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penny00dreadful · 1 year ago

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Return of The King - Part 3

Is it getting hot in here? 🥵

I'm sorry guys, this is a CHUNKY chapter but in other good news it's finally up on AO3! 🥳

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

“Vampire.”

Steve nodded, squeezing his hips lightly, just once. “I thought so too.”

Eddie glanced down at his fingers again as the feeling started to return to them. The darkness felt close around them, almost cocooning them, not stifling and claustrophobic but safe and comforting.

Even so, even with the safety of the darkness, the firmness of Steve's thighs under his and the laughter that had convinced him of Steve's Stevesness (not to mention the incredible chemical sexual attraction that was almost definitely mutual) he couldn't help that last lingering thread of doubt that there might be something lurking unknown in the background.

Eddie looked up, searching Steve’s eyes.

“Are you still you?”

Steve cocked his head to the side, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean are you still Steve? Or are you mostly Steve but with a bit of Vecna in the back of your mind ready to be activated like a sleeper agent? Are you a part of the hive mind? Are you Vecna wearing a Steve Suit?”

“Uh. Honestly man, I don’t know. I think I’m still me? As much me as there ever was.”

“Can you feel him like Max could?”

“No, I don’t think so? I’d know, right? If I could?”

“You don’t think so?”

“No, I mean when I woke up I could feel something. But not a Vecna something, more like a bunch of small fluttering somethings. Like a swarm or… a cloud?”

“Like the bats?”

“I guess? It doesn't really feel right, though.”

“But no demodogs or demogorgans or Vecna?”

"Nope."

"And you don't feel like this thing is… I dunno. Watching or taking over or something?"

"Not really, it's difficult to describe. It's like," Steve looked around, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say, absently fiddling with the hem of Eddie's top, "it's like it's just a very, very small bit in the back of my brain. I don't think it's capable of watching or taking control. It feels honestly like it's a bit left over from whatever made me like this. Like it's not even really conscious."

Okay. Honestly what other kind of answer could he hope for? Steve's eyes were so sincere, so honest like he always was. He genuinely told Eddie when he didn't know the answer to something. He didn't know what that swarm/cloud was in the back of his head and he didn't think it was an issue.

So Eddie didn't think it was an issue and he moved on.

“When did you wake up?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty difficult to keep track of time down there. But I was…” he gestured around his neck and body, lifting his shirt up to show his unscarred sides and Eddie had to fight himself not to touch. “Fixed. And I didn’t start to feel hungry until I got back here.”

Well… if he was a vampire and he was hungry…

“So, blood?”

Steve ducked his head a little as he smiled. “Are you offering?” God damn it his smile was enchanting. It should be a terrifying thought, the idea of offering himself up for a meal but he wasn’t scared. Not as scared as he really probably should have been.

Evidently he’d been silent for too long because Steve gently pushed him out of his lap and scooted back a little. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’m not hungry.”

Eddie felt his body slump, his weight back on his own legs and just the thought of how nice it had been to be so close left an ache in him. But he didn’t push back.

"I could be. Offering."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You don't want to taste me?" He pouted, batting his eyelashes.

Steve's eyes visibly changed, his honey brown swirling with yellow like cat's eyes as he bit his lip, his entire face hungry in such a sexual way Eddie could feel his body react almost immediately.

Shit, he was really playing with fire here, wasn't he?

"I'm not going to bite you."

Eddie tutted. "Pity."

"Tell me about it."

“Okay well, when did you last eat? What did you last eat? Is Farmer Dan going to find a vampire cow in his pasture in the morning?”

Steve snorted. “No. I ate this morning. Butcher's blood.” He smiled across at Eddie before his face morphed into panic and he held his hands up. “Not, like, the blood of a butcher! I mean blood from the butcher’s shop!”

“Yeah, yeah, relax, sweetheart, I figured.”

Steve’s face tinged slightly pink at the pet name and it made Eddie’s heart flutter, which only made Steve’s blush deepen.

Well shit.

Nope, he needed to get it back under control.

“Are you telling me that Hawkins' famous dead King Steve Harrington stealthed into Barry’s Butchers and stole?” Eddie slapped his hands to his face in mock horror. “You’re a criminal, Stevie.”

“No, that’s not exactly how it happened. I just kinda… walked in the front door.”

“You- you what? No, man. No way, The whole town knows you’re dead. You’ve practically been canonised. People would have freaked out if you just walked in.”

Steve wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Yeah, so I’ve seen. But um… no, I was able to… I don’t really know how to describe it-”

Eddie’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked for him, leaning forward again.

“Oh my god, can you thrall people?!”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda.”

Eddie slapped his hands down on Steve’s knees, physical distance forgotten. “That’s so cool. Thrall me. Thrall me!”

“You- what?”

“Put me under your spell.” Eddie purred. “I wanna see.”

“How do you know I’m not thralling you right now?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thrall me.”

“You’re putting an awful lot of trust in me.” Steve was looking at him like he was crazy but with an undertone of apprehension.

Eddie sat back again and could feel his whole person getting softer. “Well yeah, Stevie. I trust you. You’re a good guy, you’re a protector down to your soul. You’re safe. Of course I trust you.”

Steve’s entire being seemed to inflate with bashful pride. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Eddie watched as Steve’s eyes seemed to worm their way directly into his brain, warm and welcoming and safe.

A different kind of safe than he was used to from Steve, an immediate feeling rather than an earned endearment.

Say "Tears for Fears are musical geniuses".

"Tears for Fears are musical geniuses." Eddie repeated, monotone and bland before immediately scowling.

"Dick move, Harrington."

"Oh, I'm Harrington again now, am I?"

Eddie nodded, crossing his arms and exaggerating his upset face. "You're in the doghouse after that."

"Oh no." Steve pouted, pushing out his bottom lip in mock sadness. "How can I make it up to you?" He blinked his big brown eyes at him, looking so innocent and sincere it lit a hell of a fire in Eddie's belly, the only thought going through his head was corrupt him.

"I'll think of something." He growled feeling his own confidence bolster at the return of the pink blush over Steve’s cheeks. “Pretty cool power though. That’s how you got your blood?”

“That was a part of it.”

“Wait.” Eddie’s smile was starting to split his face, his excitement bubbling through. “There’s more you can do?”

“Yeah. You wanna see?” Some of Eddie’s excitement seemed to be rubbing off on Steve and he sounded almost eager to show off.

“Do I wanna see? Of course I wanna see!”

“Alright.” Steve stood, holding a hand out for Eddie. Eddie allowed himself to be pulled to his feet with a disgustingly hot amount of strength, leaving their hands intertwined. “I’m gonna hide.”

“Well that’s hardly fair. This is your house, you know it inside and out. If we play hide and seek, I’ll never be able to find you.”

“I’m not gonna leave this room.”

Eddie glanced around, there was almost nowhere to hide in here. Maybe under the bed at a push or in the closet but the doors were closed and they would definitely make a noise if opened.

“Where could you possibly-?” Eddie turned back, looking to his side but Steve was gone. He was… what had he said?

The space where he’d stood was empty, there was nothing there and Eddie was having trouble concentrating on the spot where he’d just been.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head trying to get himself to focus. Steve had said something about hiding? Maybe? Quite literally nothing had been moved in the room, there was no flutter of curtains or movement of bedsheets, the doors to the closet were still closed and the bedroom door was only cracked slightly open, like it had been this entire time. If he’d been in here… something would be moved, right?

There was a thread of something in his brain, just beyond his reach. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, like trying to catch smoke in his hands.

Something about it didn’t feel right, there was a release of pressure on his fingers as he moved forward that he couldn’t concentrate on. The only option he really had was that Steve had somehow left through the door…

But he’d…

What had he said?

There was a vague thought in the back of his mind that he should be more worried. Steve had only just reappeared back in his life, back from the dead and was gone again. He should be worrying that Steve had maybe run, or abandoned him or disappeared forever but again, it didn’t feel right.

Just as he reached out to touch the doorknob a pair of arms snaked around his waist, holding him tight and a voice whispered low in his ear “Gotcha.”

Eddie would forever deny the squeak he let out as he was lifted off his feet and spun back into the room, being gently let back down with his heart thundering and his breath ragged, none of which was the result of the surprise of Steve’s sudden reappearance and had everything to do with the feeling of being lifted like he weighed nothing.

He turned back to Steve who had his head cocked to the side and a slight smirk curving up the side of his face.

“You get this cute little scrunch in your nose when you’re confused.”

“You were there the whole time?”

“Yeah. Just like I said.”

Eddie stared at him, trying to keep his brain from going to all of the most depraved of places, thinking up scenario after scenario of how those damn thralling powers could be used.

He had to focus on other things. On the… on the nerdier aspects of vampirism or he might spontaneously combust.

“Sunlight?” He blurted out.

Steve blinked for a moment, surprised, before his smirk softened. “I haven’t been out in the daytime yet, I don’t know.”

“Crosses? Holy water? Consecrated ground?”

“Haven’t broken into a church to check.”

“Garlic?”

“God, I hope I can still have garlic. My nonna would never forgive me.”

“Your nonna? I thought you were Irish?”

“My dad’s from Ireland. My mother’s mother is Italian.”

“So you’re just all around very Catholic?”

"I haven't been very Catholic in a while." Steve laughed.

“Okay. We'll have to re-examine the crosses and holy water later on then. Can you turn into mist?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Can you turn into a wolf? Or a bat? Please don’t tell me you can turn into a bat.”

“I would have assumed you’d think that’s cool.”

“You can?!”

“No, I don’t think I can.”

Eddie huffed, crossing his arms. “It would be cool. It would be so super cool but honestly Stevie, I’m mad.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Out of the two of us I'd objectively make a better vampire. I mean look at me.” He took a step back and spun in place.

Steve tracked the movement closely. “I’m looking.”

Eddie glared, trying to seem haughty and irritated but it was a losing battle against that smile.

“And look at you. What kind of vampire looks like he enjoys golfing?”

Steve’s mouth turned down in an immediate scowl. “I do not look like I enjoy golfing. It’s not even a real sport.”

“Are you gatekeeping sport?”

“No.”

“Sounds like you are.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Yeah, fine. I don’t have a vampire fashion sense. I look more like a-”

“A werewolf.”

“A w- a werewolf?!”

“Yeah. All that hair.” Eddie smirked, running his hand over Steve’s chest.

“Don’t hate on the chest hair, people love the chest hair.”

“Yes they do.” When Eddie finally managed to drag his eyes away from Steve's chest and back up, his gaze landed on his head hair and a horrible thought occurred to him. “Oh shit! Mirrors! Stevie, what are you going to do if you have no reflection anymore?!”

“I have a reflection, don’t worry.”

Eddie sighed in relief, placing his own hand over his heart. “Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do without that hair. I’d never be able to get it right and you’d hate me.”

“What?” Steve laughed. “You’d learn to do my hair if I couldn’t see myself?”

“Well, yeah. It’s important to you, right?”

The laughter stopped abruptly and the smile slipped from Steve’s face replaced by a look that was impossibly soft. “You don’t think it would be a bit… vain? Or like… ridiculous?”

“I think I’m the last person allowed to pass judgement on what makes people feel comfortable in their own skin.”

Steve looked at him for the longest time, so long that Eddie started to feel the need to fidget.

“You’re a really good guy, Eddie. You know that right?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Sweet talker.”

“No, I mean it. It’s why I came to find you first before anyone else.”

“Pretty lucky, you finding me in your bed.”

“Never felt luckier.” Steve flashed that smile that used to make all the girls in school swoon and Eddie’s heart was practically beating out of his chest.

“But uh,” Steve looked down, nibbling on his lower lip. “It wasn’t exactly luck that led me to finding you here.”

“What did you prowl after me from the treeline like a creature in the night hunting your prey?”

“No, dude, that sounds so creepy. I-” Steve faltered, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I followed your… your blood. Your scent.”

“My what? I’m not even bleeding.”

Steve nodded absently. “It’s really potent.”

“Oh god, don’t tell me if I skink,” Eddie hid his face in his hands, peeking out through his fingers. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“No, you smell like… it’s like…” Steve inhaled lightly through his nose, as if trying to not make it obvious that he was smelling Eddie’s blood in the air. “It’s really difficult to describe. Like trying to describe a new colour.”

The smell must be really god damn strong right now because he could feel his blood rushing through his body, unsure if it wanted to go to his heart or his face or his dick. “Okay, well what’s the first thing that comes to mind? First word that jumps into your head. Go.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered ever so slightly.

“You smell like… October.”

“October.” Eddie deadpanned.

Well that’s definitely not what he expected. He didn’t even really like the taste of pumpkin.

“Yeah, like… leaves falling on a cold morning. Like a log fire. Mixed up with… with sugar and the night and scratchy warm wool all jumbled together into… Eddie.”

Eddie had to bite down hard on his fucking cheek to stop from outright swooning. Jesus Christ who gave this guy the right?

“Uh-huh. Right. So,” he choked out. “That- that’s it then? The thralling and the blood smelling? Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “Do you have darkvision?”

"I don't know what that is."

"Can you see in low light?"

"Oh yeah." Steve glanced around, only seeming to now notice the room was lit by just moonlight. "I can see you just fine."

"Okay so, darkvision, blood smelling and thralling. Cool."

“I also heal quickly, move fast and I’m super fucking strong.”

“Oh.”

Oh no.

Now his brain was full of images of Steve throwing him around like a ragdoll and he was pretty sure he was about to expire on the spot.

Like, he'd guessed based on what he'd seen but having it confirmed was… something else entirely.

“Wanna see?”

“Wh-which part?”

Before he could even blink, Steve was in front of him, gripping him around the thighs and hoisting him up. Eddie was vaguely aware they were moving. Where to? He really didn’t fucking care at that moment, he just squawked like a bird and latched on as tight as he could, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and scrabbling at his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.”

Eddie couldn’t respond, his- he wasn’t- his brain was in his dick and he was pretty sure he’d dropped like twenty IQ points.

His entire body was rattling with the force of his heartbeat as he was pressed up against the bedroom wall like he weighed as much as a stuffed animal and he was practically panting from everything thrumming through him.

“I have a question for you.” Steve asked, even and measured and frustratingly calm.

Eddie looked at Steve whose eyes were so cocky and self-satisfied it should have been an immediate turn off but he was pretty sure nothing could turn him off right now.

He only managed to breathe out a mmhm as Steve held him there, gently, with only the weight of his body keeping him in place, sandwiched in between a solid chest and a solid wall and with his legs clamped around Steve’s hips and holy mother of god.

“That bandana in your back pocket…”

Yeah, Eddie had completely stopped breathing.

“Does it always stay on the same side?”

Steve wasn’t even looking at his eyes anymore, he was pretty resolutely staring at his lips, his jaw, his neck and Eddie had fucking transcended consciousness, no longer on this plane of existence.

He shook his head, like an idiot before trying to push an answer out.

“I sw-” His throat swallowed suddenly, involuntarily, against his will. “I switch.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still hot on him, low and lidded. "Me too."

Eddie could do nothing but stare with his mouth parted, the puffs of air he was breathing out gently ruffling Steve's hair.

“And how do you like it?” Steve’s hands were slowly crawling backwards, inching up his thighs towards his ass.

Eddie swallowed again. “Rough.”

Steve’s eyes were nearly black but there was none of that yellow colour that had appeared before around the edges. Any colour that was visible was that human honey-brown.

“I could hurt you.”

“I’d like it.”

“No, I could really hurt you. I’m not… I’m not human anymore.”

“You never would though.”

Steve searched his eyes, looking intently for any kind of doubt or hesitation but of course there was none. Eddie had been all in for a long time now. He slung his arms loosely around Steve’s shoulders, running his fingers lightly through his hair and squeezing his legs tighter, bringing the two of them incrementally closer.

“You have to tell me to stop. If I- if it’s too much or too far… you have to tell me to stop. Or slap me, punch me, push me away, anything-”

“I’ll tell you to stop, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Will you kiss me now, please?”

Steve leaned forward, gentle and careful. His lips were warm and smooth and he was pliant and golden and god damn perfect but Eddie was having none of being treated like a delicate porcelain doll. He bit down hard on Steve’s bottom lip, being rewarded by a sound of surprise before it changed into something darker and the thrill was like a live wire through him.

It was like being hit by lightning the way his whole body tensed from anticipation then went limp, trying to mould himself against Steve’s chest like water. There was a large hand in his hair and another on his ass grinding, pushing and pulling him forward and backward and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never tasted anything so indulgent in his life before.

They were a mess of grabbing hands and desperate tongues and his jeans and boxers were being ripped effortlessly under him, right down the middle so he didn’t have to unwind his legs and holy motherfucking shit he nearly came on the spot from that alone.

He begged Steve to bite him. Begged and pleaded and whined and got downright pissy about it but Steve refused.

“I’m not going to accidentally kill you in the middle of fucking your brains out.”

“It wouldn’t- fuck, Jesus Christ Ste- it wouldn’t-” Eddie was finding it very difficult to string a coherent sentence together in between getting his guts punched out and the rhythmic up and down movement of Steve’s thrusts. “Wouldn’t be a bad way to go- Ah!”

“You’re a menace. Let me be sweet to you, baby.”

“Yeah, real fuckin’- real fuckin’ sweet. Oh, fuck me. T- Tell that to my jeans.”

Eddie was completely lost to the stars, surrounded and invaded by Steve and he’d never been more thankful for anything in his life before.

If he could show himself from the start of spring break a snapshot of this moment, that this is where everything led… sweaty and panting and undone, being wiped down with extreme care with the only thing that was in reach which was some scrap of fabric that had been magicked out of somewhere, by the man of his dreams who was looking at him like he was someone… he’s pretty sure he’d do it all over again.

Just to get here.

Although… Eddie grimaced as he thought a little harder on it.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked as he helped Eddie out of his ruined jeans, dropping down heavily next to him on the bed. Steve’s hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat and he was sleepy and blissed out, blinking at him with those giant hazel eyes.

“I think I would have preferred if you didn’t have to die for us to have gotten here.”

Steve pursed his lips and shrugged. “We’re here now. I think if I hadn't died we’d have gotten here anyway. I’m kind of crazy about you, you know?”

“Oh really?” Eddie grinned, laying back, closing his eyes and stretching out his body like a giant cat, completely comfortable in his nakedness. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Har har.” Steve crawled up the bed, settling down on the pillows next to him.

Eddie reached over to brush a lock of hair back into place. “I’m crazy about you too.”

Steve smiled, turning his head a little to hide in his pillows. “I can tell.”

“Am I that obvious?” Eddie wiggled around, trying to snuggle himself up as much as possible under the covers.

“Yeah.” Steve followed suit, burying himself in deep. “But I can also hear your heartbeat and it’s been singing to me since you swung that bat.”

“I mean,” Eddie shuffled a little closer. His body was so tender. He was going to be so sore tomorrow, he couldn’t wait. “You were a creature of the night creeping up on me to come and steal my seed.”

Steve blinked at him before lifting his hands and holding Eddie’s face softly. “Jesus Christ, you are so fucking weird.” He pulled him forwards into a kiss that was so adoring and sickly sweet Eddie thought he could feel a cavity coming in.

He kept his eyes closed for a second after the kiss was broken, sucking his lips into his mouth.

“Do you sleep?” He asked, yawning.

“Better than I have in years, ironically enough.”

“Good. Because I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake for. And we have a lot of people to see tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Steve turned his back, pulling Eddie’s arms tight around him.

“G’night sweetheart.” He mumbled against the back of Steve’s neck.

“Night Eds.”

~x~X~x~

It was an entirely new experience, waking up slowly, one that he hadn’t had in over a month.

Before this he would jump awake from every little sound in the boathouse and when he was safe again with Uncle Wayne he’d always wake up suddenly, either screaming, panting or crying.

Lying relaxed and easy, opening his eyes slowly and feeling warmth and comfort around him was something he had sorely missed.

Steve was pressed up against his chest and held tight, still passed out and beautiful in the indirect morning light.

Eddie snuggled back in, not wanting to move, not wanting to give this up for anything in the world.

If he hadn’t seen first hand the devastation that the Party was currently experiencing he would have made a hell of an argument for staying here all damn day.

But he’d already been gone for far far longer than he ever had before and they were going to notice. There was no need to send them all into a panic ahead of time, especially when it was going to be an extremely emotionally exhausting day already.

Steve huffed in his sleep, stirring and apparently irritated at the very idea of having to wake up. Eddie gleefully filed it away, delighted that sunshine boy himself Steve Harrington was not a morning person.

