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caius-hhhhhh · 6 months ago

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following up on this fanfic emoji ask game: I know this is not the general convention but i tend to like responding to an ask game all at once rather than waiting for prompts. so I’ve just answered every single one of the questions below the cut. Again, if you wanna play or use the game for your own purposes, please do! you don’t have to repeat my strategy, although you’re free to do so too.

i was about to say “this is a bunch of autofellating nonsense” but that’s the point. who cares. i wrote a lot about disability. if your mental illness also significantly impacts your ability to write, this might be triggering.

I’m still a baby ao3 user (@ is spitemonger) with only one published fic (it’s Zutara. It’s not that I’m not proud of it but I wrote it on a deadline and thus spent a lot of the creative process going “i don’t want to i don’t want to”). but a) I have generally been writing since I was a teenager, and b) I want to write more and publish more.

So I’ll be mostly referring to unpublished wips, with a primary focus on a long-form one-sided radiostatic fic covering Vox’s fall to Stayed Gone, and a minor focus on two shelved Magnus Chase (PJO spin-off) fics, one for Fierrochase and one for Blitzstone. [if you haven’t read Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgaard get the fuck on it, there’s a genderfluid character]

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

my entire trunk novel? If I’m embarrassed by a scene I delete it during edits. So the only thing I’m even minorly embarrassed by is the fandom-specific plot I wrote by the seat of my pants (Magnus goes to Camp Half-Blood) — I’ll get more into that in a later question

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

love that this emoji doesn’t fucking register on my computer. I’ve never thought about this before! It’s hard for my own writing to get me emotional, I tend to look at it so clinically and dispassionately I kind of get caught off-guard when people say an emotional moment hit them. I do get very easily fucked by other people’s writing about transness. No prizes for guessing why, characters exploring their own gender and other people telling them they see them as their proper gender always get me feeling some type of way. calam4r1’s comic about Alastor’s “what have you done to me” makes my heart EXPLODE

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

I am exceedingly proud of this Cave Johnson-ass line: “All projects, collaborations, products, and endorsements featuring or even vaguely mentioning that crimson ass’s likeness are to be liquidated. And burned. In fact, trap and seal the gases from the fire, freeze them back into liquid, and then burn them again.”

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Oh fuck yes. It is a major twist that I’d be stupid to spoil, but! There is a red herring at the start of my current fic that you don’t get resolution for until three-quarters of the way through. It involves Vox’s real name.

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

My close associate SpaceWall is a fan-fucking-tasting editor who understands my need for my writing to be completely eviscerated. She has the balls to tell me when I’ve got a shite idea, and I could not ask for a better editor. Go fucking read her fics and tell her she’s excellent. On the subject, I really like editing and am fully open to reading your work. I’ve a slightly longer post about it here but please reach out to me if you’d like me to look at anything you have.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Disability. It’s well and truly quite hard to find a story that doesn’t deal with disability — hell, it’s hard to find a human that doesn’t have a relationship with disability — but it’s something canon so frequently either tacitly ignores or doesn’t pick up on. If I’m going to do anything in a fic, it’s explicate the characters�� canon disabilities or headcanon new ones. This is my favourite part of Cold Bodies btw, and basically the only part I wrote without explicit prompting. It’s in the last subsection if you don’t want to read the 8k words of prep

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

idk man I’m really bad at pacing so even if the content is whack I go about it too slowly to really shock anyone

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

fuck off.

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

Love the implication that I don’t fall asleep every night fantasising about a thousand different first kiss scenarios.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I’m very picky when it comes to listening to music while I write. I can’t think about words if the song I’m listening to also has words, nor if it has a really tangible melody that I want to follow along with. So I need really slow, atmospheric music without a real tune. Undertale genocide themes are actually fucking excellent for this, I’d highly recommend them. I’ve created a massive fuck-off OSRS playlist (on itunes, not spotify, so I can’t share it, sorry) basically comprised of the entire Portal 2 soundtrack (special fucking shoutout to The Friendly Faith Plate, which is SO VOX CODED YOU DON’T HAVE ANY IDEAAAA) and Sim Gretina’s electro swing (Enemy Like Me is my favourite), plus Kira’s Piece of Art and Dua Saleh’s mOth. The first because it’s giving Vox’s obsession with Alastor, and the second because, duh.

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I’m a google docs hoe. I know I shouldn’t be, but fuck man, I know how it works. It feels natural when my writing is on there. I’ve tried Scrivener and it made me angry. What the fuck ever And “tools”, that’s really funny — I’m the type of grad student that does all my citations manually because switching to Zotero is weird and scary. I know how to do it manually! Why would I ever accept help for something I know how to do?? (< ocpd symptom)

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

The world doesn’t fucking need any more Nico di Angelo fics. It really doesn’t. There’s plenty. He’s a skinny white boy, he’s got the entire internet in the palm of his hand. You wanna compete with Robin? Really? You wanna do that to yourself? I don’t even have catholic guilt, I’ve got nothing to add

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

SpaceWall and I are irl friends, but we hold each other’s secrets in equal regard. The secret is that she is a good writer and I’m a poet I wouldn’t actually mind if people I knew irl found and read my fics. It’s just writing. I don’t find anything to object in it, and in fact I’d like it if I could talk about Hazbin with other people irl. I would hate it if people I know irl found my tumblr, but that’s principally because I’m significantly more open about my ocpd here. I’m not a person on the internet, I’m just words and a drawing. You haven’t seen the kinds of fucked up shit I do in front of my peers that would suddenly Make A Lot Of Sense if they knew I had a FUCKING personality disorder.

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

The Blitzstone origin wip, which is mostly “ostracised gay dwarf learns ASL because he saved this dying elf’s life”. come to think of it the first chapter of that fic is technically perfect and there’s very little stopping me from putting it the fuck on ao3 and abandoning it for three years before coming back. huh. i might… just do that.

🍷 Do you drink and write?

Always. It turns the judgemental part of my brain off and I have a much easier time making things and getting ideas down. Such a shame I don’t smoke too! I’ve tried writing whilst high and it was not writing. It was in fact lying back and rereading 666

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

“the spicy stuffs” porn is the word you’re looking for. You can say it. It’s four letters. The internet police won’t get you. See look, porn porn sex penis tits ass fucking Writing erotica was a really instrumental part of unlearning the self-destructive writing habits that made me suicidal scrap my original work. My initial intention was that because it’s erotica, it’s not for other people: it’s for me. And having that barrier of “this is not for other people to see” was liberating and necessary — I turned it off eventually, because erotica is not something to be so ashamed of that no eyes but yours can look upon it — but I needed to force myself to write something that I couldn’t imagine being scrutinised and therefore needed to be Purposeful and Say Something.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

11pm–2am is when I get my best work done. Unfortunately, I write the most frequently between 1–3pm because I have the energy and motivation to, but those are Self Doubt Hours and I have a hard time getting into the swing of things I actually have the best writing luck when I get up early but that’s not gonna fucking happen

💖 What made you start writing?

In general, pathology, but I’ve kind of made that clear already. What made me want to write a Hazbin fic was seeing how exceptionally creative this fandom is and how much fun people seemed to be having sharing their ideas. I feel like in the circles I’m running in, there’s not a lot of pressure to make Good Art, and it’s… not really a big deal if your work gets a lot of attention or not. Everyone seems to be getting the same tone of feedback, all cheer and encouragement, and the vibe to me seems really casual and fun. I’m not thinking to myself “how will I compete with these other authors”, but “I wonder if the user I idolise will see and like my work”. And the answer is often yes. It’s not just that people are creating and playing so freely, it’s that it feels like a lot of us are here to support one another, and that’s been really reassuring. Because I feel like people will like anything I put out

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I was about to say “anything related to pregnancy, thinking about my uterus makes me nauseous” but I uh. Wrote about a miscarriage. So I guess writing about a wanted pregnancy is the real limit

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

This is a super interesting question I haven’t seen spoken about very widely: it is considered extremely normal to commission fanart, but whenever the subject comes up, people seem incredibly reticent to ever commission fanfiction. I’m not fully sure why — in principle, it seems like there should be no real distinction in paying for fanart versus paying for fanfic. They’re both derivative work, they’re both made by enthusiastic artists who deserve to be compensated for their thousands of hours of expertise. I’m not certain what causes the disconnect. I have seriously toyed with the idea of doing podfics for money. I am in fact a professionally trained actor, and I own a USB microphone; which puts me ahead of like 50% of all of AO3’s userbase. Not sure if I’d fully commit to the idea because it’s still rather contentious. Were I to read my entire fic out loud I would put it behind a patreon though. It is in fact a very labour-intensive process, and again, I do have professional training.

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Hoo boy.

this is my fic folder. For most fics I write, I have a draft document and a research document: I’ve colour-coded the related documents: so dark green and dark green are the draft and research, pink and pink are both parts of the same project, etc. Let’s compare the word count in each of these draft documents and research documents, shall we? The dark green draft is 8k; its research document is 16k. The pink document is Cold Bodies. Including the html coding and my author’s notes, it’s edging on 13k. Its research document is 8k. It’s the only fic I’ve completed. The light purple draft is 21.5k. Its research is 96k! The light green draft rather conspicuously titled “botw script” is in fact a script, not prose, so it’s only about 4k. Its research, which is in fact titled “I don’t like botw’s story”, is 25k. The dark purple draft is a rather tragic 6k. Its two research documents are a combined 104k!!! One of the documents is called, rather tellingly, “I think I like research more than I like writing.”

My research process involves a not insignificant amount of textual analysis. For Cold Bodies, it looked something like this:

I haven’t done a lot of that kind of work for Hazbin because most info is fanon or only vaguely canon-adjacent, but I have compiled a list of headcanons many of you have put out into the world.

that’s gabrielsbubblegumbitch’s post and soot-and-salt’s And Not From Head To Toe. The other significant form of research I do is scour books I think are interesting or relevant so I can take plot or thematic inspiration from them. Previously, I’ve combed through Creating A Champion (and cannot recommend the experience. it’s kind of racist 😬) and made a fic a loose parody of Emma so I could fall back on its plot when I needed inspiration. For this Vox fic I’m rereading David Sedaris’ When You Are Engulfed in Flames, Eden Robinson’s Traplines (the last short story has a Monkey Beach spoiler, read that first), Catcher in the Rye, The Chocolate War, and, for some reason, Cary Elwes’ As You Wish.

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

Only got one. Shoutout to grownupchangeling for fucking SPRINTING into my inbox to ask for the answer to this question, really admire their(?) tenacity and dedication to squatting in my notifs like a spider in the corner

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

Never really crossed my mind. I do like a good beach fic, and anything set in winter makes me happy, but I’m not a massive holiday story enjoyer.

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

I spoke about this a bit in response to soot, but if your readers are able to accurately guess a plot point or twist it means you have done it successfully. It means you have given your readers the tools to reach the same conclusion you did: and those tools are foreshadowing, atmosphere, subtext, and tension. Those are how a twist or beat feel that they belong in the narrative, because they gel with everything that has come before it. It in fact should be the author’s goal for readers to be able to guess the twist! It’s not that it should be blindingly obvious, but more that a seed should exist somewhere that smart readers (which are all readers!) should be able to see it and notice when it takes root.

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

Who doesn’t like fan art? Who’s the fucking Anne Rice of AO3 that’s going to be like “you may read my fic but do Not make art inspired by mine” literally who does that

📈 How many fics do you have?

Guess.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

I outline wherever possible. How detailed the outline is depends on the scene rather than the fic: “Vox goes house hunting” is in fact a very very long scene and a scene that amounts to two pages might well be described beat-by-beat in the outline. Pants-writing gets me incredibly stressed out because I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where I’m going, I have no direction in mind, and because of that panic impulse I cannot be open to serendipity. It’s also really hard for me to do complete rewrites, so as soon as I have something down on the page and it’s made it past the first, worst, round of excruciating edits it tends to remain as-is in the final draft. So I often need at least a vague idea of what’s going to happen before I can start my work. I don’t do drafts, inasmuch as I’ve used that word pretty consistently throughout this post. I think. I think, think, think, research, ruminate, think, tentatively write less than 100 words, think think think consider scrapping the whole thing and then I detonate like a firework and the vast majority of the ink that first splatters on the page in that initial explosion stays until I know it’s done. I write like a shotgun: with a very intensive buildup and lots of preparation with a very short but very powerful discharge. I’ve told this to people and received the kind of expression you typically only get were you to remove your shoes and begin licking the sole of your foot. So please do not compare your own writing process with mine. Okay? This is not normal. I don’t know how often I’ve mentioned this but I have a disorder. No one but me does this. You should not expect yourself to.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

No <3

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

I am literally the last person you should ask. Never pour water on a grease fire? Your face mask should completely cover your mouth and nose? Always make sure the base is larger than the widest point?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

I don’t actually find that there’s a single character who brings me comfort to write about. I write about someone if I have something to say about them. I do have a comfort trope, which is sleeping together.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

I think that Valentino used to be a porn actor before he became a director. During a shoot, he would wear an earpiece so his director could feed him lines, given that he couldn’t read the scripts.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

Alastor! I also talk breezily and with an emphasis on slightly elevated language, so I find his dialogue to be incredibly natural to spit out. Plus, who doesn’t love dated exclamations and turns of phrase like “By Jove!” and “take a powder”?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

I well and truly don’t care. I don’t publish anything I’m ashamed of. I only publish things that I think showcase my skills, and that I think are worthwhile pieces of art. And if I had a friend who thought fanfiction or erotica was something to shame or scorn, well, they would not be my friend.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

Finishing it.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Romantic partners becoming the main character’s therapists… I mean, that’s one of the great things about writing villain protagonists. They don’t fucking have to go to therapy.

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

Buckle up, cunt. I had a novel I was working on as a teenager. It was about toxic masculinity and MLM sexual assault. I said to myself, this will be a piece of art that defines a generation. It will say something that our (western) society desperately needs to hear, and one day a young gay kid just like myself will be tilting their head at a 90° angle to see the titles of the books lining the shelves of their local bookstore, see my novel, pick it up, and discover that it spoke to them: in the same way that I felt seen and heard by the books I loved. So as I wrote and worked on it, I often looked at my own writing with the harsh and uncaring eyes I knew it would be faced with when I inevitably contacted an editor. I wanted to make it flawless, bulletproof, do everything in my power to make this work perfect before an editor could see it, so that way I could wholeheartedly say that it was ready for other eyes. So nothing was perfect. Every part of it wasn’t good enough, fix it, FIX IT, I know you can do better so stop acting like THIS is the best you can accomplish. Come on, pick yourself up and do it right this time. And I tortured myself with that. To this day I cannot look at my draft without thinking of all the mistakes I made, what needed to be improved, what still needs to be improved, and after I’ve grown more and gotten diagnosed and met with people who have been published — met publishers — I know that I can’t trust myself enough to let this become a career. Do you know how hard writing this post has been? Did you know it’s taken me two days? Did you know how long I leave my posts in the drafts for, rereading, rereading, rereading, making sure there’s no chance this can be fucked up in any way, that it is totally within my control? I cannot become a professional writer. It’s my disability.

so, you know. rock make stick hit hard on head, cock make dick real hard in bed

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

A lustrum.

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

B-plots! I kind of get regular plotting, in that I know how to build and resolve tension, but I am so bad at finding other things for the characters to DO in order to take a break from the main plot. I already worked so hard to make a main plot, you want me to do another one??? To say what? I did everything I wanted to, I tied it all in a neat bow, if the readers want a break from the main tension why can’t they just tab out

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I love trans Vox, but in order for him to be in character he has to hate being trans. I’m really used to writing about trans joy, for my own health and for everyone else’s, so writing a character that wishes they weren’t trans is really sad.

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

I actually love criticism. Your work can only get better through education, and one of the easiest ways to get education is by having another person read your work and tell you something about it you didn’t know. I need other perspectives because my own perception of my writing is exhaustive and exhausting: I feel like I’ve done everything I can to improve my work and I am so tired of looking at it that I need a fresh pair of eyes to show me something I’d not found. Getting better is always something to strive for; and even in mean comments it is entirely possible to find the thread of a lesson. More often than not it’s a threat of a lesson, but personally, I take what I can get. Criticism is something I find easy to receive because I can turn it into something productive, either “okay, this is something I need to improve upon, let’s do that” or “this is so clearly in bad faith it is costing me nothing to ignore it”. It’s something I can easily take control of. It’s positive comments that feel like apple-bobbing in a tub full of syringes.

