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hikaritakaishi · 4 months ago

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Takari Week 2024 - Day 4: Fourth Contact

Days: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Title: Carnelian (Fourth Contact)

Characters: Takeru Takaishi, Hikari Yagami, Sora Takenouchi

Summary: It wasn't a conscious decision. It wasn't even a decision. It just happened. When she noticed, she was already looking into his eyes, wanting to drown in them. Quickly. Desperately.

That wasn't a coincidence. But it wasn't planned either. When he noticed, he already wanted to feel her touch. Madly. Profoundly. Intertwined souls, made to recognize each other in every lifetime.

They had it all. They had each other.

Note: A collection of stories that gives us an insight into Takeru and Hikari's relationship over the years. It was really hard to put all the prompts explicitly in the story, so I tried to metaphorize some of them, in order for them to make sense at the end.

It is composed of two prologues, one for Takeru and one for Hikari, exposing events before 1999. And a final epilogue, summarizing all the feelings exposed in the previous chapters. In the intermediate chapters, we follow all the challenges that a long-term friendship has to face when it becomes a romantic relationship, and how we form solid and permanent bonds with the ones we love the most.

・。。・゜゜・。。・

Something was missing.

A progression, a discussion, an enlightenment. A hug that brought no closure to her spirit nor erased her doubts. Not completely ease her mind. She needed it, she wanted it. But she needed to put her heart to rest in some other way.

Required advice. And thought of someone right away, who used to give the best advice for any type of hard situation. The mother of their friend group. The person she knew was her brother’s first love and Takeru’s brother last. Sora.

Hikari first wanted to call, but reevaluated the position that she was on, and decided to text asking if she could meet her in person. Some things are simply better discussed face to face, eye to eye. Feeling the other person's empathy and seeing their facial expressions while reasoning runs.

Sora didn't even take 10 minutes to respond the message. Did she sound too alarmed? Or too desperate?

“I'll be home all Saturday. Take as much time as you want and as you need, I have plenty.” Followed by a pink heart emoji.

Sora was always so incredibly soft and solidary. Always available to help, even with tight work schedules, and meticulously studying the future she wanted to build. No wonder Taichi and Yamato loved her for so long.

“Thank you so much Sora! I will be arriving after lunch time, early afternoon. I promise it won’t take too long!” Followed by a red heart emoji. Perfect. Finally, she will let herself speak about it for the first time. That thought made her a little nervous, honestly.

As much as she knew it was necessary, Hikari still had troubles opening her feelings to others. It still felt uncomfortable hearing her own thoughts out loud. Messed up argumentative lines, misplaced words, long silences. Failed attempts to explain what seemed inexplicable. Giving up. Quit easily. Self-sabotage.

It was a process, she emphasised to herself pretty much every day. A time-consuming process. But still imperative. Baby steps, little by little, small progresses flourished.

She walked slowly to Sora's house. Mentally preparing what she would say, how she would say. A flawless script. Not that it was difficult to explain, but she wanted to not sound foolish.

Everything simply evaporated from her mind when she arrived. Great. Took a deep breath and rang the bell.

“Hikari!” A very radiant voice welcomed her. It was impossible not to smile and feel loved. Sora was the personification of lovely. “Come inside! I was making some tea; would you like to have some?”

“Sure! What kind of tea is it?”

Chamomile. Of course. Perfect when it comes to avoid nerve wrecks.

“I am alone at home, but let's talk in my bedroom anyway. It's more comfortable. Can you help me with the tea?”

“Yes of course! And thank you so much for your time!”

“You don't have to thank me, I'm always here for whatever you need. Would you kindly be able to bring the cups? I take the pot of tea and biscuits” A plate with Sembei biscuits was placed right next to the pot of tea.

They calmly walked to Sora's room. She closed the door as soon as they arrived.

A small table sat in the centre of the room was waiting for them, with two pads on the floor, one on each side of the table. There was an undeniable effort to make everything look as welcoming as possible.

“Make yourself comfortable!” Sora said while placing the pot of tea and the biscuits plate on the table. “I hope you like the tea and the biscuits; I didn’t know what to prepare so I went for the safest option.”

“You didn't need to bother; I just needed your company.”

“I am so glad you came; we didn’t spoke in such a long time!”

Sora sat in front of her and started pouring the tea into the cups.

“I know right? And I am sorry if I am taking time from you that you might need for…”

“Oh Hikari, you have no idea how I really need and missed these moments. Just to talk to a friend and having them around. So don’t apologising, really, I am very happy that you came! So…” She handed her the cup of tea, with small pieces of the tea plant floating calmly inside of it, contrasting with Hikari’s flustered emotions. “You said you needed to talk about something important, what could it be?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know where to start…” Hikari sighed, inhaling the smell of the tea to calm her nerves.

“Take your time” Sora smiled, and it filled Hikari’s heart with a warm kind feeling of comfort. “Is it something that happened recently or have been happening?”

“Actually, it has been happening for quit sometime, but before getting there… How can I say this...”

Sora remained silent, not wanting to pressure Hikari into saying anything she didn't feel comfortable or prepared for. Hikari was stirring the tea with a spoon and looked away.

“Promise me not to tell anyone about this… specially Yamato.”

“Oh, of course not…” Sora’s voice tone changed, and she could sense the intrigue in it. “But why specially Yamato?”

“It was to do with Takeru.” Said finally, feeling some of the weight she carried on her shoulders finally fall.

“Takeru? I think I know where this is going… “Sora laughed a little bit.

“You know? Did he tell you what happened?”

“No, he did not tell me anything, but I can imagine. But please continue, at the end I will explain you everything that I have in my mind.”

“Ok.” She said suspiciously.” Well, since the beginning of high school, Takeru has become very popular, and when I say very, I say immensely, popular. Mostly around, girls. To the point that he receives several loves letters every single week.”

“Oh really? That much? I mean, he is a very sympathetic person with a gentle eye-catching personality, always cordial and courteous… how do you feel about all of that?”

“At first, I didn't pay much attention, I thought it was normal, for the reasons you mentioned mostly. But lately it has been bothering me a little bit…” Took a sip of the tea, to give Sora space to say something.

“And why is it? Is because you are afraid that he will distance himself from you, or is he acting any differently now that he is receiving a different type of attention?”

“I don’t feel like he is acting differently than before, and I do admire him for the way he deals with his recent popularity, always being careful with the words he uses and always being humble despite everything. A lot of boys would’ve taken advantage of the girls and probably hurt them.”

“Takeru is a soft soul; I don’t believe he would do that. “

“Neither do I. But I keep imagining that one day he might give one of them a chance. And start really… love someone.”

“And that is a completely plausible scenario.” She took a Sembei biscuit from the plate and broke it in half. “Soner or later, he will find someone he really likes. And will go on dates with her, spend time with her…” Continue to talk while eating.

That was exactly what she was afraid of. Felt her heart sinking a little and her throat started burning. Sora was undeniable right.

“… and that makes you feel nauseous, right?” Sora finished.

“Yes, a little bit.”

“Do you want to be that person?”

“I cannot be that person Sora, that is not even an option.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because…” Hikari began to search in her mind for the best words to describe what she had been feeling in the last few months. A tough but sincere analysis. “Because that could do more harm than good. We have been friends for many years, and we have an incredible friendship. Our connect is rare, and I don't want to destroy it. I don’t want to hurt him if I’m not able to be... enough for him.

“I sincerely understand you, Hikari, seriously. I went through something similar when I started to date Yamato, but you know, when you really love someone, the best thing you can do for them and for yourself is to be honest about those feelings. “

“You cannot imagine how betrayed by myself I felt when I realized that… I was falling for Takeru.”

“I can imagine. Have you thought about... exposing it to him? Do you think he might feel something as well?

“I don’t know… I never really planed on saying anything but a few days ago, he received another love letter from a girl he rejected, and I think that now he suspects that I might like him because of the way I acted around it.”

“What did you do?”

“I was so tired of pretending that I was ok with all of that. The love letters, the girl’s whispers whenever he passes by them in the hallways, him pretending that nothing was going on. My feelings simply boiled up and I couldn’t take them anymore. I distanced myself the rest of the day and avoid Takeru as much as I could. And I know what you might be thinking! Like, what a stupid thing to do! But I just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Oh Hikari, I understand you so well, I felt that too. Yamato had the band, and the band was a huge success for a long time. “Sora looked around, remembering the days before she confessed herself to Yamato. “Too many girls, too many concert, and too much pressure on me to be perfect. I almost gave up on him because of that. But I was being overcome by fear, just like I think you are. “

“Do you think he will be ok with me… confessing all of this? The last thing I want to do is mess up with our friendship.”

“I believe that your connection is unique enough to make those feelings you have something much more than you expect, Hikari, you just have to let them do their magic.”

“I can agree with you… but why is it so hard? To just be honest?”