He was shoved onto his back as Steve rolled over, draping himself completely over Eddie’s chest and apparently settling down to go straight back to sleep.

“Stevie.” Eddie sing-songed.

Another huff.

“It’s time to rise and shine with Mr. Sun.” He traced his fingers across Steve’s face, outlining his cheeks, his jaw, his nose.

“Mr. Sun can fuck off.” Steve grumbled, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s sternum. “‘M a creature of the night. Mr. Sun is my enemy.”

“We don’t actually know that yet. We’ve gotta get you out into the light to find that out.”

Steve turned his head, poking his chin into Eddie’s chest, squinting and trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was a mess, completely flat on one side, sticking up in every direction in the other. Paired with the unhappy scowl on his face it was the most adorable thing Eddie had ever seen.

“Come on, baby. We gotta go inform everyone you’ve risen from the grave.”

“Just call them here.”

Eddie froze for just a second, regaining his composure quickly but not quickly enough to not be noticed. Steve sat up, hovering over him. “What is it?”

Eddie chewed on his lip, looking up at the concerned look he was getting. “They won’t come here. It’s too- they think you’re dead, first off. So it would be like breaking and entering… or tomb raiding or something. But they’re all not really… in a place to be around anything that reminds them of you. It hurts too much.”

A complicated set of emotions flitted over Steve’s face before he let out a soft “Oh.” slumping where he sat.

“We usually meet up at my place now. Big Government gave me and Wayne a house so that’s nice.” He reached up to push back some of Steve’s wild morning hair. “But I’m going to have to borrow some pants. Some savage got at my jeans last night and I’d rather not arrive home in DIY assless chaps.”

“You’d hear no complaints from me.” Steve muttered, smiling a little as Eddie wormed his way out from under him, wincing slightly as he stood, crossing the room and starting to dig through the drawers.

“Of course I wouldn’t. But I’m just taking these to get home in,” he waved a pair of sweats around “I’ll change into something more fashionable once we get in.”

Steve scoffed. “Fashionable. Right.”

Once Steve had managed to drag himself out of bed and he got dressed, they both stood in front of the closed front door.

“It’s pretty sunny out there.”

“Yeah.”

“No neighbours though. So no one to see if you shrivel up.”

“I won’t shrivel up.”

“Maybe you’ll turn to ash.”

“Oh thanks, now that’s in my head.”

Eddie took Steve’s hand. “You really think you’ll be okay, though?”

Steve squeezed his hand back. “Only one way to find out.” He swung the door open and without missing a beat stuck his hand straight out into the sunlight.

The hand didn’t shrivel up or turn to ash but Steve didn’t leave it out there for too long. “Feels like really intense summer sun. Like a heatwave. But that’s all.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Better than ash.”

“Yeah.”

They both looked out across the front garden again. Eddie’s van was about ten feet away, without a lick of shade in between.

“Think you can make it into the back okay?”

“I’ll just sit in the front.”

“Not that I don’t want to parade you around town sweetheart, but people will see you. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I can hide. Use my thrall or whatever.”

“Oh yeah, and I’ll wrap the van around a tree when I get confused about where you’ve gone.”

“Well obviously I won’t use it on you.” Steve rolled his eyes, tugging on one of Eddie’s curls.

“You can choose?” Eddie slapped Steve’s hand away, trying and failing to smooth his hair back down.

“Kinda. I can choose who isn’t thralled.”

“Freaky.”

Steve chuckled. “Thanks.”

Eddie smiled back, having to drag his eyes away to check his watch. “Okay. It’s still a bit early to start volunteering at the shelter so Wayne could be home. I might have to pretend you’re not there.”

Steve nodded, nonchalant and entirely too innocent. Eddie couldn’t help but feel like he was walking into a trap but Steve just smiled at him, gentle and easy.

“I’m on to you.” Eddie said as he stepped out of the house and crossed the garden to open the passenger door. He wasn’t, he had no idea what devious thing Steve was thinking up but he didn’t have to know that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

By the time he had rounded the van to pull his own door open, Steve was already sitting in the passenger seat, moving faster than Eddie could see.

He just rolled his eyes, hopping inside. “Show off.”

They didn’t really talk on the ride over, Steve was taking in all the ways the town had changed in the past month, how abandoned it was, the cracks in the earth.

Eddie hesitated at the threshold of his front door, turning to look back at Steve from the hallway.

“Are you not gonna invite me in?” Steve asked with a cheeky smile.

Eddie smiled right back, shaking his head and waiting with his hands clasped behind his back.

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes now, taking a swift and unimpeded step forward into the house, grinning again.

“Ed?”

Wayne’s sudden voice came from right behind him causing him to jump nearly a foot into the air.

“Are we air conditioning the whole road now? Close the door.” His uncle was waving his hand in front of him in a closing motion, completely blind to the resurrected vampire standing just to his right.

“Right, sorry!” Eddie shot Wayne what he hoped was a bashful smile while Steve sniggered loudly beside him. He closed the front door and whacked Steve across the arm before following his uncle into the kitchen.

It really hit him then how strange it all was as Wayne started informing him of the latest drama at the shelter. It was a very strange sensation, to be standing, talking to his uncle as if it were just the two of them, like there wasn’t an apex predator of a creature standing over his shoulder directly in Wayne’s line of sight but not seen.

It made him feel uneasy, like he was on display in a zoo or some kind of arena. And Steve, ever the meddling bastard, was trying to torture him.

“Marion needs to get her head out of her ass.”

Wayne just shrugged as he knocked back the last of his coffee. “It’s easier to let her think she’s in charge.”

“I don’t know how you hold your tongue around her.”

“Not all of us go pickin’ fights against ‘the man’ for no good reason, Ed.”

“There’s plenty of ‘good reason’!” Eddie threw his hands up. “Marion wishes she-” He inhaled sharply as a pair of hands grasped his hips and Steve ground himself right up against Eddie’s ass.

Wayne cocked an eyebrow at him. “You alright?”

“Uh,” Eddie breathed out as he attempted to jab his elbow backwards, trying to make it look like he was running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I’m-”

That was a terrible mistake. A terrible mistake because as he’d shifted his hair he’d left his neck exposed and there was now a pair of warm lips running gently up and down his skin.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure you’re not comin’ down with something? You look a little flushed.”

“Yeah, you look a little flushed, Eddie.” Steve’s husky voice breathed into his ear and he fought hard not to shudder. He was gonna stake Steve in the heart himself, the prick.

Eddie breathed in, flapping his arms around trying to make it look like a dramatic gesture. “I’m good, don’t worry about it.”

Wayne stared him down for a few more seconds before putting his empty cup in the sink. “Alright. I gotta run. Don’t be gettin’ up to any mischief while I’m gone.”

“No promises.” Eddie laughed, a little hysterically, waving his uncle off. “Bye Wayne!”

As soon as the front door clicked closed he rounded on Steve who had the most infuriating smile on his face.

“Were you trying to fuck me in front of my uncle?”

“Wanted to test my limits.” Steve tilted his head innocently.

“Your limits? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“So I heard.” Steve purred, leaning in close but stopped short, his eyes snapping to the front door over Eddie’s shoulder. “Someone’s outside.”

“Yeah, Wayne. Don’t change the subject. I didn’t know I was starting up with some kind of sex demon-”

“It’s not Wayne.”

Eddie glanced behind him to see the door still closed and no one lurking in the window before looking back at Steve.

“Are you still hidden?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Eddie took a few deep breaths trying to bring the flush on his cheeks down and get himself back under control before he made the few strides necessary across the floor plan of the house and swung open the front door.

Shit.

Robin stood there, with her arms wrapped around herself, wearing a sweater that he was positive she’d stolen from Steve months ago, the same blank look on her face and her eyes on the ground.

Eddie hesitated for just a second before he decided whatever was about to happen, it was better for it to happen inside. He stepped back from the door, letting her in and coming up with a complete blank of how to move forward with this suddenly delicate situation.

After he’d clicked the door close behind her he turned to Steve who was openly staring at Robin, wide eyed and incredibly worried. He looked devastated, letting out a small exhale, a whisper of “Robbie” that sounded so pained and so small.

Robin’s head snapped up with a quickness she hadn’t possessed for a long time, her eyes sharp and alert.

“Steve?”

The colour had completely drained from her face. Eddie had never really understood the phrase white as a sheet until that moment, it was like she didn’t have a single drop of blood left in her head.

Robin swayed dangerously on the spot for just a second before her eyes rolled completely back and she collapsed into a dead faint.

Before Eddie could reach out, before her body could even hit the ground Steve had almost teleported from one end of the room to the other, catching her securely in his arms and clutching her tight to his chest.

“How…” He breathed, turning his panicked gaze back up to him. “How could she see me? Eddie? She wasn’t- she wasn’t supposed to be able to see me!”

Steve knelt down on the ground, settling Robin gently in his lap and cradling her close to him. Eddie just shook his head dumbly in their direction, he didn’t know. He didn’t have any answers. He was just as shocked as Steve was.

Before either of them could say anything else, Robin stirred in Steve’s arms.

The two of them looked down at her with bated breath as her eyes fluttered open, squinting and confused before widening when she realised who she was looking up at.

“Ahoy, sailor.” Steve whispered.

Robin placed a shaking hand on either side of Steve’s face.

“Am I dead?” She croaked, her voice weak from lack of use.

“No,” Steve let out a wet laugh, sniffling immediately after. “No, Birdie, you’re not dead.”

��Oh.” Her eyes darted around Steve’s face, taking it all in before glancing to Eddie, taking in the room behind him then back to Steve as though trying to figure out exactly where she was.

Robin blinked slowly once more before her face crumpled and twisted into a sob and she threw her arms around Steve’s neck.

“I’m sorry. Robin, Birdie, Bobby, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was supposed to be a gentler introduction, I swear. You weren’t supposed to see me.” Steve babbled as Eddie tried to quietly remove himself from the situation, to give them some privacy, slowly backing away, patting his pockets, looking for his cigarettes.

“Stevie-Evie. Steve.” Robin implored. “I'll always see you.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

@romanticdestruction, @darkwitchoferie, @justforthedead89, @didntwant2come, @estrellami-1, @warlordess, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @weeennussy, @studentlife-with-sassyaf-friends

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dreemurr-skelememer · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, uh, have a fanfic I guess? I dunno where this came from but here-

It’s not the best but midnight writing is hit or miss lol

(Heavily debated whether to post this on or off anon, anxiety ruled out-)

alsoloveyourartokbye

~~~

“-and it was just so… dreamy! I don’t know how he moves like that!”

Dream had been gushing about his latest crush for the past half hour, his aura pulsing like a solar flare with his giddiness.

Blue and Hearts were listening avidly, cooing and awwing at the way the positive guardian was practically swooning.

Ink had tuned out a while ago, drawing lightly in his sketchbook to the comforting background noise of his friends.

“…Ink?” The artist looked up with a questioning hum, seeing three pairs of eyelights trained on them.

“What’s up?” They asked with a confused smile.

Dream chuckled. “I asked if you’ve ever been in love before.”

Ink froze.

Had they ever…

Been in…

A ringing sound began to overtake everything else as they stared into nothingness.

He barely registered the concerned voices of his friends as the ringing grew louder and his vision grew fuzzier.

Flashes and whispers flew through his mind; a gentle voice, a soft blue jacket, yellow, red, a bright light, dust…

He felt lost.

~~~

“…nk…in…Ink!” He jolted with a quiet gasp, hearing and vision returning in an instant as someone called his name.

A gentle breeze brushed across their face, the sweet scent of flowers accompanied by the singing of distant birdsong echoed on the wind.

He was sitting on a large hill, cushioned by soft grass and surrounded by wildflowers humming with little insects. The sun shone bright in a blue sky, fluffy clouds dotted here and there across the expanse. The shade of a large tree blocked most of the beaming light, keeping him cool and comfortable.

The view was calming; the grassy hill sloped downward into a field that turned into sprawling forest that went on for seemingly forever. The tops of the trees swayed in the wind, and he could see how the leaves flashed as they moved.

“Ink? Are you alright?” The question had him turning his head to face the speaker.

For some reason, he felt like crying.

Gin was giving them a gentle smile, concern poorly hidden in his gaze as he tilted his head slightly.

“You zoned out there for a moment, inkblot. Did I bring up a bad topic?”

Ink blinked, staring into the face of his friend as he fumbled for words.

“Uhm, what… were we talking about?” They asked hesitantly.

Gin chuckled.

“I asked if you’d ever been in love before.”

The patient smile on the other skeletons face made something clench in his ribs.

“I… no, I haven’t. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.” They looked away. “Being soulless and all. My love would be a lie.”

Gin huffed in laughter, and Ink raised a browbone at him.

“What?”

Gin merely shook his head.

“Nothing, it’s just, you seem to love so much.” He turned his body to face Ink, and the expression on his face made their cheekbones heat up.

“H-how do you mean?” They brought their scarf up to cover their lower face.

It didn’t help when Gin awwed at their rare display of bashfulness.

“It’s not always obvious, but you love in lots of little ways. Like how you put so much detail and effort into drawings of your friends and family, how you always bring me and Kin souvenirs you think we’d like from your travels, how you attend to the AUs and keep them safe and protected, the way you talk about the people you care for… you do love, Ink. I’ve known you long enough to tell.”

With every reason Gin listed, Ink felt his face grow hotter and hotter and before long, he figured it would be rather easy to cook an egg on his burning skull.

They heard Gin laughing again and pulled their scarf up to cover their entire head, his words making something churn warm and bright deep in their empty ribcage.

Arms wrapped around them to pull them into a comforting hold, and after a few moments they returned the gesture, burying their face instead into Gin’s shoulder with a wheeze.

“… you’re gonna kill me one day.” Their voice was muffled by fabric. They felt Gin shake with mirth, and a hand came up to gently rub the back of their skull. They melted into the touch.

“That would make me sad. But getting to see you flustered is a treat.” Ink groaned at the teasing, tapping a gentle fist against the other skeletons back in a wordless protest, much to Gin’s amusement.

They sat together for a while, listening to the birds sing, feeling the cool grass brush against their legs, enjoying the shade of the tree they rested under.

Feeling in control again, Ink drew back from the hug and met Gin’s gaze.

His eyes held only softness, and Ink felt both comforted and shy looking into his sockets.

“So, Ink. Have you ever been in love?”

Ink so badly wanted to draw the expression on his friends face, to preserve this moment for all of time.

That pretty grey-blue blush light on pale cheekbones, highlighting the cracks around his socket.

The gentleness in his soft lights, the love and care they held for Ink and Ink alone in this precious sliver of time.

Warmth curled in his chest as the artist felt his breath catch, his own blush reignited.

“… I think I have.”

~~~

Ink gasped as he was suddenly doused in freezing water, snapping out of the memory in an instant as he was abruptly returned to reality.

He sputtered out a “what the hell?!” as his friends crowded around him, shouting their worry and relief.

“Ink! Oh stars, you’re back! I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I had no idea-“

Dream was in tears, bright yellow magic falling from his sockets as he apologized profusely.

Blue had a hand on their shoulder, glancing all over their face with concern in his baby blue lights.

“Are you alright, Ink? You were not responding to us at all, you just sat there staring for almost an hour!”

Hearts sat down beside them, a towel and a change of clothes in hand along with a steaming mug of what smelled like chamomile-lavender tea.

Their head felt fuzzy and clouded, and they brought a hand up to rub at their nasal bone when pain throbbed behind their sockets.

“What… what happened?” They groaned.

“I’m not sure, hon. You looked so lost and out of it. We couldn’t get you to respond to anything. The water was a last resort.” Hearts explained.

“Oh… sorry for scaring you. I don’t know why I...” They rubbed at their skull again as it pulsed.

“Does your head hurt?” Ink nodded at Dream’s question, and soon felt two hands on the sides of his head. Warmth bloomed where they made contact, and Ink sighed as the pain slowly vanished.

“Thank you.” They looked up to meet the guardians eyes.

“Here,” Hearts handed them the clothes and towel, “go dry off and get changed, then come back for the tea. If you want to we can talk afterwards.” Ink nodded again, feeling a shiver run through their body as they were reminded of the cold dampness of their clothes.

He stood up, shakily, and made his way down the hall to the bathroom, ignoring the worried whispers of his friends behind him.

~~~

Ink stared into the bathroom mirror, taking in their haggard expression with slight distain. They felt so weary and tired, even though it was still fairly early in the evening.

He sighed quietly, rubbing at his sockets before turning away from his reflection and throwing his soaked clothes into the hamper.

Making their way out of the bathroom, they jolted upon seeing something out of the corner of their eye, whipping around to stare at their startled reflection in the mirror.

After a few seconds he shook his head and left the room, figuring it was just a trick of the light aided by his exhausted mind.