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

#Psychological Horror immediately followed by #Eventual Smut. One of my favourite tag jokes I’ve written is #falling in love, #unrequited love, #friends to enemies, #on-again off-again relationship, #don’t date your coworkers holy shit don’t do it. And you really can’t go wrong with Cold Bodies’

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I suppose I’m kind of asking for it at this point.

I’ve left this one for last so it will have the best dramatic impact. Thank you, heartily, for sorting through that much shit!! I hope this is a worthwhile reward for your efforts.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

The shadows lengthen. The room is small, bereft of light; the darkness has plenty of recesses to establish itself within. His chest distends and recedes with a languid, heavy pulse: good. He will not wake. He dares not take a step. He contorts with the gloaming, letting it carry his weight like waves on the wine-dark sea. Ink creeping along the fractal contours of incautious skin, on paper pulp. The blanket is drawn too far up his shoulder, but his hands have wisely ventured away from its grasp. He has nestled them close to his face: the right palm faces the ceiling. His overgrown claws, weightless, curl around the soundless air. The cuffs of his shirt have drawn back to reveal the skin on his left wrist. He casts a faint but adequate illumination. Regrettably — he discovers — he has not flesh but casing. Whether it be titanium or catalin, it protects the veins underneath. What seams it must possess, he cannot access at present. He cannot smell his blood. Only the hot hiss of his breath, of bertholite and alkaloids. Experience has had the good grace to train him to anticipate the worst-case scenario. Thus, he suspects his knife would dent upon contact with his skin. This would likely require blunt force, something messy and more out of his weight class. Which is unideal: his own strength is formidable, naturally, but imprecise. And somewhat unsubtle. He sees the power buzzing underneath his grip. A live wire ready to snatch at the first hint of energy, snapping, sparking, antsy and unfulfilled. He likely isn’t trained enough to feel it himself, but again, the danger is too tangible to risk tripping over it. Were he more experienced, older, had experimented enough to test his limits, it would be a safer estimate; but as he is now, untapped and spring-loaded — fisticuffs would result in a significantly less assured victory. It is not a lack of confidence. It is simply a risky bet he does not want to get caught foolishly trusting himself with. That is smarts, not sheepishness. He does not hiss aloud. Nor does he retreat: he takes stock. The room offers little relevant information. His possessions are scarce, no letter drafts upon the writing desk, no bandages or weapons. His wallet is useless. He’s laid out nicotine patches and topical creams upon his toilet table: an invasome, it seems, may be a possibility. Unfortunately, he would have to synthesize it himself. He despises inconclusiveness. He returns his gaze to the picture box, his screen dim and vacuous. Loathed as he is to admit, this may be a somewhat longer project than he had initially envisioned. More’s the pity — what a spectacular send-off he would have been able to provide! Keep your chin up, now, old boy. This was hardly a trip for biscuits. It was, however, strike two.

#um jamma lamy #long post #like… really long #might make minor edits post publication but you’d probably have to be… me to notice #queuing because i don’t wanna be awake when it publishes #writing miasma

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cozykhaos · 1 year ago

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Lost in the Shadows

My Sebastian Sallow fanfiction! I do have several pages already written. It will eventually slightly stray from the game plot. I hope you enjoy!

Sebastian stared up into the most brilliant smile he had ever seen. Some part of him thought he'd be furious the first time he lost a duel. Especially to a nobody. An unknown 5th year. Before this, he had only seen the new girl rushing into Charms. Her hair piled in a messy bun, and strands of red locks in her eyes. Sebastian patted Ominis' leg, to bring his friend's attention to the new student. It took Ominis a moment to find the source of his friend's curiosity.

"Wonderful," Ominis straightened, his brow creasing in disbelief. "First class of the day."

Sebastian ignored his friend, too infatuated with the new girl. Before he could ask her to sit with him, Natsai had whisked the new girl away and class had begun.

He practically ran out of Charms. Sebastian barely gave Ominis enough time to get his wand out and say the spell that allowed him to see his surroundings. He had overheard her saying Defense Against the Dark Arts was her next class and he wanted to beat her there. He also knew how quickly he could get under Leander's skin. He would be seen by her this time.

Sebastian didn't expect to lose to her though.

By all means, this could be her first duel…

However, Sebastian was proud, and maybe a little smitten as those wild blue eyes crinkled at the corner, her grin widening as their fellow classmates celebrated her win.

She reached a hand down to him, offering to help him up. Sebastian took her hand, skin soft and cool to the touch.

She was absolutely magnetic.

Once on his feet, Sebastian dusted himself off. “Not bad for a beginner. You give as good as you get.” His eyes roamed over her. “Hm.”

The world is funny that way, not letting you know when everything is going to change for you. For Sebastian, it changed with August. A wildfire, with a spirit that was starting to burst forth. Sparks ignited when they made eye contact that first time, and he found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Little did both know that a gravitational pull would keep them orbiting each other now that fate found them together.

He wanted to impress, so he let her know about his rendezvous in the forbidden section of the library. Hoping she'd ask for a late-night tour. Instead, she quickly changed the subject before dashing off.

Making his way to the dining hall to meet Ominis for lunch he began to hear whispers about the new Ravenclaw Fifth Year. Mainly, everyone seemed just as fascinated by her as he was. She had been seen chasing moths, and deadline keys. She was solving puzzles to the several locked doors around the castle. Zenobia mentioned that she had sent August to find her Gobstones. Sebastian finally had her name and made himself a mental note to tell August the next time he saw her not to allow Zonbia to have her Gobstones back. She would be doing everyone in Hogwarts a favor, including herself.

He didn’t have to wait long to see the young witch again. When Professor Weasley originally summoned him he figured it was time for his first detention of the year. Instead, it was to accompany August to Hogsmeade.

“Ah, my new charge!” Sebastian was leaning against a wall in the Great Hall. He tried to look relaxed, and ever the rouge his reputation perceived him to be. Honestly, he hoped she couldn’t hear his heart hammering away at his ribcage.

They started outside, blinking as the sun beat down on them. Sebastian looked over to August, who had paused to braid her hair. He couldn’t help but watch her fingers as they nimbly worked through the blonde tendrils. Swallowing hard he began. “I was glad when Professor Weasley asked me to join you today.”

“As am I. At first, she seemed a little hesitant,” August’s voice trailed off.

“That sounds right,” Sebastian laughed.

“Then said you were a capable young wizard.”

“That does not sound right, but I appreciate the compliment.”

“Thank you by way, for showing me to Hogsmeade.”

“Of course! You’re the only one who’s ever bested me in a duel. The way I see it, I’d be wise to keep an eye on you,” Sebastian replied with a smirk and a wink. August’s face flushed red, at this moment, Sebastian determined this was his favorite color on her.

Things did not go as planned at Hogsmeade. Well… at first they did. Wand, check. Potions, check. Herbology supplies, check. Fighting a troll in the town square, unexpected check. Sebastian also didn’t expect August to fight so well. She was otherworldly and intense, a force of nature. She fought like she was conducting a symphony and dancing a ballet. Control, and grace, precisely coordinated, a two-step of body and soul. Then when she cast that final spell, Sebastian stared, dumbstruck. The previous feeling of being smitten quickly turned into something much deeper.

Officer Singer approached. Sebastian let August handle the talking. After a brief conversation, August seemed all too happy to help get Hogsmeade back in order. She ran from one location to the next. Putting together a newspaper stand, a food stall, and statues, all as if it was nothing. Sebastian waited for her next to the final collapsed building, knowing it would take two of them to repair it. Instead with a flick of her wand and “Repairo!” the building pieced itself back together, the tree in the front replanting itself in its pot.

Who the hell was this?

Brushing herself off August looked at him, the same smile on her face when she beat him at their duel.

‘That’s my girl’ Sebastian couldn’t help but think to himself.

“Now what?” August asked.

“Oh! Right!” Sebastian chuckled and looked around. “The Three Broomsticks! Assuming it isn't utter bedlam in there, you might even meet Sirona, the owner. She’s a good one to know.”

Sebastian’s hand casually bumped into hers. She didn’t jerk her hand away, instead, she shyly tucked a stray hair behind her hair, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Sebastian finally built up the courage and went to reach for August’s hand. But the girl had stopped, frozen in place as she watched a shadow with a ridiculous top hat retreat down an alley.

Exchanging a quick look at one another, a thousand words were said. One asked if he would be at her side, the other saying that he would follow her into any battle now.

Crouched against the cold stone of the nearest building, Sebastian could hear what was being said, but could not see who said it. He kept August tucked against his side as she peered around the corner.

“You said you could get to the child when she came to Hogsmeade.” The first voice was rough and throaty. “You said, all you needed was a distraction. I gave you a distraction!” The voice rose, voice becoming full of gravel.

“I just watch a student take down your ‘distraction’” The second voice was smooth and distinguished. From someone who read the morning paper, and drank tea delivered by an abused house-elf. “Who is this child? What are you not telling me?” The second voice inquired.

The first voice responded. “All you need to know is that if you cannot get to the child, then you have no value to me.”

August had stepped out of the shadows of the house. Sebastian tugged her close again, now finally able see to the two men and goblin below.

“Let’s go!” August tugged on his sleeve.

“Did they see us?” Sebastian asked as they quickly made their way through the street.

“I don’t think so,” August’s lower lip trembled. This was the first time he had seen her falter. Her blue eyes became distant.

Cutting her off Sebastian asked. “What was that goblin doing with Victor Rookwood?”

Pausing August worked out a puzzle in her head, quickly connecting the dots. “Ranrok is working with Rookwood!”

Sebastian’s eyes grew wide. “The goblin from the Daily Prophet? I knew I’d seen him somewhere!”

Movement behind them caught his attention. The two men from the alley were now not far behind. “Quickly. Let’s get inside the Three Broomsticks!” Sebastian ushered August inside.

Bursting through the front door Sebastian could only hope they did not look suspicious to the other patrons of the establishment. However, considering the two looked a little worn from their earlier fight with the troll, and now running from several evil men, he would say they looked panic-stricken.

Finding a seat at the bar, the two teenagers sat.

“Look casual,” Sebastian said straightening his tie.

“Casual, yes,” August said before placing her hand on his and letting out a hysterical laugh.

“What was that?” Sebastian asked eyes darting between her hand on his and her.

“You said casual!”

“That was not casual! That was frightening!”

“I’m sorry I’m panicking!”

“Which is why we are trying to act casual!”

“What can I do - oh. There’s a face I haven’t seen before,” Sirona stepped in front of them from the other side of the bar.

Recovering August sat straighter in her seat. “It’s my first time here.”

“Welcome!” Sirona nodded. “Butterbeers on me.”

“Heard about the attack.” Sirona continued. “I shall be looking in on the other shopkeeps and residents shortly. Glad to see you escaped injury.”

Two full steins of Butterbeer landed on the smooth wooden countertop.

“Thanks to this one,” Sebastian nodded toward August. “Single-handedly took down a troll!”

Sirona looked to August, briefly glancing the teen over. “Is that right? Well done!”

Taking several deep sips from her cup, August looked over the rim. “Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure.”

Sirona planted her palms on the bar top. Mousy brown hair fell into her face. “I will say - trolls in Hogsmeade? That’s never happened before." Tapping the bar top she frowned. “Something’s not right. The only brutes we usually have to deal with are -”

As if on queue Victor Rookwood slung the doors open with a loud grunt as if not used to much physical labor.

With a click of her tongue, Sirona shook her head. “How timely.”

As the fierce woman rounded the bar, Sebastian tugged August's seat closer to him, then faced forward, becoming more interested in his mug, but keeping his hearing trained on the intruders.

“Was that Lodgogk I saw leaving just now?” Rookwood question. “Your clientele’s not what it used to be, Sirona.”

At the mention of her name, Sirona straightened her back. Voice smoother than the fire whiskey sold behind the bar, she replied. “Not to worry Victor. Once the two of you leave, the caliber of my clientele will greatly improve.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian caught the man to Victor’s right taking a step forward. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Theophilus.”

Victor motioned to his right-hand man. “Come now. No need for theatrics. I’m only here for this one, anyway.” Victor pointed to August, glowering at the young witch. With little hesitation (which Sebastian would admit he hated) August stood, and he stood with her. Ready to follow her into battle once again.

What had gotten into him? He was loyal to very few. But it had taken several years for his friendship with Ominis to become what it was. Outside of his fellow Slytherin, he couldn’t count on one hand who he would help with their Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, let alone fight Victor Rookwood.

Sirona looked over her shoulder. “My friend is enjoying a well-earned Butterbeer.”

Sebastian positioned himself in front of August. Rookwood stepped forward. “I only want a word.”

Sebastian’s wand was drawn before Victor’s foot could take another step. By that second step, every patron in the bar had their wands at the ready. Sirona stood tall between the students and Rookwood. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I said my friend is busy.” Anyone in The Three Broomsticks that night would tell you that Sirona’s voice had been dripping with poison as she spoke.

Glancing behind him, Sebastian saw August, wand ready to fight the dark wizard.

Others began to step forward. Rookwood glanced from one face to the other, before finally landing on August. “One would think you’d all had enough bloodshed for one day. Come Theophilus. The Three Broomsticks isn’t what it used to be. Let’s take our Galleons elsewhere.”

Glancing around the room one last time, Victor taunted. “You can’t drink Butterbeer forever.”

After making sure the two had left, Sirona returned to August’s side. “Seems you’ve made an unfortunate enemy. Watch your back. Rookwood and Harlow are worse than any troll you might encounter.” Sirona made her way past them, to check on her other customers.

“Trolls, Ranrok, and Rookwood?” Sebastian questioned.

August lowered her head, chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought. For the first time, Sebastian began to question all of this. The mysterious Fifth year who yielded magic like she was Merlin. Who everyone seemed intrigued with. The girl who ran around the castle chasing moths, and solving riddles. Saw Thestrals and fought trolls with elegance and grace. Who was August? What had happened before she came to Hogwarts? “What you not telling me?” Sebastian pointed at the door.

Finally looking at him, she spoke in a hushed voice. “I promise to tell you everything, but perhaps it’s best I do that later.”

Sebastian sighed but relented. Nodding he said. “And on that note, I think we should head back to the castle.”

The two-headed outside into the cool night air. “I’m certainly glad Sirona was there. Told you she was one of the good ones.”

Agreeing August spoke. “I can see that. She didn’t seem at all intimidated by Rookwood and Harlow.”

“I do think you need to tell me why Victor Rookwood has you in his sights. But we can talk about it later. For the moment, we should return to the castle.” Sebastian said. “Professor Weasley’s certain to hear about the troll attack soon if she hasn’t already. Don’t want to risk another detention for getting back after hours.”

Walking back to the castle started in comfortable silence. After a few side glances at his new friend Sebastian finally cleared his throat.

"Yes?" August raised her eyebrows at the boy.

"I feel like, after everything today, you owe me," Sebastian smirked.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I should be able to ask you a couple of questions."

After a moment of thought, August hooked her arm around his. Sebastian stood a little straighter, suddenly nervous about having her on his arm. "Well go on then, ask away."

"Where were you before Hogwarts?"

"I went to a private school. It is magical, but we learned very basic spells. Lumos, repairo, mending charms."

"Oh?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You mean your school didn't trust eleven-year-olds with severing charms and chomping cabbages?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, causing August to laugh.

"Not at all! We learned about accounting, that was fun!"

Sebastian snorted.

"What's your name?"

August quirked her eyebrow up at him. "You know my name."

"Your last name," Sebastian deadpanned.

"Ooooh, why? Mad because I have an advantage on you Mr. Sallow?"

"Oh, I will never let you have the advantage," he purred.

August stopped in her tracks, mouth agape. Feeling all the rouge he talked himself to be, he placed a finger under her chin, thumb running over her bottom lip. "Name?"

"Lost."

"Come again?"

"My name. August Lost." Her lips closed around his as she spoke, causing goosebumps to race across his arm.

"August Lost," her name tasted like his favorite spells. Gunfire and pepper.

Clearing her throat, August stepped from him. Sebastian's hand almost chased her retreating form. Almost. Instead, he let the hand fall to his side.

"We should get back to the castle," her voice was stronger than she felt.

"After you, my dear," in a knightly bow he waved the way forward, letting her take the lead before following.

Sebastian was positive he would follow her anywhere.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian x oc #sebastian fanfiction #sebastian hogwarts legacy #hogwarts oc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow fic #Sebastian Hogwarts legacy

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toushindai · 5 months ago

Note

What's your playstyle for Hades and Hades 2? Preferred weapons, heat/fear level? Are you working to max out the minor prophecies?