“Sometimes your feelings can eat you alive if you don’t get them out of your chest. Even if you try to ignore them, they will still exist.”

Hikari continued stirring her tea impatiently. Seemed infinitely easier said than done.

“I need more sugar, otherwise I'll have a drop in my blood pressure.” She took tiny cube of sugar out of a small pink jar that was on the table.

“Do you know what I was referring to earlier? Everyone expected you to fall in love with each other Hikari, it seemed beautifully inevitable. You built something that very few people experience in a lifetime.”

“Beautifully ironic if you ask me. “

“You should romanticize it more, maybe it was fate that brought you together, at the right time, at the right place. I mean, who knows. And even if it was just a coincidence… what an incredible one.”

“You cannot romanticize total chaos, Sora.”

“Oh, how dramatic!”

Hikari rolled her eyes while Sora kept laughing at her facing expressions.

Time went by and they kept sharing memories and advice, in a light tone that almost gave Hikari total certainty that what she was going to do was the right decision. What else could she do? The worst that could happen was that her feelings weren't reciprocated, which Sora dismissed almost immediately. It was either that or lose the opportunity to be honest and see Takeru with someone other than her in the future. You do what you need to do.

・。。・゜゜・。。・

Another week came a way too fast. The weekend was so fastmoving that Hikari did not even notice until Sunday night, when she was preparing her materials for school, and remembered everything she had shared with Sora. Now that the morning was dawned, she will have to go and face him. She had a little knot in her stomach and even her mother noticed that she had barely eaten breakfast.

“Come on Hikari, you got this!”

She asserted in waiting for the ideal occasion, and deliberately waited for the classes to finish.

Takeru noticed her impatience throughout the day. She seemed far, far away from him. Tried to catch her eye multiple times unsuccessfully and could not tell where she was in the intervals between classes. He expected everything to be back to normal, posterior to what happened. It was clearly not, something strange hovered over them. To convoluted for him to decipher. Yet.

“Can you wait for me, after class?”

Hikari was right behind him, standing, speaking graciously and quietly. He was sitting in his desk, waiting for the teacher to come and to start the last lesson of the day.

“Of course, is everything ok?”

Tried not to sound too analytic. Maybe a bit causally worried. She smiled. He knew she had done it on purpose. The distance, the quietude all day long, no mention of the love letters or that afternoon after class. Hikari laid the emotional groundwork.

“Yes, I only need a moment with you, alone. To talk.”

“Sure, I may need it too.” He played her back.Felt the tension build, while observing her confused expression. She did not expect that, and it was apparent.

“Wait for me then.”

Perceived her go to her sit. There was something stimulating about her existence and the way she simply was. Whenever he could, he looked at her distractedly. In her most natural way of being. For as long as he could remember, he had admired her. Beautifully soft, gracefully strong. Consciously vulnerable.

The school bell rang, and Takeru did not want to wait much longer. He packed his things and got up, heading towards her.

“Follow me, I can think of a better place for us to talk.”

That was certainly unexpected. Decided to trust him, and packed her things quickly as well, and hold his hand. Together they walked out of the room, waving Daisuke goodbye, leaving him with a strange feeling that something was about to change.

“Where are we going?”

“To a part of the school where no one had classes today.”

They went down to the top floor, still holding hands. Hikari felt her knees getting weaker and her hands were sweating. She tried to breathe slowly, but it was difficult, mainly because of the speed at which Takeru was pulling her. They passed through several rooms and entered the last one in the corner. He was right, it looked like no one had used those rooms that day. Everything was tidy and quiet.

“These rooms belong to the art and sculpture clubs. They only come from Tuesday to Thursday. We are safe.”

He let go of her hand to open the door. Courteously, he let her in first and followed. They went to the end of the room and placed their backpacks on the table in the right corner, which was next to the window.

The entire room was filled with shades of orange and brown. Carnelian. A slightly stuffy environment, with a little dust visually hung in the air.

Takeru leaned on the edge of the table and looked at Hikari, waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to look at him. She leaned against the windowsill and avoided his eyes, trying to calm herself first. Stretched her back a little and relaxed her shoulders. Took a very deep and loud breath.

“Takeru… I don’t even know how to start… I”

“Look at me, please.”

She looked up to meet his eyes. They brough her an uncomfortable cosiness.

Maybe due to the sunset colour pallet, his eyes seemed more crystal clear now, an angelic blue. The orange touch of his freckles contrasted with the blonde of his hair in a melodical way. Would it be too pathetic to want to hug him again?

“I missed you today.” Takeru broke the silence. “I don’t know what you are thinking, but I hate feeling you distant.”

“I missed you too.” Hikari said honestly. “I've been wondering all day how to ask you to talk about what happened, last week.”

“I thought about the possibility of that being the case.”

“Takeru, I just don’t want to ruin our friendship because of my selfishness.”

“I think we should have talked about this sooner. We could have avoided misunderstandings and…discomfort.”

“That's not an easy conversation to have” She looked out the window. No one was around, but she bet their colleagues were all on their way home.

“I understand, and please be as sincere as you need. I don’t mind being a little hurt” He laughed. “If you do is because I probably deserved it. “

“First of all, I want to apologise for the way I handled what happen the other day. I think I took it too… personally.” The words came out choppy, as if she was trying to force them out. “I just don’t want to lose a… friend, as special as you are to me.”

Hikari waited for a reaction. His face was neutral, until he started laughing.

“Takeru… I am being serious…”

“I know, I know, am sorry but…”

He pushed himself off the table and approached her. He placed one hand on each side of her body, leaning on the windowsill, facing her and looking into her eyes.

Her pale skin felt like snow. Light brown eyes, light brown hair. A scent of vanilla and coffee. Hikari was calmness, even when was being drowned by an ocean of insecurities he never really saw as such. Her lips were dry, probably from impatience to express herself. He did not mind, she looked as perfect as always.

Hikari let her weight fall onto her back, she had no space to move away from him. He was close, leaning down a bit to reach her height.

“What you are telling me is… and please correct me if I am wrong.” His lips move slowly, and those words came out like a whisper.

Hikari looked at his lips first, and then his eyes.

“You've been jealous… can we call it jealous? All this time because of those letters, and yet you say we're…friends?”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes went down to his lips once again. Whole body shaking from anxiety. Felt his breath close, very close.

“Can you guess?”

Takeru slid a hand to her cheek and placed his lips on hers. Quickly.

One

“Don’t go yet.”

Hikari whispered, when she felt the kiss breaking. Locked their lips once again. A much longer contact. Warm, humid. Her hands pressed in the windowsill. His hand still in her cheek. Felt the other hand reach her waist, pressing it.

Two

“What are the chances of someone showing up here?” She asked, as an excuse to get some air. Her cheeks were burning. Their bodies were burning.

“None. Literally none.” The urge in his voice.They’ve wanted each other for too long. It took them to much time to reach to that.

Three

Hikari put her arms around his neck and let him carry most of their weight. Takeru struggled not to take his hands off her waist and go further. Their noses bumped many times.

They let go for a moment, going for a small perfunctory kiss afterward.

Four

They remained hugged, wanting to eternalize that moment. His head on her right shoulder, hers on his chest. Takeru was inhaling as deeply as he could, pressing on hand flat against her back, smelling her vanilla accent. Their heartbeats synchronized. A powerful feeling that was as beautiful as dangerous, terrifying even. Terrifyingly human.

The heat, the excitement, the nervousness. They had it all, they had each other.

・。。・゜゜・。。・

#digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #digimon adventure #digimon adventure tri #takeru takaishi #tk takaishi #kari kamiya #hikari yagami #sora takenouchi #taichi yagami #yamato ishida #デジモンアドベンチャー tri #digimon 02 #takari #takari week 2024 #takari week #takari fanfiction #digimon

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love-cherry · 1 year ago

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I recently broke up with my boyfriend of one and a half years. He was my first boyfriend, my first everything. I broke up with him because of months of misery due to his cheating habits and p-rn addiction. On August 1st at 1:03pm he had called me a “dumb bitch” after I made some upset comments on how he canceled on me for his friends. Out of pure built up rage, I broke up with him. We had been off and on for the month of July but this was truly the breaker for me, as well as finding out he cheated on me again. The first few weeks I was overjoyed, I was finally out of the thing that had caused me so much pain over the last year. He continued to call and text me as he had claimed “we were still friends.” For the most part I ignored his efforts to reach out to me except for one day when I answered and he first said “I wanted to tell you something but I'm worried you’ll get mad.” Of course due to my nosey nature this had made me want to know even more, therefore i continued to ask him what it was.

“I had lied about watching p-rn all those times. I wanted to see what reaction you would have.”