It was a nice thought, though, that Gin was still watching out for him.

~~~

Surrounded by the soft breathing of his friends, (and snoring from Dream), Ink, despite his weariness, found that sleep was evading him.

He was still stuck on what had happened earlier, when he’d awoken to icy water being dumped over him to snap him out of… whatever state he’d been in.

There was a large blank spot in their memory. Dream had asked a question, and then what felt like seconds later, they were doused in cold water.

The question… what was the question?

‘Have you ever been in love?’

Oh.

Right.

They remember now.

Their answer was swallowed up by the darkness of the living room.

“… I think I have.”

ANON DO YOU GET SICK KICKS FROM RUINING MY NIGHT LIKE THIS ?? ? ??s f???!?!?!?!?!????

THIS IS SOOO....SO SO SOooooo BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN. I FELT THIS IN MY VERY BONES AND CRUSHED THEM WITH THE WEIGHT OF THE WORDS.

the gentle scenery, the two settings, the comforting feeling while i read.......oh anon.....................how could you do this to Me

you did it......youve fully captured them in my eyes.............you did it.......................

#Anonymous #i have no words besides 'this is so unbelievably stunning i want to cry and store this in my heart and keep it etched there forever'#they're so. tehey are so. anon you. oh my ghod.#kia takes shit

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queenlua · 11 months ago

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I have now seen the boy and the heron and I must confess I don't think I really.... get it? I went in with my themes/imagery/metaphor interpretation brain module attempting to fire on every cylinder it's got but after mulling it over with the friends I saw it with, it feels a bit like I'm grasping at straws.

Maybe the pelicans are people individuals trying to survive and feed their families even if it comes at the cost of others, maybe the parakeets are gluttonous jingoists, maybe the granny is de-aged because people we write off as silly old coots do in fact have rich inner lives and complex histories and competencies, maybe there was something about trusting the next generation with the keys to the future... I dunno. I barely understand what happened in the movie! It feels like there was a ton of imagery that went way over my head, and I don't know if I lack the cultural or historical background to pick up on it or what.

I'm curious about your thoughts and interpretations, if you're interested in sharing them!

(Gorgeous movie though, all the environments were so rich, I especially loved the clouds during the beachside sequences, and the boat. And I loved the way the parakeet king moved!)

i think you’re right that the pieces don’t quite cohere. but man how beautiful and strange a lot of those pieces are

(spoilers and rambling under cut)

the elements i enjoyed:

* the opening. the opening was so extraordinarily patient! i was astounded how long it went with only the barest *hints* at the supernatural. the heron swoops by, the heron calls Mahito’s name at the window, the heron breaks a stick in half—and that is all. around and between those scenes are long, long stretches of Mahito wandering in the backyard, the old maids haggling for cigarettes and canned meat, Mahito alone in his room, Mahito at school, injured, convalescing. it’s so tender and tense at once; i wondered if maybe we were *never* going to drop into an otherworld, and honestly was kind of excited about what kind of story that might be.

* but, drop into the otherworld we do, and there—ah, there was this discordance & darkness i really loved, and a lot of rather explicit rumination of *death*, that i loved even while it made me shiver. it’s the darkest of any Miyazaki i’ve seen, i think—other films have had unbounded appetite as a malignant force (e.g. No-Face’s devouring spree in the bathhouse in Spirited Away), but it’s never been so pervasive or *unchecked* as it is here. (the only thing that stops the parakeets is dragging them out of that world entirely.) in a big way i thought the pelican’s death was the movie’s lynchpin. prior to that point, the otherworld has seemed frightening and unpredictable, but the pelican’s description makes it sound truly *evil*. or—if not evil, so ill-shaped for life that it makes evil *inevitable*—whether the pelicans devour the warawara, or the pelicans starve to death, either way it is a *malformed* kind of death, the death that comes from oceans devoid of fish.

it’s a far cry from the kind of death we see in, say, Princess Mononoke, where death is a daily reality in this war-swept world, something to be faced straight-backed and unflinching; any dread should only come from the choices made up to that point, not at death, which is only a natural conclusion of the choice once made. compare to Spirited Away, where death (or other forms of fairy-like entrapment) is—indeed formidable, profoundly scary, but hard work and determination and keen thought lets one dodge over those bad ends. but in The Boy and the Heron, death happens unnaturally, unavoidably, a symptom of some profound disorder because it is a profoundly disordered—diseased, even—world. (in Mononoke, the lepers lead hard lives, but find life in honest labor as members of Lady Eboshi’s iron town; the starving pelicans have no one.)

* so at that point i’m on board, we’ve got this grieving kid surrounded by hideous death-vibes on all sides, but…

well that leads very naturally into the elements i *didn’t* enjoy haha:

* it’s natural Miyazaki wants to bring in that great-uncle character and his blocks, offering Mahito the choice we all get in some way: pick the very few things you can move, and move them ever so slightly to right the wrongness. it’s rather *on the nose*, but i think i get why it’s there, and it could’ve worked, if the whole story were *just* about that diseased world, but…

* this whole thing started with Mahito and his step-mom, right? grieving kid? needs to learn how to cope with grief & grow up a bit & maybe be a bit more chill to stepmom & ascend beyond the kind of kid who hits himself to garner sympathy? the way it’s presented in the movie, that blocks-world choice feels so *utterly disconnected* from any of those things Mahito needs to do. he says a pithy little bit about how he has to return to people who love him, but—i mean, have we seen him actually change much in relation to those people! (hanging out with young!Kiriko, maybe, but doesn’t feel like enough.) and also, this world sort of sucks and he was only reluctantly dragged there in fhe first place; is there a reason we’ve seen that would make him want to stay? any pull that makes the choice feel fraught? (compare against, e.g., Spirited Away, where it *would* be understandable of Chihiro felt torn about returning—over the course of the film, the spirit-world becomes the place where she learns her own agency and power; crossing back over the threshold into the real world means returning to the place where she was, at the last checkpoint, still a whiny little kid.)

* so yeah my feeling was that there was a serious lack of connective tissue between the idea of “mahito learns to reckon with death and grief” and “mahito learns how to navigate & triumph in this world.” i can imagine tweaks to make that work—for one, the bait-and-switch between rescuing-mom and rescuing-stepmom felt a little strange (it was the main moment where i really wondered if i was missing some cultural nuance—i think it’s a moment of growth if mahito learns to be less *cold* to stepmom, but i don’t think he needs to literally *treat* her the same as mom, and… i got the vibe that that’s what the story expected him to do?). and that connective tissue *could* be built up—foreshadow the appearance of the great-uncle some more, and make the stakes/weight of that choice more clear; probably have a couple conversations between Mahito and the heron that more clearly touch on, e.g., whether Mahito expects to find his mom, what he expects to get out of this, how *he* feels about saving the stepmom instead, and also the heron’s motives (i think we do! need to find out! at some point! what exactly the heron’s getting out of it—if the heron’s e.g. angling the whole time for the destruction of the world, that could add a lot of weight/triangulation to that central choice!) and the fact that at the end the otherworld is destroyed—instead of still out there, somewhere—that itself could be used as a meditation on needful vs needless death/suffering or something, idk. that tissue isn’t in the movie itself but i think it’s gestured at.

* …or, well, that’s what i was thinking, until i read this post (linked to me by krad, HI KRAD YOU’RE THE BEST), which… makes the case that all that shit with the great-uncle/mom/stepmom/heron is just kinda… forced symbolism about what The Process Of Making A Film Is Like… and, man, that read makes a depressing amount of sense, lol. so yeah i think that’s probably what miyazaki was Actually Going For and that’s what you want in order to “get it” haha. but i like my weird sideways angle on it better so i typed all that up too, HOPE IT WAS AT LEAST MILDLY INTRIGUING

#toasthaste

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yardsards · 2 years ago

Note

THIS https://www.tumblr.com/sepublic/683707612130312192/i-feel-what-makes-huntlow-work-for-both

But the too long, didn't read version is that Hunter meets Willow as her real self first, strong and confident and extremely talented, without the knowledge of who she used to be. And Willow meets Hunter as just a normal, awkward teen (so...like the real hunter) without initially knowing he was the golden guard! It's about identity and first impressions and being seen how you want to be seen and having a fresh start!

But apart from that:

Half a Witch thing (mostly their reactions, you can see the he/she's just like me... from both of them)

They are very fast friends, they start chatting on penstagram a couple of minutes after their first meeting ends (probably again because of the first impressions and half a witch thing)

Hearing Willow say she was half a witch being one of hunter's worst memories

Them being shown to make a good team in any sport in a storm, labyrinth runners and clouds on the horizon

That moment in labyrinth runners when they manage to have a conversation without even audibly speaking to each other

Willow going batshit crazy to save him and running straight off to the airship without a plan (when she's previously shown to be pretty level-headed when her friends are in danger) (if that's not an indication of emotional closeness, I dunno what is)

Just her reaction to Hunter's death with the be careful with him and Willow cradling him

To be honest, I think with the limited time, they did a pretty good job of getting across that these two are a set, do not separate

And :

1. Prior to for the future, Willow never actually blushed or acted nervous around Hunter (which are the main two indicators of a crush in The Owl House). In clouds of the horizon, I would say that while the story showed that Willow has a lot of care and affection for Hunter, it was the fandom that assumed that that affection was romantic back then.

2. Nearly all of Willow's outfits have been the colours of the aromantic or aro-ace flags

3. Someone actually made a post before enchanting Grom fright detailing all the reasons that they believed willow might have been intended to be aro. That post has since been deleted but I do have it copied out if you want to see it all

4. Willow would have been amazing as aromantic rep. She is kind bubbly warm extroverted and affectionate. She spits in the face of every negative stereotype there's ever been for aros.

5. Prior to for the future (hisss...) Willow was the only one in the hexsquad never to have had even indication of a crush (because Gus had blushed at Bria before)

6. I just think it would have been really fun to develop a queerplatonic relationship in contrast to lumity which is is a very mushy, very stereotypical very fairytale romance

7. Honestly I considered this the reason Huntlows relationship hadn't been cut despite the the shortened season

and so I tricked myself into believing that the writers had intended for queerplatonic Huntlow to be canon until for the future came along. Now I can conclude that I was wrong and Willow is most likely not aro and her affection for hunter is most likely romantic however, I have considered pinky holds to be a queerplatonic thing beforehand due to another movie called wish dragon. And then there was that non romantic love confession and a yellow and pink background in one of their earlier scenes together so yeah, despite this episode invalidating all the reasons I had originally started liking queerplatonic Huntlow, their soft moment this episode certainly had a lot of queerplatonic swag to me. And look astriiformes agrees

{{{ I know I’m biased but can I just say. Having Willow and Hunter’s soft moment in this most recent ep be them telling each other “You mean a lot to me” and then doing a little like… tenderly linking fingers as an expression of affection has

Huge queerplatonic vibes.

#expressions of affection that are not explicitly romantic but nonetheless very emotionally intimate........... hello, #kind of reminds me of like. mako and raleigh's forehead bump in pacific rim, #'you mean a lot to me' too is hm. hmmm, #i have a lot of feelings about that phrase already and now i have more, #it's about the ways to say 'i love you' without saying 'i love you', #ough....., #owl house tag, #toh spoilers, }}}

(From astriiformes on tumblr because I couldn't get the link to work, i'm sorry astriiformes)

I am also very sorry this post is so freaking long

thank you for the long response! lots of neat points

while i still can't quite see them as partners, it definitely does bring me more appreciation for their friendship

also mood, i have been headcanoning willow as arospec for a long time + yea i think it would've been so cool to get a canon qpr in a popular show like this

#eliot posts #toh #(this is in response to a post i made days ago)#(i forgor to answer this for a while whoops)#queerplatonic huntlow

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magicalrobodokiofficial · 2 years ago

Text

Not just a fan, a Fanatic!

thanks to @weaponsdrawn for motivating me to complete this cool drawing!

Basically my self insert, an intern at the company who just joined, really wants to be part of the Robodoki team. Eventually she realizes she isn't the main character and self loathes that she isn’t fit to be chosen as a magical girl. Diana and Glitch promise her that she can become one if they get the Robodoki team to their base.

Her power is throwing ace playing cards at people, mainly to steal their powers, but also as combat shirukens and shields. The powers she can steal range from general dark magic, like what Redacted has, to Robodoki abilities and even skills that other people have (such as Helen's ability to think of evacutation plans).

The power copy isn’t perfect, especially with the inevitable nerfing of some op powers. Also, the more powers she takes, the weaker each individual power becomes.

Eventually, my self insert snaps outta it by being told she’s the magical girl bad guy and she’s hurting her idols, like it or not.

Miraging Mini-Fic Under the Cut!

///

Abby couldn't help but shed a few tears as worries began to cloud her mind. Her sandwhich was left uneaten, her chips untouched, and her feelings were undoubtably conflicted, to say the least.

She had rushed in to try to calm down some dumb Cookie mirage, and Aian- er- Robodoki told her to butt out of it. To not risk her life to become a magical girl like a lot of interns apparently did, because all the slots were taken. And while she did understand why she said that, deep down, that didn't mean it shouldn't have caused SOME feelings of inadequecy, right?

"...She might as well had told me to stay in my place." She sighed as she glanced at her wallpaper, which sure enough had all 5 Robodoki members alongside her, posing for a picture. "And I'd admit...I was stupid for doing that. But...I dunno...isn't that what MADE them a magical girl in the first place? Rushing into danger and attempting to help? Can't I just..."

Her voice trailed off. A black card was inexplicably wedged in her sandwhich. Even more inexpeciably, she picked it up, and a vision of her being a bonafide ace-slash-magician themed magical girl played on its animated surface.

She lit up. Glitch took notice.

Ah, I see you wanna be a magical girl! Very fucking cool goal, if I do say so myself, even if all the magical girls were already chosen before you arrived. His bratty teenage voice echoed through Abby's head. Good thing we have a way to fix that! Make you the strongest magical girl of them all!

Yeah!!!! A mature sounding voice, Mirai, piped in with more excitement than she usually had. She was trying to sell Abby by riling her up. Letting her excitement overcome her logic. You look like the kind of girl who loves Kirby, right? So we gave the ability to steal powers using Ace cards, which you can ALSO use for combat in any way your imagination desires! And of course, we've developed a maho shoujo outfit that'll trump even Doki's frills! AND all we ask in return is to knock the Robodoki gang out of the picture and into our base! She laughed.

"...Really? This isn't me being punk'd?"

Yep, we're willing to do ALL THAT in order to help a fellow dreamer out. That's what we do in MiraiCo.

Hell yeah! So whatdaya say?

Abby lit up in excitement. "If you're waiting me to say I'm fucking sold, well, I'M FUCKING SOLD! THIS IS GONNA BE FUCKING AW-"

Her words were interrupted by being engulfed in a static-covered beam of magic. The beam then proceeded to encase her in a shattered glass crystal cluster, with the inside filling with the same static she was hit with. Said smoke encased Abby's silhouette as the background turned to vantablack.

Now channel your hatred! One arm broke out of the crystals.

Become what you're destined! The other arm broke free.

Fanatic... The crystal fully and dramatically shattered, revealing her new form.

...Our selfish MEGAmirage!!!

#doki art #doki self insert #magical robodoki #robodoki #megamirage #magician #magical girl monster of the week #monster of the week #magical girl #stage magician

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shiroi---kumo · 1 year ago

Note

In what style did you start to write (First person, third person, *-style or novel-style?)

Have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of as ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book?

Who is your favorite OC? (SPECIFICALLY of yours!)

Mun Questions || Accepting

In what style did you start to write (First person, third person, *-style or novel-style?)

Answered Here

Have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of as ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book?

I have! It didn't go well. So meet:

This is Flynn Scifo of Tales of Vesperia and while I grew to love this man desperately when I first met him in the games I was not that impressed. He's a nose to the grindstone, do everything by the book, question nothing, follow orders even if you don't like them knight and I had a lot of problems with him at first. I grew to love him as the game progressed and eventually I tried writing him because I was already writing his counterpart / best friend Yuri Lowell - but I just couldn't.

Yuri is a very sarcastic man and I couldn't hear Flynn in my head when I wrote for him. Instead I heard Yuri being overly dramatic mocking the fuck out of his bestie so that wasn't working.

Another nomination I have for this category also comes from the same game:

This Yeager of Tales of Vesperia and he's a bad guy. He's one of the main mid-bosses of the game and I spent most of the game pissed off at this man and furious with him. I spent a lot of the game angry at him just showing the fuck up and either helping or hurting the party and wondering what the fuck his deal was.

And then I played the part of the game that is his side quest and it gives you some eye opening information about this shark papa and I decided to RP him just to mess with people because there wasn't an active one in the community. I wanted to see if I could pull one over on people and have them realize it was me or not. (It worked because he's very different from Yuri)

So let me tell you this about Yeager. I gave this man a last name. I built out 10 years of his life prior to the beginning of the game. I fleshed out his background. I built the world around him. Yeager was my first real run at world building and I expanded him out as much as I could working with the little canon we got since he's only in half the game. Writing him made me go from "meh" to "I adore this man" and to this day he is one of my top 5 muses. I adore this man to the ends of the earth and he is my precious Shark Papa. I adore him.

Who is your favorite OC? (SPECIFICALLY of yours!)

I dunno if you're going to be able to see this coming but I think you are. If we keep this just to my OCs because there are SO MANY of them now.

We're at:

I am SO WEAK for Aurinko. This precious precious well meaning family loving wife adoring naïve man. He meant so well and got fucked over so HARD. Aurinko was the best damn father he could have been under the circumstances. Aurinko was not a cruel man. Misguided, yes. Flawed, absolutely. Cruel, never.

I love him so fucking much I cry.

But also, special nomination:

Sparkle Dad because Revon just there's so much emotion and love and care and concern behind those very expressive eyes but very quiet lips. He got handed one small puff of white and told to take care of the little wisp of cloud and he was starstruck. He tries so hard and never takes proper care of himself. God this man. I love him so much.

#ask || mun speaks #meme || mun questions #dontcallmealyre #dont call me a lyre #// i have OCs now and its weird but I love them all so fucking much #//even the assholes #// except sumu he's a fucking prick and deserved what he got #tw; long post

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dukeofnone · 5 years ago

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Gintama x Kiki’s Delivery Service

Guess what Hijikata got in the bag? ;)

#i just finished this #gintama #hope you guys like it #pls dont repost #but reblogs appreciated #Hijikata Toushiro #mayora #gender bender #Fanart #gintama fanart #i dunno what to do with background so i made clouds #gintama characters #Hijikata #Kiki's Delivery Service

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ibijau · 3 years ago

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Futures Past pt15 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang returns to the Unclean Realm after his failed year in Gusu

The Unclean Realm, usually a noisy place, had fallen nearly entirely silent as most of the disciples and quite a few servants gathered around its gate. They were all careful to keep a respectable distance from the gate in question, in case things went wrong, but still did their best to be close enough to get a good view. Not that it was particularly necessary to be near enough to hear what was happening. Nie Mingjue had a voice that carried, and it only got worse when he was angry at his brother.

Which he currently was, of course, and for good reason everyone thought. After all, Nie Huaisang had just returned from his time studying in the Cloud Recesses, though he’d apparently done little learning there.

But it wasn’t his failure to pass his exams that had his brother so upset. It was more the fact that on the way back home, Nie Huaisang had decided to leave on his own and disappeared for well over three weeks. The other Nie disciples travelling with him had just found a note on his bed one morning announcing that he didn’t feel like going home yet. They had panicked and sent an urgent message to their sect leader, who had also panicked and launched a search for his brother, in vain.

“You could have been kidnapped!” Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother, who had arrived that morning, looking as careless as if he’d just been gone for a shichen on an errand. “You could have been attacked by bandits! Did you even have your sabre with you?”

“Of course I did!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, patting the weapon at his waist. “What was I going to do, walk around?”

“It would have been safer than flying in your case! What if you’d fallen?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. His cultivation had actually improved quite a bit while he was in the Cloud Recesses, if only because the Lans didn’t let him avoid training as much as his brother did. He was even quite close to forming a golden core, something he’d more or less given up on, and for which he hoped he’d get praised, whenever his brother calmed down enough to hear the news. So while he wasn’t the strongest of flyers, he was doing much better than he used to.