I'm really intrigued honestly by how different my playstyle is between the two games? I'm not enough of a Gamer™ to put a finger on exactly how or why, but even thoughts like "I can afford to spend a lot at this Well of Charon because it's going to be a while before I see a shop" are ones I'm having more frequently. And another interesting thing is that when I'm playing a difficult run, in Hades I, the beginning will not be so much more difficult than normal and then things start ramping up in Elysium or thereabouts; in Hades II, though, I feel like I am suffering and hating life until I'm about halfway through the third biome and then my build clicks and everything comes up daisies. Well, at least this has happened a few times.

My Hades preferences are so very firmly established: if I wanted to have as fun a run as possible for me personally, it's the Chaos-aspect shield with Doom on the special and something to inflict another status curse on the attack to get easy access to Privileged Status active as much as possible. At my best I was trying to make it so that all four levels of Extreme Measures + Middle Management + a level or two of Tight Deadline felt like a baseline, "normal" run to me. Having not played for a while I can't promise that I could still do that with consistency (EM4 was never quite a given for me) but it was feeling pretty comfortable for a while.

As for Hades II--

I can't decide what my favorite weapon is. It might be? Charon Axe? Drop a plain cast, fire off a special, deal AOE damage, it's a good deal. Especially if you can get like Super Nova and the double-omega-special hammer in there. Before the recent patch, which improved the skulls, I feel like I'd gotten into a groove with Persephone skulls, and now after that patch I am worse at them. The staff feels like a nice safe weapon and the new Momus aspect rocks. The blades... I'm not terribly compelled by their playstyle (and I'll trade their omega attack for the ability to hold to attack continuously at the first opportunity) but a dagger and a sickle is literally the hottest weapon combination I can imagine. And the torches are weird. I'm used to them! I can do them! They even feel good to me know. But they're weird. Maybe the sixth weapon will steal my heart. I have a secret hope for the sixth weapon but it's a secret.

Thus far my actual Preferred level of Fear is "none," although I did spend a little time practicing on one level of the Vow of Fury (enemies go fast) so that that speed essentially feels normal/default to me now. Thus turning that into three free Fear. Vow of Arrogance is my second go-to vow because it's just another element to keep in mind and build around. I am, however, up to about 20~24 with the bounties so what I actually prefer is not so much what's driving my choices. At this point I just have to broadly suffer. I'm also slow as hell, my Underworld runs are still averaging about 40-45 minutes which means I can't put on even one level of the timer. I've got to work on that. (I should start ignoring resources. I have so many resources. I don't really need more.) I'm somewhat confident in my ability to finish up those bounties soon and then my focuses will be a) attempting 32 Fear until I hate myself and b) trying to wrest Defiance out of Chaos, as that's the last achievable prophecy I still need to work on. I have no confidence that I'll be able to do this quickly. During the Hades early access period, I was chasing Defiance for several months' worth of repeated patch notes that SGG was making Chaos offer Defiance more often. They finally coughed it up on my first run of the Nighty Night update. I look forward to Chaos once again withholding this from me until some kind of significant plot update involving them is implemented.

#tou and the murder kitten #thanks for the ask!

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doyouevermakeasound · 1 year ago

Text

The Proposal

This is the story centered around my OC Noah. It is a slow burn and I have a shocking amount of it written but I really just need to connect the two parts since I don't write linearly.

CW: Discussion of torture/interrogation

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Isa approached Noah and Kylan, “Do you mind if I have a moment alone with Noah?”

Kylan gave a soft pat to Noah on the back, “I’ll see you at home, kay?”

Noah nodded back before Kylan walked off.

“Let’s take a walk, I want to discuss what happened with Amiya.” She started walking towards the edge of the camp and Noah followed suit beside her.

“Understandable, I know it sent today’s mission into chaos.”

“Yeah, took us all by surprise, that’s for sure. What I wanted to talk about was what happened after she shot you. Glad you had a vest on by the way, we couldn’t stand to lose you.” They were further away from the others.

Now Noah’s curiosity was piqued, “What about it?

She sighed, “I was impressed by your ability to get answers out of her despite the active fighting going on outside. You were calculated and cold in order to protect the others.”

“I did what I had to do.”

They reached the treeline, “I was wondering if you could do that again, in a more controlled environment of course. We have two hostages, both worked closely with Ruby, both taken during the chaos at the capitol and likely to be considered deceased.”

Noah stopped in his tracks, “Are you asking me to torture them for information?”

She shook her head, “Not exactly but yes. I want you to interrogate them, torture if you have to. I’ve already had a few people try since we’ve gotten back and they refuse to talk. They might need time but it isn’t a luxury we have.”

He studied her for a moment to see if she was serious. “Anything specific that we’re trying to get from them?”

“One of them was Ruby’s assistant. He surely has to know something. The other is a general aide, not sure if she’s got anything too useful but couldn’t hurt to ask.”

A part of him wanted to immediately agree to it, he wanted to chase that rush he had felt with Amiya again. That was something he had sworn to himself to never tell Kylan about. The other part was afraid of what would happen to him if he gave in and agreed.

“I understand that this is a big ask. It’s not something I would trust with just anyone. I’m also aware that this feels like an escalation- well it is an escalation. There’s no point in trying to deny that. With the double crossing and the powerhouse we’re against I feel like some sacrifices need to be made in order to gain some footing.”

For once it seemed as if Isa was struggling to find the right words to say. He never thought he would see this side of her. “I’ll do it.”

It looked like a weight had been lifted off of her, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that. Let me know what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“I just need a quiet place away from the camp.”

She pointed towards one of the mountains, “About ten minutes away there is an abandoned building. I can have someone bring those two there. Do you want them in the same room or separate?”

He was pretty sure he knew which building Isa was talking about. Kylan and him may have made their way over there once or twice before they found the current building that they were in. “Same room is fine.”

“When do you want to start?”

“Tomorrow. I know I look like shit, feel like it too, but if they have something useful we need it now. I want to know if they know what is going to happen in four days when the week deadline is up.”

“Very good.” Isa resumed her regular composure. She turned back towards the camp. “Now, I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll have someone let you know when everything has been set up.”

“I won’t stray too far. Let me know how I can help beyond the… interrogation.” He walked back with her.

“I will and I am leaving it up to you to decide if you want to tell Kylan, I know you two are close. You’re dismissed.”

“I understand. Night Isa.” Noah branched off to finally go to bed and back to Kylan.

Next Chapter

#fox writes #whump #oc #The Insurgents #interrogation #torture

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livingasaghost · 2 years ago

Text

haven't written one of these in a long time but it feels like i should

i'm trying not to be too optimistic because we have a long road ahead of us but i opened up my manuscript last week for the first time in like....a year? it's been quietly sitting on my hard drive while i've worked through a million different crises the last few years and even though i haven't done more than reread it, i felt the Itch. a lot of that comes down to tour starting and feeling inspired by taylor once again (thank god for that woman) but it's something.

i found another indie author on instagram today that kind of gave me that feeling i felt when i found olivie blake (hi olive <3) a few years ago — that sometimes it's okay to just be an indie author and traditional publishing doesn't have to be the be all end all. and like yeah, i'd love to get picked up by traditional publishing and a cool agent, but so much of my fear about editing is That. that i'm not good enough, that i AM good enough and then i have to keep writing after this book is done, that there will be more work in this that just another edit.

i was so driven for most of 2020 and 2021 and then my entire life got ripped apart and remixed and only now two years later do i finally feel like i'm stepping back into myself. i started therapy again and in preparation for that i was reflecting on all the shit that's happened in the last two years and there was a comment i made to myself about how meeting EJ gave me the space to become my own person again post-lockdown and for a long time i thought that meant a New me that wasn't at all like the old me...i thought that i was giving up the old pieces of myself because they no longer fit or they hurt too much or i didn't know how to be who i used to be...but in the last month or so i really feel like i'm returning to the old me (taylor fan, reader, writer, TV binger, artist) while also honoring the new me (climber, cook, emotionally stable lol). i can't explain it but the old light that died in me at the coffeeshop is coming back stronger now.

and now that i'm (hopefully) moving (!!!!!!!) into my own place (AFJHSDK) i think i'm another step closer to that version of myself i've been chasing. which is to say, i'm having grace with myself and remembering all the old things i used to love doing and i feel like very very soon i will be in a safe space where i can finally explore who i'm meant to be. and while i'm terrified of living alone (for the financial reasons obviously) i also have to remember all the benefits of that terrifying prospect. that i'll have the space to be myself. and that peace will lead me to so many wonderful places i don't even know yet.

i'm still not sure when the writing will return to me...in rereading my manuscript i feel like i spend half the time going "NO NOTES!" and the other half going "this is the most cringe, most terrible writing i've ever seen fix all of it please!" it's intimidating and i'm no longer confident in myself like i once was, but now that i feel like i have no deadline and i'm sinking into the idea of a self-published book i'm a little more at peace with it. like i feel like when i do get back to it and start sitting in coffeeshops on the weekends, i will have the space to fully explore this story one more time and put the new pieces of myself inside it.

it's weird because another reason i was so scared of this story is that when i was last editing it i was deep in the trenches of 2021. i intertwined so many people and experiences from that season of my life into the manuscript and it almost feels like i'm just reading about ghosts now. but it's also the ghosts of lockdown and the ghosts of my early twenties and the ghosts of rep tour and the ghosts of all the people i hoped i'd be by now. it's a book about a 21 year old but somehow at 27 this story is more relatable to me than it has ever been before. i am writing my own story that doesn't have a happy ending yet and i think since i don't have the answers it feels like i can't explore that on the page. if i can't offer hope or the promise of a happy ending then does that story deserve to be told? (yes)

i thought i had given up on books and then something changed (as it always does) and i found my way back. i always do. and i always find my way back to writing too. it's just so hard to see life as a string of seasons and cycles when it feels like every second is the start and the end. there is space to grow and change and come back and return and revisit and leave things behind. there is enough time. and sometimes your time is best spent falling back in love with your life. i've spent the past few weekends feeling a little useless - sitting around, resting, not doing much of anything - and even though i can't keep doing that forever, i has forced me to get back in touch with what i want and who i am. sitting in my room with all my books and my cameras and my cool decor centers me, it gives me a reason to keep on living.

i truly don't know where i'm going this year. i have some ideas, some hopes and dreams, but i have resigned myself to "fixing" my every day. to focus on where i am, to make my day to day better and spend less time traveling. and while that would've scared me a few years ago before a global pandemic, i think now it's like a promise to myself. a promise that i am worth investing in and that i can get better and that even if i don't get better, right now is good enough. i had so many dreams for this time of my life that didn't come true and for a while i grieving them pretty hard. and then i set myself free from those dreams and i thought i'd never see them again...but that's not true at all is it? the things that love us, the things that we love never truly leave us after all, they always come back.

also i finally had a vision for the WIP book cover and even though it might change if i ever hit that point...it gave me a little push that sounded like "keep going" <3

#LC #wip #writing #personal #update #tldr: might start editing my book again soon & also im doing good

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anon-e-miss · 2 years ago

Text

Vault - Feint

“It’s just over here,” Barricade said, gesturing to the shattered remains of a temple. “Freak turned the crypt into his lab.”

“Strange choice,” Jazz replied.

“Not really,” Barricade replied. “It gets a wide berth. Mecha think its haunted.”

“Why would it be haunted?” Jazz asked.

“Because something like thirty mechanisms got burnt alive in the temple,” Barricade replied. “The priests were sheltering so of Straxis’ enemies. They defied his demands. So he sent them to the Pit.”

“Scrap,” Jazz cursed.

“Yeah,” Barricade huffed as he climbed over a toppled statue. Prima... probably. Ricochet grit his denta as he chased after him. “Empties wail if they get fragged up here. Their processors are too fragmented for them to really remember but they know something terrible happened here.”

“Ya don’t gotta go in,” Ricochet said. “Ya can wait outside.”

“And if the freak returns?” Barricade asked, lightly. He knew he had already one the argument.

“Frag,” Ricochet cursed. It had been a long time since Jazz had seen his twin so frustrated.

“What’s the deal, Rico?” Jazz asked. “I don’t got time for petty scrap.”

“He’s carryin’,” Rico growled. “‘N still goin’ round actin’ like he’s fit.”

“I am fit,” Barricade snapped back. “I’m carrying, not sick for frag’s sake.”

“Ori is gonna turn ya into scrap, Rico,” Jazz warned his twin. “Lettin’ yer gravid lover come out here.”

“I didn’t let’m,” Ricochet grumbled. “He just don’t listen to sense!”

“Aren’t we on a deadline?” Barricade asked. The way he spoke, the way he held his chin, Jazz saw a bit of a resemblance between this gold-faced Con and Prowl.

“‘M takin’ point,” Jazz declared. “Rico, take the rear.”

“Got it,” Ricochet replied. Barricade levelled Jazz a look and once again, Jazz could see the familial resemblance. “What made ya enlist wit the Cons?” Jazz asked as he stopped next to the Praxian.

“Sentinel,” Barricade replied. “When it was clear Megatron was going to capture Praxus, Sentinel Prime didn’t want his secret arms factory discovered. So he sent it all to the Pit.”

“Funny, ain’t heard that one before,” Jazz said.

“I heard him give the order,” Barricade replied.

“Scrap,” Jazz cursed. “Does Prowl know.”

“I’m sure he does,” Barricade said. “Considering what Megatron let happen to him, I’m going to be he decided Optimus Prime was the lesser of the available evils.”

“I don’t think he’s wrong,” Jazz replied.

“Probably not,” Barricade agreed. Jazz nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Despite the vorns that had past, the scent of melted wiring and scorched sentio-metallico still clung to the broken walls of the old temple. Jazz was not an especially religious mech but he admired the conviction of the priests who had died her, rather than bend to a tyrant. In his life, Jazz had scented death many times. As they descended into the crypt via a trapdoor that had clearly been added after the fire, Jazz scented a more recent death, the scent of stale mechfluid. He turned as he reached the bottom, turning to assure that Barricade made it safely down. From above, Ricochet gave him a look of gratitude; Jazz only nodded.

“What are you to Prowl anyways?” Barricade asked, begrudgingly accepting Jazz’s servo and he took the last, sharp step.

“A friend,” Jazz replied. “He saved my creations so I owe’m everythin’.”

“I didn’t know he had a bitlet,” Barricade said. “I didn’t know, not for certain, that he was even alive until he suddenly turned up on your side. I wouldn’t have left him to that freak.”

“I believe ya,” Jazz declared. He turned a corner, and stopped midstep. “Fraggin’ Primus.”

“What?” Barricade asked, pushing against Jazz’s arm as the saboteur raised it to stop him.

“Easy,” he said. He gesture to a jar on a shelf on the wall. “Found out what he did with Vortex’s helm.”

“Disgusting,” Barricade growled and his gold face paled.

“Easy,” Jazz cautioned him.

“I’m fine,” Barricade said, denta clenched. “They call it light-cycle sickness. Ought to’ve called it, every waking joor sickness.”

“Ori’s ruby tea’ll set ya right,” Jazz declared. Barricade stiffened. “Ya know y’re comin’ back wit us. That’s the real reason Ricochet agreed to have ya come along.”

“I figured out his plan,” Barricade agreed.

“Ya don’t wanna have a bitty in Darkmount,” Jazz said. “Ya don’t wanna risk how Megatron’ll take it, or he’d know already.”

There was a mech laid out on the table and Jazz thought it was the spiderbot’s newest kill and not an Empty this time but a warbuild, one fresh off the assembly line. But as he left Barricade, as Ricochet wrapped his arm around his lover’s waste, Jazz circled the table and he realized all at once that this was not a mech but a protoform, one whose spark chamber had never closed around a spark. Why? Jazz asked as he examined the clutter of machinery, a peace offering for Megatron, maybe? A trap? Where was the mechling? Tarantulas must have had some sort of recharge space. Perhaps he played family with the bitty... a CR chamber caught Jazz’s attention. It was small, very small. He wiped condesation from the glass and looked inside.

“What is it?” Ricochet called to him.

“A bitlet,” Jazz replied. “In suspended animation. The freak didn’t wall of the bond between Prowl ‘n his bitty, he put the bitty into stasis lock ‘n kept’m on ice all this time.”