The words that stole my soul away. Having him try to explain to me that all my sorrows were wasted on a lie killed me. I was enraged. I hung up and ignored him. After 3 days, his messages and phone calls continued to come in. I was still incredibly upset by this new idea he had just given me. Before I had completely forgotten about him but now he runs through my head every second of the day. I found out about his p-rn addiction on June 1st. 2022, 3 months into dating. At first I had tried to act like it didn't bother me, although it was eating me from the inside out. The thought that I wasn't good enough for my boyfriend intensified every issue I had ever had with myself to incredible rates. I had been clean from s-lf h-rm for 3 months until that night, 3 nights later I attempted after being told he had done it again. On the 29th of June he was on vacation in Florida and had told me he did it again. I had also found out he had cheated on me with 2 girls that month as well. Throughout the summer I continued to receive news about his addiction. On September 7th 2022, it was my 16th birthday and he had given me a promise ring with my birthstone on it, a sapphire. He had promised to love me forever, remain faithful and always be there for me. It had been weeks since he had last watched p-rn and I was hoping it had finally stopped.

A couple weeks later, I gave him my virginity. I wanted to make him happy and even if that meant I wasn't totally ready, I would still do it for him. After we were done he told me he had watched p-rn the 3 days prior. I broke down in tears. I had given this boy my everything for him to not be able to get other women out of his head. After that breakdown it had finally stopped to my knowledge. I did not have solid proof of his addiction or his cheating although I had suspicions. Such as my friends telling me he had been texting other girls behind my back, him refusing to let me use his phone (which i had previously been allowed to do) and him making comments about other girls.

On our 1 year anniversary, we both cried. He had put no thought into my valentines day gift, anniversary gift or promposal. He had even forgotten multiple of our anniversaries. When I'm upset I tend to lash out and become angry. He told me that night was the first time he had ever thought about breaking up with me.

After the doomsday call, 3 days later I answered another of his calls to tell him to stop. I was completely heartbroken by the news he had delivered days earlier. I asked him to stop contacting me as he had hurt me so badly. He blamed me, and said that I had hurt him even worse by the occasional cursing and name calling. To which i responded that maybe i wouldn't have done that if he hadn't hurt me as bad.He told me he hated all my friends and that they were fake, liars and using me. He claimed that he was the only person that would ever love me. I stood up for my friends obviously and told him to never contact me again, to which he responded “I'll talk to your brother then.” I instantly call my brother and tell him to block my ex.

A couple days later I noticed one of my life-long friends had unadded me on snapchat. He texted me later that day on instagram telling me i was “too much drama.” My “friend” had been going through a tough time so even though he had been rude to me and my other friends I was still there for him the whole time. This friend had even asked me out on a date a week after I broke up with my ex, which I responded no to. I asked him why, as I couldn't think of any drama I was a part of. Besides the news my ex had shared. My “friend” told me that he was siding with my ex. I had been there for this friend through everything he had been going through and he hadn't once asked me if I was okay after the breakup.

The next week pasts and a friend of mine told me my ex had been talking about me behind my back. I asked him about this as she was not the first one to mention this. He has denied it but I have screenshot proof he has. He has continued to talk about me for the past couple of weeks. He then contacted me telling me he had found a new girl, he told me this 2 days after meeting her. He had said that he could finally be romantic and how much more he liked her compared to me. She looks exactly like the girls he cheated on me with. My heart broke even more. He has known this girl for less than a week and he had already done everything with her that I had begged for him to do with me, that he claimed he couldn't.

He proceeded to call me one night just to yell at me. He told me he never loved me and that he truly hated every aspect about me.

I had spent over 2 years of my life on him and had given him everything for him to tell me this. He hasn't left my mind since. I don't know why. I don't miss the misery I felt. I just miss the things we used to do, when he claimed to “love” me. For him to tell me he is now doing all the things I had begged him to do with a girl he met 4 days prior because he “loved” her. But after knowing me for over 7 months before dating he couldn't even like me. I had begged him for a necklace for my birthday, christmas, valentines day and our 1 year anniversary. He tells me he is getting her a necklace. I had asked him if he would want to go to a Red Hot Chili Pepper concert, he stated that he wanted to go just not with me. I'm now going to that concert but with my dad, he tells me he had bought him and his new girl tickets.

I contacted him the other day just to get a reaction out of him. He talked to me normally and then all of a sudden told me to stop texting him. I had mentioned how it was funny that he couldn't love me after 2 years together but he could love this new girl after 4 days together. I responded to his rage by saying “You are the one who responds in seconds, clearly you are hiding something.” The week prior he had been texting and calling me to tell me he still loved me, I had completely moved on, until he mentioned the porn. Quite interesting on moving on in that case.

#love #break up #boyfriend #addiction #feminine urge #femme fatale #feminine #male manipulator #girly blog #just girly thoughts #just girly posts #tw self destructive behavior #selfharn

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mellowyandere · 4 years ago

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SCP Academia Eraserhead Part 3

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta

Summary: You’ve been stuck in the stuffy cabin with no one but “Shouta” to keep you company. He won’t even tell you what day it is. November is quickly approaching...

Length: 3K

Warning: non-con, yandere themes, size kink, bondage, vaginal fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink

When you first woke up you were completely thrown off by your new environment. You had been in the bowls of the SCP foundation for years, only occasionally venturing outside to gather intel on potential new SCP’s. Your new home was a small cabin of sorts. One bedroom and one bathroom, with just enough space left over for the kitchen and living room. The house was run by a generator outside, which your oh so gracious host made sure you never got to see.

He had insisted you call him by his “human” name Shouta. As to why he never mentioned it before? “No one but you deserved to know it,” he had huffed out, as if it was obvious.

Shouta was incredibly stingy with information, no matter how much you questioned him. What happened to the foundation? Where did he bring you? Why did he bring you here, better yet how? Each question was met with a shrug of his shoulders or a mumbled “that doesn’t matter now.”

You had given up a couple weeks ago, the man had no intention of letting you get a solid grasp of anything. Especially the date. The foundation breach had occurred sometime in mid September, leaving only a month and a half before November. He was purposefully hiding the information from you like the stingy bastard he was.

Stingy bastard wasn't exactly fair though. He had been nothing but polite, trying his best to give you things he’d think you’d enjoy and providing for you in ways that surprised you. For example, the man was a phenomenal cook, which looking back explains his utter disdain for any food he had been served at the foundation.

The main issue was his need to touch you. Pulling you into his lap to engulf you in his long muscular limbs and tendrils, or coming up behind you and placing his large hands on your hips. You were not accustomed to the contact and not very keen on it either. You threw an absolute shit fit when he tried to bathe you, and he, to his credit, let you be. He might have sat on the couch pouting for a couple hours, but eventually got over himself.

The longer you were stuck with him, the touchier he seemed to get. You dodged him the best you could but finally he had had enough. You normally opted to sleep on the couch, not wanting to share the only bed with him. It was one of many small acts of defiance at your limited disposal. As night fell you crawled onto your makeshift bed, only to be pulled up over the back of the couch by two strong arms.

“Hey! What gives!”

“I tried to ease you into this but you’re being rather stubborn. From now on you sleep with me.” Shouta didn’t want to push his affection on you too much, hoping you’d come around and open up to him. But time was running out and he needed to make sure he didn’t snap when November finally came.

“Maybe if you’d answer my questions I’d humor you more!” You felt like you were going insane stuck in here. Was this what he used to feel like trapped in the foundation? No. He had had it one hundred times worse than you, but hardly ever complained.

You squirmed and wriggled in his grip. He growled lowly in his throat, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. You stilled in his arms. With long strides it only took a few steps before he plopped you down on the large sturdy bed.

“Stay.” You rolled your eyes. He was a man of few words. But you remained, he’d just drag you in here again if you got up. Even though he had been nothing but patient, you felt as if you were reaching the end of his limits.

-----------

The days spent with Shouta were rather boring. You’d read books to pass the time, or stare longingly out the window. He was never much of a conversationist, but now only seemed willing to talk if you’d make physical contact with him. All in all, the house was too damn quiet.

Thankfully nights spent in his bed were relatively uneventful. He’d try to slowly pull you closer to him but you’d snap and he’d begrudgingly relent. Though that didn’t change the fact that you’d wake up smothered in his embrace, but you’d just wriggle out again.

As days continue to pass his fuse was getting shorter and shorter, you could feel the shift in his demeanor. Low growls at your attempts to distance yourself. Sharps eyes never leaving you. He was always one step behind you, personal space no longer an option.

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

You woke up groggy. Why was it so hot? You tried to move but found yourself immobile. You... you couldn't open you eyes?! No wait... yes you could. But a blindfold of sorts kept you from seeing anything. It was warm, just like the bindings on your body. Tendrils. He had you completely wrapped up in his tendrils. You were laying flat on your back, arms bound above your head.

Then you heard him. Low deep pants. His hot breath fanned against your neck, his nose brushed under your chin.