Not that Nie Mingjue was in any mood to hear that.

“I was careful, I swear,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “You’re always saying I should be more independent anyway!”

“Independent, not reckless! And who’s that?” Nie Mingjue roared, pointing at the person next to his brother.

That had been the question on everyone's mind since Nie Huaisang had arrived a little earlier, a boy much younger than himself walking at his side, but so far Nie Huaisang had avoided answering.

“Oh, that’s Xue Yang,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully announced, patting the young boy’s shoulder. “I picked him up along the way. You should test him, I really think he’s going to be a great cultivator someday! Xue Yang, that’s my brother, say hi to him?”

Xue Yang threw Nie Mingjue a very unimpressed look, and gave a half-hearted bow.

“It's an honour to meet Nie zongzhu,” he said with some uncertainty, probably wishing he hadn't been so close while Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother like that.

“Huaisang, where did you find that child?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“It’s a long story,” his brother said.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and waited for the story in question to be told. Nie Huaisang just smiled at him.

“Are you going to tell me how you found him?” Nie Mingjue insisted when nothing more came.

“No. It’s a long story, but it’s not very interesting. He’s here now, though, so that can’t be helped.”

Hearing this, Nie Mingjue turned his attention to Xue Yang, as if hoping he might get an explanation there. The young boy just gave him a wicked smile.

“He said I’d get candies if I came,” Xue Yang said. “Am I gonna get them now or what?”

Nie Mingju’s eyes snapped back to his brother.

“Huaisang, did you steal a child by offering him treats? You realise how bad that looks?”

“It’s not stealing when it’s a person,” Nie Huaisang protested, nervously twisting his fingers for a moment before hiding his hands behind his back. “And I think children count as people, not things. Right?”

“Fine. Did you kidnap a child?”

A little embarrassed, Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulder and looked down at his feet without answering. A mistake, it turned out, because Xue Yang took that as his cue to explain things.

“It’s okay, I don’t have a family anyway,” Xue Yang announced. “He asked before taking me with him, to make sure I’m an orphan. And your brother’s nice. He took me to all those nice inns along the way, and every time he made sure I had food and a bath. He said the baths were very important.”

Nie Mingjue glared at his brother who winced because that could indeed be misunderstood. Which was exactly why Xue Yang had said it like that, he suspected. But really, Xue Yang had been in a pretty bad state when Nie Huaisang had picked him up. His hair was nearly stiff with dirty, he’d recently bled all over his clothes, and he had lice, and...

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to tell the story,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. He had already come up with a sanitised version of events that he could actually share with his brother, but it still annoyed him to not be trusted more. “So, I wanted to visit Kuizhou, you see? Everyone says the landscapes around it are so gorgeous, and so melancholic, and they are by the way. I want to go back to paint and write and…”

“Focus, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, right. So, I went there,” Nie Huaisang said, playing with the hem of his sleeve. “And I was visiting and stuff, and then I see a grown man punching and kicking a kid! Just because the kid had grabbed a few things from him!”

“Yeah, it was just his purse, and there wasn’t even that much money in it,” Xue Yang helpfully provided. “Well, and a few buns from his stall, and those apples from the stall next to his, and…”

“Shut it,” Nie Huaisang hissed, before returning his attention to his brother, a bright smile on his face. “So, you always say we have to defend the weak, and nobody’s weaker than a kid, so I went to check what was going on, right? And the man told me that kid is a terrible thief that’s plaguing their town, and he’s going to beat him up until all his bones are broken and he can never bother anyone else. But it’s just a kid!”

“Yeah, I’m just a kid!”

“Shut it! Anyway, I rescued the kid, because he really was in a bad state. And then I figured, well, how can someone that’s just a kid be such a good thief, right? So I checked and he’s got good dispositions for cultivation!”

It had been a lucky realisation, because he hadn’t known for sure that Xue Yang even was meant to become a cultivator, nor a talented one for that matter. In fact, the whole thing had been unbelievably lucky. Sure Nie Huaisang had spent three whole days searching everywhere for Xue Yang, but he’d been about ready to give up when he’d finally found him in roughly the exact way he'd described.

“The local sect are a bunch of pricks who didn’t want to take him in when I asked,” Nie Huaisang explained, as if he could ever have left Xue Yang into the care of strangers who might have failed to stop him from becoming evil. “So I brought him home. He’s going to be a great disciple!”

Having listened to that story with mounting annoyance, Nie Mingjue glared at his brother.

“Huaisang, that’s…”

“You always say people deserve a chance no matter their background!”

“Oh so you do listen when I talk sometimes?”

“He’s an orphan, and he’s talented, and someone has to do something, and we can’t send him back or else he might continue stealing maybe!”

“I’ll definitely continue stealing if you send me back,” Xue Yang promised with a smirk.

Nie Huaisang glared at him. Evil or not, Xue Yang knew how to be annoying.

He also knew how to be charming, though. He’d been absolutely delightful with a bunch of people they’d met on the way to Qinghe whenever he’d thought he could get something out of it. And it had worked, too. Xue Yang had obtained a lot of sweets from a lot of people, as well as some money here and there. And that was without mentioning the stuff he’d just outright stolen, sometimes from the very people generously sharing something with him. He was a little pest, all right.

But he was smart too, smart enough to understand what an incredible opportunity he’d been given. It would have been easy for Xue Yang to run away into the night, taking with him all of Nie Huaisang’s money. He was a skilled enough thief to manage it, especially once he’d realised that Nie Huaisang wasn’t a skilled enough cultivator to pursue him. But he hadn’t, because he’d been promised a chance of becoming a cultivator if Nie Huaisang could just convince his brother.

Of course, that was a pretty big 'if'.

A year earlier, Nie Huaisang would have been certain that he could convince his brother of anything. He’d never had any reason to doubt that, not until his future self had come into his life uninvited and whispered poison to him about Nie Mingjue having a bad opinion of him. And maybe he was right, that old prick. Nie Huaisang had messed up so badly in the Cloud Recesses, failing his classes in a way most people never did. He’d shamed his sect, his clan, his brother, and now he had the galls of asking for a huge favour, as if he had any right to…

“How old are you?” Nie Mingjue asked Xue Yang, who shrugged.

“Dunno. I think I’m older than nine, maybe, ‘cause I remember that bad drought we had one year. But old Cheng says I’m probably less than twelve, ‘cause I don’t have all my teeth yet.”

To prove his point, Xue Yang clenched his jaw and bared his teeth. He was indeed missing one canine on the left, while the right one was just starting to regrow. It made for a very odd smile, and yet Xue Yang knew how to use that to look cute sometimes.

Cuteness wouldn’t work on Nie Mingjue though. Years of dealing with Nie Huaisang had made him nearly immune to it.

"What did my idiot brother tell you to convince you to come all the way here from Kuizhou?"

"He said I'd learn to be a cultivator, and people wouldn't beat me up ever again for stealing," Xue Yang recited. "And he said I'd have to learn to be good and stuff, because it's a second chance for an honest life, and I figured, well, it's better than the streets."

Nie Mingjue nodded, though he still looked severe enough that Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure yet of his victory.

"We have a certain way of doing things in my sect, and dishonesty isn't allowed. And I'll need to check if you can be taught at all. Come closer and give me your hand."

Xue Yang, impossibly cocky a moment before, suddenly hesitated and glanced at both Nie brothers before hiding his hands behind his back.

"Which hand ?"

"Either one, it makes no difference."

"It might a bit," Xue Yang grumbled before reluctantly raising both hands.

Nie Mingjue frowned when he noticed that one finger was missing, but Nie Huaisang took it to be an encouraging frown and finally relaxed. It expressed concern rather than anger, and that had to be a step in the right direction.

"That looks old," Nie Mingjue noted, grabbing Xue Yang's left hand to inspect it. "Hm. That's not neat enough to have been cut off. What happened to you?"

"Someone's cart ran over my hand on purpose," Xue Yang muttered, trying in vain to pull his hand free. "I was little. It's fine now, I swear!"

It was far from fine, actually. Xue Yang himself might not have realised it since he was used to it, but Nie Huaisang had noticed that the young boy favoured his right hand a lot more than was normal, even for a right-handed person. In another sect, that might have been a problem. But Qinghe Nie was more martial than most others, a little more reckless too, and they had their share of cultivators who'd had nasty accidents.

A missing finger in a stiff hand wasn't so bad compared to some people.

"We'll have to get you a light sabre," Nie Mingjue said, mostly to himself after a quick check of the boy’s meridians. "Something you can use one-handed, like Huaisang. And I'll ask our doctor to have a look at it. It looks painful."

"No, it's fine, I don't feel pain anymore," Xue Yang proudly announced as he pulled his hand free. "Trained myself out of it, mostly."

"You are definitely going to see Zhilan," Nie Mingjue replied, frowning harder. "Huaisang’s right, you do have potential, so we'll train you.” He turned toward their audience of disciples, and gestured for one man to walk closer. “Zonghui! Come and give that kid a tour, and a meal. When he's eaten, take him to see Zhilan, and have a bed prepared for him."

“I’m in?” Xue Yang asked, so startled that for once, he really did look his age.

He glanced at Nie Huaisang who grinned at him and nodded, then turned his eyes back to Nie Mingjue who nodded as well.

“You’re in. Go with Nie Zonghui, he’ll explain everything you need to know about being part of this sect.”

With surprising obedience that had to be a side effect of surprise, Xue Yang trotted away with Nie Mingjue’s first disciple. Nie Huaisang tried to follow, equal parts curious and worried about what might happen next if he lost sight of Xue Yang. He hadn’t taken two steps before Nie Mingjue grabbed him by the collar to stop him.

“And where are you going?”

Nie Huaisang pointed toward Xue Yang. His brother gave him a pointed look, and started dragging him in another direction, leaving him no choice but to follow or be strangled.

“I’m tired,” Nie Huaisang complained. Then, noticing that they appeared to be going toward the training grounds, he struggled against his brother’s grasp. “Wait, da-ge, I’m really tired, I mean it! We’ve had to walk so long, you know! We’ve only been able to hitch a ride on carts for some of the way, so I can’t feel my legs anymore for how much walking I’ve done lately.”

“If you’d come home directly from the Cloud Recesses, you’d have ridden in a carriage,” Nie Mingjue retorted without an ounce of pity. “Now let’s see if you’ve made any progress with your sabre, aside from using it to run away. We’re going to spar together.”

“I can’t, I’m so tired!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I’m going to die if I have to move! And you’re so much stronger than me, there’s no point in training together, the difference is too great! Da-ge, have some mercy, let me eat something first! Let me rest! And I need to change clothes too, and I really should check how my birds are, and…”

“Shut up you brat! This is your punishment for getting me so worried!” Nie Mingjue snapped, pushing his brother onto the softer soil of the training ground. “Do your warm-ups!”

“But I’m starving, da-ge!”

“That’s your own fault for running away!” Nie Mingjue replied, showing yet again he was the most cruel person in the entire world.

And yet as soon as Nie Huaisang started stretching in preparation for a friendly fight, Nie Mingjue asked a disciple to go ask the kitchens if they might send some fresh buns and a little tea that way. Aggravated as he was that his brother only cared about checking his cultivation and martial art progress, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but smile.

After everything his older self had said about Nie Mingjue really despising him, he’d been worried that his brother would indeed be furious at him for everything he’d done, from failing his classes to forcing him to take in a miscreant. But no matter how shouty and frowny he currently was, it was clear to anyone who knew him, as his brother did, that Nie Mingjue was worried-angry rather than angry-angry.

Nie Huaisang had gambled and won, thus proving to himself that he definitely knew his brother better than his older self did.

#xisang #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #xue yang #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #this was almost a much longer chapter but I figured the next visit of future nhs could be posted on its own next week

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geminidentitycrisis · 3 years ago

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The Scent of Leather and Hairspray

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada x F!reader ONESHOT

(WARNINGS! - swearing)

---------

Sooooooo, I have a new favorite Pro, I guess haha

I hope you enjoy, and if you're underage, pretend you're older because I get it, I'd be Hot For Teacher too, but he's not a pedo sorry......

----------

You sighed as, upon exiting the store where you just purchased a frozen drink, the men you passed to enter that store started catcalling you. Just what you needed at the end of a rough day...

"Hey Honey, you'd be cuter if you smiled...!"

"Don't listen to that shit, babygirl, you're sexy as hell, c'mere and hang out a while...?"

Ignoring them the best you could, you kept walking, but they didn't take that very well. "You think you're too good for us, that it, stuck up bitch? Where you think you're goin'?"

You could hear their footsteps approaching behind you and turned to face them after sipping from your drink.

"Guys, please, I've had a hell of a day today and my quirk would probably scar you both for life and what do you say we just don't do this, huh?"

They exchanged glances before fixing you with threatening glares. "You think you're tough, babygirl? We'll see how tough you are when we get through teaching you some respect..." the first one said.

"HEY!"

A voice called from behind you and suddenly an arm was draped gently around your neck. You froze, being caught off guard tended to prompt a panic response when you were so tired.

You smelled leather and an overwhelming scent of hairspray.

"What's the trouble, my homies? Pretty sure ya heard the lady, she ain't jammin' to the vibe ya layin' down, ya dig? Beat it."

Heart skipping a beat or two, your eyes grew wide and a blush flooded your cheeks. "That voice...?!"

You whipped your head up to see the one and only Present Mic.

"Ah! I knew it! I knew I recognized your voice, I catch your radio show every day! You're the Sound Hero, Present Mic!" he flashed a grin down at you, winking.

"Oooh, you've got good ears, Listener! Thanks for Hypin' me up like that! Always great ta meet a FAAAN!" he responded in his commentator voice.

One of your would be tormentors interrupted angrily. "Hey, peacock head, why don't you mind your business?"

"PEACOCK...?! You boys best get ta steppin', aight?! Don't make me beat you up in fronta this pretty girl!" he replied in annoyance after his attention was so aggressively stolen from you.

The blush came back in full force and you couldn't contain a dreamy sigh as your lashes fluttered, eyes lidding contentedly now that you felt safe again.

*he said I was pretty~!* you thought.

"You believe this banana hair lookin' motherfucker? You're about to get your ass whooped, fruity!" the other threatened.

"Hey bro, watch your language! There's a lady here!" with the arm around your shoulders, Mic carefully raised it and guided you behind himself as the two started walking towards you both.

"Enough..."

Another voice came suddenly from the other side of the parking lot and everyone, with the exception of the blonde who was guarding you, turned to see Eraserhead.

Suddenly these jerks weren't so confident.

"Get lost, both of you, and go straight home or I'll bring the two of you in right now for loitering and harassment." he said calmly but with deep authority.

Mic crossed his arms, glaring at the duo as they ran off after a mere moment of hesitation, his cheeks puffed out slightly. "What a couple creepozoids! You okay, Pussy Cat...?" he quickly spun around to check you out, striking a dramatic pose while pointing at you, the trademark grin already back in place.

You smiled up at him with admiration sparkling in your eyes, clasping the cup you held in both hands and tight to your chest, stepping closer to him.

"Yes, thanks to you! You're my Hero~!"

Mic felt his own chest swell with pride a bit, the grin on his face getting bigger as he relaxed his stance and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

Usually by now the damsel has already flung herself on Aizawa, but not only were you praising him, you recognized him from just his voice and he was impressed at that.

"I can't believe I was just rescued by my favorite Pro, I am your #1 fan! Please, are you patrolling the city tonight? Please let me buy you a coffee or tea or something?? Just as a thank you...?"

Hizashi laughed rather loudly, one hand emerging from his pocket to be placed over his chest.

"HAHA! Aaaww, how can I say NO when you ask so sweetly?! Coffee sounds like a rockin' idea right about now!"

"Ugh, we don't have time for this, Mic..." Eraserhead complained tiredly.

Eyes rolling in exasperation, the blonde groaned twice as loud. "ugGHHH!! Don't be such a buzzkill, yo! I'll get you one, too, just chill!" with that, he trailed after you back into the store.

You watched as he doctored up the coffee you poured for him, blushing again when he threw a hint of a smirk your way, using the tip of his finger to lift the gold tinted shades he wore and showing you his emerald green eyes. "Don't worry, I'll pay for my boring friend..."

Smiling, you bounced on your heels. "Damn right you will, I'm not HIS fangirl, after all..."

This promoted a slight blush to his face, but he maintained that knockout grin. "Ha! Well, good thing his best friend is here at least, lucky for him I tagged along tonight, huh??"

"Lucky for both of us..." came your soft reply from over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, your hips swaying temptingly had definitely not escaped his notice.

He followed you to the checkout counter and placed some money beside yours, his ungloved fingertips brushing against your own when he does. Leaning down closer to you, he cocked his head, pushing his shades down his nose this time and raising a brow.

"Does my #1 fan have a name...?"

Your smile bloomed again, blushing up at him. "It's _______...but I might prefer you calling me Pussy Cat...~"

Saying that last bit, you applied a sensual undertone which he picked up on instantly, making his blush spread over his face and grow darker as he chuckled in amusement.

When you guys walked out the door, you noticed Eraserhead seemed really annoyed but tried to ignore him, looking up at the Voice Hero hopefully.

"Listen, I know you're both busy, but if you have just one more second to spare, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me if I could get your autograph..."

Looking away awkwardly, he made a pained expression. "Aw, man, I dunno, we are kinda in a hurry here and stuff..."

You felt your heart sinking when he startled you with another loud laugh. "Hahaha, gotcha! JK! Of course I will, I ain't gonna leave ya hangin' like that, no way, that ain't my STYYYYYYYYLLLE!"

Giddy with excitement, you let out a tiny squeal, quickly fishing out a small notebook and pen from your purse as he set the cups down. When you handed it to him, his fingers brushed yours again, making you bite tenderly at your bottom lip.

They were so warm and soft...

He had started to whistle a cheerful little tune as he spun the pen between his fingers before starting to write in your book, it took longer than you expected, clearly longer than Eraser expected, too.

"Say goodbye to the girl, Mic, it's time to keep moving!" he didn't yell, exactly, too lazy, but he had raised his voice since last.

"YEAH, YEAH, I HEARD YA!!! Gimme a sec, ALRIGHT?!" the volume of the blonde's reply actually made your eardrums flinch and quiver this time, but you smiled anyway as he defended you again.

"There ya go! And hey, just to spite my buddy over there, I wouldn't mind walkin' ya home ta make sure ya get there safe."

The blush came right back, clutching the book to your heart, you gave a weak smile. "No, no, it's okay, really...I took up too much of your time already, and I only live around the corner from here..."

Eyes closing momentarily while you gathered yourself, you took a deep breath before confessing. "...I cannot express how grateful I am for you...not just for saving me tonight, but also for your talk show, hearing your voice over the radio gives me strength and motivation every week...it means the world to me...thank you..."

Beckoning him by flexing a finger, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek when he leaned in curiously.

Eyes widening, his whole face became scarlet red and his grin stretched from ear to ear. "AW, YEAH!"

He jumped, pumping his fists in the air and then proceeded to shoot you with his finger guns while winking again. "Listen, I dropped my digits on that piece'a paper ya got there, Shawty...hit me up sometime if ya wanna chill! I'm down for whatever!"

You were caught off guard by that and checked the page he signed for you, finally reading what he wrote down as he rambled on as background noise about how he wasn't a creep like those other guys and you could say no without worrying about him making a scene, he just had to shoot his shot, I mean you DID kiss ME first ya know...

"For my #1 fan, _______...Thanks for the coffee and stay outta trouble! ...and maybe call or shoot a txt, if your feelin' this funky vibe, too? Live loud, Pussy Cat ;) don't ever let anyone try an put the mute on ya! XOXOX PRESENT MIC!!!"

Followed by his phone number, and there were little hearts drawn around the page.

You were already blushing when he surprised you again by returning your gesture and swooping in to plant a kiss on your cheek this time.

Reaching up to touch the spot, you smiled up at him shyly. "I can't wait...please be safe out there..."

"You got it! SEE YA SOON!" The Pro nodded vigorously, giving an enthusiastic wave of goodbye before grabbing his and Eraserhead's drinks, practically bouncing with every step.

It made you giggle, but you were trying not to get your hopes up too much. For all you knew, he gave his number out to every girl that asked him for a signature.

"Are you happy now...?" Shouta grumbled, taking the cup being offered as he turned to resume patrolling. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HECK YEAH I AM! I'M ON CLOUD NINE RIGHT NOW, I JUST MET MY FUTURE WIFE!!!!!!!!"

You heard him very clearly, the blush traveling all the way down your neck this time, and you couldn't help another small giggle, your heart fluttering with happiness like the wings of the butterflies in your belly.

He just had that effect on you.

Glancing down at the notebook in your hand as you sipped your quickly melting frosty, you noticed in the bottom right corner was a little arrow, below which was written the word "flip".