***

Punch ignore the fleck of dirt that floated in his peripheral vision. Though he could have left the dishes to air dry, Punch picked up a dish towel the big pot, taking a moment to adjust his grip. It was a heavy pot, and he was getting on in vorns. He hummed merrily as he wiped the pot down and gave it a bit of a polish. With an audible oof, Punch hefted the pot onto the shelf. Jazz kept them up high; it reduced the number of spontaneous “concerts” the mechlings might perform. Of course, Jazz was the musical sort, they all were, and he was not afraid of noise, but Prowl, the poor spark, needed his rest. In the corner of his optic, the speck of dirt still and Punch leaned on the counter as he reached for a plate. The speck shifted course and as it seemed to fly towards him, Punch threw back his arm and let his blade fly. With a sharp ping, it lodge in the wall. Dispassionately, Punch watched his quarry try to mass shift, once, twice, legs flailing as the madmech only managed to carve his gut wound bigger.

“I figured the shiftin’ was tied to yer t-cog,” Punch declared as he walked toward’s his pinned prey, no limb insight. “Fell for the oldest trick in the book. It’s typical. The mecha who think they’re the smartest are usually utter fools.”

“Guh,” Tarantulas writhed in agony.

“I could end it hear ‘n now,” Punch said, conversationally as he watched the monster suffer. “I could slice ya clean in half ‘n go to my berth but ya know, I don’t feel tired just yet.”

He had what he needed in his subspace. You did not survive in his business, you did not keep your creations alive, if you were not prepared for absolutely anything. Punch hummed with joyful wrath as he laid a piece of foam on the table before he wrench his throwing knife from the wall. Tarantulas’ legs curled towards his abdomen and he made a high pinch keen. Unmoved, Punch pushed the tip of his knife into the foam, pinning the spiderbot like the wretched pest he was. Just to make sure there was no lucky, or unlucky escape, Punch placed his snivelling prize into a clear box, and locked it shut.

“Hey Hound,” Punch commed the scout. “Any chance ya could come o’er to Jazz’s place ‘n help me wit a project?”

“At this joor?” Hound asked. “Is Jazz, is Prowl in trouble?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Punch declared. He tapped his digits against the box. “Everyone that matters.”

It did not take long for Hound to arrive. He was alone; Mirage had his own business to contend with. Apart from Bumblebee, Hound was scene by Decepticons as the least intimidating of Jazz’s team. That was a mistake, Punch knew that Hound was lethal and when he got on someone’s scent, they were not going to escape him easily. The scout saw the hole in the wall and the trail of energon. Punch smiled as he held the box up, with the pinned spiderbot still twitching fitful on the thin blade. Hound’s expression was one of shock and Punch clucked his glossa; he was not even as old as Ratchet and these younglings acted like he was infirm. Jazz did not, but of course, Jazz knew better and he knew he would not get away with any suggestion that Punch slow down.

“I need ya to sparklin’ sit,” Punch explained. “‘N clean that bit o’ mess. What this monster did don’t earn a quick death. I’ll be back in a couple o’ joor.”

“Don’t rush on my part,” Hound replied.

There was no need to go far. Jazz’s building had a basement and within it were laundry and maintenance rooms. Sure, the maintenance room had a lock on it but it was nothing that Punch could not get passed in a few nanokliks. Everything he could need, that he did not have at servo, would be found here. Punch removed the foam from the box and began his preparations. He pinned the spiderbot’s eight legs to the foam and then carefully removed the thin knife from his thorax. He examined the t-cog and the trailing that had come out on his blade. No one needed this power. No Autobot. No Deception. Without hesitation, he used the butt of his knife’s handle to grind it into dust. There was little time to give Tarantulas the torture he deserved. Energon loss would end him soon, too soon but such was life, and death.

As Taratulas had experimented on Prowl, so to did Punch on him, to a point. He had no particular direction to the vivisection, only the desire to see the monster suffer. Punch flayed his carapace opened as he shrieked, the sound echoed throughout the maintenance room. It would do no use, there were not habsuites above them and the businesses that operated on the first floor were closed at this joor. The shrieks weakened under Punch’s cruel ministrations. He saw the monster’s spark feebly flare. There was a certain science to this work and Punch kept a close watch on the spiderbot’s spark and when it began to gutter, Punch removed the pins holding the dying mech to the foam board.

Tarantulas was too weak and too broken to take advantage; he may not even have been aware. It did not matter. He pulled a jar of fluoroantimonic acid from his subspace and taking care, he lowered Tarantulas into the superacid and watched the monster disappear. His work done, Punch replaced the lid on the jar and locked it down. Later, he would dispose of it but for the moment, he focused on cleaning any trace of energon and spider bits from the maintenance room. When his clean up was done, Punch returned upstairs. Vengeance satisfied, he was ready for his berth.

#valveplug #maccadams #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf punch #tf ricochet #tf barricade #tf tarantulas #mechpreg #tw graphic depictions of violence #tw torture #but he deserves it #vortex au #vault #anon-e-miss writes

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softjakehoon · 3 years ago

Text

My Roommate Who Uses an XL Condom pt. 1

pairing: Jay/Reader

includes: slight edging, deep throat, cum in mouth, rough sex, breeding kink, roommate sex

warning: this is a written smut, if you don’t like reading stuff like this, scroll down for your sake please it’s not that complicated, thank you.

also, this was inspired by a manga called "Joushi no Asoko wa XL size" and it's the part about the xl condom thingy, which would be on the second part though. and of course, our y'n being a product reviewer. the rest are based on my imagination.

----

You've been searching for a part-time job for a couple of hours now, but most of the jobs available are full-time shifts. You're in your fourth year in college and you're pretty much occupied with all of the school works and activities that's why you resigned from your previous customer service job. You have no choice but to choose a job that will allow you to manage your own time. It's not like you wanted to do this out of boredom. You have to support yourself to afford your tuition fees and daily expenses. Your parents are both senior citizens so you had to work right after you turned 18.

"Product reviewer? No way, this sounds too good to be true."

One-week deadline per product.

Flexible work schedule.

Salary offer $1000 per review.

You didn't hesitate to submit your application. You have to get this job or you won't be able to pay rent. You don't even have anything to eat for this week. You sighed at your current situation. You went to the shower room to clean up before going to bed.

---

You woke up around 8 am, starving. You went to the kitchen to find something to eat. You were surprised to see the fridge full of actual food to eat.

"Am I dreaming? How is the fridge full of food when it was empty last night?" You grabbed a tub of marinated beef and began cooking.

"Fuck, when was the last time I ate meat? I've only been eating ramen and junk food lately. No wonder I feel like shit." You laughed at your own misery. You were cut off by the sound of the door opening. You don't remember inviting anyone over to your apartment. You don't have a roommate as well so you started to feel nervous.

"Who is it?" You shouted while chewing on the meat you wrapped with lettuce.

You turned your head around to see a man around your age wearing all black and a frown on his face.

"Who are you?" He asked you back.

"I asked you a question first. Why do you have a key to my apartment?" This time, you went to speak to him up close. You're near-sighted so you wanted to see him up close.

"I'm Jay. I moved in last night. Are you my roommate?" He kept his cold expression.

He's handsome as fuck, but cold as hell. You thought to yourself. Too bad.

"Oh, that must be why the fridge is full this morning. Fuck, sorry I cooked the beef bulgogi just now. I will pay you back once I get paid from my job." You looked down from embarrassment.

"That's alright." He didn't even bother to ask your name and went to his room. You didn't want to bug him about it since you still owe him a tub of beef so you just shrugged your shoulder and finished your breakfast.

While eating, you checked on your email for updates.

"Holy fuck." Your jaw dropped upon reading an email. It was from the company you applied to last night. You got the job, and you're starting today.

You signed the contract immediately and submitted all the needed requirements. Your first product will arrive in the afternoon so you couldn't help but be excited while washing the dishes.

After doing the dishes, you decided to do the laundry. You've been going braless in the apartment when you were still alone but you have a male roommate now so you can't do that anymore. You needed to wash them.

"Fuck, I ran out of shorts as well? What have I been doing all this time to forget doing my laundry?"

You decided to wear an oversized almost see-through white shirt and black underwear.

While you were putting your clothes in the front load washing machine, you heard him pretending to cough.

You dropped the clothes upon hearing that and looked around to see him piercing you with his eyes staring straight at your body.

"What do you think are you doing?" He said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm doing my laundry. Are you blind?" You looked to your side, afraid of meeting his eyes.

He stood in front of you, "I'm not. In fact I'm very much pleased of what I'm seeing right now." You gulped when he touched your chin and forced you to look into his eyes.

"What are you doing?" You're starting to get nervous, or turned on. You don't know anymore. Is it because you haven't had sex for so long now? Fuck, you know you can't have sex with your roommate. You know damn well how it would end since your ex was also your roommate before.

"I'm making you look at my face. Ever since we met you've been avoiding my gaze." He smirked at you, turning you on even more.

"T-that's because you look scary, dude. Geez, get your hands off me or I will punch your face so I won't have any reason to look at it." You tried to push him away only for him to corner you on the wall with his arms locking you in.

"Don't call me that. Or I will kiss you right now." You knew he wasn't bluffing. But for some reason, you wanted to kiss him as well. So you called him that.

"Stop playing around, dude. Can't you see I'm busy doing someth-" You were cut off by his lips on yours. It stayed still for a short moment as if he was trying to see how you would react. But when he sensed you closing your eyes, he began to move his lips along with yours.

It was a sweet and passionate kiss as if he knew you all his life. It felt so good, you couldn't help but pull his hair, making the kiss deeper. His right hand holding your face along with your jaw, his left hand holding your waist, keeping you close to his body. You could feel your core starting to get wet from the heat that you're feeling, making you rub your thighs together. Taking the hint, Jay placed his knee in the middle and closed the distance between your body. You're now grinding on his thighs, desperately looking for friction and release.

"Are we just gonna kiss all day or are you going to fuck me?" You pulled away from the kiss and chased your breath.

"I thought you said you're busy." He smirked again.

"Well now I'm not." You kissed him again, this time with so much lust and desire. Jay is incredibly handsome, he's tall and has a nice body as well. Normally, you don't hang out with guys like him because you know they're always into pretty girls, but you don't want to think about it for now.

"Relax, baby. I'll get you nice and ready first." He grabbed your breasts as soon as he removed your shirt, sucking on your nipples while his right hand palming your core.

"I guess I don't even need to. You're soaking wet already. Is this all for me, babe?" He removed your last piece of clothing and slipped two fingers inside you.

"Fuck, Jay. Shut up already and put it in.” You can't help but moan as he slips his fingers in and out of you.

“Stop bossing me around, brat.” There was a sudden change in his aura, his fingers thrusting in and out of you now roughly.

“Damn it, I wanna cum on your cock, please. Fuck me already.” You begged. You’re about to reach your climax under his touch. All of a sudden, he removed his fingers making you bite your lips in frustration.

“What the hell? Why did you sto-” You were cut off when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing you down on your knees. He immediately removed his belt and tied your hands with it. You stared at him with your puppy eyes while waiting for him to remove his clothes.

He pumped his cock a couple of times before squeezing your cheeks, a sign for you to open your mouth. You were taken aback by the size of his cock in your tiny mouth. You can’t even touch him to support yourself, so he was holding you by your hair and fucking your mouth as he wants.

“See, this is what your mouth is for. It’s not for you to talk back, or be a brat. This mouth is meant for my cock.” Tears pooled in your eyes as the tip of his dick hits your throat every time he would thrust. You were able to get rid of your gag reflex, thanks to your ex.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this? I fucking love your mouth. You’ve got no gag reflex? Fucking insane, ahh.” He’s growling at this point. You can tell he’s close as the veins in his dick are getting more prominent and it’s twitching inside your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” After a couple of thrusts, he came down your throat. You gladly swallowed his cum, making sure nothing goes to waste.

“Shit, brat. You better remember how I taste.” He said, untying your hands from his belt. He helped you to stand, kissing you while placing you on top of the counter.

He took no time in aligning himself into your core. He gathered your wetness using the tip of his dick and finally pushed it in. You can definitely feel the stretch but the pleasure goes beyond the pain at this point. You were moaning softly against his ear.

“Fuck, you feel so tight around me.” His thrust getting steady and rougher each time.

“You feel so good, Jay. I’m gonna cum.” You’re finally getting the release he denied you earlier.

“That’s right, cum on my cock.” You moaned in response. Your walls tightening around him even more, making him meet his nearing climax for the second time.

“Cum with me, Jay. Come inside me, please.” You were on birth control anyway. You were on an injectable contraceptive and it’s still in effect ‘til now. You will probably need to ask him if he’s fucking around later on but you really wanted to have his cum inside you. Hearing you beg for his cum was music to his ears. After easing you from your high with a couple of thrusts, he came right after. You felt his dick twitch inside you, his cum spreading heat in your walls. He pulled out seconds after, making his cum leak out of you.

Jay swore he took a mental image of it in his mind. You looked so hot, all fucked out because of him. You, on the other hand, waited for him to help you get off the counter.

Which he didn’t do. He put on his clothes and went straight to the bathroom to clean himself.

“What a jerk. Did he just leave me here after all that?” You tried not to feel too disappointed. Still, it made you feel angry. He could’ve at least helped you. “I’m never having sex with you again, asshole.” You said just enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

Author’s note: Jay’s point of view will be on the second part. He’s a gentleman pls.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay scenarios

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twstarchives · 4 years ago

Text

Let Me Go!!

Card: Dorm Uniform - SSR Characters: Epel, Rook, Vil, Idia

Chapter 1

—INTERIOR HALLWAY—

Epel: Um... This is where the film studies club meets, right?

—CLASSROOM—

Epel: Excuse me...

Rook: Hello, Epel-kun! I see Vil asked you to lend a hand here.

Epel: I’d say it’s more like I was forced... Did he ask you too?

Rook: I’m helping on my own accord. The pleasure is all mine if I’m able to be with Vil.

(Clap, clap!)

Vil: Film studies club! Everyone gather around.

I’m going to discuss the details for when we begin our next student-produced film.

I’ll hand out the script first. Everyone, take one each.

Epel: Whoa, this script is so thick. They must really go all out with their activities here...

Vil: The next film we’re producing will be about time travel.

It’s set in the present day. The students of Night Raven College use a time machine...

And travel to the era of the Great Seven’s Fairest Queen of All.

Rook: The era of the Fairest Queen of All... How très bien!

What a fascinating idea, don’t you think, Epel-kun?

Epel: Hah... I guess.

Vil: The leading role is still undecided. I’ll let you know once I’ve chosen them.

Now, the time machine is the key item in this story... Epel!

Epel: ! Yes?!

Vil: I’m putting you in charge of designing it.

Epel: What?! I-I’m just the help. Why am I in charge of something so important...?

Vil: I’ve deemed you the most suitable for this.

Epel: (What gave him that idea?! I’ve never designed anything in my life. I want to say no...)

Vil: The time machine will use a magical wheel as a base. You’ll be customizing the exterior.

This way, we can shoot driving scenes.

Epel: You said magical wheel...?!

Vil: Yes. I’ve already arranged for one to use in our shooting.

I’ve asked Ignihyde’s dorm leader, Idia, to modify it, so you will work with him to complete it.

Epel: Got it!

Vil: ...You sounded very genuine there. Well, if you’re feeling motivated now, then that’s fine.

The theme of the time machine’s design should be “something beautiful and fitting for the setting.”

Your deadline is in three days at noon. Is that clear?

Epel: Yes, Vil-san!

(I was so reluctant about having to help out the film studies club... but I didn’t expect there to be a magical wheel involved!)

(That feeling of the passenger becoming one with the vehicle as they ride on... Just watchin’ it gets me all excited.)

(Maybe if I made a design that makes Vil-san’s jaw drop, he’d even let me take it for a test run.)

(Okay, I’m gonna do my best!!)

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: I’m Epel, a first-year from Pomefiore. You’re Idia-san, right? Let’s work hard together.

Idia: Ugh... The glittery Pomefioran is here, hurray...

O-Oh, um... Vil-shi explained everything to me. We’ll use this lounge to work...

Epel: Okay, thank you.

Oh, that’s the magical wheel we’re going to modify there next to you, right? It’s so cool...!!

Idia: Hah... I only agreed to this ‘cause Vil-shi said he’d compensate me...

But working with other people... really makes me irritated by the second.

I need to finish this and go back to my room ASAP before my sanity gauge runs out.

Epel: (I know Vil-san’s taste pretty well since he’s been training me for months ever since I enrolled here.)

(I need to aim for a fancy design that goes with the setting and also satisfies Vil-san.)

Idia-san. Let’s do our best designing this magical wheel...!

Idia: Yeah. Let’s get this done as fast as we can...

Chapter 2

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: It took all night... but it’s done! Idia-san, the coloring for the magical wheel is all finished.