“Sho-Shouta?” At the sound of his name he groaned into the soft flesh of your neck. He tried so hard to resist touching you, he really had. But with the month of November upon him he had run out of control.

His large body was on top of you, though he supported himself as to not crush you. “My sweet little stubborn human” he cooed into your neck. “I'm going to take such good care of you...” he almost sounded a bit delirious?

His tongue darted out, hot and wet against your flesh.

“Wait! Hold on, stop! Shouta pl-please cut it out!” You began to struggle, his tendrils gently sliding over your exposed form. When did he take your clothes off?

“Y/N..” he growled out.

“Please.. let me at least see.” You needed to try and gain some control back. This situation wasn't looking good. Shouta was deadly when November came. You weren’t sure what this was right now, but you needed to get some control over him before he tried to kill you.

The creature obliged your request. Blood red predatory eyes pierced your own as soon as you had adjusted to the dark. His long black hair lazily defied gravity. He seemed larger, if that was even possible. His deathly pale torso had tendrils jutting out in all different directions, some aimlessly whipping through the air, but most were wrapped snuggly around your body.

Looking further down you realized you weren’t the only person completely naked. His bare hips were pressed flat to the bed between your own as he slowly rutted against the sheets. Due to your restraints you couldn’t really see much else.

Leaning down he placed his lips on your neck, softly sucking and nipping at your flesh.

“So beautiful.. so perfect” he whispered. He began to move down your body, soft lips leaving your skin with goosebumps. He paused at your breasts, one of his large hands coming up to play with your right breast while his mouth claimed your left nipple. His tongue made quick work of hardening your sensitive bud. His teeth came out and gently bit down, causing you to whimper.

You couldn’t give into his ministrations, it would only encourage him. “Shouta please, you have to stop! What if you hurt me?” His mouth released from your breast, his lust filled eyes lazily looking up at you as his tongue continued to circle your nipple. With a sigh he pulled away.

“I would never hurt you my precious little human.”

His free hand drew slow circles onto the outside of your thigh. Continuing his journey downwards he licked and nipped your skin until finally settling between your trembling thighs. He wasn't paying your worry any mind as he took his time drinking your body in. He had been such a good mate, had been so patient. Surely you’d understand...

His tongue darted out experimentally, gently lapping at your folds. You bit back a groan as he hummed in satisfaction, face nestling further into your legs for better access as he used his tendrils to move your legs over his shoulder. His stubble was coarse against your inner thighs. More tendrils came out to ensure your breasts were not forgotten. You bit back a moan as they continued where his hand and mouth had left off.

He greedily began to devour you, inhumanly long tongue delving deep inside you as he groaned, sending vibrations through your cunt. Pulling his tongue out he moved up a bit to gently wrap his lips around your clit. With his tendrils covering your body he could feel your every twitch in response to his ministrations. He wanted to make you fall apart beneath him.

“Sho-ah-Shouta please! Don’t do th-” you were cut off mid sentence. One of his tendrils found their way to your mouth, pushing its way inside your wet cavern and essentially gagging you. You clamped down hard, which only caused the creature on top of you to shudder in ecstasy. He could make them quite sensitive after all.

You tried to relax, nothing you did seemed to deter him. Maybe not responding would cause him to lose interest? You tried to remain still, until you felt his finger gently prodding at your entrance. You began to squirm with renewed vigor, your pleas muffled by his tendrils.

“Such an impatient little human. I know what you want but I need to get you ready first or else I might hurt you.”

Slowly he began to pump his finger into your tight hole. His saliva acted as a good starting lubricant, your own juices beginning to aid when that wasn’t enough. Shit, why did he have to be so fucking good at this?! He worked his digit in further and further, your walls clenching down eagerly, until finally he was knuckle deep.

Continuing to work your sensitive clit with his expert mouth, he pulled his finger out and gently began to add another. Two fingers pushed in, just as excruciatingly slow as the first time. Gentle pumps of his hand worked to allow your small human body to compensate for his larger form.

You couldn't help but rut your hips forward as your mind began to fog with pleasure. It shouldn't feel this good, he wasn't even doing that much! You needed to stop him, needed to stop reacting to him.

And yet you found your walls desperately clamping down on his fingers as he slowly drug them out. His methodical pattern continued for awhile until he changed his approach. Expert fingers began to probe with a purpose as he hunted for just the right spot. It didn’t take him long.

You moaned into his tendrils, back arching as he finally found what he had been looking for. With renewed vigor he used his fingers to attack, while his mouth continued its assault on your bundle of nerves.

If he continued at this pace you wouldn't last much longer. Your legs trembled, thighs tightening against his head. Your walls began to flutter around his fingers, your mewls and moans were still muffled, but they sent delicious tingles running down his spine.

No you couldn't you had to stop! But you had no choice. The combination of his devilish mouth and pinpoint accurate fingers were too much. You closed your eyes as your orgasm washed over you. He continued to pump his fingers in and out, but pulled back to watch the bliss wash over your face.

“Such a good girl, so beautiful,” he cooed as you came undone. Just as he had planned. He pulled his tendril from your mouth and watched as you panted, still trying to gain control of yourself. Unfortunately for you, he wasn't about to let that happen.

After wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand he leaned up and captured your mouth in his own. You could still taste yourself on his tongue. You had come down from your high after your orgasm and resumed your pathetic struggling, surely he had had his fill?

His hands planted firmly on your hips as he pulled away from you, lips leaving a small trail of saliva as he loomed over you. He pulled your body up off the bed with his tendrils, maneuvering you so your legs were wrapped around his waist.

“Be a good girl for me and relax, I don’t want this to be painful for you.”

With that he slowly began to move you down until finally you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your outer folds. He had you oddly suspended in his embrace, leaving you no where to retreat to as he rubbed the large head against your wet core.

All of his focus right now was staring down at where his cock was teasing you. He was inhumanly large, and just dipping the tip in made it obvious enough. This was going to be a tight fit.

“Shouta please, it won’t fit you’re too big.” His eyes looked up into your own, the fear in them registered somewhere deep within his brain, but the need to stuff you full of his seed overpowered his ability to stop himself.

He began to push his length inside, even more slowly than his fingers. He owed you this bare minimum level of self control, the idea of hurting you keeping him in check.

You whimpered as he continued, there was no reaching him. You’d be better following his advice and trying to relax to accommodate his sheer girth. But fuck did it sting. The methodical pumping of his hips pushing his monstrous cock deeper and deeper.

One of his hands opted to leave your hip in order to begin softly circling your puffy clit. It helped to soothe the burn of your stretching walls, slick beginning to build as your body attempted to help you. After what felt like an eternity he finally bottomed out inside you.

“Shit you’re so fucking tight, you feel so good.”

He remained there for a moment, sweat rolling down his body as he tried to control himself. Just then your tight little cunt experimentally squeezed against him and his restraint shattered.

He began to pull out, groaning above your head. He got about halfway out before pushing back in. This continued, each outward drag was met with a faster and more desperate thrust back in. At first it had stung, tears pricking your eyes as your bit your lip to keep from whining. You had never felt so full before.

But as you grew accustomed to his size something hot began to stir in your abdomen. You were enjoying it. The more you relaxed into him the more pleasure you began to feel. Until finally, you were back to where you had been when he had worked you into your first orgasm.

Your brain was too clouded with pleasure to bother holding back noises of satisfaction, and the heat in your gut only grew when Shouta moaned and huffed in your ear. His deep rumbles poured over you and soon he had abandoned his slow pace in favor of a much faster one.

His long cock would pull all the way out before slamming back in, a rogue tendril had replaced his hand to work on your clit while his newly freed hands greedily grabbed at you.

Finally one hand decided on grasping your hair, pulling your head back so he could slam his mouth against yours in a sloppy kiss. His tendrils allowed for your body to bounce against his as he pistoned his hips into you.

His tongue was in your mouth as he swallowed your moans. His appendage fought with yours for dominance before exploring everything it could reach. This was all too much, you were getting close again.

You could feel your walls beginning to flutter at your impending climax, and Shouta could feel it too. He increased his pace, hips stuttering as he began to try and reach his own release. He pulled away from your kiss and removed you from his tendrils, firmly planting you back on the mattress. His free hands intertwining his fingers with your own above your head as he continued to rock into you.

He kept his tendrils on your legs in order to keep them wrapped around his waist, groaning as he felt you reach for orgasm first. You head was thrown back, mouth open in a silent o as you finished for the second time that night. The feeling of cumming on his cock was beyond imaginable and your body shuddered beneath him.

You were perfect, overwhelming all of his senses in ecstasy as your tight cunt clamped down on him. He couldn't hold out any longer. His hips stilled as you began to milk his cock, hot thick ropes of cum painting your insides. You were too tired to protest, your small body slumped below him as you took his seed like the good little mate you were.