You looked up again but the two Pro Heroes were already gone.

Curiously, you flipped over the page.

MARRY ME?!?!!

a. YES!!!!!

b. a

c. b

That smooth sonuvabitch had you blushing and giggling all night.

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

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Flufftober Day 1 - Winning a Tedddy Bear for the Other

This is the only October prompt fic I was able to write, so uh. Hopefully you enjoy it!

2.5k words, pairings are pre-Logince, Dukexiety, and pre-Moceit

Nobody actually wins a teddy bear for anyone, despite their best efforts

Truly have no idea if this is solely an American hick town thing or not, but where I'm from, all the summer drama took place at the county fair; the hook-ups and break-ups and all the stuff that people would gossip about at the beginning of the school year. Except! The crew have just graduated and this is kind of their last hurrah before college and work and what have you.

Roman closed his eyes and tried to focus. He turned the basketball over in his hands, privately grossed out by the weird, sticky texture beneath his fingertips. He let the ambient noise of the county fair fade into the background. Focus. He just had to focus.

Then Virgil's voice shattered his concentration: "You know this game is rigged, right?"

Roman opened his eyes and, catching an annoyed glance from the carnival worker, sighed and hurled the ball at the hoop. It soared a neat arc and fell neatly through the center of the hoop. Ha. "I'll have you know I played basketball in middle school." He puffed out his chest a little and raised his arms so Virgil could admire his killer delts.

"And how old are you now?" Virgil leaned into Remus, who was lurking over his shoulder like some kind of lanky cathedral goblin. How Remus had landed a boyfriend before he did, Roman would never know.

The worker handed Roman another ball, which Roman accepted with a half-hearted "Thanks."

"It's true, though," Remus said, placing his chin on Virgil's shoulder. "The hoops are ovals."

"Everybody knows that," Roman huffed, and threw the ball.

"Yeet!" said Remus. Idiot.

The ball bounced off the rim. "You distracted me!" Roman huffed. The carnival worker held out another ball, but Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Oh, forget it!" Two baskets would only get him a stupid Minions keychain, and he definitely didn't want something that cursed in his possession. He turned and walked away, half-hoping Remus and Virgil wouldn't follow him.

"Dude, you paid for three tries," Virgil said.

Roman stopped and turned around and nearly got trampled by a herd of excited pre-teens. "You don't get it!" He gestured at Virgil and Remus' intertwined fingers, even now unable to fight back the wave of jealousy and longing that rose up inside him. "You guys already have your fairy--" He paused, corrected himself. "Your weird, creepy, Tim Burton fairytale dream. I have one shot to impress Logan tonight and I need to make the most of it!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" Remus grabbed Roman by the wrist (ewww, Roman, just try not to think about where his hands have been) and dragged him over to a bench. "Your grand plan is to win Logan some lame carnival prize before he even gets here?"

"Oh, buddy." The mocking pity on Virgil's face was enough to make Roman blush. Jerk. All he'd had to do was sit around and wait for Remus to make the first move. "What makes you think that's even going to work?"

Roman stood up again, motioning for Virgil and Remus to stay seated. He'd had enough. "Because it's a grand, romantic gesture and I am a grand, romantic prince. Now leave me alone! You're wrecking my concentration and I'm supposed to meet Logan in an hour!" And he stalked off, soon getting lost in the crowd.

Virgil looked at Remus, who was wearing a look of undisguised masochistic glee. Still, Virgil ventured, more to soothe his own conscience than anything, "Should we try to help him?"

"Look!" Remus shot to his feet, pointing off into the distance. "Deep fried pickles!" He took off, nearly jerking Virgil's shoulder out of socket.

Virgil dodged an elderly woman and nearly tripped over his boots. "Roman?"

"No, I'm Remus."

"No, I mean, should we try-- Oh, forget it." Virgil wrapped his free hand around the back of Remus' and let Remus yank him through the crowd. There was a long line for the cart selling deep fried monstrosities because this was the county fair and people lost their humanity upon stepping through the gates. Not Virgil. He would sooner lick the door of the horse barn than consume anything from this horrorshow of a food cart. That was one thing Virgil and Roman could agree on: fair food was disgusting. Ah, poor Roman. "You do have to feel a little sorry for him, though," Virgil said, admiring the shiny piercings decorating the shell of Remus' ear.

"Who?" said Remus, standing on tiptoe and examining the crowd.

"Ro--"

"Oh, Roman?" Remus landed hard on his heels and nudged Virgil with his hip. "No I don't. A little heartbreak might take Sir Brags-a-Lot down a peg." Something caught his eye and he jerked his head away with a smile. "Hey. V. I'd like to dip my pickle in your deep fryer."

Virgil made a face, but soldiered on. "But he's had a crush on Logan since, what? As long as I've known him."

"Longer." Remus stuck out his tongue. "He and Logan were lab partners Freshman year. And I had to hear about him every single night." He lowered his voice into a passable imitation of Roman's, gesticulating with abandon. "'Ugh, Remus, this boy in my science class is so annoying; he knows about dumb shit like protons and covalent bonds. Who even cares about that? I don't. So I'm gonna keep talking about it for the entire bus ride home.' Nightmare."

"Exactly!" said Virgil, though he had kind of forgotten what he was getting at. What had he been getting at? He shuffled forward as the line moved and turned his fractured attention to the menu.

"Hey," said Remus, now drumming on Virgil's shoulder with his fingertips. "When was the last time you saw Pat and the Hat?"

"Who?"

"Come on, that was clever."

Virgil tapped his lower lip. "You mean Patton and Janus?" Remus just blinked at him. "I dunno, didn't they say they were buying tickets?"

"Yeah, like, 30 minutes ago.

The line moved forward again. Remus ordered his horrifying hell-pickle. Virgil ordered a lemonade, knowing full well that Remus would insist on paying anyway.

"Maybe," said Virgil, side-stepping away from the order window and deliberately ignoring the way Remus was running his tongue all up and down his deep-fried pickle, "they went to the petting zoo."

"Well, let's go get 'em," Remus said. "They don't get to ditch us just because Patton wanted to see the bunny rabbits."

The setting sun painted the clouds a brilliant orange. Patton sighed and stared out at the expanse of the fairgrounds beneath him. One by one, rides were starting to turn their lights on. It was exactly the most romantic time of evening, exactly how he'd wanted things to go when he suggested they take a quick ride on the Ferris wheel before tracking down the others.

Well.

Almost exactly.

"I should sue," Janus said. Again. He looked over the edge of their basket where it dangled almost exactly at the top of the Ferris wheel. "How long would you say we've been stuck up here?"

"Um," said Patton, trying to wiggle his phone out of his pocket.

"What if I was diabetic, hm? What if one of us needed to take life-saving medication and couldn't because we were stuck at the top of this death trap?"

"But Janus." Patton waited for Janus to meet his eyes, then smiled. "We don't."

The magic didn't last. "It's the principle of the thing!" Janus said explosively, looking away in obvious agitation.

Patton rallied and tried again. "You don't think it's kinda romantic? I mean, look out there." He gestured at the lit-up fairgrounds and the golden haloes of clouds.

Janus huffed and didn't look. "I don't see what's so romantic about a potential reckless endangerment lawsuit." And he was off again, ranting about confusing legal concepts and other things Patton wouldn't care about, except that they were important to Janus.

Oh, well. He sighed and watched the blinking lights of El Niño. If they got down soon, maybe he could win Janus a teddy bear or something and make his confession then.

"What color?"

Roman ran a hand through his hair. Of all the games to have a knack for, he hadn't expected darts. "Pink, I guess-- No, wait, the blue one."

The attendant nodded and handed Roman a flimsy acoustic guitar. "Congrats, man."

"Thanks." Roman turned to go. He had to meet Logan at the gates soon. At least he wasn't doing it empty-handed, not that a barely-playable guitar was a particularly romantic gift. Realy, who was he kidding? Logan didn't want the guitar and Logan didn't want him.

The fairground lights lit everything up a sickly green. Roman scanned the crowd at the midway, trying to determine the best way through, when his gaze fell on a familiar pair of glasses.

He was still trying to decide how to react when Logan reached him, his arms full of brightly-colored stuffed lemurs. "Hello, Roman."

"How long have you been here?" Roman demanded. The idea that Logan had been sneaking around, avoiding him, sat heavy in his stomach.

But to Roman's surprise, Logan blushed. "Not long," he said, shifting his weight. "I wanted-- Well, it seems foolish now."

Roman forgot his anger in an instant. "What? C'mon, Lo, I don't think you're even capable of being foolish."

"I had thought," Logan dropped his gaze to the stuffed lemurs in his arms, "I had thought that if I came early, I might be able to win something big and--" He cleared his throat. "And give it to you."

"Why?" Roman demanded. Why would Logan copy his plan?

"Well, Roman," Logan said in such a clipped, professional voice that he might have been delivering the weather report, "traditionally, winning a large prize for your sweetheart at the county fair is a romantic gesture."

"But I'm not your sw-- Oh." Roman's jaw dropped. The guitar's strings dug into his fingers. Then he started to laugh. Logan's expression hardened, but he stayed put, staring intently at Roman. "I'm sorry!" Roman choked out, brandishing the guitar at Logan as some sort of peace offering, though Logan didn't have a free hand to take it. "I was--" Tears streamed hot and ticklish down Roman's cheeks, his entire body still spasming with stifled laughs. "I was trying to do the same thing! That's how I got this stupid guitar."

"Oh," said Logan. "Oh, dear."

"Come on, let's sort this out." Roman stood on his tiptoes, spotted an empty bench, and led Logan to it.

"This is terribly awkward," Logan said, adjusting the lemurs in his arms. "Do you even want these?"

"Not really," Roman said. He held up the guitar. "Do you want this?"

"I don't."

They smiled at each other. "You know," said Roman, hurriedly counting Logan's stuffed lemurs. "You can trade six of those in for a kiss."

"Piercings!" Remus tugged on Virgil's sleeve and gestured at the booth.

"I thought we were looking for Patton and Janus," Virgil said, already trying to think of a way to keep Remus from getting an ill-advised piercing.

"Forget them! I wanna get my tongue done."

"Here?" Virgil asked as Remus tugged him closer and closer to the piercing booth. "We're, like, six feet away from a horse barn. You're gonna get an infection."

"Damn, V, it's not like I'm gonna French kiss the horses."

Virgil bit his lip and made a second attempt. "Don't you have enough holes punched in yourself?"

"Nope!" They reached the booth and Remus bounced on his toes while he studied the laminated photographs pinned to one of the tent walls.

"Fine, but don't expect any kisses until that piercing is fully healed," Virgil said, struck by an eleventh-hour moment of genius.

"Hold up." Remus turned around and stared at Virgil. "What?"

"You heard me." Advantage secured, Virgil relaxed a little and even managed a sneer. "No kisses until I'm 100% sure you're not gonna get blood or anything else in my mouth."

"Baaaabe." Remus wrapped his arms around Virgil's shoulders and let Virgil take some of his weight. "You're killing me! What about my self-expression?"

"You can get your tongue pierced," Virgil said, "just not at some shady horse barn-adjacent piercing booth run by a bunch of traveling randos."

"I'm an American," Remus mumbled into Virg's collarbone. "It's my God-given right to die of a horse infection because I got my tongue pierced at a-- Whatever you said."

"C'mon." Virgil stood Remus upright and took him by the hand. "I'll pay for you to get your tongue pierced at that nice place downtown. Or I'll get Janus to pay for it. Next birthday. I promise."

"Thanks, I guess," Remus muttered. He was obviously trying to pout, but his face kept cracking into a smile.

"And as for your self-expression…" Face-painting booths were a dime a dozen at the fair; you practically couldn't turn a corner without running into some kid with their face painted to look like Spider-Man. Virgil pointed to the closest one and continued to lead Remus toward it. "I'm thinking spider eyes for me, kraken for you?" Remus took a breath, but Virgil knew better. "There's no way anyone is going to paint a photorealistic dick on your face."

"Alriiiiight," Remus said. "Kraken it is."

The sun was now nearly gone over the horizon, only visible as a faint golden line. Janus had finally worn himself out and gone silent, though even in the darkness, Patton could see the annoyance smoldering in his eyes.

Oh, he was so cute. Even when he was annoyed. Which, granted, seemed to be most of them time, although some of it had to be an act. He smiled sometimes, when he thought Patton wasn't looking.

It was those secret smiles that had given Patton the courage to make this plan. He jiggled his leg and swallowed as nerves sent flutters of nausea through his belly. "Um, Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," Patton started, "since we're stuck up here and everything."

"Don't remind me."

"I mean, you know, It's not all bad. If I have to be stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel, I'm glad it's with you. I… I'm glad it's us."

For a moment, Janus was silent. Then he said, in a tone of suspicion: "You're trying to cheer me up."

Patton sighed. As smart as Janus was, he just didn't seem to be putting the pieces together. Although, that was as much Patton's fault as it was Janus'. Well, it was mostly Patton's fault. He just had to be brave. "Look, Janus, I had this whole plan where we were gonna ride the Ferris wheel together and it was gonna pause at the top and while we were looking out over the fairground, I--" His breath hitched.

"...Was going to push me over the edge?" Janus asked.

"I was gonna do this." Rainbow lights from the Ferris wheel spokes danced across Janus' face. Patton leaned over and took his hands. "Janus, I really like you. And I want--"

"Yes," said Janus. "Whatever you're about to say, yes."

So Patton kissed him.

#queuing this for later today as well #i truly have no idea when you people are online #spicypost #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #logince #dukexiety #spicywrites

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sleepysnk · 4 years ago

Text

have fun ;)

Team Player: Chapter Nine

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: suggestive content

Word Count: 3.6k

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Eren sat next to (Y/N) in the class they shared together. It was an early morning and the two both felt exhausted. The two planned overnight on what they were going to practice at the field, Eren had access since he was an athlete, but the two had to be quick. Campus security was strict on any students out past curfew.

"So what time again?" Eren asked, looking over at her.

Her eyes averted towards his. "I have class until 7, so I can go right after." she replied.

He nodded. "Sounds good.. come by my dorm and I'll give you a ball and we can practice," he said, a small smile growing on his face as his mind flashed images of the two playing catch.

"Ugh! What if I suck? I guarantee I can barely throw a football," she said, rolling her eyes.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "You got this! I believe in you (Y/N),"

Her cheeks grew hot from his touch and his words. Eren had an odd way of making her feel flustered.

"I'll try my best to believe that.." she mumbled before looking up at the front of the class where Professor Ackerman stood.

"Good morning.. today is going to be a pretty short lesson. I'll be releasing you all early today, so I hope you cooperate for this to go smoothly." he said, eyes roaming among the students.

(Y/N) sighed, taking out her laptop to take notes. Eren did the same, he watched as she chewed her lip. For some reason, he always liked when she bit her lip, it was something he found.. attractive?

"Eren."

His eyes looked towards the front of the class where Professor Ackerman was staring at him.

"U-Uh.. yes?" he asked, nodding his head.

The stoic man sighed. "I get you think (Y/N) is cute, but please pay attention." he replied, turning back towards the board.

Eren's face grew pink as he felt many eyes staring at him, (Y/N)'s being one of them.

"Yeah Eren.." she whispered, giggling a bit at his cuteness.

He rolled his eyes before elbowing her side, causing a small yelp to escape her lips. She glared at him and returned back to her notes, a wide grin appearing on his features. He just loved messing with her.

Eren ended up zoning out while taking notes. His mind wandered to other things like football, sleep, (Y/N), wait what?

"Eren!"

He turned his head to meet her gaze, she was putting her stuff away. "Class is over, come on," she said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

He blinked for a moment before putting his stuff into his bag. 30 minutes really flashed like that?

"I barely paid attention to what he was saying.." Eren said, rubbing his tired eyes.

She exited the classroom with him by her side. "Trust me.. I don't understand Ackerman much either. Sasha had him and almost failed his class," she replied, nudging his arm a bit.

A smile grew onto his lips. "Yeah I guess he is…" he said, turning his head to look at her.

There was that stare again.

His eyes wandered to the small features of her face, (Y/N) was so pretty to him.

"Do you wanna head to your dorm? You know.. to pick up the football?" she asked, breaking his thoughts.

"Y-Yeah! Let's go," he replied, heading towards the exit of the campus building.

She followed him to his residence hall. Eren was walking pretty quickly, curse him and his long legs. (Y/N) slowly caught up, grabbing his arm in the process.

"Slow down! I almost lost you there," she said, trying to catch her breath.

Pink dusted onto his cheeks. "My bad! I'll slow down.." he muttered before opening the door to his building.

She rolled her eyes before following him down the hall to his dorm, she had only been to his dorm about once. The one time she helped him clean it. She silently prayed she wasn't this gross guy who just dirtied his room after cleaning it, that would for sure disappoint her.

He opened it and ushered her inside, her eyes scanned the room. He still kept it neat, surprisingly.

"I should have one around here somewhere," Eren said, opening his drawer. He dug around the dresser for a moment before pulling out the football. "Here ya go!"

He tossed it to her, she caught it and eyed the ball. She hadn't touched one in a pretty long time.

"So 7:30 right?" she said, looking at him.

He smiled, "Yeah for sure! I'll text you when I'm on my way," he replied.

She nodded, "Sounds good! I'll see you then. I gotta head to my next class.. so uh, I'll text you!" she said before heading towards the door.

He waved, "See you later!"

She made her way out of his dorm. Eren smiled to himself, (Y/N) was such a cute idiot. He couldn't get over it, the way she eyed the football made him happy, she looked so cute.

Maybe tonight would go well… maybe, just maybe, Eren could see her as more than a friend.

Eren was awoken in his dorm by his phone going off. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was dark out. He could faintly see the lights from the campus shining into his room, lighting up the walls.

A groan escaped his mouth as he grabbed his phone, Jean was calling him for some reason.

"Hello?" Eren said, his voice deep and groggy from sleep.

"Finally! Dude I've called you like four times! Were you sleeping?" Jean asked over the phone.

He rubbed his tired eyes, "Yeah I was.. what do you want though? Where are you?" he asked. He could faintly hear some background noise.

"I'm at Connie's frat right now! You should come by! This party is getting pretty lit, plus you have been laying low on partying anyway," Jean replied.

Eren looked at the time on his phone, it read 7:00.

He contemplated for a moment, would going out partying even be worth it? He had been kind of low on the party scene lately, it may help him feel a bit better.

"Fine… I'll be there in 10," he replied, sitting up on his bed.

"Sick! I'll see you then!" Jean replied before hanging up the phone with a click.

Eren sighed, he stood up and turned on the light to his room. He put on a black zip up hoodie and some grey sweatpants, he wasn't exactly looking to impress and do much. Maybe a few shots and that's all? Plus it was a Wednesday night.

As Eren exited his dorm, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something. Did he have assignments? No. Practice? No. He wasn't exactly sure what was missing, he just shrugged it off and made his way to the frat house.

Little did he know… he was forgetting something.

Eren downed his third shot that night, the burning of the alcohol went down his throat and to his stomach. He placed the glass onto the table, leaning back against the cushions of the couch.

"You want another?" Connie asked, holding the bottle towards him.

Eren shook his head, "Nah.. I'm good."

He felt a weight next to him, Jean was sitting next to him now. His face was lightly pink from the alcohol he consumed earlier, Jean was such a lightweight drunk.

"So Jaeger when are you even coming back on the team? You've been benched for weeks," he asked, looking at him.

Eren sighed, "I dunno.. maybe if coach actually listened to me." he replied with a shrug.

Jean slung his arm around his shoulder, "You got this! I think you'll be back soon," he slurred.

Eren pushed Jean off of him, "You smell like beer dude, go somewhere else."

He furrowed his brows, "Shut it! You seem grumpy.. did (Y/N) stop letting you hit or something?" Jean asked, crossing his arms.

Eren's eyes grew wide at Jean's words.

Shit!

"Oh shit.. fuck! (Y/N)!" Eren yelled.

"Huh? Is everything okay Eren?" Connie asked, looking at him with furrowed brows.

He fumbled for his phone, the time read 8:20. It all hit him at once. Eren was supposed to be at the field practicing with her, it totally slipped his mind! He also noticed the missed texts and phone calls he had from her.

(Y/N): 9 missed calls

7:02 <-(Y/N): hey i'm done with class!

7:10 <-(Y/N): uh hello? did you fall asleep?

7:19 <-(Y/N): Eren??? dude i'm at the field

7:21 <-(Y/N): dude seriously, where are you?

7:32 <-(Y/N): Eren, i'm not playing anymore. where are you??? you were supposed to be here.

7:41 <-(Y/N): wtf dude?? are you seriously ditching me?? this isn't funny Eren.

7:49 <-(Y/N): i'm giving you 15 more minutes if you're not gonna show up, i'm leaving.

8:01<-(Y/N): okay cool. ignore me, thanks for being an asshole. i thought you were cool but i guess people never change huh? don't even bother coming.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I gotta go, see you guys later." Eren said before rushing up the stairs out of the basement.

Eren rushed out of the frat house, he pushed past a few people and got outside. The wind picked up as he rushed towards the campus, he couldn't go to sleep tonight knowing that he forgot. He felt so guilty, that was fucked up for him to do.

In the distance storm clouds brewed, lightning flared in the sky lighting up the darkening clouds. Thunder boomed in the horizon as the wind began to blow around the fall leaves.

Just what I need, a fucking storm Eren thought as he rushed to the practice fields.

The bright lights were still on, unfortunately Eren didn't see (Y/N). He looked around the field, maybe she was in her car?

Eren fished for his phone to call her. "Come on pick up.." he groaned, looking around the empty field. The wind blowing in his hair.

"So.. you finally decided to show up."

He turned to see (Y/N) leaning against the small bench, her arms crossed.

"(Y/N)! I-I'm.. I didn't mean-"

"Just save it. I don't wanna hear your excuses," she cut him off.

