 · 2 years ago

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some more thoughts! up to ch6

map difficulty has been up and down overall id say, there are moments that made me sit and think but also a lot of moments of just 'following the routine'. but then this is the early stage of the game, which i would definitely rank as a vast improvement over three houses early game right off the mark because it doesnt faff about. though arguably it does get going a bit too fast...

ch2

training with dragon mama, its fine mostly about building a rapport with lumera before shes inevitably killed off. a very sweet rapport mind you but still.

also, more dragon shenanigans as dragon mama makes puppet soldiers from rocks. interesting comparison the game intentionally draws of the puppet soldiers being rather creepy given how alear also considers the 'corrupted' to be freaky deaky [though on a more instinctual level?]

i know how to fight game we dont need to go over this again. reinforces to me though that the prologue flash forward coulda been easily cut and nothing would be lost.

that lumera engages and moves with sigurd right as you enter her hypothetical range caught me off guard ill admit.

promise bangle! inevitable death incoming!

ch3

as expected turns out the safe have wasnt all that safe! first real chapter were getting here which is a huge relief compared to three houses hogwash, the game even gives us some flying pegasi to grapple with! theyve got cav mov so my prediction on that was wrong

suddenly alfred? he just kinda shows up like 2 levels higher then where your likely to be at that point and helps out. his retainers are also better then you [probably].

nothing too taxing just a standard route battle here with a named unique[ish] looking boss! praise be!

another kinda awkward moment where a transition woulda been appreciated as we suddenly dive into a cutscene to cg with this weird floating evil child

also, as soon as i saw the child i internally giggle a bit at the prospect of fighting an evil floating child in that kinda giddy 'im so glad this is happening' way.

lumera sacrifices herself taking a hit on our behalf. also flamme tries to heal someone in a cutscene! it doesnt take cause lumera used her... lifeforce im guessing to wake us up so now shes dying

good god does she take a while to die. i feel this might have been more effective/deserved had she been around longer and the scene wasnt written with a kinda awkward stop and start to it that makes it feel longer then it is. overall though, i appreciate the acting and ill admit it did twing my heart a bit. but then i am a sap.

lumera says some stuff that im thinking indicates that shes going to be ghost mom at some point but no one in universe seems to catch the implication. that might just be me extrapolating though.

we get sigurds ring this chapter

ch4

we gotta go help alfred save his kingdom its under attack by zombies. we arrive just in time to save his sister cerine in the stupid dress and we get celicas ring this chapter.

not much else to note about this chapter, its a straight up slug with zombies though instead of a zombie boss the boss is actually a named human whos commanding them and laments as he dies how he only got zombies to control.

the game also implies that celines retainers are introuble, but frankly they arent. maybe on higher difficulties they are, but on the standard normal difficulty they actually cleared out most of the map section they were in themselves. that said they arent npcs you get control of them which i appreciate as it avoids a lot of the headaches of npcs and provides some fun flow to the map as we move the main army to the holdouts.

ch5

turns out the capitals under attack ohno. gotta go save alfreds mom, and i will note i was really stressed they were gonna kill her off immediantly as well but thankfully they didnt.

sexy evil villain lady shows up to note that theyve already freed the fell dragon and be a taunting sexy evil lady. idk im not feeling her, shes very flagrantly evil which i can appreciate but her outfits stupid and so far she feels more generically evil then uniquely evil. shes no petrine anyways.

castle map with a treasure set to the side to loot. again nothing to major to note her gameplay wise though this is the first boss we hit whos got a second health bar! idk how to feel about that, on the one hand its an interesting solution to making bosses stand out more but on the other unless the boss is particularly tough or ya placed a unit in a bad spot it just means more bullying of the boss for the player to engage in.

alfreds mom saved, we get told to go find a 'secret' ring firanas been holdin.

paralogue 1

definitely awakening styled here in that they just show up. farming village is under attack by zombies and we gotta save the villagers including a doctor and his son who'll be our donnel for the game.

that said well the mob is npcs this time they arent under particularly pressing threat [again atleast on normal] and we start pretty dark close to them

fight off the zombies, small child wishes to go with us, parents protest but small child insists cause hes gonna be THE BEST doctor and parents immediantly relent.

i chuckled at that 'son its dangerous!', 'but i wanna go dad', 'okay son, you can go.'

i will make him into the supreme doctor fist man!

ch6

on the road to the secret shrine we meet our first thief yukiana who puts on a somewhat obnoxious act and we learn she had the ring we were looking for but ended up losing it, so we gotta go help her retrieve it.

no this is not actually a trap she really did lose the ring and a bandit picks it up that we immediantly kill when we get on the map. yukiana then gets to use the michaiah ring which lets her also staff bot which is handy.

other then that its a night map, fog of war and all that but mother fucking map object lanterns make a return which is nice.

range of vision also feels greater then usual which helps.

we clear out the bandit, yukiana admits she originally stole the ring and was gonna sell it alfred points out that yikiana still stuck around to help out and we ask her to join the team. a good time was had by all.

quick note on characters

i like all of them reasonably enough so far but ill admit that the one whos sticking out to me the most at the moment is yukiana. she introduces herself with a kinda obnoxious faux personality but its obviously a facade and her actual personality manages to be bubbly without going to far into it well also being tempered by a likely rough past. also i guess shes michaiahs girlfriend now which is kinda cute, though it does also bring to my mind a michaiah yukiana sothe polyamorous relationship...