A wave of exhaustion began to cloud his mind as he came down from his high. Slowly he began to pull out, heart clenching as you whimpered. You were too damn cute.

Before any of his seed could spill out he used a tendril to plug your hole. Rolling over to your side he maneuvered you so your head was tucked under his own, his arm pressing you into his chest.

“You did such a good job, if we keep this up you could take my seed before the month is up.” He planted a kiss against your forehead. You grumbled incoherently in response, too exhausted to process the implications of what he had just said.

November, the month when he went feral, was the month he was feral for his mate. Desperate to fuck his seed into his one and only. All others were obstacles in his way that didn't deserve to live. November 1st had only just begun. You were in for a long month.

#yandere shouta aizawa #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #scp academia #yandere x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha aizawa

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sicparvismorrigan · 3 years ago

Text

Big Fun

Sam helps you feel better after you lose your temper.

Uncharted/Sam Drake/Post-U4

Viewpoint: 1st person gender-neutral reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: ~2.6k [complete]

Okay, outing myself a little here in the hopes that it’ll be a comfort to at least one other person. This happens…more often than I would like. I’m working on it.

This came about because of a discussion with @writingawaymylife thanks Aerin!

Read on Ao3

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you shitting me!”

You finally lose what little patience you had left and punch the wall. Underneath the cheap wallpaper it’s solid concrete and you instantly regret your feral outburst. There’s a millisecond of nothing before the pain comes rushing in, and then you’re bent double, clutching the wrist of your injured hand with the other and groaning.

You try and flex your fingers to check if they’re broken, but you can’t really tell. It’s too late. Your hand is numb within the minute. Shit, that’s really going to hurt in the morning.

You’re clumsy anyway, it’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be. You know what you need to do, how you need to move, but your body won’t respond how you want it to. You’re always dropping plates and glasses, smashing them to bits. Usually when you’re already running late, and then you have to waste more time by scurrying around looking for a dustpan to get rid of the evidence.

You’re forever bumping into things, stubbing your toes and taking layers of skin off your shoulders and shins when you walk straight into doorframes. When you try and pour things you spill them more often than not. Yet more mess to clean up, yet more time wasted.

Your fingers just won’t work sometimes, often so badly it takes you multiple attempts to tie your shoes. And when it’s cold you’re practically useless. You just give up and tuck the laces into the shoes, feeling them rub through your socks, promising yourself to fix them once you’re back in the warm, everything will work out as long as you don’t trip over your own feet before you get there.

It’s the most frustrating thing in the world. Normally you can shrug it off, you’re used to it by now. But things had been going wrong all day, even without your clumsiness, and matters just came to a head.

You remember exactly what caused you to erupt into expletives and punch the wall. It had already been a frustrating day, work was a pain in the ass, as usual. All of the most awkward customers in the world had decided to descend upon you right before your break. By the time you got home you were in a pretty foul mood. Too wound up to relax, you decided to take a load of laundry downstairs to put in the washer.

You attempted to, anyway. After trying and failing 3 times to pick up the same damn sock from the floor of your room that your fingers just would not grasp, you’d given up and kicked it away under the bed in anger. Oh sure, couldn’t pick it up but you managed to land a furious kick the first time around.

Though you were trying your best to manoeuvre around the doorframe with the pile of clothes you still bumped off it with your shoulder, muttering ouch as the latch scraped your arm. Then you overcompensated by moving too much in the other direction and stubbed your toe on the corner of the door. Instant pain that made you see red.

The pile of clothes in your arms were promptly thrown on the floor in a fit of rage. That was when you punched the wall. And now you’re a sorry state, fingers throbbing and face red, trying not to scream.

Oh shit, you hear Sam moving around in his room down the hall. There’s no way he didn’t hear you. Well, this is embarrassing. There isn’t time to pick everything up and hightail it down the stairs before he catches you, not with your mangled claw out of action.

You hear his door creak open. You slowly turn around and stare guiltily at your roommate as he pokes his head around the doorframe.

“I heard…” He takes in the sight of the pile of laundry scattered on the floor and you holding up your tingling hand, still hopping from foot to foot. “Jeez, again?”

***

Sam is your friend Elena’s brother-in-law, or something like that. You aren’t clear on how exactly they’re related, but you knew her from college, long before she got married. She heard you were looking for a new roommate a few months back, and she got in touch, telling you she knew just the person.

You baulked initially when you got a phone call from her after sparse contact over the last few years. You were actually enjoying living by yourself again, though money was a bit tighter. Your last roommate was pleasant enough at first, however they soon turned out to be a nightmare, it was a relief to get rid of them. But you liked Elena a lot, and you did owe her one or two favours. For some reason she thought you and Sam would hit it off.

And much to your surprise, you did. You were a bit nervous of him to begin with, but Sam turned out to be so laid back he was almost horizontal. The perfect foil to your occasionally manic energy. Living with him was easy, there weren’t any awkward silences. If you were in the same room but didn’t feel like talking, he was fine with it.

Your apartment was pretty basic but he seemed happy there with you. He even made you dinner sometimes when you’d had a tough day and you’d just come in and flop face down on the sofa. Sam would wordlessly stand up and then half an hour later come back through to get you with the same phrase every time. “You gonna eat something, or what?”

Elena had reassured you he probably wouldn’t even be there a lot of the time. He just needed somewhere to touch base every few weeks, she turned out to be correct.

You didn’t even really know what Sam did. He didn’t appear to have a job, he was almost always home during the day and seemed to spend a lot of time on your Playstation (“our Playstation” according to Sam). But he came up with his half of the rent every month and then disappeared again for a few weeks. You didn’t ask, not your business. You’d started to find the house too quiet and empty when he wasn’t there and you were always waiting to hear the keys in the lock and his joking “Honey, I’m home!” whenever he came back.

After moving in it didn’t take him long to pick up on your quirks, or notice that you were more accident-prone than the average person. It had led to the only argument you’d ever had with him.

One time while making dinner you’d dropped a plate and cursed yourself as it cracked in half on the tiled floor. You’d stared daggers at him, daring him to say a word about it. You totally weren’t expecting what he did next.

He’d just looked at you dead in the eyes as he pushed another plate off the counter. Exactly like a cat would.

You blew up at him. “What in the hell did you do that for? Now there’s twice as many sharp bits to clear up!”

“It’s just a plate.” He had shrugged, leaning back on the counter.

“What’s your damn point?”

“That it really doesn’t matter, and that I don’t care that we’ve had to replace pretty much everything in this kitchen since I moved in.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Not everything. You owe me a plate now.”

“You know, maybe we should invest in plastic ones.”

“We are adults Sam! And it’s not good for the environment.”

“And the current… situation is not good for your bank account!”

“Just because you’re used to plastic cutlery.” Kind of a cheap shot, but you’re still mad. You’d gathered he’d done jail time, but you didn’t dare ask what for, or how long. You caught him saying weird things sometimes and eventually realised it was because his concept of time was a little warped. He kept referring to the 90’s like it was only last week, instead of nearly 20 years ago.

Sam just laughed at your plastic cutlery comment, not at all offended. “Yeah, and I like living here so much I’m willing to do that if it means you’ll stop beating yourself up.”

“I’ll think about it.” You grumbled. But you got some plastic cups and plates on your way home from work the next day. Sam was right, it was a lot better, though it made you feel like a kid again.

As you’d gotten more comfortable with Sam you’d given up trying to hide the fact you were a walking health hazard and didn’t stifle your curses anymore.

At first he seemed amused by your clumsiness, he even laughed the first few times you did something stupid. But he quickly realised how upsetting your lack of control over your own limbs was for you, because it happened so damn often. He stopped making fun as soon as he noticed you couldn’t laugh it off with him. It wasn’t a joke to you. From then on he’d been surprisingly nice, he always attempted to make you feel better when it got too much.

***

Even so, right now as you were having a stand-off with him in the hallway, you gritted your teeth and tried to keep your voice even. Stay calm, he’s just concerned. “Yes, again.”

“What did it ever do to you? Y’know, standing there, being all wall-like…stopping our house from collapsing?”

“I lost my temper again. Punched the damn thing.”

He shook his head. “I’ve told you, you’ve got to look after those hands.”

“But they’re so fuc-“ You stop and sigh when he raises an eyebrow. Calm. “Flipping useless. I’m useless.”

“Not true.” Sam steps out of his room and walks in your direction. On the way he kicks a rogue sock back onto the main pile of mess on the floor. “Take that, you scoundrel.”

“I just wish my brain worked normally.”

“Your brain is fine. Your music taste on the other hand.” Sam moved his hand up and down in an ‘ehhhhhh’ motion and shook his head. “No no.”

He’s kidding, of course he is. Damn his sense of humour. But you don’t feel like smiling just yet. It still fucking hurts. “I think I broke something this time.” You really thumped the wall. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve actually done damage.