Eren tried coming towards her, "I'm sorry! I didn't get your texts and everything slipped my mind!"

She rolled her eyes, "You left me here for an hour! I genuinely thought you were a nice guy.. but I guess some people never change. Just do this all yourself." she replied, tossing the football at him.

He watched as she began to walk away, the storm in the distance beginning to get closer. He ran towards her, grabbing her forearm.

"(Y/N).. please don't go, there is a storm right now and I don't want you walking by yourself." he said, looking at her with concern in his eyes.

She tried pulling away from him, "Eren just go! You clearly don't give a shit, just go back to your stupid party. I could care less.." she mumbled.

The crash of the thunder made him look up at the sky, "(Y/N)! I'm being serious! We need to go inside, just come with me okay!?" he yelled.

She scoffed, "Just fuck off dude! Let me go back to my dorm!" she argued back.

Eren was beginning to get frustrated with her, "I already explained! I get what I did wasn't cool! Just stop fucking around and let's go! The dorms are so far and you'll be walking in the rain, just come with me already!" he replied.

Droplets of water began to fall from the sky, darkening the material of Eren's clothes. Lightning flashed along the sky and thunder followed soon after, booming and rumbling making the ground slightly shake.

"No! Just let me go back by myself, I don't need your fucking help. You're such an ass! I wish I never helped you, God, I was so dumb to even think you changed!" she yelled as the rain pelted down on them.

He stayed silent, the rain hitting his head and making his hair wet. It soon began to fall at a quicker pace.

"I'm leaving.." she mumbled before starting to turn away.

Suddenly, Eren grabbed her arm and put his hand behind her head, pulling her into a kiss. At first she didn't move, then her lips suddenly began to move against his. Her arms went to his neck.

The rain fell onto them, soaking their clothes and making the ground below them wet. The kiss they shared was raw, passionate, and it broke the tension they've been having for the past two weeks.

"Just shut up (Y/N).." he said before pressing his lips back onto hers.

His arms snaked around her waist, bringing her closer to his skin. She shivered a bit as the wind blew against her wet flesh.

"E-Eren.." she said, breaking the kiss between them. Her lips puffy.

He looked up at the sky, "Let's go.. we're gonna get sick," he said.

He took her hand into his, her cheeks growing hot as he guided her through the wet field and towards the locker rooms. Eren had snuck a key and he always kept it on him just in case he ever needed a way back into school, he silently hoped (Y/N) wouldn't tell anyone.

He slid the key inside of the lock and turned it a few times, he felt the click of the lock and pulled the door open so she could step inside the locker room. Nobody would be around at this hour so nobody would catch them.

(Y/N) shivered entering the locker room, both of their clothes were soaking wet; the cooler air made goosebumps form onto Eren's skin.

"Just sit right here," Eren said, pointing at a spot in front of his locker.

(Y/N) plopped down, the sound of her wet leggings hitting the surface of the bench. Her hair was soaking, so was her outfit, she had no idea how she was going to explain this to Sasha.

Eren walked into the showers, his eyes scanning for the towels they kept for the players. He opened the door to the closet and grabbed two of the white ones, he hoped nobody would notice they were missing since his coach kept count of all that shit.

The squelching of Eren's shoes made (Y/N) look up, he tossed her the towel before sitting down next to her.

"I'm sorry again.. if you don't want to help anymore, you don't have to." he said, looking at her.

She rubbed the material along her face and through her hair. A sigh escaping her lips before she spoke, "I'm not gonna stop helping you.. that's not who I am, but I wish I got some kind of heads up."

Eren nodded, wiping some water off his face. "That's my fault and I'm sorry for that," he replied.

She looked at the ground. "You're forgiven.. but Eren," she said, looking at him.

His eyes averted towards her, his head nodding to the side. "Hm?" he asked.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Why did you kiss me?"

Eren let out air through his nose, he leaned against the lockers behind him. His back pressing against a lock, why did he kiss her? Was it just the heat of the moment? Did he want to release the tension they had?

He clicked his tongue, "Being honest.. I don't know. I guess in a way.. I like you, I hate to admit it but I do," he said.

Her eyes widened a little, Eren Jaeger liked her? She wasn't exactly upset.. she felt the same way and it was blatantly obvious at that point since she did lean into the kiss and she could feel the tension between them the last few weeks.

"E-Eren.." she whispered.

He looked at her, "What? I know you don't like me back," he mumbled.

She stuck out her hand to touch his face which was now dry, her fingers ran along his skin. "I do like you.."

He froze for a second, she was never one to tell a lie and by the way she spoke he could tell she was being truthful with him.

He turned his body to face her, their knees were now touching and tingles came from the touch. Eren's hand found its way to her cheek, he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a few stray rain drops that laid on her skin.

Their faces leaned into one another, their lips connecting into a kiss.

Her hands found their way into Eren's damp brunette locks, pulling him down closer to her. Eren's hand found its way to her waist where he squeezed the flesh, some of the material of her shirt was damp and it made his hands wet.

"I want you.." Eren whispered, his breath uneven.

She looked into his eyes. "I want you more.."

His hands went towards her thighs, his fingers rubbing circles on the skin; it made her jolt a bit.

"You like that huh..?" he asked with a smirk forming on his features.

She playfully smacked his arm. "Oh shut up," she replied, her eyes rolling.

He smirked before moving his head to her neck, he pressed his lips against her skin; his lips were hot, almost feverish. They attacked her neck making her skin feel warm.

A soft moan escaped her mouth feeling his tongue glide against her sweet spot, he was about to bite down when a buzzing broke him out of his thoughts.

(Y/N) slightly groaned when she reached in her pocket for her phone. Eren leaned away and furrowed his brows, pondering as to who could be calling right now.

"Hello?" she said, chewing her bottom lip.

"(Y/N)!? Hello!? Dude I've been texting you for an hour! Where are you? It's storming like crazy outside and I knew you were out with Eren, is everything okay?"

She instantly knew it was Sasha.

She sighed, "Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine Sasha. Eren took me to his dorm, we actually got rained on. I'll be back soon," she replied, her eyes wandering towards Eren who seemed unfazed.

She could hear Sasha chewing on food. "Okay! Have fun! I'll see you soon," she said.

(Y/N) hung up and placed her phone down next to her leg. "Sorry about that," she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

Eren chuckled, "You're fine.. I think we should get back anyway, I don't want the janitor to come and find us here," he replied before standing up.

He held out his hand for her and she took it with a smile on her face, she shivered a bit since her clothes were still somewhat wet from being outside in the rain. Eren took notice of this and went to his locker.

"Hold on a sec," he said, making (Y/N) stop in her tracks.

She nodded as she watched him unlock his locker, he grabbed what seemed to be a hoodie. It had the University colors on it. He slammed his locker before locking it up and turning towards her.

"You should take this.. it's really cold and I don't want you getting sick," he said, holding out the fabric for her.

Her cheeks grew hot, but she just took the sweater from him. "Thank you.." she said, holding it close to her chest.

He smiled, "Of course! Now let me take you back to the dorms, it's the least I can do."

She smiled before following Eren out of the locker room.

The long walk back to (Y/N)'s dorm was quite fun, the two had encountered a few professors along the way and they had to hide in bathrooms to make sure they wouldn't get caught.

It was something (Y/N) wasn't used to, she was always staying out of trouble and she was seen as a good girl most of the time. Eren found that to be quite amusing, regarding the circumstances anyway.

He leaned against the wall that was next to her dorm door. "So uh.. tonight was something," he said, chuckling a bit.

(Y/N) giggled, "It definitely was.. but I had a lot of fun. Even if I'm freezing right now," she replied.

Eren looked at her, "I- uh.. I hope you know I meant what I said about liking you.. I really do and I want to be more than just a friend to you," he said, his cheeks slightly pink.

She looked at the ground before looking back up at Eren. "I meant what I said too.. I do like you, Eren."

"I mean.. by the way you moaned earlier.." he smirked.

She smacked his arm again. "Oh shut it! I'll kick your ass, but anyway.. I do want to have something more," she said, rocking on her heels.

Eren smiled, "Sounds good.. can I kiss you again?" he asked.

She nodded her head before leaning into his face again, Eren put his hands onto her shoulders giving them a small squeeze before pulling away.

"Kissing you hits different," he whispered before kissing her cheek.

Her cheeks were hot, "You're such a dork.. goodnight Eren!" she said, putting her hand on the knob of the door.

He chuckled, "Goodnight (Y/N)."

Eren walked back to his dorm with a giant grin on his face, he felt like he just won a game just now; but this time.. he won something special. (Y/N).

tagging: @ererokii @eremiie @erensapologist @luvrboykento @callmepromise @katsuhera @moomii-hime @flam3bird @thicmitten @daughter-of-the-stars11 @just-a-little-sad @lunamoonawatcher @sofi-yeager @ryan249057 @chayauwu @bell0214 @jaegercult

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic #team player

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hammeredalcoholic · 4 years ago

Text

my only friend

kira yoshikage / reader ;

rating: mature, no 18+ content yet ; kira & reader are portrayed as 18 years old

hey my fellow gamers, i realized that i did not post this on tumblr yet. here is chapter 1 to this fic! it’s also cross posted on ao3 here.

here is a spotify playlist to go with this fic.

"believe the lies that people tell you you've lost your battle and vines and tiny thorns inside your wound,"

Kira made a mistake. He came to you, begging for you to run away with him.

You did.

chapter 2

The stars glittered against the deep blue of the night sky, reflecting softly against the stark ocean waves that licked against the calm beach. It felt so serene-- so gentle, and still. Like time had stopped or slowed, your breath just barely ghosting over your lips.

It was nice.

Metal pressed against your back, warmed up by your body heat, stiff and hard but yet still so soft. It felt almost too good to be true-- a beautiful night like this. No kids and families stomping all over the delicate sand, interrupting the sound of the waves crashing against rocks.

A small sigh lifted you from your thoughts.

Glancing over, you carefully eyed your companion. His blonde hair tousled and glowing in the moonlight-- ice blue eyes cast out against the sea. He was truly something of beauty himself, had you not known what he was really capable of.

“What’s on your mind?” The words fell from your mouth without a second thought, almost dropping to a whisper. He shook his head lightly, his eyes being torn away from the water to look at you.

Such a pretty shade of blue. Pale and glistening-- like a fresh dew on the first day of spring.

A light drizzle against hard asphalt, pooling and shining-- only to be gone in a second’s notice.

“Just-- A lot on my mind.” Ah, so it’s like that.

Yoshikage never dared to tell you what he was thinking upfront. He didn’t want to seem-- vulnerable? Is that the right word? Weak. Docile. Bound to break. It didn’t seem fair. You were always so-- Strong. Incredible. Someone to look up to. Someone who could clean up his mess.

Sighing softly in response, you leaned back against the cool glass of the windshield. Shuffling through your pocket, you pulled out some cigarettes and a lighter you had managed to pick up from the corner store, thanks to Killer Queen.

Carefully snatching one out of the pack, you quickly lit it and took a long drag. The smoke filled your lungs, heavy and harsh, causing a small shiver to run down your spine. Nicotine was the best way to end a long day.

“Those are awful for you.” Yoshikage’s words drifted to your ears, and you blew the smoke in his direction. He flinched and coughed, using his hand to try and maneuver the offending cloud away from him. “Hey! That was uncalled for.”

“Don’t tell me things I already know, Yoshi.” Your tone dripped with sarcasm, and you shot him a sly grin. “Besides, can’t I have a little break once in a while?” As soon as the words left your lips, Yoshikage slumped in his spot.

“Where are we going to stay tonight?” The question drifted to your ears, his voice soft and oh so gentle. You shifted your leg up to press against your chest, letting your arm wrap around it. “I dunno. I saw a motel back in town, looked decently cheap.”

Your partner nodded his head in agreement. “Looked kinda dirty, though.” You had to hold back a laugh at his comment, bringing your cigarette up to take another drag instead. “We’ll be fine. Killer Queen can always just kill any unsavory guests we encounter.”

His eyes drifted back out to the ocean, and his hands twitched in his lap. “I can feel another urge coming on.” Blinking at his words, you let your head sit on your knee, nursing the smoke you had in between your fingers. “Think you can wait until tomorrow?” You asked calmly.

Yoshikage nodded quickly, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, pulling his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah. I could also use a hair cut.” Grinning against the fabric of your jeans, you laughed. “I’m sure we could find a barber shop. Unless you want me to do it.”

His eyes opened wide, and he snapped his head over to you. “I’d never let you near my neck with a pair of scissors.” You laughed at his comment, shaking your head just slightly. Taking a final drag from your cigarette, you put it out against the side of the rusty car.

“Are you ready to head that way then?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The drive to the motel was quiet, much like all of the other drives you took together. The radio softly played in the background-- some upbeat song that you couldn’t really catch the lyrics to, but it seemed like Yoshikage enjoyed it. His fingers were tapping against the passenger side door, in tune with the beat.

You tried to remember where the motel was, only catching a glance of it earlier. It was on the main road through the town, so it wasn’t hard-- ah. There’s the sign.

Pulling the car into the parking lot, you parked in a lane that was a decent amount away from the lobby. Yoshikage looked up from his seat, glancing at you. He knew what to do-- it was always like this. Opening the car door and stepping out, he began to slowly walk towards the building.

The air was blowing softly, causing a shiver to run across his arms. Pulling the sleeves of his sweater down, he clutched them to his chest. It was definitely a lot cooler now than it was at the beach. Reaching the door fairly quickly, he pulled it open and stepped inside the dimly lit room.

The man sitting at the counter was elderly-- heavy set, reading some sort of newspaper, his glasses practically falling off his nose. Yoshikage cleared his throat softly, moving closer to the desk. “Excuse me,” He stated quietly, “Do you have a restroom open to the public?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Killer Queen materialized behind the man. The stand’s eyes were trained on the set of keys hung up on the wall, trying to decide which one it would take. The elderly man barely looked up from his paper, blinking slowly at Yoshikage.

“Did you not read the sign on the door?” His voice was harsh, somewhat irritated. It made the younger boy’s nerves tingle, and his hands twitch in his sleeves. “Oh- I suppose I must have missed it,” Yoshikage answered, trying hard not to let his voice quiver.

Killer Queen had successfully grabbed one of the keys from the hooks in the meantime-- pulling it off carefully, and holding it in it’s hand. After the task was done, it’s eyes went to a stack of magazines that were sitting on the other side of the desk. Kira mentally tried to get it to stop-- “No! Killer Queen--!”

The magazines flew to the floor in a rush, and Queen quickly deposited the key into Kira’s pocket. The man at the desk jumped in shock, looking around for what could have possibly knocked the papers over. “Er-- I’ll just--”

Yoshikage made quick work of turning around and leaving. He mentally scolded Killer Queen for causing a scene, before pulling out the key from his pocket. Room 312-- it must be on the other side of the motel. He can at least thank his stand for that.

Quickly sliding into the passenger seat, the blond sighed quietly. “Our room should be on the other side.” You nodded, pulling the car around the building. The parking lot was beat up, it was obvious that the back of the motel didn’t get as much work as the front would. Successfully avoiding some potholes, you managed to park the car a good distance from the rooms.

Turning the engine off and sliding the keys out, you looked over at your companion. He still seemed to be cold-- shivering just slightly, his hands buried in the sleeves of his sweater. It was cute. “Hey, let’s hurry and get inside. You look like you could use a warm shower.”

His eyes met yours for a split second.

They were soft-- delicate, almost. Frosty blue dancing along in the shitty light of the lamp posts.

But there was something else there.

An emotion-- you didn’t quite know how to describe it.

He looked away as quickly as he had looked at you, just barely nodding his head. “Yeah,” His voice was small. “Let’s go.” With that, Yoshikage opened the door and got out, walking towards the staircase on the side of the building.

Huffing out a breath, you just shook your head. Always so secretive-- everything must be so hidden with him. You understood that he liked privacy, maybe more than the average 18 year old boy would, but still. Weren’t you his closest friend?

His only friend?

Shuffling out of the car, you made sure that the door was locked behind you. Speeding up your pace, you managed to catch up with Kira, walking beside him in silence. At times like these, you really wondered why you let yourself get into this mess.

You could have left Yoshikage on his own. You could have refused his plea, and stayed in Morioh. You might have actually finished high school.

You might have had a different life.

But no. You decided to be a good friend, and try to help him escape his consequences. Murder, your mind screamed at you, He killed someone.

Was it worth it?

Was it worth dropping everything to help him?

Kira stopped walking, finally finding the door to your room. Being so deep in thought, you accidentally walked right into him, stumbling back slightly and losing your balance. Just when you thought you were about to hit the cold concrete of the floor, something caught you.

Yoshikage was looking down at you, Killer Queen holding you against his chest. Sometimes, he really wondered about you.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t sound angry or upset-- genuinely concerned. That snapped you out of your thoughts within seconds, looking up at him like a deer in headlights. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you.” He just shook his head, a dumb little smile playing against his lips. “C’mon. I think you could use a shower too.”

Ah.

That’s right.

Despite whatever crime he may have committed-- Yoshikage Kira is your friend. He has been since elementary school, playing with you and only you. He’s been the only steady companion in your life-- and for that, you’d do anything for him.

Even if that meant dropping everything.

Fumbling with the key, the blond managed to open the door with minimal struggle. The room was small-- one king sized bed pushed to one corner, a dusty TV on an equally dusty entertainment center, and a small grimy bathroom. It definitely wasn’t any 5 star hotel-- but it would do for tonight.

Walking in, you kicked off your shoes by the door, and flipped on the light switch. It flickered for a few moments, before finally setting the room in a hazy yellow light. Yoshikage followed behind you, kicking off his own busted chucks and shutting the door behind him. He glanced around the room, before settling on the bed.

The one bed.

It wasn’t much of an issue for either of you. Kira didn’t shy away from giving you physical affection-- it wasn’t uncommon for the both of you to cuddle up in the same bed after a long day of driving. It was nice, in your opinion.

You walked over to the bed and sat down, stretching out your arms, and yawning slightly. “Do you wanna shower first? Or should I?” Yoshikage smiled at you, before moving to sit beside you. “Go ahead. I think I’ll just get up and take one in the morning.” Shaking your head at his response, you grinned. “I dunno, you kinda smell.”

Mocking offence, Kira glared at you. “Hey! I do not!”

“Stinky boy. Fine, I’ll go shower. Find something good to watch before we go to bed, then.”

Getting up, you grabbed the remote on the TV stand and threw it towards the bed. You shed your jacket on the way to the bathroom, letting it fall to the floor with a dull thud.

The bathroom wasn’t the cleanest you’ve seen, but at least the water in the shower ran. As the stream warmed up, you took a minute to look at yourself in the mirror. Kira mentioned something about getting a haircut at the beach, and it seemed like it wasn’t a bad idea. Less hair to have to deal with, the better.

Shedding your clothes, you stepped into the shower. The water was nice and hot, hitting your skin and letting all the stress of the day melt down your back. It was a great way to recharge, and calm yourself down before going to bed.

Using the cheap soap that the motel provided, you washed your hair and body, revelling in the basic smell of mint and lavender. It was nice that Kira had Killer Queen-- it gave you guys the opportunity to not have to sleep in the car, as well as giving you both basic hygiene.

You kinda wished that you could see it. A “Stand”, as he had once called it, was supposedly your embodiment of a fighting spirit. You weren’t sure where he had learned that, but you chose not to question his sources. From the way that Kira described Queen, it seemed to be a big cat.

Almost like a sphinx, pink in color, wearing only a small blue skirt with gloves and sandals. If Yoshikage was to get any animal to be paired with, you were happy it was a cat. It mirrored him so well-- calm, quiet, with the occasional thirst for chaos.

As you slowly got out of your thoughts, you realized that the water had started to turn cold. Quickly shutting off the shower, you stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying yourself off. Bed sounded absolutely amazing right now, and you wondered what Yoshikage had managed to find on the TV.

Slipping on your pants and shirt, you stepped out into the room.

Kira was laying on the bed, tucked under the covers, his button up and khakis discarded on the floor next to your jacket. Glancing at the TV, it was some form of late night sitcom, with boring characters and an uninteresting storyline. Dropping your other clothes into the pile, you walked over to the bed.

“Want me to turn the lights off?” Yoshikage nodded his head just slightly, his eyes already dipping with sleep. “Yes, please.”

Walking over and flipping the switch, the room was cast in darkness, aside from the low brightness coming from the TV. Moving back over, you slid under the covers, making yourself comfortable. Yoshikage practically latched onto you the second you joined him, pulling you close and settling his head against your chest.

You sighed slightly, letting a smile run along your lips.

“Good night, Yoshi.”

“Mmm, night.”

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headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne · 3 years ago

Text

Sekiro Chain 1

Original prompt: Kuro teaches Wolf how to play Shogi. Mun's note: I love how this chain turned out. Everyone did such an amazing job. Please show your apprecation for the characters by checking out their work and consider giving this chain a reblog.