SO! went out and actually got my hands on an engage physical copy. played through the first lil bit. thought id start up an internal reblog chain for myself here on thoughts on the game!

opening:

very abrupt but it goes hard on the music even if the visuals feel somewhat noncommittal and incoherent. in fact ill add right off the bat that the music here SLAPS HARD! like holy shit is it good.

title is in that kinda static manner a lot of title are these days.

prologue:

im playing on normal for a first run, cause i like to get a handle on what the developers are designing the bare basics of the game around. ie, the experience they assume most people are going to undergo when playing the game. idk, first impressions and all that.

anyways! prologue is doing the fe awakening thing of a flash forward [?] with a fight against scary bad man though instead of evil sorcerer were apparently fighting the fell dragon of this game itself. WHO WEARS NO SHIRT AND IS THEREFORE SUPERIOR TO GRIMNA BY DEFAULT!

its fine for what it is, the hook of the story and a quick run down on basic move attack mechanics. we even get to 'engage' and use an engage skill!

that said, i feel it misses the mark on what was effective about awakening paralogue. to clarify off the bat here, awakening is on the lower end of fe games for me personally, so when i say it misses the mark i really do mean it. awakenings paralogue setup worked by building a lot of dread and tension, oppressive music and atmosphere, the pre fight cg throwing us right in the action in a frantic and somewhat grim fight, the dramatic tragic twist with shishchrombob and a jarring evil laughter to play us off.

engage raises questions like awakenings, but thats all it really does. raise questions, otherwise being kinda flacid in atmosphere comparatively.

ch 1

which brings us to ch 1! alear wakes up, meets the stewards, and then suddenly were on the ground! feels like we missed a transition here, cause i wasnt sure if we had been in the sky or not like the game insisted we had but hey. i can forgive it a bit here cause a] its not an essential transition and b] the following stuff in the chapter is real good!

zombies show up, the corrupted, to cause some ruckus and the twins get into a sticky situation we have to unstick them from. namely that we actually get a 'diagetic experience' as it were cause the twins are on the map getting attacked as we rush out to save em. the twins run ahead a bit, zombie enemy turn ambush spawn and we dip into a cutscene then a cg

on a side note, the in engine cutscenes are such a massive improvement over what we had before! theres the dialogue skit sections of course where we do the awkward stand and nod like mascots that plagued three houses [though not as bad in engages case], but also we get actual action sequences animated in engine! and they look pretty slick minus some clipping.

anyways, cg marth shows up to bedazzle us [hes so pretty...], and we get some engage buisness to deal with and to help illustrate how op it is we get to mulch a bunch of enemies! fun.

on another side note, map sizes along with mov ranges so far have been reduced from average. infantry has sat at 4 well vander the paladin has sat at a 6 mov. armours im guessing have 3 move well flyers have 4 and non promoted cavs have 5 as it follows the heroes model as it were. in fact a lot of the mechanics and interfaces feel very heroes inspired which... im not entirely against as heroes does do a lot of things right and expanding on what works there in a full fe setting sounds very delicious to me.

dragon mama shows up at the end to save us from some more enemy reinforcements and we get a nice little reunion cutscene still [also very nice], and moment in general. dragon mothers cloths clip like no tomorrow in engine but shes very pretty and her voice actress giver her a nice melodic quality that i find very calming.

on an aside, i was giggling like a maniac the entire later half of the battle map for ch1. its a very over the top sequence but it just feels so fun to watch and its delightful to see some over the top choreography in action.

characters at the moment!

the twins: could not remember their names at the moment as they are just 'the twins' that exist in all of fiction

vander: is uther. reminded me of uther lightbringer from warcraft 3 when i first saw him and his personality and portrayal just kinda reminds me of uther in general. uthers pretty cool though and vanders definitely endeared himself to me in just a handful of scenes. more so then the twins anyways.

lumenera: sweet and melodic as i mentioned. i feel like the twist of the story is going to be that alear is related to the fell dragon in some way [fell dragon going 'i am your father!' or somethin] and lumenera is either the fell dragons ex or tryin to just put alear on a better path. interested in seeing and learning more anyways, and i feel shes the most endearing early game slated to die mother figure so far thats become very common in modern fe storytelling. at time of writing this anyways.

alear: somewhat timid, obviously gonna have a story about learning to be bolder. they talk so its a step up from byleth regardless.

marth: speaking more then i thought he would. hasnt said much yet but as ever hes sweeping me off my feet for no reason other then i like him.

#fire emblem engage #fire emblem #fe17 #spoilers

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anika-ann · 2 years ago

Text

Love on the Brain - part 6.2

Ch6: Floriography (2/2)

Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6000

Summary: After the long night, you come back to the case with fresh eyes… and a new piece of evidence. You wished more evidence was good news. It’s not.