“You want me to check?”

“Please.”

You hold out your hand for him and he carefully wiggles and stretches your fingers one by one, watching your face for any reaction. You wince once he gets to your thumb. Oh, that one hurts the worst.

“No, thumb on the inside? For real?” Sam looked at you in disbelief.

“Apparently so.”

“That’ll learn you. That’s like rule number one of punching anything.”

You sigh. “Anything broken?”

“No, we’re all good. But keep your thumb on the outside next time or you really will break it.”

“Surprisingly, I wasn’t really focusing on technique that much. Oh hey, you should check this one again.” You hold your middle finger aloft.

“Very funny.” But he smirks at you, knowing he’s helping you feel better.

“Come on, you do that one to me all the time.”

“Learning from the best, what can I say? Oh, shit…” Sam’s staring past you.

“What, what’s wrong?” You glance back in the direction he’s looking.

Sam moves to the wall, right where you just punched and looks at you in faux-panic. “I need a medic!”

“Really?” You watch in amazement as he starts to do something to the wall which looks an awful lot like the chest compressions from CPR. Wow, he’s very committed to this bit.

“We’re losing them!”

“Sam, there’s barely a scuff on the wallpaper. I definitely came off worse.”

“I need a crash cart stat!” He yells at nobody in particular.

“Jesus Christ. You’ve been watching too many daytime medical dramas.” You just shake your head, but the corners of your mouth are threatening to twitch upwards.

“Have not…Beeeeeeeeeep! Aw, we lost them. RIP.” He finally steps away from the wall and shrugs. “I tried.”

“You’re such a goofball.” At least you’re smiling now.

“Hey, it worked didn’t it? Frown upside down.” He squeezes your shoulder. “You really did a number on that wall though, huh? I heard it all the way down there. Hell, I felt it. Made the stuff on the shelves rattle.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a bad day. A really bad day. People are assholes.” You glance down at the pile of laundry still littering the floor. “I should pick this up.”

“Do you have to right now?”

“Well, yeah…I was on the way downstairs to wash it.”

“I’m not sure the structural integrity of our house could take it if you had another…incident on the way to the washer. That wall’s concrete but you’re gonna end up going clean through one of the others. Then you’ll lose our security deposit.”

“My security deposit.”

“Right, right, right. That doesn’t mean you can punch holes wherever you like.”

“You could fix it though if I did?”

“Yeah, I guess. Y’know, I’ve never really asked you about it before, but talk me through it, what goes on in your head right before you flip out?”

“I don’t know, I just…see red and it happens before I can stop it.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s nodding. Bizarrely, he doesn’t look too freaked out to you admitting you pretty much go into berserker mode over minor inconveniences. “I know you can’t do anything about having 2 left feet, but you can do something about letting it get to you.”

“What, count to 10 or something?” You ask, mocking. Like you haven’t heard that one before.

“Yeah, seriously.” You get the impression he’s talking from experience. “It works, don’t question it.”

Screw it, he’s being really nice. At least he understands it’s not because you’re an idiot, it’s because your brain isn’t wired like most peoples. And he was right about the plastic plates. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“And you come tell me if this thing pisses you off again, I’ll deal with it.” Sam shakes his fist at the wall. He really is an idiot sometimes. But he does make you laugh. He’s your idiot.

“Gotcha.” You give him a thumbs-up with both hands, wincing again, the movement hurts.

He gives you a sly look. “How about you flex those fingers, and we play a game awhile. Crash Bandicoot maybe?”

“Again? I’ve got loads to do….” You fidget anxiously. you know what he’s up to though. Trying to get you to chill out.

“Just for a little bit. Scared I’ll beat ya?”

“Pffft, not even close, but I’m at a disadvantage this time.” There’s still no way he can win.

“I resent that, I’m getting pretty good.”

“You just mash the buttons.” It’s a fact and he knows it.

“C’mon, c’mon. I gotta at least beat your high score before I have to leave again.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m in. Let’s go!” You nod in the direction of the stairs.

“Loser deals with that later on.” He points at the abandoned pile of laundry on the floor.

“Deal, don’t go easy on me.” You step around it and follow him to the sitting room. Even with a crippled hand you’re pretty sure you can thrash him. “Elena and I used to play this in college, wonder if she still has it…”

***

Thank you for reading!

Yeah…I am not just clumsy, I am more like ‘danger to myself and others’ levels of uncoordinated. But I can’t be the only one! Don’t worry, Sam’s got your back ;) Also the title is the song Big Fun from Heathers the Musical because once again it has invaded my life. The whole soundtrack has been on a loop for days now. I LOVE IT. Punch the wall and start a fight!

- Sam Drake and Elena Fisher belong to Naughty Dog/the Uncharted creative team and I (sadly) take no ownership of them.

- This work is not for profit though it belongs to me and I must be credited when copying or reposting elsewhere

- As mentioned before reader is intended to be gender-neutral so please interpret this fic however you like. This is my first x Reader fic published and first g/n reader viewpoint I’ve attempted so I hope I did okay. I myself identify as mostly female so that’s what I normally write because it’s easier for me to connect with. But this was fun.

#uncharted #naughty dog #sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #no y/n #sam drake x g/n reader #sam drake x you #elena fisher #one shot #big fun #sfw #anger issues #no smut #hopefully just makes you feel a lil bit warm and fuzzy #roommate!sam

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hufflautia · 4 years ago

Note

046: "I caught the bouquet"

Hufflepuff squeezed her eyes shut as a sea of women ran towards her.

She didn't really wanna be at this wedding. She had social anxiety, for god's sake. But Slytherin had asked her to come - it was his friend's wedding, after all. And as his doting girlfriend of three years, she came. Surprisingly, she had lots of fun. She teared up a little during the wedding vows - the bride was also her friend - and danced with Slytherin even though dancing in front of others made her nervous. Slytherin could be quite the persuader sometimes. The promise of kisses and cuddles when they finally got home convinced her to have a dance with him.

But when it came to the bouquet toss, no matter how much Slytherin encouraged her to join in, Hufflepuff refused. She knew how crazy people got when it came to this activity; she didn't wanna be trampled over a bouquet.

And so she stood in the back of the crowd. Naturally, the bouquet came flying toward her. And with the bouquet came a sea of women rushing toward her. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment: hold her hands out in an attempt to shield herself. She felt someone smack into her hand and winced.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Hufflepuff cracked an eye open. Some of the women were staring at her with bright eyes while others glared at her with envy. Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck, please don't tell me -

"You caught the bouquet!" the bride shrieked, rushing toward her.

Hufflepuff stumbled back at the full force of her friend's embrace. "Yeah," a sheepish smile pulled at the corners of her lips when she pulled away. "I guess that means I'm getting married next."

Her eyes sparkling, she was about to respond when Slytherin appeared. He slipped his hand around Hufflepuff's waist and smiled at the bride, his head moving in an almost imperceptible nod.

The bride nodded back before turning her attention to the two of them. "Well, you guys have fun now!" she clasped her hands, looking at the couple knowingly. "It was really great having you both here on this special day."

After saying their goodbyes, Slytherin and Hufflepuff walked over to one of the nearby tables and sat down. She held up the flowers.

"I caught the bouquet," she smiled weakly.

Slytherin laughed. "You did."

Hufflepuff sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "That was a lot. Imagine a crowd of people running towards you. It's terrifying."

He hummed, tracing patterns on the palm of her hand.

"I mean," she continued, "how did I even get the bouquet? I was in the back."

"Sometimes things just happen."

Hufflepuff shrugged. "I guess." She lifted her head and gave him a tired look that he knew all too well.

"Do you wanna leave?"

"Yes please."

Slytherin chuckled and took her hand. As they were leaving, he made eye contact with the bride and mouthed 'Thank you'.

She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. Good luck, she mouthed back.

FIN.

Originally, I planned for Hufflepuff to catch the bouquet and turn around to Slytherin to say "I caught the bouquet", and he responds with "I guess that's my cue" and bend down on one knee. Then I was like waittt isn't that disrespectful to the bride and groom?? Bc it's their special day, and to have someone else propose at their wedding and take away their special moment is rude. I remember a post where OP was like "if anyone did a proposal at my wedding, Imma die at their funeral"😭. So I came up with the grand idea of "make him propose later but insinuate that this was planned all along".