@ghoulsteak

In Kuro’s tower, the summer air is warm and still. The sliding doors stand open to let what breeze there is pass through unimpeded. Sun streams in through the western door, painting a bright square across the tatami. Motes of dust spiral in the light.

Kuro can see Wolf from where he sits reading, a dim figure with only a foot caught in the sun, seated with his back to the opposite wall. It’s easy to forget he’s there, both because Wolf has been present in the corner of Kuro’s eye for a long time now and because being forgettable is a trait the shinobi has carefully cultivated.

He stands now and pads silently across the floor. Time for another inspection, Kuro supposes; another circuit around the tower’s perimeter (cliff side included), another quiet pass among the sun-streaked piles of books in the upper room. Wolf is always conscientious in his checking and rechecking, but today he seems to be wound even tighter than usual. On a day as beautiful as this one, that strikes Kuro as something of a shame.

As Wolf steps back inside from his patrol, Kuro sets down his book. “Wolf,” he calls. The shinobi’s head turns. “Would you like to play shogi with me?”

“I do not know how, my lord.”

“That’s no matter. I can teach you,” Kuro says.

Kuro himself learned from Owl. The old man taught him the game years ago while he lingered at the castle. He kept to himself whether was simply resting between outings or sniffing around amongst the servants and courtiers. Kuro has beaten him only once, and he suspects that the old man threw that game. He is as difficult for Kuro to read as his son is easy.

But still, he offers Wolf the same reason for learning as the Owl gave him. “They say shogi is good for the mind. It helps one practice strategy.” He knows Wolf struggles to justify doing things that don’t reap tangible results. The shinobi’s chief leisure activity, insofar as he can be said to have one, is sleeping. Wolf inclines his head in agreement.

Wolf seats himself across the table, and Kuro begins setting up the board. He explains the rules of the game to him; they’re a lot to take in, but he knows Wolf prides himself on only having to be told something once, and thus does not repeat himself. He listens in silence, nodding from time to time or interjecting with a murmured question, and they begin to play.

A minute and a half passes. Wolf loses.

“Hrm,” he says, brow furrowed. Kuro hides a smile with his sleeve.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to take it easy on you, Wolf,” he says.

A slight shake of the head. “Of course.”

“Again?”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Kuro offers him no advice. He doesn’t want to teach Wolf to play like him; even after three years’ worth of rainy days spent at the board, he suspects his own style is still too much like the Owl’s. He wants to see how Wolf plays shogi.

As they begin again, he watches the shinobi’s expression. Between turns, his gaze darts about the room, quicksilver eyes beneath a stone brow. His attention is divided a dozen different ways. This, rather than his inexperience, is why Kuro beats him again.

“Again?”

“Certainly.”

Perhaps, Kuro thinks, he should ask him to play next in a room with shuttered windows and a single, easily barred door. He can see the roots of Wolf’s technique, the shape of his quick, guarded mind beginning to describe itself upon the board, but he won’t let himself become immersed in the game. Wolf can’t let go of his awareness of the tower’s points of entry and escape, of the distance between the palm of his hand and the hilt of his sword.

Kuro begins to push Wolf’s slow offense back, intending to corner him on his own side of the board. Confident in his advance, he overreaches. Wolf capitalises on the chink revealed in his armour and cuts behind Kuro’s lines. As he finishes his move, he glances up at Kuro.

“Hah!” Kuro sits back in surprise, eyes alight. A hint of a smile runs along the furrows of Wolf’s face, and is gone just as quickly.

“I apologise, Wolf,” he says. “I underestimated you.”

Wolf inclines his head. “It is no matter.”

As the game continues to its close and the game after it begins, Kuro watches Wolf’s hold on his vigilance relax a little more. Perhaps there’s something comforting to him after all about a battle with no stakes, an enemy who wants nothing more than to pass a summer afternoon.

@dragonbasket

@fateoftheundead

“Are you ready, Wolf?”

Sekiro nodded and knelt before the low table across from the young lord, who busied himself shuffling a stack of papers. Kuro’s movements were not that of a studious priest, or a graceful shinobi, but guileless and clumsy like the youth he was.

“Why is this necessary for my mission?”

“Your sentiments are pure and honorable, but the pursuit of knowledge and understanding is just as pure, just as honorable.”

“As you insist. I do not know exactly what it is I do not know.”

***

The Wolf turned his head back and forth, flustered as he had ever been and rarely showed. “As I told the Heir, I do not know what it is I do not know. I… have heard that that is a good place to start. To start knowing.” A snort emerged from the background, amidst the wooden idols.

Emma, the mild doctor, approached, frowning in the direction of the snort. “That is true. Do not be so hard on yourself.” She took a seat. “Please continue.”

Sekiro handed the stack of Kuro’s scrolls to the man seated on the ground, who blinked with wide open eyes at the documents. Fujioka gave the smile of a man retreating from a tiger. “So whaddya need me for, anyway?”

“My letters are insufficient. You are the right choice, despite your grumbling.”

“Fine, fine, some compliment.” Spreading the papers out, he bent his head to the scroll he had selected. “So… I have heard it said, oh monks, that… hmm, I dunno that’s the best way to begin. You’ve got far more wisdom than you know, Wolf, but these doctrineses may be too big a breakfast. Tell me- what scriptures did you learn as a child?”

Sekiro sighed. “I remember very little from before I was orphaned, and once the Owl had adopted me I had very little time for scriptures or doctrines.”

Another scoffing laugh came, and this time it’s owner came closer. The Sculptor rose creakily and made his way over as well, though much less gracefully than the doctor.

“Ahh, these old bones need a stretch anyway. The Owl? Ukonzaemon Usui? One slip of the pen and he would have been a cloud-and-water man. Bah, you’re more a cloud-and-water man than the old fool ever could have been.” He bowed deeply to Fujioka, his wooden left arm almost scraping the floor. “Forgive me, scroll jumbler. Forgive me, Wolf. Please continue.”

“I suppose that I know as much as anyone. Gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā?”

Seeing the lost look on his face, the others in the room repeated the simple sutra. “You all know it. I’m gald I knew it as well. Perhaps this is not the correct interpretation, but it has always struck me... gone, gone, everyone gone... What does it mean to be shinobi? If we become one with the shadows, then do we exist at all?”

Fujioka beamed. “Oh, that’s wisdom alright, Wolf! As direct as the 6th Patriarch’s famous verse, and maybe as good.” He looked around sheepishly. “What? I know stuff.”

“Do you know who else had something to say about the Heart of Wisdom?” The Sculptor’s grimace was unreadable. Emma turned to him, but cut him only with the gaze of her eyes. “Master Hakuin! Do you know what he said about our beautiful Heart? Scripture scrolls dug from piles of garbage!”

“Garbage?” Emma’s face at last betrayed a hint of anger.

“Easy, sweet doctor. I mean no offense. We may pare our nails at the foot of a burning lamp, we may polish a brick into a mirror, but these base things are not bad. Simply a glimpse of truth. These,” he said, flinging a gnarled finger past the Heir’s donated stack of scrolls. “are wonderful in their own way, but for a man of my inclinations, I prefer the schematics our Wolf brings back. To build wondrous things!”

“Not from piles of garbage.” Sekiro’s face grew dark as he thought back to where he had found many such scrolls and the like that he’d found, in pockets and pouches, in dark corners used as hiding places, and he thought of the secrets he’d found as well, the deep crimson secrets that lay at the heart of men. And monsters.

“Of course, Wolf. Now, of all the treasures you bring back to our little ryokan... I prefer the sake best.”

“Sake!” Fujioka theatrically covered his face, mimicking the voice of a mortified grandmother. “In the midst of our scripture study! Would that not violate the Fifth Precept?”

“Indeed, indeed, sir, but there is one sin that the Tathagatha held more grave than any violation of the precepts.”

“What is this sin, Sculptor?” Emma’s face had lost all anger and she seemed genuinely curious.

“The disruption of the Sangha! Chaos amongst friends and disciples! Vituperation!” He grinned. “I am an old man. I get cranky when I do not get my sake. And when I get cranky...”

“The next time I find any sake, I will bring it right back. For the Sangha, that is.”

“Make sure you do. My friends, is anyone else cold? Without a little something to warm my belly, I feel every draft.” Without waiting for a response he walked over to the hearth where a few embers struggled to produce rarefied strands of flame. “We’re out of firewood.”

The others ignored him and Fujioka produced another scroll from the pile. “The Hekiganroku... some of these things the Heir sent us are quite advanced. Don’t get me wrong, I find a quality koan to be pleasing on its own merits, but the solution of these... beyond me.” The information broker squinted down at another scroll. “Oooh, ooh. The Heir left a little note in the margin. ‘Master Dogen’s commentary is superb.’ Aha! Dogen.” Fujioka became suddenly excited and turned his squint towards Emma. “Waittaminute...”

“I was indeed apprenticed to Dogen.” A faint smile. “Not the original Dogen. He was centuries ago. How old do you think I am?”

Before the broker could reply, Sekiro piped up. “Doctor, you don’t look a day over 200.” She rewarded him with a widening smile at the quip. She rubbed her hands together.

“It is cold. My Master Dogen would sometimes pretend to be a Zen master and jump out of corners to frighten me. He made a crude kesa out of bandages and covered his hair with a sack to seem bald.” She paused in thought. “I am not sure why.”

“Students must sometimes go along with their master’s teaching, I am sure.” Sekiro nodded.

Fujioka continued. “No offense, Wolf, but I got something here from the Hekiganroku that reminded me of you, and our dear ol’ sculptor. Case 54...” He recited the koan and put the scroll down.

“Yunmen Extends His Hands. I see. But I have only one hand.”

“Between the two of us we have two, Wolf,” called the Sculptor from the background, still puttering noisily among the idols. “Yunmen would slap us well if that were the case.”

Sekiro stood momentarily from where he’d crouched across from Fujioka and stretched his back before sitting again. “I recall some dharma if you forgive my rough understanding.”

“Of course!” The broker smiled in anticipation despite himself.

“Yunmen’s koan reminded me of another great master fond of hitting his disciples. Rinzai! What a fearsome teacher. There are tales that I have heard of his striking pupils to teach a lesson, but his most impressive act was worthy of a shinobi. In the meditation hall, during the most serene meditation, he would appear out of nowhere beside any monks whose minds were wandering, and beat them with a stick!”

“That stick is called the kyosaku and the monks must raise their hands and ask to be struck. It is an efficacious remedy for a sluggish mind.” Emma nodded to Sekiro as she rose as well. “I think I prefer your version, though.” “Aha! A fine Buddha indeed.” The Sculptor appeared with one of his wooden idols, one of surpassing craftsmanship. Without any hesitation he flung the idol onto the fire. The others reacted with a combination of horror and disbelief that led into a general clamor. Sekiro himself adopted a blank expression, as there was certainly a finer point to this act that he did not understand. “Protest all you like, it’s only a statue.”

“Of the Tathagatha. Such shame you bring with your recklessness,” seethed Emma. The sculptor scoffed.

Having recovered from his initial shock, Fujioka looked into the Sculptor’s eyes. “This is something I heard about once. That old pervert Ikkyu once did the same. But...”

“A common error, sir. Not Ikkyu, but Tanka.” He turned to Emma. “Do you mean to say that I burned the Buddha himself? Some relic of the Shaka Nyorai?”

“No, it is simply a wooden statue, but-”

“Simply wood,” he interrupted. “Then you do not mind if I burn another as the night grows colder?”

No one spoke for a long moment.

Fujioka broke the silence. “Ya think maybe we studied enough for the young master? I’d like to know for next time... I mean, if there is a next time... who are the masters you’d wanna hear more from?”

“Let us decide which sage would win in a battle, then!” The Sculptor’s face creased with amusement. “Wolf, who do you think?”

“Rinzai, of course. His stealth and fearsome strikes would take the day.” He turned to Emma. “What would you say, doctor?”

“Eno, the patriarch. His touch could make even the most ephemeral things as immovable as mountains. They say in a distant temple he sits mummified, unmoving but still meditating. True strength.”

“I dunno if the Heir thinks this is appropriate. Says here the Buddha himself specified that this subject is not suitable for the path to enlightenment.” He leaned forward with a sly whisper. “I would be like Dorin. Simple, happy teachings, and could spring through the trees like a monkey. Or a shinobi.”

“My turn,” said the Sculptor. “I am sure of my preference for the toughest master. Eka, Damo’s disciple. A great general before that, a fearsome warrior. To prove his devotion to becoming a student of Damo, he cut off his own arm and presented it to the patriarch, and became a great teacher in his own right. Invincible.”

Sekiro’s intuition prickled at him. He tensed, sensing something akin to danger, but...

The sculptor removed his wooden arm and held it aloft. “Wolf, I’ve seen how well you adapted to my previous arm. Such clever uses of the humble mechanisms I installed. But this thing? What use is it? I carved one arm with the other arm. Eka did not even replace his. So perhaps...” He shivered. “Is it cold in here?”

The sculptor tossed his wooden arm onto the fire.

There was no outcry from the others. Only a shocked silence. The sculptor rubbed the bare spot where his shoulder terminated. “Now, Wolf, about that sake...”

A slight smile. “For the Sangha?”

“For the Sangha.” Another uncomfortable pause, then the Sculptor let loose with a cackle.

In the warmth and light of the fire, the others joined him in laughter as the arm lit the room with its flames. @thefatladysang

@poisonhemloc

The old route to Senpou Temple started in the silvergrass field. Genichiro had never been to the temple, but there was a first time for everything. He needed the Mortal Blade, now, that was held there. The crimson one. The black one was further but much easier to get to, and relatively unguarded- but he didn’t want to risk the black one, the one that would kill Grandfather if he used it too much. Grandfather staying alive was the only reason the Interior Ministry hadn’t fully attacked Ashina. And he didn’t dare hasten the illness’s work before he had the Dragon’s Heritage, true immortality, not the Sediment’s poor version. With the Dragon’s Heritage he could stand up to the Interior Ministry, and win.

Grandfather had obviously thought the Sediment was making him unstable, when he stopped to tell him where he was going. A little part of Genichiro still wondered why he had even taken the time to do that. And wondered why he had come out here, where he had lost against the shinobi for the first time by a hair’s breadth, when the more reliable route to Senpou now ran through the dungeons. He turned to leave-

-and a strange depression in the grass caught his eye.

There was an arm. There was the shinobi’s arm, laying here unrotting. It had been a month, something should have at least tried chewing on it, but it looked as though he had just cut it off.

Some part of him knew why. He waited for the knowledge to work its way to the front of his mind through hazes of red.

The Dragon’s Heritage. The same as Tomoe. And Genichiro remembered a spar between Grandfather and Tomoe, when he was younger, before Takeru had died and Kuro had been born.

Neither of them were trying to be careful, but Isshin was always better at swordplay than Tomoe; xe had shined with archery instead, and taught Genichiro. And Isshin had cut off Tomoe’s right arm, with the same lunge Genichiro had used for the shinobi. And had given Genichiro a look, as Tomoe collapsed, and held the arm next to the stump, and when Tomoe revived it had reattached. And it had been like Isshin had never cut it off.

It must have been due to the Dragon’s Heritage. And now…

The prosthetic Dogen had spent days, months, working on, had been given to the shinobi. Every shinobi trick conceivable could fit in it. It would be better, smarter, to leave this somewhere the man would find it, and have him reattach it and lose the prosthetic and the advantage it gave.

But the rational train of thought was being drowned out by the louder, much more insistent voice that had listened to Orangutan complain, sometimes loudly, every time he was at the castle, about the arm he had lost continuing to hurt. And several soldiers, and samurai, who had also lost limbs and complained about the same thing. He shouldn’t delay any longer though, he needed to be moving. Genichiro grabbed the arm and left for the dungeons.

There was a brazier not far from the entrance, next to the cave Doujun had been reduced to using. Genichiro knocked it over and dropped the arm on top of the coals, watched it smoulder, and then catch when he dumped fabric- Doujun probably brought it over to tend to the stab wounds but they were fine, the Sediment was healing everything- and watched as the arm caught and blazed. He had a lot of things he needed to do but… he could wait, for a few minutes, ignoring Doujun grumbling as he retreated to the little cave and watch the armor distort and melt and the arm reduce to blackened bones before he turned and left for Senpou.

Isshin watched the shinobi nod politely, and stand. He would be after the Crimson Mortal Blade, now, like Genichiro was. He half turned- and tensed up, and grimaced, just for a second, but Isshin saw it. The prosthetic definitely twitched, and his good arm looked like he was going to grab at it for a moment, before he went back to the blank face he always wore.

“Something wrong, Sekiro?” Another little hint of emotion, he did not like that Isshin had seen that and commented on it. Now, would he lie, or admit to it? And which would make that shadow in his eyes worse?

“...Just for a second, my… injury, hurt. More than it has. I… believe I need to talk to Lady Emma.”

“Go then! Emma knows what to do with severed limbs.” Isshin watched him leave, not using the prosthetic’s grappling hook like he had to get here. Not using the prosthetic at all, actually. He would have to ask Emma what had happened. He had not painstakingly arranged for this man to get to Kuro and helped him hone his talent for killing just for his arm to twinge a little and have him give everything up.

Wolf had opened the library window Kuro hadn’t been able to budge as soon as he was back, and talked to Kuro, and now was approaching Emma. He looked tenser than he had, had Isshin given him bad news? And he hesitated for a moment, before seemingly resigning himself.

“Something… happened, to the injury.” Emma fought to keep the shock off her face, Wolf was asking for medical help beyond the gourd? When she went to check in with Isshin would she find him cured, talking to a normal, sane Genichiro?

“Okay. We need to take the prosthetic off anyway, I need to check the bandages. What happened?” Wolf had been keeping his voice quiet; Kuro hopefully was too engrossed in reading to notice, and Emma stayed quiet as well.

“It felt like I touched metal held in a fire, with the cut part of my arm.” Emma frowned, helping him remove the prosthetic and the remainder of the kote, not touching the scarf he was overly protective of. Pain from the missing limb, that happened a lot, and he had said it felt like burning. And pain in the remaining limb, from being cut. Burning in the remaining limb was not normal.

Wolf tensed up when she started unwrapping bandages, too, but that was normal for him. There were clean bandages up here, at least, Emma didn’t want to reuse what she was unwrapping. She should have changed everything when he woke up, but there was no way he would have trusted her enough to let her. Nevermind that she had bandaged the arm in the first place and been changing it while he’d been unconscious, and worried that it never looked like it was healing, just not bleeding as much.

Now it did, it looked… like he had said, like someone had cauterized it. Which was normally what Emma would have done anyway, except the Dragon’s Heritage should have healed it completely.

“You were just talking with Isshin?”

“Yes.”

“...Well, it cauterized itself. I don’t know why. It’s still going to hurt- it might hurt more, for a while. I need you to stay here for a few hours, at least, in case something else happens.”

“I cannot. I have Lord Kuro’s orders to fulfil.” Like he hadn’t asked Emma to check his arm. “I will-”

“Not leave until tomorrow at earliest.” Loud enough Kuro heard, hopefully. “Give your arm some chance to heal, since it’s finally started to.” She ignored the dirty look that flashed across his face for a moment as she placed new bandages and helped replace the remains of the left kote that the prosthetic tied onto.

Kuro walked to the front of the library as Wolf pushed Emma’s hands away and finished tying on the prosthetic himself.

“Wolf, please, if you are in pain the ingredients can wait.” Kuro was frowning, one of his hands was fidgeting with the book he still held. “And you did just duel Genichiro. Everything can wait til tomorrow morning, Wolf.” Kuro was probably too far away to hear a bitten back sigh.

“Of course, my lord.”

Emma had her own quarters at night, and Kuro had blankets in this room and had insisted on giving Wolf one of them; he had insisted on giving Wolf several of them, actually, and it had taken a few minutes of careful discussion before Wolf convinced him not to, but he wouldn’t be budged on Wolf having at least one and continuing to refuse was inviting him to order Wolf to accept more. How much Kuro seemed to care for Wolf- Wolf, who had failed at Hirata, who had spent too long trying to find Kuro and get to Ashina, and then failed again immediately- was. Strange. It must have been because Wolf was the only person left from Hirata, this was not how masters treated their servants. At least Wolf would stay awake if he was here, stay on guard.

And he failed at that, too, jerking awake in the middle of the night, biting his tongue to stop a yell like he had with Isshin, feeling like his missing arm had been crushed. It was still gone. The pain persisted for a few minutes, before fading back to the burning pain he had been trying to tune out. Emma was not being told about this, if she came before he left in the morning; Wolf had a duty to his lord, and he did not want to be delayed again because she thought he couldn’t work through pain.

Genichiro, angrier already than he had been, stomped back down the passageway, snapping at the soldiers he had ordered to keep watch down here to pay attention. Senpou was a waste. The monks were easy enough to kill, not one of them could block a swing from him, but every bridge to the monastery was broken. What was he supposed to do, scale Mt Kongo itself just to get to the main hall?

So the black blade would have to do. Open Gate. The weaker of the blades, sure, but it was enough. It was closer too, easier to get to; why had he even bothered with Senpou Temple? He should have gone straight for it. Yes, Grandfather thought it was tied to his life, but no one really knew, just some shrine maiden twenty years ago wrote a lot of stuff on a scroll to justify keeping the sword. It was all speculation. And it was just in a shrine halfway to Hirata and north. And Dragon’s Heritage or not, it would kill the shinobi for good and Kuro wouldn’t have a choice, and with enough of the generals sharing immortality they would drive off the Interior Ministry.