Series masterlist

Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing. I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.

A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics; Second part - the few first paragraphs in italics are from the end of part1 of sixth chapter, just to remind you what’s up 😁

“Why don't you ever use your strength on me?" she said. “Because love means renouncing strength," said Franz softly. – Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

No one protested against your plan. No one pointed out that the Tony’s coffee machine was a thing from caffeine addicts’ dreams and could prepare virtually anything. No one offered to help you with the large number of cups and sweet treats you had mentioned, understanding that needing air meant needing some alone time too.

It seemed they could all be pretty smart cookies after all – you would crack this case before it was too late, right? There were no other options anyway.

You motioned an awkward ‘gotcha’ on Emily and Hotch, nodding to yourself.

“Should have remembered those orders – some things never change,” you said wistfully, grabbing your phone with a credit care in its case. “Coming right up, guys. It’s on me.”

“Thanks, Bean.”

You smiled tightly at Spence, all but escaping the room as you felt more and more embarrassed at your emotional outburst – something coffee could hardly make up for, especially since it wasn’t your first scene in the past 24 hours.

You were all over the place ever since this mess started and you really did need to get your head straight.

And since getting a good night sleep in Steve’s room – bless him – didn’t help, your morning slip-up only making for more nerves, it seemed that you needed to do it alone.

…

As you stalked towards the elevator, quick on your feet, you heard him before you saw him. You sped up – but you could never outrun a supersoldier.

He fell into step with you, still a foot behind when he tried to talk to you – something you desperately didn’t want to do unless you were interested in falling apart.

“Sparkles,” he called out softly, having you grit your teeth as you ignored the itch to either push him away or to jump into his arms – because everything bad always disappeared when he held you. Or it felt as if it did.

But this wasn’t going to just go away with a hug; you needed to actually solve the case to have that happen and you couldn’t afford to be distracted, be it by your weakness or Steve’s presence or his complete lack of self-preservation.

“Steve, we’ve talked about this,” you hissed. “Go back to that room or I swear to god…”

“No.”

You halted in her steps, head snapping to him to shoot him an incredulous glare. He said what?

“What the fuck do you mean no?”

Could he just wipe that stupid concern out of his face and go back to where he had five other people protecting him instead of parading around when he could get shot?! What was wrong with him?!

Why did he have to be so obstinate and irritating and--- so Steve.

“I mean no,” he repeated firmly. No shit. “You’re upset and I-“

You shook your head, not letting him finish as you started walking again, long strides in quick succession so you could escape him before he could try and dive into your feelings and try to help. Before you could punch him or maybe kiss all the stupid out of him.

You sped up upon the last thought, practically breaking into a run.

You may not be able to outrun a supersoldier, but you could try to outrun the onslaught on feelings you had. For him, among others.

Ha, he said no. Idiot.

“You know what? Fine. Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. See if I care!”

The elevator door slid open invitingly, having you slip in and turn on your heels to glare Steve down just in case he didn’t get the memo.

Vainly.

“Sparkles, wait. Just stop for a minute,” he pleaded as he pushed into the elevator with you just as the door was closing.

“Seriously?!”

God, he was the most maddening person on this damn planet-

“What floor, Agent Jones?” Jarvis asked, perfectly polite and unfazed, while you crossed your arms on your chest, staring ahead and ignoring Steve standing by your side.

“The lobby, J. Thank you,” Steve replied to the artificial intelligence calmly.

Jarvis didn’t even reply, sending the elevator down in slow pace as to prolong your suffering.

Even when making a point of avoiding Steve’s gaze, you could see him in your peripheral vision. He kept looking at you steadily, resembling a kicked puppy as you watched the numbers tick by, his presence immense and nagging even in its silence.

You reached number 24 until you couldn’t handle it anymore.

“What?” you snapped, not dignifying him with a single look – which clearly bothered him. Good.

“Sparkles… look at me.”

Your stomach made a somersault at his gentle tone; you felt your resolve not to break into stupid tears again cracking.

No. You would not fall for this. You would not.

Gritting your teeth, you lifted your chin and turned to face him, mindful to glare, because he was supposed to be in the conference room minding his own sitting-on-his-ass business; you were determined to explain it to him again.

Your expression slipped when you got hit by a full load of his sincerely worried gaze.

Damn you, Steven Grant Rogers. Damn you, damn you, damn your stubborn reckless heroic ass-

“You’re so bossy and stubborn and reckless and I hate you,” you spat viciously, irritated and somehow relieved by a small smile growing on his face with each word and good lord, if he could just-

“I know. Come here.”

Carefully, slowly enough to give a chance to back out, he took your hand, twisting it slightly so your fingers rested over his pulse point, feeling every strong beat of his heart. You felt your expression falter further. That bastard read you like a book. Reading between the lines, staring straight through the wall of anger you had put up to reveal the fear underneath.

You felt his eyes studying your face as you stubbornly focused on the wall behind his shoulder – even if the dead eyes of Kyle Meyers were glaring back at you – until the mass of muscle moved closer and closer, once again giving you enough time to stop him. But you didn’t.