Idia: Congrats on getting it done. You told Vil-shi you’d show it to him once it was finished, right? Shouldn’t you call him?

And end this so I can be alone.

Epel: Yes, I’ll go do that!

Epel: Here’s the magical wheel, painted to look like a time machine.

The design was inspired by the peacock engraved into the Fairest Queen of All’s favorite chair.

Vil: ......

Epel: Um... Vil-san?

Vil: Epel. Are you satisfied with this design?

Epel: What do you mean, am I satisfied...?

Vil: I ordered you to design something “beautiful and fitting for the setting.”

However, this piece conveys nothing from the creator’s heart.

You wouldn’t consider this design “beautiful,” would you?

Epel: ...! Well, I...

Vil: To me, this looks like you only tried to match the setting.

Redo it, Epel. And don’t think about coming back to the dorm until it’s finished.

Epel: What?! Vil-san, wait a seco— ...He’s gone.

...Dammit! How can he be angry that I made it exactly as he said...?!

But I get to work with a magical wheel, which I love so much. No way am I giving up after failing once!

I need to make something that I think is beautiful, that matches the setting,

And something that would make Vil-san satisfied, right?

I’m gonna do it!!

...... But what would that be...?

—IGNIHYDE DORM - IDIA’S ROOM—

Idia: Hehee! I got that kitty accessory I wanted! It’s a rare strength item that boosts my speed by 100!

Hehehe, now, the boss from this ultra-hard quest... You should tremble in fear of my dodging power.

(Running footsteps!)

(Epel barges in)

Epel: Idia-san!

Idia: Eee! E-E-E-E-Epel-shi! It’s rude to come into someone’s room without knocking!

Epel: Oh... S-Sorry.

It’s just, we have to redo the time machine...

Idia: Hah? He rejected that flashy design?

Epel: Yeah... So please help me make it over again!

Idia: (I can’t believe Vil-shi. He should’ve done this himself if he was going for something specific. Why’d he leave it to someone else?)

(I can’t stand them taking away my gaming time anymore. I gotta get this done now and chase out Epel-shi...)

H-Hey, Epel-shi. Do you have anything you’re good at?

Epel: Huh? Why are you asking?

Idia: ‘Cause wouldn’t this get done faster if Vil-shi just made it himself instead of having you make it over again?

But he still put you up to it... So shouldn’t you consider that maybe you’ve got some kind of secret talent?

In online games, leveling up skills you’re good at makes getting through the game easier.

Epel: But I’m just good at things like carving apples. I can’t really use that in desig——

(...Hm? Apples...?)

I figured it out!!

Idia: Ee! I-I-It scares me when you yell out of nowhere! Wh-What did you figure out?

Epel: I figured out what I can make that’s as beautiful and fitting for the setting as I can!

Idia: I-I’m glad to see you came up with an idea. Well, let’s get on with it then.

Epel: Huh? But you stayed up all night last night. Are you sure you shouldn’t rest a little...?

Idia: Heh, staying up all night is nothing to me. I stan a group of idols who look elderly but with hearts eternally 17...

And even Moirai on the Edge can do live performances for 72 hours straight.

We’ll prevail over this ultra-hard quest!

Epel: M-Moi...rai? I-I don’t know what that means, but let’s work hard!

(This time, we’ll make a design that Vil-sanーno, that anyone would approve of!)

Chapter 3

ーーThe day the time machine is due.

???: ...el... Epel!

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: *Yawns*...?

Huh? Ahh! When did I go to sleep?! And Vil-san, what’re you doin’ here?

Vil: Your deadline is today at noon, so I came to check up on how you were doing. Honestly, I cannot believe you were sprawled out asleep on the floor.

So? Have you finished the time machine?

Epel: Oh... I did. Take a look at this!

There’s a story where the Fairest Queen of All made a poisoned apple, right?

So this time, I used that as my inspiration.

The color of the whole body represents a ripe, red, shining apple.

Like one you reach out to take without even realizing it... Anyway, I made sure it looked delicious!

Vil: Hmm... Go on.

Epel: Right. The other thing I worked especially hard on was this design that’s hidden when the machine is stopped, and only gets revealed when it starts up.

I’ll turn it on to let you see.

Vil: ! You painted the tire kept inside... Is that a skull?

Epel: Yes! One of the stories mentioned that a skull rose up before the poisoned apple the Queen made turned red...

So I added a symbol that can’t be seen from the outside unless you start it up.

This time machine is as “beautiful and fitting for the setting” as I can make it right now!

Vil: ...Allow me to ask you one thing. Why did you change to a poisoned apple?

Epel: Um... When I tried to use a peacock in my design, I honestly couldn’t tell if it was good or bad...

But then I thought, no one would be able to resist a design that makes apples look appealin’...!!

Vil: ......

...Heh. You finally came up with a design that reflects you.

Epel: ...! Yeah!

Vil: Now, I will leave you with the keys to this magical wheel.

Epel: Huh? Why me?

Vil: I’m heading back to our set. You’ll deliver the machine to the film studies club yourself.

You have until noon to bring it, just as we discussed. Don’t be late. Understood?

(Vil leaves)

Epel: ...If he was in such a rush, he could’ve just taken it himself... Wait, hold on?!

Does this mean I can ride it back to the set... maybe?

AHH~! ALL RIGHT!!

Idia: Ugh... Epel-shi, you’re too loud... Your voice is ringing through my sleep-deprived head...

Epel: Oh! S-Sorry, Idia-san.

I’ve always wanted a magical wheel... And I get to ride one I designed myself. I just can’t believe it...

Alright, let’s get to the school building!

—MAIN STREET—

Film Studies Student A: Hm...? What’s that? There’s something coming towards us from the front gate.

Rook: That is a magical wheel. And the one driving it is... Monsieur Cherry Apple, Epel-kun.

Film Studies Student A: It’s so glossy, like a real apple... And his Pomefiore uniform looks so nice. It’s beautiful!

Film Studies Student B: Driving that machine, Epel-kun’s got a radiance that’s different from his usual frail beauty.

Film Studies Student C: Yeah. That piercing cold look and his unconsciously curled-up lips... I’m so drawn to it; I can’t look away.

Rook: Did you hear that, Vil? Everyone is praising Epel-kun!

Vil: Hehe, these potatoes’ reactions are perfect.

Epel: Oh... There he is! Vil-san! Just as promised, I’m here to deliver this.

Let me stop the machine... Okay. Well, I’ll get going now.

Vil: Hold it, Epel. Stay right there.

Film studies club, your attention! I have an announcement to make regarding our next film.

For our undecided leading role... I’ve decided to cast Epel right here.

Epel: Wh... What?!

Vil: You all saw how he looked riding that time machine, yes?

I believe there’s no better person out there more suited for this role. Are there any objections?

Rook: It’s true, the sight of him riding that time machine up here almost felt like a scene from a movie.

Film Studies Student B: Yeah! Hats off to you for how dashing you looked. I’ll let you have my seat today.

Epel: W-Wait a second. I thought I was just helping with the design——

Vil: I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll thoroughly train you to be an actor, so do prepare yourself.

Now, you must do a costume fitting. Costume committee, take Epel to our club room.

Costume Committee: Okay!

Epel: I-I still haven’t said anything about doing th—let me go!!

Vil: ...I see now how drastically the sparkle in his eyes changes depending on whether he’s interested or not. Honestly. He’s a difficult apple to deal with.

Rook: Epel-kun was shining like a completely different person than he was yesterday, yes...

But perhaps were you anticipating this finale from the start?

Vil: Well, now. Who’s to say?

#twisted wonderland #epel felmier #personal story #dorm uniform

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hotwings0203 · 4 years ago

Note

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

*******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

************

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

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ctommy · 3 years ago

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HELLO i am here to give you all arc 1 of my warrior cats dsmp au :-) idc if its cringe im having a good time

ALLEGIANCES:

Dream’s Clan

Leader: Dream- Long-haired solid white tom with green eyes and a scar across his nose

Deputy: Sapspark (Sapnap)- Red and brown tabby tom with amber eyes. Apprentice, Bumblepaw (Tubbo)- small bicolor tabby and white tom with amber eyes.

Medicine Cat: Spiralwish (KarlJacobs)- no description yet!

Warriors: Goodshadow (BadBoyHalo)- Big rusted black tom with long fur and yellow eyes. Antfrost- Siamese tom with blue eyes. Whitestrike (Punz)- Seal point tabby with icy blue eyes. George- Small british shorthair tabby tom with two different colored eyes (blue and brown).

Other members who don’t have names or descriptions yet: Callahan, Sam, Ponk

Rogues/Kittypets:

Soot, later Sootsong (WilburSoot)- Long-haired grey tabby tom with amber eyes. Tommy, later Tommypaw- Young orange tabby tom with bright blue eyes. Fundy, later Foxberry- Smaller-than-average red fox. Eret, later Quailpelt- Long-haired brown tabby with light amber eyes. Niki, later Kestrelpool- Small dilute tortoiseshell molly with white paws and green eyes. Jack- Short-haired white and gray tabby tom with hazel eyes.

Arc 1 Plot Summary

Takes place in the same universe as the Clans in the books :)

PRE-STORY

Dream was a mediator for the modern Clans (think like Tree from recent arcs). Eventually he got fed up with trying to make peace between the Clans so he gathered some cats and left for new territory. They don’t have an official name, so they’re just kinda referred to as Dream’s Clan or Dream’s group. Dream is recognized by StarClan but he declines being given 9 lives or the -star suffix because he wants to be equal with everyone in terms of lives. (DreamXD could be the lives that Dream declined manifested into its own being?!?!? OR the revival book is his leftover lives. I know that’s not how StarClan works but it’d be cool) Sapspark is his deputy, George was a kittypet who became good friends with them so followed when they left, he doesn’t usually act as a full warrior though. He naps a lot :) Goodshadow is Sapspark’s dad, and Bumblepaw is Sapspark’s apprentice and the only apprentice in the Clan.

ARC 1 (Early SootClan)

Soot is a streetcat living in Twolegplace- he knows all the local rogues and kittypets, and a young kittypet named Tommy especially looks up to him. A group of cats moves into the forest nearby, and Soot watches them from afar for a while, trying to gauge what they’re doing there. He speaks to them eventually and decides he wants a Clan as well. He recruits Tommy, then his adopted kit Fundy (who is a full on fox), and they march into the Clan’s new territory and start building a camp. He names himself Sootsong, and Tommy becomes Tommypaw. Fundy becomes Foxberry. Dream’s deputy, Sapspark, and Sapspark’s apprentice, Bumblepaw, find them and try to drive them out of the forest, but Sootsong has a way with words and holds his ground. Sapspark decides that the group isn’t a threat and doesn’t report them to Dream, at least for a while. When he does though, Dream is annoyed that Sapspark didn’t tell him sooner, but agrees that they aren’t a threat and just keeps an eye on them. Bumblepaw hangs around Sootsong’s group sometimes and answers their questions about Clan life, and once Sootsong finds out about the -star leader suffix he changes his name to Sootstar, much to the amusement of Bumblepaw.

Another local cat, Eret, joins, and gets the name Quailpelt. Bumblepaw decides to join them as well, since there’s no apprentices in Dream’s Clan and he wants friends :). Dream finds out about them taking it more seriously and immediately takes a patrol and demands that Sootstar and his “Clan” leave the territory. Sootstar stands firm again, waving Dream off and saying that there’s plenty of room in the forest for both groups. Dream disagrees and tells him they have half a moon to vacate the territory, or his Clan will remove them by force. Once Dream and his cats leave, Sootstar’s group begin training and building up defense in their camp. During the half-moon interim, Dream secretly recruits Quailpelt to sabotage Sootstar’s defense plan. He promises them a position of power in his own Clan in exchange for their assistance. Quailpelt does so, making a hidden passage into the camp.

On the day of the deadline, Bumblepaw and Tommypaw are out on an early hunting patrol when they are ambushed by Dream, Sapspark, Whitestrike, and George. Clearly outnumbered, they hold Bumblepaw hostage and tell Tommypaw to go get his leader. Tommypaw runs back to camp and fetches Sootstar and Foxberry, leaving Quailpelt to defend camp. A short battle ensues, and though Dream’s patrol is winning, they back off unexpectedly and retreat. Sootstar and his companions chase them a distance, believing the battle won. They head back to camp, where Quailpelt is still defending the entrance. Quailpelt congratulates the group and announces that they have been saving a surprise for them. Curious, the group heads into the empty camp. Dream’s patrol bursts from the hidden passage into camp and brings their full force on the group, easily winning the fight with an extra set of paws. Dream and Sootstar have a nasty fight, and at several points Tommypaw attempts to intervene but gets a nick in his ear. Dream holds Sootstar down with a paw on his neck and demands once again for the group to leave. Tommypaw, terrified that Dream is going to kill Sootstar, begs for Dream to listen to him.

Dream obliges, and Tommypaw says that the forest is huge and it’s possible for both groups to expand outward rather than fight over the same territory. Sootstar, unbeknownst to Tommypaw, intentionally set camp within Dream’s borders because he holds a grudge against the Clans and wanted to dismantle the new Clan through conflict. Sootstar doesn’t reveal this, but he does hiss at Tommypaw to be quiet. Tommypaw continues anyway, offering to scout out nearby territory for the groups so they can live in peace. Sootstar interjects, saying that he will not give up the camp they built. Dream is annoyed that they won’t just move to new territory, but Tommy, scrambling to appease both leaders, points out that the camp is in an unused part of Dream’s territory anyway and Dream’s group hadn’t even been around long enough to get familiar with it before Sootstar’s group moved in. Dream has a discussion with his Clanmates. Sapspark personally doesn’t want any actual harm to come to Bumblepaw, his old apprentice, and pushes Dream towards allowing the group to keep their camp and have both groups expand outwards.

They end up going with this solution. Dream says that he’s still going to keep a very close eye on Sootstar’s group, and tells them to watch their paws. The group leaves, and Quailpelt, unsure of where to go, hesitates for a moment before Sootstar hisses at them to leave and never come back. The rest of Sootstar’s group is hostile toward them as well, so they leave with Dream’s group.

In the aftermath, Sootstar reprimands Tommypaw for speaking out of turn, and assigns him the sole duty of cleaning/repairing the camp from the battle.

There’s a lull in conflict for a while while both Clans scout out and settle into their new territory :). Tommypaw officially becomes Sootstar’s apprentice, Dream’s Clan becomes DreamClan (maybe something else) and Sootstar’s Clan becomes SootClan. Bumblepaw continues to teach SootClan about how actual Clan life works and introduces them to StarClan. Sootstar doesn’t believe in StarClan so he doesn’t get 9 lives, and doesn’t appoint a deputy. Sootstar also recruits a few more local kittypets, a molly named Niki who earns the name Kestrelpool, and a tom named Jack. SootClan slowly becomes more and more like a real Clan, with Kestrelpool becoming their medicine cat.

Arc 2 coming sooooon perhaps maybe. its gonna be kinda tricky lol

Character description inspiration here!

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp warriors au #warrior cats #warriors #txt #long post /

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

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x pairing. yamaguchi tadashi x fem!reader

x genre. s m u t lol

x warnings. sub!yamaguchi, thigh riding, mommy kink, handj0b, uhhh, good boy(??), soft dom!reader

x request. yes!

hi i love ur writing especially ur tsuki smau 🥺 i have a yams request !! could we get sub yamaguchi with fem reader and he is riding her thighs trying to get some friction because he’s needy and she’s kind of busy or something 🥺🥺

x an. I HATE IT HERE GRRRR BARK BARK 😼😾 i love y’all xx <3<3 sorry it takes me ABSOLUTELY forever to finish requests 😔✨ i am finishing them tho v v slowly

———

yamaguchi loves you. you are honestly the best thing to ever happen to him. you’re kind, loving, honest, beautiful, and the fact that you love him back is more than enough for him.

with all of these amazing qualities that you have, you also have one that yamaguchi isn’t so fond of.

you’re always so busy.

he really does admire your work ethic and how you always make him strive to be the best that he can be (not to mention you sound very hot when you tell him to leave you alone) but sometimes yamaguchi gets needy.

tonight was one of those times.

you’d had a long day full of paperwork and all you wanted to do was take a warm bath and cuddle up with your boyfriend. unfortunately for the both of you, your evil boss sent you home with a stack of papers high enough to rival mount everest.

of course you were being dramatic but it really did feel like that much, especially after your third hour of ignoring yamaguchi’s whines while sitting on the couch in front of the tv with your laptop.

you felt horrible for doing so but you really, really needed to get this done and you knew if you stopped to take care of him, there was no way these papers would be finished before the deadline.

yamaguchi understood too but he was painfully hard and he knew if he couldn’t have your touch, he wouldn’t get off.