...Here was the remains of the fire where he’d burned the arm. The bones looked blackened, but still recognizable. Genichiro stamped on them as he passed, splintering them into pieces, and continued out of the dungeons, back out of the castle, before it was light.

#sekiro shadows die twice #fanfiction #fanart #sekiro chain 1

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bard-llama · 3 years ago

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WiP Wednesday: Rorveth, Isendain, AND Thronebreaker Snippets + Some Headcanons

I couldn’t decide what to do for WiP Wednesday, so uh... have lots of stuff! We’ve got an Iorveth/Roche snippet, an Isengrim/Eldain snippet, a Throne3 (Meve/Reynard/Gascon) snippet AND a little bit about some Thronebreaker headcanons me and @moonlights-ordinance came up with today.

Iorveth/Roche:

This is the beginning of an angsty fic wherein Iorveth pines and finds out some unpleasant news. The actual plot of the fic is Iorveth trying to get rid of his feelings, but we’re not there yet.

Iorveth really should’ve known that this day was destined to be hellish the moment that he was jolted from his paperwork daze by the rambunctious shouts of his Scoia’tael outside his office. He sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face, then checking that his bandana covered his scar properly. Only after that did he open the door to see what was sowing chaos amidst his ranks.

No one… actually seemed to notice his presence, which to be frank, was not a problem Iorveth typically struggled with. He was quite good at appearing intimidating and infuriated even when he wasn’t particularly trying.

But it seemed his elves – and a few of the dwarves – were far too involved in their own gossip to notice him as he walked through the crowd.

“Have you heard–?”

“No way.”

“Guess he loved Temeria so much he married it!” someone chortled.

“Ha! From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort. He must be real good.”

A bout of cackling followed that last remark, and Iorveth had his first premonition that the day was going to suck. But he still didn’t have answers, so he walked straight forward into what would become his own personal hell.

In the center of the crowd, surrounded by countless elves and dwarves, Iorveth was not at all surprised to find his two favorite subordinates – who were rapidly losing that classification. He stepped up next to them, crossing his arms and waiting for them to notice the trouble they were in.

Really, he should have known it would be these two. Rinn, for all that she was nominally well-behaved and quiet, was extremely mischievous, especially when it had the potential to cause minor problems for Iorveth. He would not be surprised if she had planned this. Her companion, Ky, may have been more innocent in that she may not have intended to draw a crowd – but she was absolutely the one spreading the gossip far and wide.

It took a while, but slowly, the chattering grew quieter and quieter as more people took notice of his presence. Finally, Rinn caught sight of him and poked Ky, who was still loudly expounding on something about marriage.

“Something you need to tell me?” Iorveth asked, eyebrow arched high and disapproving scowl firmly in place.

Ky winced, but Rinn looked entirely unrepentant as she signed, the Temerian King made an official announcement today that I caught during my shift.

Iorveth looked at the way more than a few people were biting their lips and avoiding his eye and hummed. “And?”

“Roche is getting married!” Ky burst out as if she physically could not hold it back anymore and Iorveth felt everything freeze.

Married? Vernon Roche!? The erstwhile commander of the Blue Stripes and proud pain in Iorveth’s ass? Who the fuck would he be marrying and why would it be a royal announcement!?

Even though Iorveth himself still felt like he was encased in ice, time seemed to resume for everyone else and chattering rapidly commenced, elves whispering back and forth between themselves and each other.

What was it someone had said earlier? ‘From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort’?

Was… was Vernon marrying King Foltest!?

Rinn must have seen the question on his face, because she nodded and passed over a paper missive.

It felt like moving through molasses to extend his arm and accept the notice that would forever change his life.

The Ancient Royal Line of the Temerian Dynasty Announces the Wedding of

Foltest, King of Temeria, Prince of Sodden, Sovereign of Pontaria and Mahakam, and Senior Protectorate of Brugge and Sodden

and

Vernon Roche, Commander of the Elite Blue Stripes Special Forces Unit, Pacifier of the Mahakaman Foothills, and Right Hand to the King

to take place at the year’s end on the Winter Solstice

Iorveth stared at the announcement, static fizzing through his brain. Vernon. And Foltest. They were getting married!?

His eye shot up to meet Rinn’s almost imploringly, hoping this was all some big joke. But there was no mischief in her eyes, and her forehead creased with worry as she watched him, clearly wondering what was wrong.

She, at least, appeared to be the only one who had noticed anything amiss in his reaction. The rest of his Scoia’tael were back to loudly gossiping about their enemy’s new status in life.

“Wait, I thought human men couldn’t get pregnant. Isn’t the whole point of a royal marriage to produce an heir?”

“Nah, I’ve heard the whore has a cunt,” someone laughed. “Can you imagine only having one? Sounds lame as fuck. But yeah, supposedly our dearest Commander Roche can make royal babies for King Fuckface.”

Iorveth’s heartbeat stuttered and he inhaled sharply through his nose. He… hadn’t known that. Sure, he’d heard rumors, but the rumors about Vernon were wild and extreme and ranged from his background as a whore to his imaginary sideline in child abduction to his preference for blunt force weapons.

Was this one… true? As he looked back at Rinn for the answer – aside from being the primary spy assigned to Vernon, she also seemed to just inexplicably know things – he could hear the conversation around him moving on.

“Hey, do you think that’s why they’re getting married? Maybe the idiot king knocked up his whore and now he’s gotta marry him!”

“I dunno, did Roche look pregnant at our last fight?”

Rinn nodded the slightest bit and Iorveth brain returned to static. Vernon. Pregnant. That – he hadn’t been aware that that was something he was emotionally invested in, but the storm of feelings racing through his veins proved that he was. He wanted – he wanted to see that, wanted to cause that, wanted to discover what Vernon’s cunt would be like and feel it stretched around him and–

He’d – he’d always assumed that Vernon had a cock, even though he wasn’t quite sure what a human cock looked like. But whenever he’d picture a different future – one where he could choose his own happiness over his cause – it hadn’t mattered that he didn’t know what a human cock looked like. His imagination was more than delighted to fill in whatever he wished, and coming up with different ideas was all that got him through the night at times.

The idea of Vernon with a cunt was startling. It had never occurred to him before, and now he wondered how he could’ve possibly been so shortsighted. The things that he could do with Vernon’s cunt were limitless and Iorveth’s mind got stuck on that for probably far too long.

He was brought out of his daze by Rinn choking, wide eyes locked on his face. With sudden dread, he understood what she must have seen. What she must have realized.

Iorveth swallowed hard, jerking his head, “give me a proper report.” He turned to head back to his office without looking at her and he wasn’t sure if he was hoping she’d follow or that she wouldn’t.

(the rest under a cut to save your dash)

Isengrim/Eldain:

This is a fluffy bit from a get together fic set post-Reasons of State and we start with Isengrim mourning Dijkstra and Dijkstra’s betrayal.

There was a knock on his door and then Eldain’s voice spoke. “Isengrim? Um. I know you aren’t feeling great, but would you come with me for a bit?’

All of a sudden, then blankness fled under a wave of confusion and curiosity. “What?”

“I – um. I have something for you. But you gotta come with me for a bit. And if you don’t like it, I promise I will not get in the way of your grief, even if that means hiding out in here.”

Eldain sounded nervous, of all things. Isengrim hadn’t actually known Eldain was capable of feeling nervous.

Why was he nervous?

Isengrim frowned at the door. He wasn’t exactly going to get an answer lying here. And maybe Eldain could keep him from thinking about Sigi and all the pain associated with him for a bit.

It was worth a shot. Besides, he’d come to rather like the other ex-commander quite a bit over the course of working together. Not that they hadn’t worked together before, but there had always been a formality dividing them. Eldain looked up to him, he knew that. Not that Eldain would ever say it, but it was the way Eldain looked at him. A soft regard that one could almost mistake for love, but was truly nothing more than hero worship. He’d seen the same look on the faces of all the young Scoia’tael, but from Eldain, it felt like the thorn of a rose – he hated it, knowing that Eldain would never feel the same, that he was destined to die alone and miserable and a beautiful young musician like Eldain could never be his. But at the same time, he coveted it, coveted Eldain’s regard, because even if it wasn’t what he wanted, it was something.

He would give anything to have Eldain in his life in any form.

Swallowing hard, Isengrim rubbed his face, then opened the door.

Eldain was on the other side of the door and his shoulders were slumped in defeat that quickly turned to confusion, one shoulder cocking upwards.

“What?” Isengrim asked.

“I – no, I just. Thought you’d say no,” Eldain said awkwardly.

“Does that mean you do want me to go with you somewhere or not?”

“Yeah!” Eldain shook himself, smiling at Isengrim, and it felt as though the sun had emerged from cloud cover, because instead of the nothingness-pain from before, now he felt – too much, really. And some of it hurt, but more of it was pleased to just bask in the rays of Eldain’s smile.

He was only half aware of following Eldain through the house, still a little dazed from the blinding light. But when Eldain came to a stop in front of a closed door, the world seemed to snap back into focus, and he looked to Eldain expectantly.

Eldain fidgeted, feet shuffling. “Um. Like – like I said, if you don’t like it, I won’t force you to stay, but um–” his adam’s apple bobbed and then Eldain opened the door and motioned for Isengrim to enter.

Isengrim took two steps through the doorway and froze. All around him, the room was lit up with dozens of little lights – some up high, some down low, others around his hips. Those ones on the floor guided him towards what looked like a raggedy old blanket draped over the wooden flooring.

“It’s not exactly a starlit picnic,” Eldain shrugged, setting down a basket he hadn’t even noticed Eldain was carrying, “but since we’re laying low, I figured this was as close as we could get.”

“I–” Isengrim was breathless, uncertain of what to say. Awe spread through him as he looked over the dozens of lights, each coming from candles in small lanterns that were hanging from the ceiling all over. He couldn’t think of any words to portray what this meant to him, what it meant that Eldain would go to all this trouble for him. So he was as surprised as Eldain when his mouth said, “isn’t this a fire hazard?”

Eldain rocked back as if he’d been hit, smile abruptly falling from his face.

“No,” Isengrim tried to recover, cursing himself. “I – this is amazing. Is. What I mean. Um. Am trying to say. I – you did this for me!?” If there was disbelief coloring his tone, it was only because he could hardly comprehend the idea of anyone going to so much trouble just to cheer him up.

Eldain’s jaw was clenched, and his expression was a neutral mask that Isengrim hated having put there. Why did he always hurt the people he cared for? Was he truly so tainted that anyone he touched was at risk of infection? Was simply being around him enough to ruin what could be an incredible life for a beautiful young musician like Eldain?

“You don’t have to stay,” Eldain murmured, and Isengrim felt like crying, uncertain whether he wanted to leave and spare Eldain the risk of contamination or if he wanted to stay and bask in this incredible gift that Eldain was giving him.

––

Never before had Eldain wished that Isengrim would leave his presence immediately. But if he stayed much longer, then it was entirely too likely that he would witness Eldain falling apart.

Eldain had always known his silly little crush would never go anywhere . He was even almost fine with that. But he’d thought – he’d thought that Isengrim at least considered him a friend. And yes, this whole production was a little over the top for friendship, but hey, Eldain was an over the top kind of guy.

There was always the possibility Isengrim would hate it. And he’d worried about that and fretted over it, but he hadn’t really expected it to happen. Even if Isengrim was uncomfortable, Eldain would’ve guessed that he’d be polite enough to grin and bear it. Which was far from ideal, but right now, Eldain really wished that he’d done that, because instead it felt like he’d reached into Eldain’s chest and ripped his still-beating heart out, leaving him bleeding and doomed.

“Thank you,” Isengrim said, and Eldain startled. Of all the words he’d expected, those were not even on his radar.

“What?”

“Thank you. I – you clearly went to a lot of trouble to give me something beautiful. Thank you.” Isengrim said the words easily, and Eldain was confused. That… didn’t sound like Isengrim hated it. “So, what are we eating?”

Eldain’s smile grew slowly, but as Isengrim continued to look expectantly at him, he found that he couldn’t hold it back. He waved Isengrim towards the blanket – one probably as old as the house was, but all the good blankets were in use. “Bread and cheese. Fruit. Some veggies,” he narrated as he pulled the items out of the basket. “Wasn’t sure how much appetite you’d have, so I wanted to keep it light, but if you’re hungry, there’s still some venison in the storeroom.”

Isengrim looked at the objects laid out around them. “I – I don’t know what to say except thank you,” Isengrim said, a smile growing on his face that made Eldain’s heart beat fast. “This is very thoughtful and sweet.”

Eldain flushed, reaching into the basket to pull out the last item. “And, of course, some wine. It’s not exactly high quality, but we’re slumming it tonight anyway.”

The huff of laughter Isengrim let out made it feel like there were wings on his heart, letting it slowly rise. He’d made Isengrim happy. If that was all he ever did in life, he could be content with that.

Throne3 (Meve/Reynard/Gascon):

The porn tags for these 3 are sadly lacking, so... have some porn XD The premise here is that they’ve just escaped the Lyrian capital through the sewers and now they’re all washing off in the first river they came across.

They all knew what the venerable Count Reynard Odo was getting up to with Queen Meve upriver. But while the deserters from the Lyrian army and the Strays seemed content with gossiping about it, Gascon felt compelled to seek out more.

Sneaking past the guards ensuring their queen’s privacy with her boytoy even now was honestly pathetically easy. But then, they were probably used to looking the other way for their queen.

Gascon didn’t really know what he was planning, but he knew that he needed to see Meve in the throes of pleasure. The fierce and enchanting queen was currently being ‘serviced’ by her top aide and everybody knew it.

How could he possibly be expected to resist?

But instead of satisfying him, the view before him only made him crave more, because Meve and Reynard were standing about shin-deep in the water with him wrapped around her, hands stroking over her body as her head rested back against his shoulder.

But moreso than the picture they made, what truly drove Gascon over the edge was hearing Reynard tease his queen.

“So eager, your majesty,” Reynard murmured softly. “Could it be that the company of the ever so honorable Duke of Dogs,” his voice was heavily sarcastic, “has gotten you excited? Are you curious what that infuriatingly charming mouth would feel like against your skin?”

Meve arched as Reynard’s fingers skirted just short of touching her clit. “Reynard,” she growled.

Gascon wasn’t certain when his fingers had slipped inside his trousers, but the touch against his cock had him shuddering, already overwhelmed at the very idea that Meve could be fantasizing about him.

“Have you thought about pushing the arrogant bastard to his knees and showing him his place?” Reynard continued and Gascon bit his lip hard against a moan. “Have you pictured him, lips stretched around your widest strap, eyes tearing up from the effort of it?”

Meve whined softly, reaching up to tug Reynard into a kiss.

Gascon had never seen a filthier kiss in his life, and he stroked himself faster, picturing what he would do if he could join them. She may not have a strap handy to gag him on, but he was sure they could come to a compromise.

“Do you imagine him kneeling before you, begging for you?” Reynard rumbled and Gascon almost missed Meve’s sound over his own. Which meant that Reynard knew he was there when the Count continued, “I’ve no doubt the crass mutt is a marvel with his mouth.

Later, Gascon would claim that he spoke before he could even think about it, proclaiming, “I am.”

In reality, he spent a long moment contemplating how to respond. Getting caught spying on sex typically ended one of two ways: either you got invited to join in or you got beaten to a pulp.

He was fairly hopeful that the first option was more likely than the latter, but he wasn’t sure, and in the seconds of silence that followed his words, his heart pounded in his chest and pulse raced and he felt on the edge of either agony or elation.

“In that case,” Meve’s voice broke the quiet with all the firmness of having made a decision, “come pay homage to your queen, Gascon.”

Even though he’d hoped this was how things would go, he still felt utterly amazed that she had actually said yes.

He stepped through the buses, trying not to look like he’d been caught with his hand down his pants. “Your Majesty,” he bowed his head with a playful smirk and then sent her a wink just to top it off.

Meve looked every bit the dignified queen as she held out a hand that should have held her signet ring. They had taken that from her when she’d been captured, but Gascon found himself licking his lips, taking her hand and kissing her ring finger as if he were a knight pledging her fealty.

Her gaze was hot on him as he slowly kissed up her arm, and unlike the two of them, he still wore his armor – which meant that he could pretend no one saw the way that his cock twitched when Reynard reached out and knocked his hat off, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling his face down into Meve’s chest.

Obediently, he applied himself to worshipping Meve’s tits, taking Reynard’s lead and only giving her glancing brushes across her nipples, denying her touch.

Meve growled in frustration, grabbing his hips and pulling him into her until the bulge of his cock rubbed over her pelvis. Her cunt greeted the contact with a gush of slick, staining Gascon’s pants and making him pant with arousal.

“Fuck,” he gasped, grinding into her. She arched with a cry, fingers digging into his ass and Gascon desperately wished that there wasn’t a layer of fabric between his cock and that glorious cunt. But how could he pull away to fix that when his time could be better spent licking and sucking and biting at Meve’s glorious tits? Gods, they were beautiful, plump and sensitive, to the point that nipping at one nipple while squeezing her other tit was enough to make Meve’s body jerk, bucking into his hips as she utterly drenched his pants.

“Fuck,” he whimpered again, then dropped to his knees and buried his face in her cunt.

Thronebreaker Headcanons:

Okay, so as I’ve been getting to know Meve, Reynard, and Gascon and have started writing different plots with them, I’ve decided a few things. There’s going to be 1 universe of fics that falls under the “homophobia exists” universe that I talked about here. However, I know that’s not everyone’s boat and like, sometimes I just wanna write context-less porn, so definitely not all fics will! But I have several ideas already in that ‘verse, especially looking at the chronic pain Reynard has as a result of things.

So, specific to that ‘verse, one headcanon is that Reynard was whipped specifically for being queer and almost died from it. The wounds healed, but not... well, not the greatest. There wasn’t a lotta care taken with it. Which means that his back pains him A LOT and there’s a lotta things that he has to do different. For example, I’ve decided he sits in chairs like Riker does, keeping his back straight so that he doesn’t stretch the scar tissue. His range of motion is also limited in a lot of ways, but he’s found ways to compensate and hide it over the years. (just as an FYI, Riker sits like that, ‘cause Frakes had a back injury and doing that was less painful)

Okay, now WITHOUT the homophobia that led to chronic pain - I’ve decided that each of the Throne3 need to have a niche hobby that occupies them in their limited spare time (developed with much help from @moonlights-ordinance). Sooooo:

Meve:

Meve likes sewing. She doesn’t like people to know she likes sewing, because it’s closer to a traditionally ‘feminine’ than she usually aims for, but she actually really enjoys it.

On their journey, this comes out when Gascon’s shirt gets ripped and when he complains about it a lot, she just grabs it and mends it. This leads to her spending the evenings mending all the different clothing from the soldiers and the Strays.

I think she learned sewing from her father and he taught it to her in an attempt to get her to just sit still for five fucking minutes!!

Not directly related to sewing, but because her mother was busy being queen, she was largely raised by her father, who was an Ofieri Marquis (like, 2nd level nobility, under a duke) whose family paid a substantial sum in order to win the match. He was not popular at court and therefore found himself largely shunned by the peerage, but it left him with basically all of his time to devote to his children. (Does... does Meve have sisters?? Queen Kalis supposedly bore several girls???)

Reynard:

Reynard likes to crochet. Specifically, he likes to crochet little plushies. He’s not too picky about what he makes, and whoever is in range when he finishes it will likely end up gifted with an unexpected plushie.

At one point, he finished making a stingray, only for a passing soldier to dub it a Sting-Rey. Thus, Lieutenant Sting Rey was born. The troops listen to Lt. Sting Rey better than they listen to General Odo lmao.

He has a habit of crocheting in the evenings in the mess (maybe with Meve mending nearby) and random soldiers (and Strays) like to sit around his feet so that when he finishes a lil plush, they might get it. And when he starts a new one, he might take requests.

I could say so much more about the plushies he makes for Gascon and Meve, but I guess I’ll save that for a fic. But I gotta share these pics, ‘cause they’re so fucking cute. So: a donkey for Gascon (’cause he’s an ass) and a Lyrian eagle for Meve (’cause it’s Lyrian lol).

Gascon:

Gascon likes dancing! Specifically, he was trained in ballet from a young age (like literally a year old is when you start, apparently) and was trained as a ballerina (meaning he will be lifted/led instead of doing the lifts/leading). By the time he ended up on the streets at 12 (8 in canon, but my guy needs to at least be 20), he was pretty damn good at it - and so he ended up teaching the Strays

The Strays have a ballet troupe that puts on performances for the gang on occasion as like, a bonus to music night or something. Semi-spontaneous and very fun.

Gascon is SCARY flexible (like, to the point that Reynard is a little horrified that the human body can do that) from dance and he definitely uses that to his advantage.

He 100% gets everyone to dress up all fancy and put on makeup and do their hair and shit. After all, they steal all this fancy shit from the nobles - why SHOULDN’T they enjoy it?

And there you have it! Sorry for the super long post, but also... enjoy?

#rorveth #isendain #throne3 #iorveth x roche #isengrim x eldain #meve x reynard x gascon #thronebreaker #the witcher #wip wednesday #fic planning

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