You accepted his hug instead, gulping against the lump in your throat when he enveloped you entirely, arms shielding you from the world, his chin resting on the top of your head. You melted into him as few stray tears rolled out of your eyes at last, seeping into his shirt.

He didn’t say another word; he just held you close, until you relaxed into him, hands reluctantly rising to wrap around him as well.

You were painfully aware that the elevator had stopped, but Jarvis had enough tact at least to leave the door sealed.

“Okay… maybe--- maybe I don’t entirely hate you,” you admitted quietly and lord, wasn’t that the truth.

You felt him smile into your hair, his hand rubbing your lower back comfortingly. He held you so carefully and yet firmly, giving his reassurance and comfort so willingly, his frame pressing to yours reminding you he was strong and not easily hurt.

And that he cared.

He cared so much, offering not only his body heat to sooth the shivers running up your spine whenever you remembered the board in the meeting room with his pictures on it, but also warmth; kind, protective and almost loving, stoking the feelings you were so stubbornly stomping on. Your own love. Actual romantic love.

No, of course you didn’t hate him – not even when he was being a stubborn jerk.

You loved him.

You loved him with your whole heart and you couldn’t imagine losing him and all your damn investigation was falling apart and maybe so were you a little and you hated that.

You sniffled a few times, fighting the full-on sobbing. It was only over a day, but you were psychically exhausted and you knew you were being unreasonably impatient but that didn’t really help you to stop being that way, only adding to your frustration. And to the fear that no matter how hard you tried, this might end up in a tragedy.

You had no right to dump all that on Steve, you needed to deal with this shit on your own; but you told him anyway.

“I’m… scared,” you whispered reluctantly, Steve’s arms tightening momentarily at your admission.

“I know that too. Thank you.”

You chuckled minutely, pushing slightly against him so you could look up at him, eyebrow raised in doubt.

“For being scared?”

“For being worried,” he corrected you softly.

He didn’t say it out loud, but as you met his gaze, you heard the rest of his words as clear as if they had been spoken: thank you for being worried for me.

You’d always be. Watching him now, the gorgeous image of his face, beauty written in his features and expression, body and soul, you knew your feelings were never going to go away. Even years down the line, even if you’d live in another city and cut all communication, the picture of Steve – and more so, the burn of a feeling whenever he touched you – would always remain.

He watched you with a tiny smile on his lips, tender fingers fixing the hair that had got out of place when he hugged you, the gentlest caress of his fingertip on your temple. You released a shaky breath when the pad of his index finger slid down to your chin, holding it up to keep your gaze trapped in his; as if you wanted to escape it again.

His eyes roamed your face – it occurred to you that you must have looked like such a mess and he didn’t seem to care – settling on your lips, sending your heart into frenzy, your gaze flickering to the temptation of his mouth in such intimate proximity.

Inevitable gravity guided you to erase the last distance, fighting with the reason in your brain. The spark was tangible now, you could taste it on your tongue as something in Steve’s eyes shifted, pupils dilating like they had when the morning found you in his bed and you had suggested sharing it. His insanely tempting lips were right there for your taking, barely moving as he spoke your nickname softly, no more than three inches from your mouth.

“Sparkles, I-“

The ding of the elevator shattered the moment, having you draw in a sharp breath, Steve’s firm arm on you loosening enough for you to take a step back, head spinning. You were pissed beyond belief for Jarvis’ timing – and grateful.

Not the time. Now was not the time.

Gulping, you stepped out to the lobby, Steve following suit – reminding you that he in fact, shouldn’t, as you walked past the few other employees walking in the lobby.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you sighed, not even bothering to look at him, knowing how he’d react.

“I’m still in the building,” he argued, voice a little raspy, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, your stomach deliciously warm still.

Leave it, Jones.

Later. Think of it as a reward. We’re 75% sure he feels the same now, he wanted the kiss too. This will be worth the try, chances are high.

LATER.

You cleared our throat. “True that, but we said you shouldn’t be walking alone. This isn’t even the residential area.”

“The private elevator is right here. I think I can make a few steps without hurting myself...” Steve continued, almost carefree. “I’m not you when you get drunk.”

Should you punch him or kiss him for trying to be funny? Maybe both at once – just punch his mouth with yours. He was literally asking for it.

“Ha, ha,” you laughed sarcastically. “You’re still a little shit, GG.”

And I love it. I love you. How dare you.

“So are you,” he shot back, pace leisurely, getting you to slow down too. “Look, Sparkles… I know—I didn’t want to take this seriously, but I see it is now. I promise, I just wanted to check on you. Thank you for calling in your old team. I know it couldn’t have been easy and it brings memories.”

You sighed. It was hard to be mad at him when he talked like that. And looked like that.

“It does, actually. But mostly the nice ones,” you assured him, a smile playing on your lips.

It was easy to say that now; now that he was with you, when you got the ugly emotions out. Steve might be a little shit – but you’d be damned if his presence wasn’t all things wholesome.