“yn~” your boyfriend called your name for the seventh (or was it eighth? you stopped counting) time, adding an extra whine on this one. he knew how much that got to you judging by the self-satisfied smirk on his face. besides the heat between your legs, you felt another kind of heat coming on; anger.

it wasn’t often that yamaguchi disrespected you, usually being all too eager to please but today it seemed, he wanted to be a brat.

that’s okay. you can do brat.

you silently set your papers next to you on the couch but you kept the laptop teetering precariously on your left thigh. yamaguchi had gone quiet, watching you intently as though he was just waiting for you to close your computer and ravish him in bed.

unfortunately for him, that was not at all the case.

not once did you remove your gaze from your computer screen as you motioned for him to come closer, to which he hastily obliged. he was hoping that you’d unbutton his pants and suck him off or maybe you’d push him on his back and ride him. of course what he was really hoping for was for you to push him down on all fours, press his face in the mattress, and just rail him. the strap was in the back of the closet and yamaguchi was practically vibrating with anticipation. that was until you snapped your fingers at him to get his attention and pointed to your thigh.

oh. oh.

you had never had him ride your thigh before. usually when you were super busy, you would just jerk him off quickly, leaving him sleepy and satisfied. he clearly was not expecting to have to do the work this time, the shock very apparent on his freckled face.

your patience was running out, snapping once more, prompting yamaguchi into action. he tentatively made his way towards you, placing his long legs on either side of your right thigh. a soft whimper left his lips as his hard cock met your thigh, his hips immediately bucking at the pressure.

you let out a slow sigh through your nose, your eyes trained on your screen as your boyfriend rocked himself against you. your cunt clenched around nothing as his hand found it’s way to your shirt, holding on tight. by now, a steady stream of noises were escaping his lips, most being moans of your name and needy curses.

you tried to continue typing but yamaguchi proved to be distracting even like this, his head dropping forward to rest on your shoulder and his cock leaking precum against your bare thigh. your eyes flickered over at the wet sensation only to feel your breath catch in your throat and another wave of slick to stain your panties.

yamaguchi was panting brokenly against you, a warm blush overtaking his cheeks and tears pricking his tightly shut eyes. as your eyes moved further downwards, you pulled your lower lip in between your teeth in order to keep the whimper from slipping out. when you weren’t looking, yamaguchi had pulled his dick out of his shorts and now openly rutted against you.

“mommy, please,” he moaned against your neck, tears slipping down his cheeks. you rolled your eyes and shut your laptop causing yamaguchi to let out a moan of relief. of course you still needed to get your work done but your boyfriend was more important at this moment (plus when he was moaning your name so prettily, he was hard to resist).

you turned to place one of your hands on his hip, gently moving him against you while pressing soft kisses to the freckles littering his cheeks. “what do you need baby? be a good boy and tell mommy what you want her to do, okay?” you muttered against his ear making him cry out again, hips moving faster against your thigh making an absolute mess of you.

“i-i need you, mommy, i ca-can’t make it feel like it does with you, please, touch me~” his words came out like a flood, only serving to cause your stomach to clench in arousal.

something about your boyfriend not being able to come without you, made you feral.

you nod, not trusting your voice to speak, too afraid that you might give away just how affected by him you were. your hand wrapped around his leaking cock and he keened, a long, loud moan of your name leaving his lips alongside a few stray tears spilling from his eyes.

you gently moved your hand up and down his shaft, making sure to rub your fingers over his sensitive, red tip. he bucked his hips into your touch, desperately chasing his high while your own arousal was ignored for his sake. his quivering lips, pink cheeks, bright red cock, and twitching thighs signaled to you that he was close. he just needed one final push.

quickly switching hands, you moved the fingers coated in his essence behind him, tracing their way down his back and between his cheeks. yamaguchi tensed in your hold at the feeling but as you continued to jerk him, he relaxed, arching his back and asshole towards your wandering fingers. you couldn’t help but grin at his eagerness, two of your fingers slipping inside of him.

his back arched as a whimper left him and your fingers continued their search on his insides. after what seemed like years of being held teetering on the edge of the biggest orgasm of his life, your fingers in his clenching hole finally found their destination, carefully rubbing on his prostate.

the reaction was exactly what you had hoped- yamaguchi’s eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and his thighs and abs twitched as his cock emptied rope after rope of warm cum all over his stomach, your thigh, and the couch.

the pleasure was so immense that he passed out, only barely registering the warm cloth in between his legs cleaning him up. his mind was still in a haze as you helped him to your bedroom, lying him down on your plush sheets and tucking him in. you smiled down on him before mentally rolling your eyes at the memory of all the paper sitting on the couch.

you turned to go back to the living room when a hand shot out from the mountain of blankets, grabbing your wrist and yanking you onto the bed. you opened your mouth to protest but yamaguchi’s hand covered it before pulling you further into his chest and kissing you on the forehead.

you thought about fighting it for a moment but the need to sleep and cuddle with your boyfriend overwhelmed the thoughts of anxiety and work. your eyelids grew heavy as you melted into his strong arms. you were nearly asleep when you heard yamaguchi’s voice whisper softly in your ear, the words leaving a smile on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

“sleep well honey. i love you.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi x y/n #yamaguchi x you #haikyuu yamaguchi #hq yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi smut #yamaguchi fluff

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slafkovskys · 4 years ago

Text

the way you do / t. emberson

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from fireproof by one direction

warning(s): swear words, mentions of a concussion, jealousy, accusations of cheating, also written in a no covid world :)

word count: 5.8k

you cheer along with only a portion of the crowd as the goal horn sounds, signaling what you knew was the first and last point of the night for wisconsin. while david gets to work on updating the instagram account from his spot beside you, your fingers rapidly type out a tweet to send out that would update the people who were following along there.

badgers are on the board thanks to tyler inamoto! the score is 3-1 arizona state with 0:10 left in the third period

“what are you doing after this?” david asks, looking back out onto the ice while you start a new tweet, just in case something were to happen in the next ten seconds. “i’m sure we can find some bar to sneak into. are you up for it?”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, focusing on the opposing team’s player as he takes the puck and shoots down the ice, attempting to beat the buzzer. you frown when the horn sounds, signaling the end of the game and a win for arizona, which you quickly update on. “it’s my turn to do the interviews and i don’t know how long that’s gonna take. i always have to chase someone down and i also said that i would help cole with his biology, but i think that’s going to be a plane ride home priority.”

“well, at least they’re all going to be in the same place for at least the next twelve hours or so. it shouldn’t be that hard to find who you want,” david stands up and you follow suit, making sure that you have your phone in your back pocket before following him towards the locker room. “besides, they like you more than they like me. you’ve got that midwestern charm and i’ve got an annoying southern accent.”

“your accent is not annoying. tell me who told you that it was and i will gladly humble them,” you look at the younger boy who smiles.

it was no secret that the boys were more acquainted with you rather than david as you had two years on him. while you were a senior, david was only a sophomore starting out with the team. this was your third year with them and you had taken him under your wing because he was going to be taking over for you next year when you were gone.

you make your way through the arena, taking a route that was closed off to the general public to make it back to the locker room to catch the boys before they got caught up in granato’s post-game speech.

“who am i talking to tonight?” you mumble to yourself as you tug at your bottom lip. you look up at david who was leaning against the wall across from you, “do you remember who i talked to last week? don’t look at me like that. so much has happened between now and then…”

“trouble in paradise?” he’s quick to joke, but the look that you send him causes the smile to drop from his face. his eyes widen, “please tell me-”

“we haven’t broken up, if that’s what you were going to say,” you look back down at your computer screen and shrug, “it’s just- he’s been acting weird since we landed. he’s so touchy and, yeah, we’ve had our moments. hell, we were long distance for two years, but this is- it’s just weird.”

“i mean, i’ve never been in a serious relationship, but you definitely need to talk to him. you’ve been together too long to let it fizzle out. you’re the only couple that i can tolerate,” he rolls his eyes and you send him a grin. “it’s true. you and ty are, like, royalty at wisconsin. i’m pretty sure that you’re the couple that has been together the longest.”

“maybe second longest. i met a girl last year who had been with her boyfriend for six years and we’ve only been together for five, so they have us beat,” you leave out the fact that both of them graduated last summer.

the boys trickle back quietly. you give them a moment to get settled before taking a deep breath and walking towards the entrance. you peek your head in and granato spots you immediately, waving you inside. “you’ve been spared for two minutes, boys. listen to the lady and don’t give her a hard time.”

you send him a nod in thanks before looking out over the room. you had all of their attention except for one and it was the person who you cared the most for. you send a soft smile as your eyes scan the room, “i don’t love any of you any less. you played a great game boys and you’re going to kill it tomorrow.”

“did you get any more stickers?” owen asks and you turn to look at him.

“i did, actually, but you can blame your captain for stealing them all before i could distribute them,” you look back at ty who looks at you with a cold look. you swallow the lump in your throat and quickly look towards the other ty who speaks up.

“do you think you could find those dinosaur ones again? those were badass.”

“i still have mine on my water bottle!”

“i missed the dinosaur pack.”

“that’s why you have to score, mike.”

yes, you were aware of how childish the stickers were. you used them as an incentive so that when they came to talk to you, they got to pick a sticker. the boys enjoyed them and even stuck them on their equipment sometimes when they could get away with it.

“okay, back on track,” you look down at your computer. you tap your nails on the keypad before clicking your tongue, “i need to see tyler, roman, and brock’s brother-”

“hey!” cole shouts from beside you while your joke provokes some of the boys to laugh.

“just keeping you humble, caufield,” you wink and he rolls his eyes, sinking back into his stall. you shake your head, “i’m not going to make you talk to me tonight because honestly, i’m drained and i know all of you are too. but please do come find me during breakfast tomorrow because i do have deadlines that i have to meet and that’s stretching it far enough. if you decide that you want to be mean and not come, i will be even meaner and snitch and you can find yourself being worked overtime in practice. are we clear, gentlemen?”

“yes ma’am!”

“thank you and good night,” you wave your hand around as you exit the room, shaking your head at the claps that followed you out. you and david gather your things and head toward the bus, knowing very well that it would be a while before the boys would begin to file out. you flop down in your seat and sigh, “one down, one to go.”

even though it wasn’t often, you loved when you got the opportunity to go on road trips. you usually got to go on the ones that were just bus trips, but it was a rare occasion when you got to go on trips that had to be made by plane. once or twice during the season, however, you got to pick a trip that you wanted to come on and this year you had picked arizona. before ty had gotten drafted, you had never been nor had you ever really wanted to go to the state. after coming to see ty during his first development camp, you had pretty much fallen in love with it and had taken every opportunity to come and visit since.

“your future home,” david chuckles and you roll your eyes. “what? do you know something that i don’t?”

“there’s a lot of things that i can’t talk about, david and those that pertain to my boyfriend’s future career are ones that are at the top of the list. you aren’t getting any insider news from me, buddy,” you point an accusatory finger and he holds his hands up in surrender.

“you could be my anonymous source?” he suggests, smirking when you flip him off.

it’s relatively quiet for the next half hour until the doors of the bus open and the boys start stumbling on. you close your laptop and leave it on the empty seat that ty usually occupied and stand up, pushing your way to the front. brock pats your head as he passes and you shove an elbow into his side, “dick.”

“he’s in a mood, princess. tread lightly.”

his warning makes you raise an eyebrow. you don’t have time to ask what he meant before ty rounds the corner. shay moves to the side to let you step off of the bus and you send him a grin. you meet ty in the middle, wrapping your arms around his neck, “i‘m proud of you.”

“are you?” he spits. his hands stay glued to his sides and you pull away, dropping your own. “cole’s on his way. wouldn’t you rather see him instead?”

“what are you talking about?”

“you seem to be real fucking close these days. you’re with him more than you’re with me, so is it wrong for me to just assume that you’re fucking him too?” your mouth gapes at his words.

“are you accusing me of cheating on you?” you lower your voice, very aware of his teammates that could definitely hear your conversation. he shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. “i know how you get after losses, but for you to go as far as to accuse me of cheating on you with a member of your team-”

“it’s fucking obvious, y/n. you’re so flirty with each other, sitting next to each other on the plane, and that shit in the locker room. i’m not oblivious.”

“fuck you, dude. i have given up so much for you and the fact that you can stand there and accuse me of doing that to you after everything that we’ve been through over the last five years, makes me wonder if it was even worth it.” you turn on your heel and march towards the bus, leaving him standing there looking shocked. you make your way up the stairs and the bus goes quiet as they stare at you, obviously having heard what happened outside. you swallow, “i’m sorry about that.”

you make your way back to your seat and grab your computer, propping your feet on the empty seat and shrinking against the window. the tears threaten to spill out from your eyes, but you don’t let them. once everyone is accounted for, the bus pulls away from the arena and heads for the hotel.

you run your fingers against your temples, trying to soothe the headache that had developed in the last five minutes. you could feel eyes on you and you look up to find jack sitting in the row of seats beside you. he opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, “please don’t.”

you grab your phone and quickly go to your messages, finding david’s contact and shooting your fingers across the screen quickly:

do you still feel like going out??

we have curfew

and after what just happened it doesn’t seem like a good idea

curfew is midnight and it’s not even ten yet. we’ll have a couple hours and after what just happened, going out seems like a great idea

are you in or not? because i’m going even if i have to go alone

let me go to my room first and i’ll meet you in the lobby

when you woke up the next morning, you were still tired. you had barely slept and the last thing you remembered before you were able to slip into unconsciousness was the sun slowly starting to peek through the window of your hotel room.

it took a few seconds for it to register that someone was pounding on your door. with a grunt, you throw the sheets away from your body and stumble towards the door. you look out of the peephole and your stomach sinks at who is standing on the other side. you undo the deadbolt and pull it open, “you should not be here.”

“don’t worry, he’s the one who sent me here. he also sent this and,” he pulls out a bouquet from behind his back, “these.”

“that’s not going to make me forgive him,” you shake your head and accept the flowers and the coffee cup from cole anyway, gesturing for him to come inside.

“believe me, we all told him that,” cole takes a seat on the spare bed and you look at him with a confused gaze. he raises an eyebrow, “y/n, you have the entire hockey team behind you. we’ve been giving him hell all night. dom even bunked with brock and jack in protest. also, i’m pretty sure that coach found out and brought him back down to earth, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“did he-” you can’t even say it.

“no, he didn’t lose the c, but coach was very adamant that what happened was not captain behavior and that he’s on very thin ice,” he pauses for a minute and then grins, “ha, thin ice.”

you shake your head and lean against the desk in the corner of the room, “that’s good then.”

“he accused you of cheating on him and you’re worried about his letter status?”

“you don’t understand, cole,” he looks at you in a way that says ‘well, help me understand.’ you sigh, “we’ve been together since we were sixteen and seventeen years old. we’ve known each other even longer. i’ve watched him work his ass off and sacrifice so much to get where he is. the thought of him losing that over him saying some dumbass thing because he was pissed off breaks my heart in more ways than one. do i think that he’s an absolute asshole right now? absolutely. do i want to look at him? not really. but i still love him, cole. and i always will.”

he looks at you for a second before he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, “really tugged on the heartstrings there, y/n. love is a crazy thing.”

“indeed it is. now get out of my room. i need to get ready for the day and i’m slightly hungover and hotel breakfast food sounds amazing right now,” you follow him towards the door.

“oh and just so we’re clear,” he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he faces you, “i made it very clear that you are way too old for me.”

you shove his shoulder, “considering that he’s the only exception for dating someone younger than me, you are way too young for me, cole caufield.”

“glad that we have an understanding,” he holds up his hand and you smack yours against it. with a grin, he makes his way towards the elevator and you close the door behind him.

you take your time getting ready, trying to hide the fact that you were recovering from a little too much alcohol you had practically inhaled at some bar downtown the night before that you couldn’t even remember the name of. you make sure all of your things are gathered and together because you knew that you wouldn’t want to do it when you returned.

you grab the things that you would need for the game and head downstairs. you walk into the conference room that had been set aside for the team and immediately head to grab your food. once your plate was piled high, you turn to find an empty and immediately your eyes lock with his. just by looking at him, you can tell that he hadn’t slept and even if he did, it wasn’t much.

your attention is pulled away from him by a shout of your name. owen is waving you over and shay is pointing at an empty seat, “we called dibs on you this morning.”