The bride: EXCUSE ME BUT AM I A FOOTBALL PLAYER??? GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE HUFFLEPUFF I CANT THROW THAT FAR--

Anyways, I liked the bit about social anxiety bc it makes the story feel more realistic; I also liked the "Naturally, the bouquet came flying towards her" because it's funny and gives a more solid voice to the narrator who, I guess, is me. It's sarcastic-y and kind of easy-going, if that makes sense. Hope you enjoyedd<3

In honor of this blog’s one-year anniversary, I am taking requests! Pick from these prompts:

#slytherpuff #hogwarts #harry potter #slytherin #hufflepuff #hogwarts houses #hufflepuff x slytherin #hufflepuff and slytherin friendship #slytherin and hufflepuff #hufferin #harrypotter #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin x hufflepuff #hufflepuff and slytherin fanfiction #hufflepuff and slytherin #hufflautia headcannons

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chockfullofsecrets · 4 years ago

Text

Critical Role: Waiting For My Mind To Go To Sleep

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up for Caleb having a pretty bad day

Summary: He levers himself up from the little nest he’s made of his arms, his sudden suspicion the only thing keeping him from stumbling over the word. “This does not tickle one bit, by the way.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says. “Did you want it to?”

Caleb can't sleep. Caduceus decides to take matters into his own hands.

Wordcount: 5.3k (SAVE ME)

A/N: so this turned into... something... i think it’s safe to say in general that if you ever feel like Caleb, please take a deep breath and do something nice for yourself <3

For anyone who's trying to keep track - set after Difficult, with a bit of reference to Staying Warm.

---

Caleb has not possessed a desk in a long time, so it is a shame that he is currently wasting his new one as a place to rest his head while he waits for exhaustion to take him.

He’s counting off the end of twelve minutes, growing increasingly frustrated as the simplicity of the numbers fails to stop his brain from running itself in ragged circles, when slow footsteps sound out from the hallway. “Oh, you’re still up.”

It’s Caduceus. Caleb peels himself off long-dried sheets of spellwork and tries to make himself look a little less like an empty shell of a person. “Ja, I am up, what can I do for you.”

The slight downward tilt to Caduceus’ eyebrows in an otherwise placid expression radiates disappointment. “You said you were going to sleep, earlier.”

Earlier being an hour and forty minutes ago, when Caduceus passed by him with a full teapot on his way to the roof. Strange, given that the kitchen is just next to the staircase and his study is on the opposite side of the house. He sighs and rubs at his face - there is a chance, however slight, that this time pressing at his temples will actually help with the headache even if he deserves the fucking thing for getting them here in the first place. “I am working on ah, a new spell, I am a little distracted.”

It’s not a lie, exactly. Studying is distracting him from sleep, and the cold comfort of possessing a house and certain debt gifted to them by a major political faction of the Kryn dynasty is distracting him from studying, no matter how nice his desk is. The last time his life took such a turn, he was a young man recently arrived in Rexxentrum with his two best friends in the entire world - he can think of many, many good reasons to prise the jaw of this particular gift horse open.

The problem, then, is stopping. Easy enough, when he can turn himself into a bat, but his distracted attempts at study and the resulting failures have removed even that avenue from him today. It is lucky that the Dynasty has yet to ask a new favor from them that would require him to cast.

But then, he has never held much hope for luck - and, oh, Caduceus has moved much nearer at some point.

“I will sleep,” he acquiesces, nodding in the vague direction of a flowing sleeve, and refrains from adding any sort of incriminating time frame. “You should get some rest as well, mein freund.”

Caduceus clears his throat, somewhere miles overhead. “Your arms are going to get sore, if you keep doing that.”

He looks down. Takes a deep breath and lets it out as he pulls his hands away from the scars and lays them flat against the fine wooden grain of the desk. “Thank you.”

That should be the end of it, he thinks, and he can go back to counting miserably, but the smudge of pink in his peripheral vision stays stubbornly present. “Is… is there something else?”

“You know,” Caduceus says with that unruffled serenity of his, “I think I’m going to make some more tea. I’ll bring you a cup, and we’ll sit for a while.”

Caleb winces.

He is fond of Caduceus, very much so, as he is of all his friends. It is just - it is not that he doesn’t know he is terrible, anymore, he has revealed all but the worst of it in Felderwin and their group has decided that his contributions are worth the trouble of associating with him anyway. But Caduceus, who cares so naturally and unselfishly, who operates with a faith in everything around him that Caleb cannot begin to understand - something about his knowing gaze is unsettling, when Caleb cannot tell what he knows or how he is judging him.

The part of him that is tired would welcome a friendly presence to lull him to sleep, instinctively knowing by now that they are safer here than nearly anywhere else in the world. The other part, bitter and exhausted, trusts no one. Least of all himself, when he cannot even think through political machinations.

He’s waited too long to respond - he can feel Caduceus’ gaze now, prickling at the side of his head. “I can bring some of this to the kitchen, if that is where you are going.”

“Oh, I was thinking we could use your bed,” Caduceus says. The visual of Jester waggling her eyebrows suggestively springs to mind, and he bites the inside of his cheek before he can smile. “Why don’t you go lie down, and I’ll be there in a minute with the tea.”

It sounds more like a command, really - Caduceus wanders off, and there’s nothing to do after that but to retreat to his room. He begins the rote process of shucking his boots and socks in deference to the warm night and reaches up for his holsters.

His fingers close around the buckles, and suddenly he is frozen, possibilities of disaster everywhere. It will be safer if they stay on him, even though they are in the middle of a residential neighborhood, he has to keep them close-

He breathes out, slowly, through his nose and strips them off as well. It feels like a punishment, but then, maybe that is how he can stop himself from thinking too much. Not that it has ever worked before, piling discomfort upon discomfort like a stone wall, but if it is what he has to hand at the moment then so be it.

Next, the bed. He takes a step towards the bed, knowing that is where Caduceus will expect to find him - but his mind is still spinning with a dozen different threads, spells and spycraft and a sudden curiosity as to what the Kryn stuff their mattresses with, surely they do not grow hay or cotton here-

He’s still standing there when Caduceus ducks through the doorframe, large fingers wrapped with delicate care around the handles of two mugs, and shuffles one of them forcefully into his hands. “There we go. It’s not too hot, is it?”

He gulps the first sip down inelegantly. It’s the perfect temperature to warm his throat without burning his tongue, as Caduceus’ tea always is, but it feels - wrong, somehow - “Is there something in this?”

Caduceus blinks down at him. “Oh, did some of the tea leaves get through the strainer? I mean, they’re probably pretty tiny if they can do that, but I can try to pick ‘em out if they’re bugging you.”

“Ah - I mean - it tastes-” He pauses, proceeds more delicately. “There is not anything in this meant to put me to sleep?”

Caduceus looks surprised, for a moment, before patient amusement washes over his face - Caleb glances down, awkwardly, and hopes that the gentle steaming of the cup in his hands hides the way his face flushes. “It’s not drugged, if that’s what you’re asking. But with how tired you look, I’m not surprised that’s what it feels like.”

“Oh,” he says. Maybe if he downs the entire thing in one shot, it will do him the mercy of knocking him out here and now anyway.

Suddenly Caduceus’ hands are on his, gently pulling the empty cup away from his fingers and setting it down next to his holsters. “Mind if I sit?”

“No,” Caleb says, and then “Uh-” as Caduceus takes him by the elbow and starts leading him in the direction of the bed. “Wait, what are we doing?”

“C’mere,” Caduceus tells him, easing himself down at the edge of the mattress and folding his legs up beneath him.

He stares stupidly. “Where?”

“On the bed, ideally.” Caduceus says, and tugs him a little closer. “Didn’t seem like you were gonna make it there yourself.”

He should walk around to the other side and lay down there, he knows, but months of travel with these people have ruined him - he sits automatically next to Caduceus and leans into his side as he might if they were stopping for an hour of rest before realizing what he’s done.

He jerks away. “Ah - you meant to lay down, of course, I will just-”

“Nope,” Caduceus says, and promptly snakes his arm around Caleb and pulls him over into his lap.

His back hits Caduceus’ knee with a solid thump - he flounders for a moment, trying to figure out where all his limbs are among the tangle of long firbolg legs, and then he realizes that Caduceus is watching him.

Their eyes meet. Caduceus smiles down at him, seemingly unbothered by the presence of an idiot in his lap. “There, you’re laying down,” he says. “Comfy?”

“Hnnnng,” Caleb whimpers. He rolls over as best he can and buries his face in his arms, unwilling to bear the eye contact - how many more things can he do wrong today?

Caduceus hums thoughtfully.

The next thing he feels is softness as gentle fingers undo his ponytail, combing through the strands, and arrange his hair to lay loosely around him - they smooth the last of it down and start massaging the back of his head, rubbing gently behind his ears.

It is so completely unexpected that it undoes him; he spares a single moment of thankfulness that he’s washed his hair recently and succumbs to the simple bliss. “Oh, Scheisse, that feels good.”

Caduceus’ belly, pressed warm against his side, shakes in quiet amusement. “Thought it might,” he says. “You’re not easy to calm down, are you.”