“Like Dr. Spence Genius Reid and his ridiculous coffee preferences? ...or Genuis Penelope Garcia who calls you angel or honey?” he added quickly after a beat, having you stop dead in your tracks, your jaw falling slack.

No. No fucking way.

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, stunning you speechless for a moment.

Make that 85%. Maybe 90% if you were counting the way he instantly zeroed on Reid rather than Garcia – and yes, it could have been that Reid was actually physically present, but… maybe it wasn’t just that.

“Steven Grant Rogers… are you jealous of my friends? Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“No,” he said way too fast, utterly unconvincing.

You gave him a look, wordlessly asking him to try again and think before speaking. Red tinted the tips of his ears, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans as his gaze lowered to the floor for a moment.

Oh god, he really had been jealous the whole time. You couldn’t believe it. The gentle stroke to your ego was such a welcomed feeling it almost had you forget all about the troubles of this morning.

“Well, you’re—you know, you’re…” Steve muttered, swallowing heavily as he was looking for the right words, “you’re one of the most important people in my life. And you get along with them so well… they might end up stealing you back. So… yeah. I might be. A little bit. I just don’t want to see you go.”

Oh.

Your heart swelled with affection at his confession, stumbling in your chest when he looked up to meet your gaze, shy and a little guilty.

As if only his behaviour was the insufferable one; as if he was the only one whose fears got the best of them in the past 30 hours or so.

“Oh GG,” you whispered, fingers itching to comfort him. “I don’t think I could go back to that job. I know we were making a difference there too, but here… there’s just something very right about being here.”

With you.

At that, the corners of his lips quirked up a bit, eyes lighting up. Encouraged, you continued.

“And you’re one of the most important people to me too…. So I’m glad you’re letting them help. Now let me save all of our lives and sanity by bringing coffee and donuts.”

“We could have had it delivered,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m honestly so done with being copped up. It’s clearly not helping my judgement. Scratch that, it’s driving me crazy and I’ll be happy to breathe in the New York City’s not-so-fresh air.”

Steve hung his head with a sigh, eyeing the busy streets with longing. What an adorably pitiful image of a huge man.

“I can relate to that. I am definitely jealous about that. Going out.”

Grimacing, you reached out to rub his arm – and with a last second decision, you stepped on your tiptoes, pressing a brief kiss on his cheek. The shortest stubble prickled your lips, a welcomed distraction from the fact that your aim was a little off.

He gifted you with a soft smile, large hand landing on your shoulder as if keep you in place, thumb caressing the bare skin on the side of your neck. The thrill it sent through your veins had you nearly tremble in excitement.

Definitely 90%.

It was like a shot of an instant determination to get this case done as fast as possible for a whole different reason – so you could explore this sooner. Preferably three minutes ago so you could make out in an elevator.

Later, Jones. Focus.

“I know, GG. I’ll be back before you know it and the caffeine will help us solve this and we’ll be back to our routines.” Perhaps with some adjustments. “Though I’ll let you run a few extra miles before joining for your next morning run, I can already tell you’ll be sprinting like a crazy supersoldier. Soon.”

Maybe if you said it one more time, you’d actually believe the optimistic view.

“You could keep up,” he said, sounding confident he was right.

The way his eyes subtly flickered all over you, a shadow of a promise when he met your gaze again, had you swallow loudly. Perhaps he wasn’t only talking about running; and damn, wasn’t that distracting and since when did Steve flirt with you? Little shit-

Later. You’ll deal with this later.

Your lips twitched as you shook your head.

“Yeah, right. In my dreams. Maybe,” you threw over your shoulder and you walked out of the building at last.

Once outside, you shot him a look and mouthed an amused and exasperated go back when you found him still watching you – as pleasant as it was to have him look at you with longing that went beyond envying you your freedom. He looked at you as if you had been in his dream before; and the mere idea made you giddy all over.

In your dreams, there might have been some other activities revolving around Steve and keeping up with him, but you wouldn’t spell that out for him. Yet.

Steve shook his head as if he heard your thoughts and disagreed, spinning on his heel and heading back to the elevator.

Maybe you imagined it, but there seemed to be a new pep in his step; there definitely was in yours.

Truth was, Steve would have done nearly anything you’d asked him; and so when you told him to just go back at last, he obeyed, even if he was in no rush to return to the conference room. In fact, he made to turn and the moment you weren’t looking anymore, he watched your retreating figure until you rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Only then, he shuffled his feet back to the elevator.

His body was still buzzing; his senses and his mind were full of you. How your body always mended into his so naturally, how you had looked at him in the morning, still sleepy, but so trusting – and almost heated as you practically proposed you two shared the bed next time. Most recently, how your lips brushed his cheek, low, so low it was almost on his jaw, almost in the corner of his mouth.

It was maddening, really, that you didn’t aim an inch or two elsewhere, but it filled him with heat – and with hope.

It was there earlier too, even if originally, he had followed you to the elevator only to comfort you.

But once inside, it was impossible to ignore the sparks spicing the air as you looked up at him; with such intensity, eyes wide, affectionate… as if you wanted to kiss him there too. You even leaned in; he tasted your breath on his tongue, his lips almost brushing yours--- and then Jarvis just had to mess it up.