“too soon, lindy,” robbie shakes his head as you take the seat between owen and dylan. he looks at you concerned, “you good?”

“don’t worry about me boys. you have a game to win today and that’s what you should be focused on,” you try and distract them but none of them are buying what you’re trying to sell. you twist the cap off your water and take a sip before grabbing your fork, “seriously boys, i appreciate your concern, but i’m okay. i promise.”

“if you want us to beat him up for you, just say the word,” dylan offers and the table agrees. you raise an eyebrow, “we discussed it last night and we also have first dibs on defending your honor if you asked us to.”

“his roommates are next in line,” ryder points his fork at you and you smile.

“i’m glad to know that you would beat up your captain for me, boys.”

“he may be captain, but no one disrespects our y/n and gets away with it. who would give us stickers then?”

“we can’t have anything because of you, shay. she’s more than just the damn stickers.”

three o’clock comes quick and before you know it, you’re making your way down the tunnel to cheer for them as they come out, just as you always did. you clap as they line up in front of you. you avoid looking at him until you feel a tap on your ankle. you look down just in time to see a hockey stick being pulled away. you look up to find its owner staring right back at you, apologetically.

he nods his head, “i love you.”

“i love you too, twenty-one. don’t do anything stupid,” you cross your arms over your chest and give him your best ‘i’m not joking look.’ it was part of the routine that you two had developed over the last couple of years, and even though there was still some obvious tension between the two of you that had yet to be resolved, he hadn’t missed his chance to continue it.

he chuckles right as the announcer booms to the crowd to welcome them to the ice, “no promises.”

you watch as they file out, the cheers for them were not as loud as they were when you were on home ice, but you made sure to scream as loud as always. you and david make quick work of getting to your seats and he wasted no time in sending you a look, “are you-”

“we haven’t talked yet, no. we probably won’t even have time until we’re back home, but just because he’s being an asshole doesn’t mean i love him any less,” you defend yourself and he hums, looking out onto the ice.

when they get in position for puck drop, an uneasy feeling develops in your stomach. you try not to think about it as the puck hits the ice and the game begins, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

it was some freshman lineman known for being a menace. he’d been practically on top of ty every time that he got on the ice, shoving him when he didn’t have the puck, almost tripping him once, and of course, the refs were in their own little worlds and hadn’t called a penalty for anything.

eight minutes into the game was when it happened and when it happened, it happened quickly. you barely had time to blink before their gloves were off and their hands were tangled in each other’s jerseys. you stand up, watching as your boyfriend loses the upper hand quickly. in a matter of seconds, his helmet is somehow knocked off and he’s hitting the ice and-

he’s not moving.

“get the fuck up ty,” your hand covers your mouth as the trainers rush out onto the ice after they pull the guy off of him. you can see on the screen that he’s smirking as he’s led off the ice and down their tunnel. david grabs onto your arm as you stumble, “please get up baby.”

“y/n,” he says, but you don’t respond.

you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when ty moves, taking a minute before he gets up with a lot of help from the trainers. you watch as he’s led off the ice and you swallow at the blood on his jersey. you turn towards david, “i have to-”

“go, babe. i can cover this. go check on him,” that was all that you needed before you scoot out of your row and quickly make your way down the stairs.

you wind up outside the locker room where you're stopped by a security guard. you hold up your badge that showed that you had permission to be there, but he gave you a disapproving look as he shakes his head. you pull out your phone, but anna walks out just in time, “anna!”

“i was just coming to get you,” she sighs, glaring at the security guard as he finally lets you pass. she wraps a hand around your arm as she leads you back to the room, “we’re pretty sure he has a minor concussion at least. paul’s giving him a check-up now and he’s going to decide what to do from there.”

“has he said anything?” you ask, mind running wild as it thinks of the worst.

“the only thing he asked for, even when he came to, was he wanted to see his wife. i told him that you weren’t married, but he wouldn’t hear it. it was just ‘my wife, my wife, my wife’ and that’s why i was coming to get you. he said if he has to go to the hospital or anything, he’s not going if you’re not there with him,” she says and you take a deep breath. she squeezes your arm as you stop outside of the closed door, “just don’t be too loud. he’s very sensitive to light and noise right now.”

“of course,” you nod and she opens the door. the lights were dimmed just a little, but you still easily spot him in the middle of the bed. paul stands beside him, checking on him while he sits up. he pulls away from paul’s hands and moves to get up, but you quickly get to his side, placing your hand on his shoulder and grabbing his hand, “don’t move, ty. let him do what he needs to do.”

“baby,” he whimpers and you squeeze his hand, pulling it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the skin. throughout the entire process, he doesn’t let go. he answers what he’s asked and when paul moves away, he pulls you close, “baby.”

“i know. i’m sorry,” you wrap your arm around his neck and press a soft kiss to the side of his head when he tucks his face into your neck.

“the good news is that i don’t think that you need to go to the emergency room,” paul announces, leaning against a table backed against the wall. he looks at the two of you, “but i don’t feel comfortable sending you back out there. you’ve got a minor concussion and if they aren’t treated right, they can go bad quick.”

“i know,” he says, squeezing your hip.

“so, what do we need to do?” you ask.

“i’m gonna see if i can get the bus to drop you guys back off at the hotel. he needs rest right now and it’ll be hard to get that in this environment,” he shakes his head, “who are you rooming with, ty?”

he winces at the sound of a muffled goal horn and you answer for him, “mersch.”

“if i give you a list of what to do, do you think that you can watch over him?”

“of course,” you nod and ty shifts.

“great. i know that he’s not supposed to be in your room after certain hours, but i think that coach will agree with me that in these circumstances, it’s necessary,” he says and you hum.

after he tells you the basics and makes sure that you have his phone number if you need something, you pull away from ty, “i’m gonna go and grab you some clothes, okay? i know you don’t want to be in that on the bus.”

“please don’t go,” he pleads, holding onto your hand as you go to step away. “you’re gonna leave me because of what i said.”

you look at paul briefly who looks concerned. at least there was someone who was out of the loop.

you shake your head and rub at his cheek, “no, baby. i’m coming back i promise. i’m just gonna go get your clothes from the locker room that’s right across the hall.”

“i’ll come with you,” he insists, moving to stand up.

both you and paul are quick to push him back down as gently as possible. paul pats his chest, “you can stay here with me big guy. i still have a couple of questions for you.”

hesitantly, he lets your hand go as you promise him once more that you were coming back. you make your way across the hall and find his stall, digging through his things to find some clothes for him that were not his suit.

once you find some sweats and a hoodie, you turn on your heel just as the boys start to file in. jack is the first to speak up, “is he okay?”

“minor concussion and as of right now, he doesn’t need to go to the emergency room, but paul’s pulling him for the game. i think we’re getting sent to the hotel where he’s going to be on mandatory rest until he gets checked on again before we leave tomorrow. so, please, i love you all so much and he does too, but just let him sleep. we don’t want this to turn into something major,” you give them all pleading eyes and they all nod.

you walk back across the hall to find coach talking with paul and ty laying back on the bed. instantly, he reaches out for you. granato looks at you, “you’re going to make sure he’s okay?”

“i’m going to try my best,” you assure him and he nods.

“i trust you a hell of a lot more than i trust mersch when it comes to these types of things,” he looks over to ty and pats his leg, “the bus is taking you two back to the hotel where you’re going to rest, got it?”

“yes sir,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

granato and paul leave the room as ty gets dressed. he does need some assistance and when he’s finally out of his gear, he sighs, “i never realized how extensive all of that was.”

“tell me about it,” you mumble. you look at him, “are you ready? do you think that you can get to the bus?”

“if you’ll go slow. you always walk so fast,” he complains and you grin. he throws an arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his waist. you walk out of the door and he pauses, looking into the locker room, “can i-”

“you’ve probably got a minute or two before they have to go back,” you say and he nods. with help from you, he limps over to the doorway and the room goes quiet.

“boys,” he says, standing in front of you, but reaching out behind him for your hand. you take it and squeeze, “what’s the score?”

“we’re leading with one,” the other ty says and he nods. “you good, cap?”

“minor concussion, nothing i can’t handle. plus, i’ve got a good babysitter for tonight,” he turns to look at you with a grin and you send a small smile back. “win it, boys. don’t worry about me, just win.”

“tough speech, eh?” dom calls and some of the boys chuckle.

“did you miss the part about the concussion?” ty asks and dom rolls his eyes. “love you boys.”

there’s an echo of his admission before you finally began the trek to the bus. you take up a row in the middle, ty taking the seat by the window and resting his head on your shoulder. you trace the veins on his hand as the bus takes you back to the hotel, the entire trip spent in silence.

once you get him inside your hotel room, he wastes no time crawling into bed. he looks at you hopefully, “will you lay with me?”

“let me get out of these jeans,” you find a pair of shorts and a too-big t-shirt that belonged to him at some point before you slip in beside him.

he presses himself to your chest and you card your fingers through his hair, “i’m sorry about what i said, y/n.”

“not now, ty. you need to rest.”

he sighs, but he doesn’t argue. it wasn’t long before his breathing evens out and he goes limp against you, leaving you to your thoughts.

“rise and shine,” you mumble, poking at his cheek. he groans, curling his fingers in the fabric of your t-shirt as he shakes his head. “baby, you have to get up every few hours. aren’t you hungry?”

“do you have food?” he asks, not opening his eyes.

“i can order some, but you have to tell me what you want. i can’t read your mind,” he rolls over then, stretching his arms out over his head. “how do you feel?”

“my head hurts and my body’s sore,” he says. “i didn’t break anything, did i?”

“do you think that you did?” you raise your eyebrows, ready to reach for your phone to call paul.

“no, no, i just- i remember hitting the ice and not much else after. i remember when i came to that anna was standing over me and i wanted you, but you weren’t there. i was looking for you in the stands, but i couldn’t find you. i- i thought that you were gone.”

“i was there ty. they just moved our seats tonight because someone had those already. i’m not leaving, i would never leave,” you assure him, running your hand along his cheek. “we don’t need to talk about this right now. you need to eat and rest-”

“i want to talk about it though. it’s been eating me up inside ever since i said it,” he looks at you pleadingly and you sigh. “i was an ass.”

“you were,” you agree and he chuckles. “the thing is, it’s not even really so much that you think that i would do that to you. yes, it obviously hurt, but it’s more so the fact that you would do it in public. the entire team heard you.”

“i know and believe me, i’ve already had my ass chewed out about it by everyone in that locker room, and i mean everyone. you have an entire hockey team behind your back on this one.”

“they told me. they’re also forming a line to beat you up if i needed them to which is nice,” you smile. it’s quiet for a moment before you speak again, “why did you do it? that’s what i want to know.”

“because i was angry. i was angry about the game last night and i saw you and cole. i know you’re just friends and that you’ve been helping him with his school stuff or whatever, but when you were on the plane, you were just so giggly or whatever. than that in the locker room-”

“we were just playing around, ty. he’s literally like my little brother.”

“and i know that. he made it very clear last night that you are too old for him.”

“we have an understanding,” ty presses his lips to your shoulder and you swallow. “i’m still mad at you. i forgive you, but i’m still mad.”

“you have every right to be. what i said was out of line and uncalled for, i’m surprised that you’re talking to me right now,” he chuckles, wincing as he presses his fingers to the side of his head. “oh yeah, that’s why.”

“i can’t give you anything for another couple of hours. ‘m sorry, love,” you push his hair away from his face.

“can i ask you something?” he asks and you hum. “last night, you said that you’ve given up so much to be with me and i don’t doubt that you have, i know that you have, but is there something that you’re not telling me.”

“it’s not important,” you shake your head.

he sits up then, staring down at you, “what is it, y/n?”

“do you- um, do you remember when i applied for that internship for digital marketing the summer after you graduated? after my freshman year?” you ask, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the headboard.

“yeah, you didn’t get it,” he looks at you confused. you look down at your hands and he takes a deep breath, “y/n, you didn’t-”

“they wanted me to fly to new york on draft weekend and i explained that i couldn’t then, but i could on monday. i wasn’t going to miss hearing your name being called or watching you put on that jersey, ty. they told me if i couldn’t be there on that saturday to just not bother,” you explain, “and instead of getting on a plane to new york, i got on one for dallas with you.”

“that would’ve given you so many opportunities, y/n. why would you do that?”

“because i love you and we’d been talking about it for years, you getting drafted. there was no way in hell i was going to miss it,” you shrug. “it’s fine though. i got the hockey gig and now we spend an almost unhealthy amount of time together so-”

“but that would’ve been so much better for you. you could’ve gone anywhere with that. europe, australia, anywhere. working for a college hockey team won’t look as good on job applications as that internship would have.”

“it’s in the past now. don’t worry about it. i’m happy where i am,” he reaches out for your hand and you curl your fingers around his. “wherever you are, that’s where i’m happy. fuck new york, europe, australia, or wherever. wisconsin is good for me right now. me and you, that’s all that matters.”

“it’s me and you, baby,” he mumbles and you smile, “me and you against the world, just like we’ve always said.”

#ty emberson #ty emberson imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #college hockey imagine #wisconsin badgers #arizona coyotes #my work

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kookie-doughs · 3 years ago

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything is now ruined.

Chapter 22: Then It Ended

As soon as we came, Annabeth ang Grover tackled me. We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls— Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up. Percy being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

As I was still unclaimed, Hermes cabin had made me one. (Just... IDK go crazy with your shroud IG) It was fun to burn. As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, Percy and I was surrounded by my Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past." The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive us for disgracing their dad. That was okay with me. Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now they'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday...." Going back to the cabin I finally had time to talk to Luke. Who just expressed his relief of me being fine, and how he was scared when Annabeth told everyone about me. No wonder everyone was so shocked seeing me come back with Percy. On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors. As Annabeth, Percy and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human. "I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know." I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend. Annabeth and I gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on. I asked him where he was going to search first. "Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..." "We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?" "Yeah." "And you remembered your reed pipes?" "Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat." But he didn't really sound annoyed. He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway. "Well," he said, "wish me luck." He gave Annabeth and I another hug. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes. Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware. "Hey, Grover," Percy called. He turned at the edge of the woods. "Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas." Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him. "We'll see him again," Annabeth said. July passed. I spent my daysplanning out strategies with Luke for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava. From time to time, Percy and I would walk past the Big House, he'd glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle.

I tried to convince him that its prophecy had come to completion. "You shall go west, and face the god who has turned." "Been there, done that—even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades." "You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned." "Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades." "You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend." Percy recited. "Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed us. That must be what the Oracle meant.... Or maybe Nereid?"

"And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end." He sighed. "I had failed to save my mom and lost you..."

"So why are you still uneasy?" The last night of the summer session came all too quickly. The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads. Percy and I got our own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"This is so beautiful..." I smiled to Percy. "The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!" The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year. * * * The next morning, Luke called me. He gave me a paper, telling me to fill it out, and asked me to meet him as soon as I could. I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong: Dear (WRONG NAME) , If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit. Have a nice day! Mr. D (Dionysus) Camp Director, Olympian Council #12 That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face. Summer was over, and I still don't know what to do. I had no where to go to. The only option I had was Percy's or maybe Hades was not joking about inviting me back to the Underworld. Sighing I decided to just meet Luke before filling it for second opinions. The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport. I was walking around looking for Luke. I jumped when I felt someone tap me from behind. I instinctively unsheathed my knife and turned only to see Luke with his hands raised.

"Whoa! Calm down just me." He laughed.

"Kinda weird seeing someone laugh at a knife pointed at them." I smirked sheathing my knife.

"I only laugh since its you." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Are you done with everything?"

"Not really. I don't know whether to leave or not yet. That's why I came. Help me?" I asked him.

He turned to me and to the forest. "How about you hear me out about something... important and private... then decide?" He gestured towards the forest.

"Not planning on killing me are you?" I squinted at him.

He gasped. "Not you. Never. I would never hurt you."

I let him lead me to a shrouded area of the forest.

"How serious is this thing that you can't let anyone see? I am blindly trusting you here Luke." I laughed nervously. But when he didn't reply I felt something was off. "Luke, okay this isn't cool. How deep into the forest do we have to go?"

"Y/N remember when you said... You want to be the person I trust...? How you promised to help me?"

"Luke?" He took my hand and pulled me sharply. I winced at how hard he pulled me. "That hurts! Let me go!"

He snapped back and let go of my wrist. "I-I'm sorry... Y/N..."

As much as I knew I had to leave, I couldn't I was worried about him. I reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's happening?"

"I did it..." I said and sat on the ground. "I swear I didn't mean to get you hurt. But, I confess to everything. I stole bolt and helm, I summoned the hound, I gave Percy the cursed shoes... And just now, I tried to kill Percy Jackson." He looked at me with empty eyes.

I shot up and looked at him in emotions I couldn't put in words. "W-Wh---" I wanted to leave and check on Percy. But once again, seeing him right now... I need to stay with him. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Join me... please?" his voice was weak. He sounded vulnerable. "Let's serve my Lord together..."

"L-Luke... no. I-I can't do that!" I took his shoulder, "Y-You should stay with me instead. How about that, huh? L-Let's explain to Chiron and the others... come on please. I could help you!"

Nothing was working.

"Come with me..." He muttered.

"Luke, I won't join you. You have to change your mind. You can't do this."

"I can't change my mind."

"I can help you with that? How about you go with me huh? I could spend all my time doing this and that. Please, just change your mind."

He didn't reply for a while until he whispered, "Promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"You'll stay with me."

"What? Luke I wo--"

"You won't join... Just...don't stay here for the year... and stay with me."

"I-If I stay with you... what would that mean?"

"Yo-You... might change my mind."

"I'll go." I replied with no hesitation. "I'll leave camp for the year. And I'll find my parent to prove to you that Gods and Goddess aren't all bad. We'll find my parent together."

"I do my lord's bidding--"

"You can still do it. If you want to. But whatever happens... stays only between us. I'll stay with you until I change your mind. And I'll bring you back to camp."

"I would never do anything to ruin your trust in me." He knelt down. It was kinda awkward but hey... "I need you."

Worry not hero. We shall stay.

"Please..."

We'll meet again. Wait for us, we shall join you soon. Now leave.

I had no idea what happened since when I came to Luke was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere. How were we going to st---

We will meet him once we leave. Now go as our hero needs us.

I suddenly remembered Percy's state that Luke had told me about. So I ran. I ran to the Big House

***

Percy finally opened his eyes. He was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, his right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth and I sat next to Percy, I was holding his nectar glass and she was dabbing a washcloth on his forehead.

"Here we are again," Percy said. "You idiot," Annabeth said, "You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing..." "Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit." He was sitting near the foot of the bed in human form. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved." "Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened." Between sips of nectar, he told them the story.

I bit my lip trying to keep what happened between Luke and I private. It was a risky move that would not be approved by anyone after all. The room was quiet for a long time. "I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him.... He was never the same after his quest."

Percy was looking at me as if checking what was my reaction to his story. "This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once." "Luke is out there right now," Percy said. "I have to go after him." Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—" "Won't even talk about Kronos," Percy snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!" "Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready." "Chiron... your prophecy from the Oracle... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? Y/N? And Annabeth?" Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—" "You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?" His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you..." Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows. "All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!" He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing." "We can't just sit back and do nothing," He said. "We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come." "Assuming I live that long." Chiron put his hand on Percy's ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice...." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. "But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision." "I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you." He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here." "Who's here?" Percy asked. Nobody answered. Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time. Annabeth studied the floor. "What's wrong?" Percy asked her. "Nothing. I ... just took your advice about something. You ... um ... need anything?" "Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside." "Percy, that isn't a good idea." Percy slid his legs out of bed. Annabeth and I caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

I said, "I told you ..." "I'm fine," He insisted.

He managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on me. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance. By the time we reached the porch, his face was beaded with sweat. But we had managed to make it all the way to the railing. It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun. "What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked us. "I don't know." Percy replied. "I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I'm not sure that's what I want. I also don't want to leave you both with Clarisse only." Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy." He stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?" She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver. "I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try." "That took guts." She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least ... not without sending me an Iris-message? Both of you?" Percy managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"You already know my plans."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?" "Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. Percy shook it. She gave me a hug. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told Percy. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Then turned to me, "Good luck on your own quest Droopy."

"Of course Peabody." We watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world. "I made my decision." Percy said. "What's yours?"

"I'll be leaving camp... I'm going to look for my parent..." He looked at me in shock. "I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then."

"Alone?"

I smiled at him.

"Don't you want to stay with us? Mom said---"

"I want to find my parent. I need to. I'll be fine Percy."

I helped Percy to his cabin so he could pack and went to mine. To my surprise I see a middle-aged man with an athletic figure slim and fit with salt-and-pepper hair, and a very familiar sly grin. He had bags at his foot.

"Delivery for Y/N L/N."

"Uhm..."

"Hermes." He said.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Personally packed. As a thank you for what you're about to do." He smiled softly and handed me the bags.

"H-Huh...?"

"For helping Luke."

"I..."

Don't forget her mail!

Ooh! And tell her to bring us snacks next time we meet since it'll be often now!

No it wouldn't be often! She'll be with Luke!

"Both of you keep quiet." Pulling out a mail he handed it to me. "Luke... prayed to me telling me about your plan. He asked me to help you. I don't know what or why he did it. But I know he'll change thanks to you. So do guide him."

"Sorry you lost me at the talking air..." I blinked.

Hermes laughed and showed a caduceus. "It's just George and Martha."

"Hi?"

Hello!

"I just wanted to let you know. No god or goddess could see you. No matter how hard they tried. So your secrets.. are really secrets. Good luck on your travel."

Next time we meet you should have snacks.

Then he vanished.

Staring at the letter on my hand, I was stunned seeing it was from... my mom and dad.

Sweetie,

You've made quite a friend here.

-Mom and Dad.

I immediately knew where to look. I hurriedly took my bags not bothering to check the contents. I ran to Percy's cabin and helped him out so we could leave.

Percy got a cab and looked at me worriedly.

"I'll write you. Stay safe Arthur Curry." I ruffled his hair and watched him go.

I didn't know where to go so I just went to the first secluded area I saw.

"You have more stuffs than when you arrived." I heard someone behind me.

"You prayed to your dad. I hope he knows how to pack." I sighed turning to him. Turning around I barely made out Luke from the few days I last saw him. "You okay?"

"Do you know where to look first?"

Call upon our hound.

I whistled, I don't know why. But when I did, D/N came out of the blue. Luke looked at me and my dear dog, who was probably bigger than the hound he'd summon back then. "How do feel about L.A?" I said riding on D/N and making space behind me for Luke.

~~~END OF BOOK 1~~~

Previous | Book 1 Masterlist | Series Masterlist

END OF BOOK ONE!!! THANK YOU FOR READING YLATHB I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! I'LL PUBLISH BOOK 2 WHEN I'M DONE OR EVEN AT LEAST HAVE WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS OF THE BOOK 2 ;))

I HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT TIME!!!

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#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #y/n l/n #x y/n #x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #Book 1 #Chapter 22 #Ending of book 1 #completed #y/n l/n and the halfblood #lightning thief #fanfictions #fanfiction #pjo

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neverdoingmuch · 4 years ago

Note

Wait cql lawyer/law school AU

i got you my pal dont worry!!

law school, im gonna be honest and say i know like nothing about law or law school so pls ignore any inconsistencies or inaccuracies

lwj goes to law school and he is definitely the top student in his class. they’ve been there for like a month and everyone already knows he’s gonna be the best

his one and only competition is this dude called wei wuxian but lwj isn’t particularly worried about him

so far they’re still in the stage of the course where they do the fun things to sucker people into doing the class for the semester so there’s been some practise debates and arguments and stuff in their tutorial classes

wei wuxian has that Charisma and like yeah all of his arguments are perfect but also he has an amazing smile and people are like yes i can trust him

(he’s definitely the sort to be like hm, the easy way to argue this case would be to quote some laws and use precedence to justify this but that’s boring)

lwj is also good at that sort of stuff because his arguments are perfect and everything is so perfectly researched that there should be no ground at all for someone to lodge a counterargument

(wei wuxian manages somehow and it makes lwj so mad)

but that’s whatever lwj thinks,, a lot of people join law thinking it’s gonna be like the tv shows and books and then get completely blindsided when it comes to the rote learning part or like the actual laws

and for all of wwx’s confidence, lwj hasn’t actually seen wwx so much as touch the textbook/s and he always studies in the law library so he knows that wwx has probably never even been there bc he hasn’t seen him even once (why’s he looking? bc he needs to see which books wwx uses to study,, bc there has to be something going on there,, obviously)

then they do their first like proper written assignment and lwj and wwx tie for the highest scores and now lwj has a Rival and he refuses to lose to someone who thinks that putting a ‘-us’ sound at the end of a word makes it latin (did wwx say habeas corpus and then point at a soft drink and go sprite-us can-us,,, maybe,,,,)

anyway! lwj and wwx are kinda rivals for the top spot and it’s one of those situations where one test lwj wins by a point but then the next test wwx gets full marks and they just keep exchanging the top spot in class

and this whole time wwx is like The Worst to have in class. he’s always interrupting to ask questions or just straight up not listening and spends the class doodling pictures of rabbits (they’re cute but wwx is terrible and he’s not allowed to make cute drawings)

so after a few months the most horrible thing happens.... they get put together in a project and lwj is like ugh. internally of course but his face is also saying ugh

the first time wwx and lwj get together to work on the project, lwj is prepared with a proper list of tasks to do all nicely split up between the two of them and a schedule for when they should get certain parts done by.

needless to say, lwj does not expect wwx to be ready, but wwx is definitely on top of things

he rocks up and is like yeah let’s do this, this and this and have them done by this time - basically proposing to do everything that lwj has already written down

and lwj is pleasantly surprised and is like hm maybe i misjudged wwx and decides to like re-evaluate his opinion on him

in doing so he realises that when he’d never seen wwx studying, it wasn’t an exaggeration at all. he’s never seen wwx so much as touch a textbook or spend more than a minute on a laptop doing something that wasn’t minesweeper or solitaire

but wwx is also making all of their deadlines and even adds extra information and resources to their document that could be useful elsewhere and sometimes he shows up to their study sessions and he looks absolutely exhausted

eventually lwj manages to get the truth out and wwx is just like yeah it’s easier to get worse grades than a genius but if you both study and you still get lower grades, it’s not easy,, for jc or for me

so wwx usually studies at night when his brother is asleep and lwj is like that’s bad, you can’t keep that up and just when wwx is about to go off at him lwj is like you can come study at my place

and thus begins the wonderful time where everything is alright and lwj falls in love with wwx

they work really well together and wwx is strangely considerate and nice? when he finds out lwj likes rabbits, he goes out and buys bunny post-it notes for lwj and starts to always bring him a doodle of bunnies every time he comes over. he always gets his work done on time, early even, and his work is always so brilliant and every time wwx smiles at him, lwj feels warm inside etc etc

for a long while lwj is like yes (: this is friendship (: bc he’s never had a crush before but then on the day they submit their project wwx is like hey,, the two of us make a great team,, we should always work together,, now and next year and even when we graduate,, i want to help the innocent people who need our help and i think i’d like it a lot if you joined me and lwj has his oh moment

they get a perfect score on the project of course and even after it finishes, wwx keeps coming over to lwj’s place to study or just hang out and lwj is just falling more and more for wwx each day

they’re best friends now and everyone gets used to seeing them work together on projects and then turn around to try and decimate each other when they’re working one on one and lwj thinks that he might just be the happiest he’s ever been

but then one day wwx doesn’t show up to class. it shouldn’t be strange but wwx has never missed class even once and he ends up hearing from lxc who heard from jgy that wwx was caught sabotaging some other student’s work (the other student was jzxun, who had a fondness for playing devil’s advocate and other than wwx once telling him that his argument was shit, wwx never spoke to him or seemed to know who he was but lwj is a bit too angry to remember that)

he manages to find wwx outside of his dorms as he’s moving out and he’s just like why did you do that? and wwx is like oh y’know,, bc he’s not really sure what’s happening himself,, one second he was at the top of his class and the next he was being brought before a board and being told that he was being expelled but he’s not going to tell lwj that bc lwj would definitely try and stand up for him and then they’d both get expelled

but lwj is furious and just spits out well if our dreams meant so little to you then maybe it’s a good thing you failed now,, bc his mother was a lawyer who took all these little jobs that helped people who actually needed the help and lwj was looking forward to doing that with wwx and he doesn’t even seem to care that now they can’t do that

wwx flinches and then smiles at him and just cheerily says, that’s me and leaves. he doesn’t look back and lwj doesn’t chase after him.

lwj doesn’t see him again for years (you can do 13 or 5 or however long you feel like)

lwj is a fully licensed lawyer and he’s working for the family company and he spends half of his time working on cases and uses the rest of his time to do like outreach programs where he goes and visits schools and runs sessions on what it’s like to be a lawyer, how to apply, and to provide assistance to any students who decide to study law at uni

and then at one of these programs he meets this kid, wen yuan, who is ridiculously bright and enthusiastic and has a smile that seems oddly familiar

at the end of the second session he comes up to lwj and is like mr. lan, is your name lan wangji? and lwj just says yes, expecting the kid to be a fan of one of his cases or something but then wen yuan is like oh wow! i thought i recognised you from my dad’s photo!

and lwj isn’t expecting much but he asks what the photo looks like and wen yuan pulls out this photo from his pocket and lwj immediately recognises it,, it’s the only photo he has of him and wwx

your father is wei ying? lwj asks him and wen yuan is like yes, hesitates, and then asks, would you like to see him?

and that’s how lwj finds himself following wen yuan to some dinky little office that has a plaque outside that reads wen and wei

(wen ning is the nicest and sweetest person ever and lots of people underestimate him but then he’s an absolute monster on court. he gets up and completely decimates the opponent and then at the end is like (: it was so nice to meet you!! i am baby!! and all that,, you know our boy)

anyway they walk in and wwx turns to greet wen yuan but then he sees lwj and is like woah! you! and he’s not sure whether to hide or go and hug lwj so he just gives him a fist bump,, like a bro,, and immediately wants to shrivel up and die

anyway they get the reunion stuff out of the way, swelling music, tender wrist holding, lots of staring, lwj silently declaring his wholehearted love for wwx and refusing to believe rumours about him again even though he doesn’t actually know what happened, you know how it goes

from wwx’s side of things,, after he got kicked out he went to some small uni. good in its own right but not known for their law program and ended up specialising in family law

the first case he ever won was for the wens to have the right to keep custody of a-yuan and the first case wen ning ever won was to let wwx adopt a-yuan bc i’m soft like that

so wwx has just been kinda vibing,, being a single dad, living with the wens and helping to make that difference he always promised he would

now this isn’t gonna be some au where lwj goes oh my! i must give up my high salary job and work with wwx! bc lwj has been doing good stuff at his current job and for all of his family’s stuffiness, they run a fair and just company

but! he does end up helping wwx when wwx gets a letter with a bunch of information about the jins and how they’re actually super corrupt and evil (big surprise,,) and how wwx was maybe definitely framed bc he was doing some casual work on the side and stumbled across some bad shit on the jins back in uni

lwj ends up being the one to take the case officially but wwx is definitely the guy leading it and so lwj ends up spending most of his time at the wen-wei office

lwj definitely bonds with wen yuan, who also wants to go into law, and writes him recommendation letters and helps him edit his applications and stuff

(and one day wen yuan is like leaving you was the hardest thing dad ever did and i dont think you appreciated how much he cared about you. he really did think that he annoyed you ‘til the end and lwj is like no! he didn’t! and wen yuan is like yeah i know but you gotta tell him and lwj really does mean to but the time is never right or something like that but also wen yuan is all but calling lwj dad at this point)

anyway they end up going to court, side by side, working as a team just as they promised to do and just as they finish their final day on the case, ended with the jury ruling jgy guilty and wwx’s reputation all but saved, wwx turns around and flings himself at lwj

is he crying? is he laughing? a bit of both tbh but wwx ends up confessing right then and there, still on record and everything (is that how that works??? idk! let’s say it does)

and what can lwj do but make out with him?

did a news crew come in to film the results of this massive court case just to end up with five minutes of wangxian kissing?? maybe! but when it played on tv it meant wwx and lwj didnt have to actually tell anyone they got together

(and does lwj eventually pop the question using wwx’s bad latinification? yes and wwx is too busy laughing to accept at first but he does and they end up being the worst possible tutors for wen yuan as he goes through law school bc they keep being all gross and lovey-dovey and acting like law school is the most romantic place in the world)

#mdzs #Anonymous #modao zushi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #cql #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #all of my understanding of law comes from the pelican brief which i read over 10 years ago and one seminar on law courses at uni #so sorry if it's bad #):#lan sizhui #also i stand by wen yuan #let him keep his last name!#my aus #asks

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