To say Steve was disappointed was an understatement, but coming clean about his jealousy later and the sweet reward in the form of a kiss – albeit only on his cheek – almost made up for it. It felt like a promise; and Steve couldn’t wait to collect, making a promise to himself that when, hopefully when, you’d kiss him and agreed to go out on a date, he’d laid the world to your feet.

So no, Steve wasn’t in any rush to go back to the grim conference room, empty of your presence, but full of threats to women he had dared to speak with.

He re-entered the room with a sigh, met with concerned gazes of your former teammates as Natasha and Tony seemed engrossed in guaranteeing the women from the photos a bodyguard to escort them to the Tower.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Reid questioned with a soft frown, only making Steve sigh again.

He would be jealous and inclined not to reply, but he understood that the question was coming from a place of genuine worry and friendship.

And it wasn’t Doctor Spencer Reid you had almost kissed a few minutes ago.

“I think so,” Steve said, his lips turning upward again as he recalled something akin to amusement when you were leaving the building, lighter on your feet you had been walking out of this very room. Yeah, you’d be okay. “I know she really was sorry about earlier. She’s… she worries,” he defended you gently.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Emily assured him as she looked up from the reports on the table, a somewhat teasing smile playing in the corner of her lips. “If I had my boyfriend in danger, I wouldn’t have a clear head either and would sure as hell snap at people.”

“We’re not-“

“You might as well be,” Natasha interjected as Steve automatically went to disprove Emily’s assumption.

Smartass redhead.

“She’s my best friend,” Steve protested lamely, unable to help the giddy feeling of hope warming up his chest.

You were. But maybe, maybe, you could be more soon.

“Eeeeeh yeah, but you’ve been doing googly eyes on each other since forever and you’re grinning like you finally kissed the hell out of her. Come on, it looks like even the profilers from the FBI think you’re dating,” Tony added, smirking as he looked up from his work as well.

“Now you trust profiling?” Steve sassed him back.

“We just trust someone who’s been working with the kid for years,” Natasha hummed. “And is a profiler.”

Steve just gaped, having no counterargument.

Why was he friend with these people again?

“That’s not--- not the point. I just wanted to say that she’s been so determined to resolve this ever since she found the photos and it’s taking us longer than she imagined, I guess,” he sighed again, scowling at the offending objects. “I understand her concern with--- she must have seen a lot of cases like this when she was with your team.”

The air in the room shifted – metaphorically and literally, since Reid’s head whipped in Steve’s direction so fast Steve was surprised he didn’t break his neck.

Reid’s face was stunned, staring at Steve in silent shock, before he snapped back to the board, frantically looking all over it and then zeroing on Steve again.

Was it Steve’s imagination or did the genius’s skin turned a shade paler?

“What did you just say?” Reid asked with such urgency that it sent an icy shiver down Steve’s spine, prompting him to reply immediately.

“That when she was working with you-“

“No, no, about the photos. She was the one to find them?”

Steve gulped, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty at the other man’s surprise; he honestly thought it had been mentioned. And if it hadn’t, he wouldn’t think it was all that important with how often the mail got mixed up – but everything about Reid now was screaming that somehow, this detail was crucial.

“Uhm, yes. In her mailbox-“

“Son of a bitch--- and neither of you thought to tells us that?!” Reid exploded, his voice going an octave higher with the curse and making everyone in the room jump – and look at him as if he had grown a second head.

Blind to the reaction he received, Reid grabbed his phone, dialling, mild panic painting his features as mumbled to himself, phone to his ear.

“Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up-“

Everyone – the BAU team included – watched the genius with mute wonder as he paced, grimacing when the only response he got was the dialling tone.

The sound was ominous in the quiet room; and as it was, a slow understanding crept up to Steve’s mind, his heart racing.

Reid looked worried, truly worried. What if he was worried for you and it had nothing to do with the way you left the room?

“Reid, what’s going on?” Emily asked at last when the man cursed under his lips, staring at his phone with disdain, eyes barely flickering up at the question.

“She’s not on any of these photos.”

Steve wished he understood what the hell stating the fact again meant.

And apparently, so would the others.

“Yeah, we knew that…?” Emily questioned slowly, visibly confused as Reid tried his phone again. “And now we learned an additional information about Jones being pulled into it more than we thought, her being the one possibly worthy enough to even find the photos, but…”

She trailed off, watching Reid helplessly as he ignored her, turning his back to them all, mumbling under his breath again.

A lump in his throat – and a mess in his head – Steve looked at the last remaining member of the BAU. Hotch’s gaze was calculating as he observed the board and Reid’s erratic behaviour.

Then all of sudden, his whole demeanour changed, eyebrows rising, arms uncrossing; the most expressive Steve had ever seen him.

“Reid. You’re not seriously suggesting Jones planted the pictures and is actually the unsub?” he questioned, voice flat.

Steve felt the wind knocked out of him, blood pressure skyrocketing so fast his head actually spun for a second. His fists clenched on their own volition, as to defend you against the completely absurd claim.

“I’m sorry what did you just say?” Steve found his voice, incredulous – and menacing.

Steve would have thought he misheard agent Hotchner, but the beat of shocked silence that followed told him he wasn’t the only one rendered speechless.

Reid’s head snapped to them, a scowl on his face, hand with a phone still by his ear.

“What? Of course not, that’s absurd!” he blurted out, almost offended. “But she might be a target!”

Cold horror seized Steve, stealing last remnants of breath from his lungs. Claws of ice, not unlike those which grabbed him when he plunged the aircraft into the Arctic, bit into his skin, quickly gnawing deeper, aiming straight for his heart.

A confused what sounded in the room, maybe even from Steve himself, but he wouldn’t be able to tell.

All he thought of was you, possibly in danger. Of you walking down the street with a light smile on your face, numerous coffees in hand along with a box of donuts, not having a single clue that you might be the very target of the stalker you were investigating. You, unsuspecting, suddenly catching a bullet straight between-

Doctor Reid’s cursing snapped him back to reality – but a nightmare was still unfolding in front of him.

“Goddammit! Can’t you--- tap into her phone or something?” Reid demanded frantically, earning a reluctant and very much confused response from Tony.

“I could…?”

“Do it,” Steve barked without thought, already making his way out of the room, adrenalin pumping.

Natasha was faster, making him stop by stepping in his way boldly – and stupidly.

Did she think she could stop him? Why would she even try? This was you. They couldn’t expect him to just stand back, that was simply absurd.

“You sit down, Romeo.”

“I’m not sitting down,” Steve spat, irritation rising. “Tony, do you have her location yet?”

“Jarvis is on it…” Tony said slowly, watching Steve try to sidestep Natasha with a frown, the spy mirroring Steve’s movements, her face speaking of just how unimpressed she was. “For whatever reason.”

“I don’t care for the reason—Jesus Christ, Natasha, get out of my way before I move you! If Reid thinks she’s in danger-“

“Then still, Natasha’s right, you are not going anywhere,” Hotch stated almost calmly – but Steve could tell that his façade was cracking. He was scared for you too – only more reason to get fucking moving.

Bullets or no bullets.

“We’re wasting time here. Those bullets are not just dangerous to me,” Steve reasoned swiftly, glaring murder on Natasha who reciprocated it wholeheartedly. “I’m probably still the one least likely to get seriously hurt-“

“That’s not exactly true, they’re calibrated to your DNA-“ Tony pipped up.

A growl gathered in Steve’s chest and he wasn’t about to hold it back.

His fists itched to punch his way through anything and anyone. Because this was you. And he didn’t give a damn about anything else, because his ribcage felt tight at the mere thought of you getting hurt. Let alone—he couldn’t even think it.

“I don’t give a damn. If she’s in danger-“ he argued again, pissed beyond believe because he could have already been on his bike and Tony would text him your location on his way down to the garage-

“I’ll take Clint,” Natasha announced, having Steve sigh irritably, because telling Barton only prolonged the time you stayed unprotected, which was simply unthinkable.

“You guys stay here, especially you, and keep trying to reach her,” she stared at Steve pointedly before moving onto Reid. “And you explain to them what the hell is going on. Keep us updated.”

Steve grinded his teeth, but before he could protest, Natasha exited the room and Hotch subtly took her place.

“I know this is hard, but you need to stay,” he said, using the same tone he had when you lost your nerve earlier, levelling him with a steady look, and it made Steve nearly combust with frustration.

Because he was not you – he didn’t answer to this man. Especially since you were in danger…but he was willing to give him one minute more. He didn’t move as Hotch looked over his shoulder at Reid and reluctantly followed his line of gaze instead.

“Do you think the stalker doesn’t consider her worthy either?”

“No, it’s the exact opposite,” the genius muttered miserably, scratching his forehead, equally frustrated.

“Talk to me, Reid. What does that mean? Why do you think she’s a target?” Emily pressed, encouraging.

“It’s obvious-“

“Pretend it’s not, Boy Wonder,” Tony sassed him, for once speaking the words Steve would if the anxious lump in his throat wasn’t making it hard to even breathe.

“Sorry—you said that about a week ago, there was an article about you two,” Reid started, pointing to somewhere before the beginning of the timeline they had built and Steve automatically nodded. What did that- “That was probably the secondary trigger, though we still need to find the initial stressor. Anyway, the public thinks you’re dating and even your co-workers think you’re in love – and I can’t exactly blame them.”

Steve could hear Tony’s smirk, but he didn’t give a shit at the moment. It only added insult to the injury now that Steve almost kissed you – because he then let you walk out of the lobby only to find out this.

“Six days later, she receives an envelope with pictures of you. Not her, you.”

Jaws of guilt biting into his stomach at the single word: him.

You might be in danger and it was on him.

“We thought that the stalker made a mistake,” Steve said quietly, swallowing hard and feeling like a stupid little boy. “The mailmen messed it up plenty times.”

“That is not likely,” Hotch sighed. “This stalker seems incredibly meticulous, she’d know.”

“Exactly.”

Steve’s hands clenched into fists as Reid once again reached for his phone, trying to call you; with no avail, judging by his clenched jaw.

“Okay, let’s say I buy that,” Tony jumped in after yet another failed attempt. “But why take pictures of Cap if…?”

“It’s true that it’s more common to take pictures of the victim, but the unsub could have thousands of pictures of Jones we don’t know about. However, she received these 23. And in every single one of these, Steve is talking to another woman,” Reid explained. “Smiling at her, shaking her hand, possibly looking like he’s giving her his number-“

“I’m not-“ Steve defended himself lamely, but Reid only shook his head.

“They see what they want to see, fit it into their narrative. Truth is not important to them.”

“Not if they’re in love with her and want to protect her,” Hotch added, realization evident on his face.

“In love? With her?” Tony parroted, still puzzled.

Steve wasn’t; not anymore. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, creating a horror image of you and him. Him, secretly enjoying the attention you showered him with, your protectiveness over him, your persistence – leading to you both missing an essential clue.

Of course the stalker was in love with you; you were impossible not to fall for. Steve would know.

God, he was such an idiot.

“I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner!” Reid exclaimed, genuinely outraged on his supposed stupidity. “That’s what we’ve been missing. The photos were an act of service of sorts.”

“They say look how he’s with other women. He’ll hurt you eventually, he’ll cheat on you,” Emily continued, having tuned to Reid’s thought process.

“Yeah, exactly. And think about the flowers and the note. I’m sorry I scared you into hiding. I could hurt people who are not worthy of you, if necessary, but I would never hurt you. They were saying more than we thought---- I could hurt people who are not worthy of you. They are actually able to hurt Steve because they have the bullets. I really think we’ve been looking at it all wrong.”

They all were; you were. And it was a fatal mistake that might cost you your life.

Steve had to swallow the bile rising up his throat at Emily’s astonished face, his nails digging into his palms to relieve the tension. Why was he still here, when he had fucked up and was supposed to be out there, helping Natasha-

“Oh my god,” Emily whispered, eyes flickering all over the notes, until they landed on Steve, the genuine fear only feeding the flames of Steve’s personal hell. This was on him. Your blood could be on his hands. “It’s not the women who aren’t worthy of you…”

“The unsub thinks you’re not worthy of Jones,” Reid finished ominously and for the moment, Steve couldn’t but full support the stalker’s notion of that. “She’s the one the stalker has been after all along.”

“And she just walked out of here without care for the world,” Emily said, gulping.

“She’s still by the café though and Romanoff and Barton just arrived,” Tony announced. Steve automatically strode to him to look over his shoulder, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.

Indeed, three dots were scattered around a building of what Steve assumed was the café; and he should feel relieved at that.

But he didn’t.

Because Reid called your number again and you still weren’t picking up and Natasha wasn’t calling either.

Steve took a wavering breath as he listened to the dialling tone, his acute need to just run and check on you by himself resulting in pacing, eyes flickering to the door every other second. And every time it did, he could feel Hotch’s glare on him, a silent plea and a warning.

And then finally, Tony’s phone rang.

One tap to accept; one to put Natasha on speaker.

“Stark, we have a problem,” Clint huffed into the phone, breathless. All air was sucked out of the room at once. “Pull the security footage from her route and the café, especially the alley behind the café if you can get that. We found her phone and her watch in here.”

Your watch. Your phone. The two things that contained a locator Tony used to track you down. And they were abandoned in an alley.

Dark spots danced in Steve’s vision when choked out the question he as he already knew the answer to.

“Any sign of-“

“No. She’s gone, Steve,” Natasha said, regret lacing her voice. “Jones’ gone.”

Jones’ gone, screamed a voice in Steve’s ear in echo and he let it, squeezing his eyes shut, every muscle in his body tensing, ready to fight – but there was no one to punch. Only himself. Gone, gone gone- mocked him the voice, sickeningly sweet as it whispered the endearment Steve’s lips spoke more often than your given name. Sparkles’ gone and it’s your fault.

Steve’s fists ached to punch his way through, but he couldn’t very well punch himself. So he did the second best thing.

He drove his fist into the drywall with a roar and fuck, did the sting of a breaking skin and bruised bones feel good. It almost made up for the burn of angry tears in his eyes and the pit in his stomach.

I’m sorry, he whispered in his head to the smiling image of you, panting and flexing his fingers to feel the burn as if it could prove how guilty and sorry her truly felt to the imaginary you. As if that did any good.

Sparkles, I’m so fucking sorry.

→ Next part

Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist

Shoutout to those who saw through my attempts at mystery (some even in prologue).

Shoutout to those who didn’t and thus made me feel like I’m not entirely predictable. OR to those who decided not to share to help me keep the others on their toes, who followed my request and marked things as a possible spoiler.

Cough cough Dead Poets Society reference cough. I was so excited about the ‘Steven Grant Rogers… are you jealous of my friends’ moment 🥺 One of the first things I wrote for this series, so I hope you enjoyed 💗

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #former bau agent reader #criminal minds x mcu #mcu x criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #bau agent reader #criminal minds #love on the brain #anika ann

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