“No,” Caleb says, honestly regretful. Even as the rush of tingles from having his scalp scratched washes down his back, he still cannot make himself stop thinking - about whether he has manipulated Caduceus into doing this by being too lazy to take himself to bed earlier, about what he can do to return the favor-

“I know you think that I am neglecting myself,” he says finally, groaning a little as Caduceus drags a thumb firmly down the back of his neck. “I know I need to rest so that I can cast, I just - ah - it is tricky-”

Caduceus pauses, rubbing at the edge of his shoulder blade for a moment. “Of course you can take care of yourself.” He punctuates the statement by untwisting Caleb’s spine with a loud crack that leaves him gasping in sudden relief as a good amount of the tension in his back disappears. “Doesn’t hurt to have a little help, though.”

He scratches lightly at the backs of Caleb’s ribs. It’s pleasantly sharp, little pinpricks of sensation rushing up and down, and Caleb squirms happily for a moment into his hands before he realizes.

He levers himself up from the little nest he’s made of his arms, his sudden suspicion the only thing keeping him from stumbling over the word. “This does not tickle one bit, by the way.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says. “Did you want it to?”

Squirming a little more, he bites back the traitorous yes, please that forms on the back of his tongue. “No.”

“Then be good and stay still,” Caduceus says, and keeps scratching.

Caleb huffs and sticks his nose back into the crook of his elbow. “You are very bossy sometimes, you know that?”

He tenses as soon as he says it - there is a reason he keeps these things to himself unless he is talking about Beauregard, who seems to prefer his annoyance to most other things that leave his mouth.

Caduceus just chuckles. “You don’t have any siblings, do you.”

“No,” he says - and then, if only because they have been on his mind of late as he thinks about politics and consequences - “old friends, though, growing up.”

“Shame,” Caduceus hums, hands sliding down to scuff at his sides. “Then I guess you’ve never been in a tickle fight.”

There is the familiar, guilty, sting, thinking of the past - but one more thread of thought could hardly make the tangle any worse, could it? Of course Astrid and Wulf had known he was ticklish, they knew everything about one another. In the beginning, when there was still time for such things, he remembers them abusing the knowledge at times when Ikithon’s clear favoritism rankled a little too much, or, more rarely, to play - it had been much easier, then, to make him smile.

And then Molly, with his infernal grin and equally devilish fingers prodding for every sensitive spot he could find, the teasing - and that night by the fire, just before Hupperdook, his arm blazingly warm around Caleb’s shoulders in the winter chill as he jostled him around and assured him that it was perfectly normal to want such affections.

They are kind memories, even with the bitter regret of his own blame in their ending, and -

Verdammt, his ribs are starting to get sensitive.

He tries to breathe through it, but his lungs are fidgeting as badly as the rest of him would like to, startled and giddy; instead, he presses the edges of his fingernails into his palms and tries to see reason in the dark cradle of his forearms.

This will not help him sleep. He is wasting Caduceus’ time, if he lets this continue. It does not matter what he wants, when he has no right to ask for any of it.

“Caduceus,” he starts. The syllables shiver on his lips, too close to laughter for comfort. He tries again. “Caduceus, I - I am feeling much calmer now-” His heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears. “-if you would let me up-”

“Hey,” Caduceus says. “You got all tense again, stop doing that.”

“I just-” The path of Caduceus’ ministrations drifts over his sides, sending already-tingling nerves into high alert, and he panics. “Let go of me!”

It is the exact worst thing he could say, made worse in the harsh tone in which he spits it - the hands that have been chasing pleasantly up and down his spine still and lift away, the simple action radiating just as much disappointment as Caduceus’ furrowed eyebrows earlier, and his back arches in a miserable attempt to follow them before he can stop himself.

He bites his lip. He needs to apologize. He needs to crawl away and back to his desk like the worm he is, as heavy as Caduceus’ judgment is weighing down on him. He needs to do something other than lie here-

“Well, you don’t look very calm,” Caduceus says mildly. “You okay?”

“I am fine,” Caleb grits out automatically. He cannot be incapable of even the simplest of thought, he cannot-

“Huh.”

One of Caduceus’ hands makes its reappearance, suddenly, at his neck, two fingers slipping along the stubble under his chin to rest on his racing pulse and catch him in his lie.

The other, even more inconveniently, reappears just by the exposed hollow of his left armpit.

Suddenly, he cannot think of anything at all - he jumps and squeaks and curls away as best he can, fighting back the tremulous ah-ah-ah-! of burgeoning laughter that bubbles up behind his teeth as five fingers flutter merrily against the thin cotton of his sleeve.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Caduceus says placidly. He stops moving his fingers, but they just stay there, just barely touching, as if he is daring Caleb to try and crush them under his arm and see what happens.

Things seem very dangerous in a completely different way than they did seconds ago - if he was at peril of sinking, before, the feather-light presence against tender skin makes him feel like he might float away. He holds as still as he can, waiting.

Still, he shivers all the way down to his toes as Caduceus clears his throat. “You know, I have a sister - had? - uh-”

“May have, if you are uncertain,” Caleb says automatically, decades-old Common grammar lessons rushing to the forefront in lieu of any instinct that might actually be useful, and promptly bites his tongue.

“Sure,” Caduceus concedes, and gives his armpit another good tickle. Caleb squeaks again and tries fruitlessly to wrap his arms more tightly around his head. “She’d swear up and down that she wasn’t ticklish too, when she didn’t want to be. Not that it helped her much if you got a hold of her feet.”

Caleb becomes suddenly, horribly aware of his own exposed soles - he is facedown on the bed, his knees will not even bend the right way to let him hide them against the mattress-

Caduceus must catch the involuntary scrunch of his toes - he laughs, low and pleased, and pats him warmly on the back. “I think your ribs were working out just fine, but if you’re curious-”

“I am not.” Caleb says hastily.

Something swoops, low and excited, in his belly.

It really isn’t fair how tall Caduceus is, especially when it means that he can keep one threatening hand pressed to Caleb’s ribs at the same time he reaches for his feet. Caleb, still bundled facedown in his lap, only realizes what is about to happen when he feels a soft, fuzzy palm close around his heel. “Oh - oh, bitte-”

The first pass is a single fingertip, drawing tiny circles on the calloused ball of his foot. It hardly feels like anything at all, and for one foolish moment Caleb lets himself relax.

Then the fingertip drifts down to the softer arch, wriggling into a crease as his foot curls reflexively, and it tickles like a motherfucker.

“No, no, NO,” he yelps, and scrambles blindly through the next few moments -he jabs something solid with his elbow, cool air rushing on his face as he twists and pulls his knees in, but all that is secondary to the rush of relief as he gets something beneath his feet and jams them against it. He squeezes his eyes shut and pants, clutching his chest as if he can will his lungs into proper behavior.

Something knobbly vibrates against his shoulder.

He freezes. “Um.”

It takes a long moment for him to realize that he is, somehow, still in Caduceus’ lap - his shoulder is pressed to homespun cloth and a bony chest, his feet are crowded up against one of Caduceus’ thighs as the rest of him perches on the other.

His seat shakes a little as Caduceus continues to laugh at him. At this point, Caleb can hardly blame him.

Caduceus lets out a long, happy sigh just above where he’s pressed his face back into his hands in blatant embarrassment. “Oh, we’re going to have to hold you down for that, huh.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it is a foregone conclusion that someday Caleb will find himself with his ankles pinned and teasing fingers coming for him, helpless to stop them. It’s far too easy to picture, just now, and despite himself anticipatory giggles start to well up in his chest.

Unacceptable - Caleb presses his lips together, burrows as far into his hands as he can and tries fervently to pretend that he is not still well within range of someone capable of doing all of these things. What is wrong with him? Nothing is happening, no one really wants to tickle him, it is not funny-

Caduceus’ fingers, though, are still moving - one hand is dancing over the tops of his feet now, hardly touching, worrying at his ankles and the sparse hair on his toes. It doesn’t even - it shouldn’t tickle, but he can’t stop thinking that it might, or that Caduceus might reach for his ribs again, and he is too tired to redirect his thoughts anymore, he feels halfway to dreaming already, and - “Hnnmm - heeeh -”

His cheeks are already warm from the desperate effort of not laughing, but they burn even brighter as the giggles start flooding out.

Caduceus can surely hear him, for all that he is hiding his face and never intends to reveal it again, and besides that he is squirming, winching his arms to his sides and scrubbing his feet uselessly against the rough fabric of Caduceus’ trousers to try and get away from his fingers without lifting them. “Heheeeh - ahaha - oh, stop, stop, help, I cahahan’t-”

Curling up in a ball doesn’t seem to help at all - a small part of him knows that he’s more or less tickling himself at this point, but all that means is that there’s nothing to get away from as he twitches and begs, no mercy from his own overtired brain, no one to help him get out-

Just as the panic really starts to choke him, something warm and grounding wraps around his shoulders.

He regains just enough awareness to feel Caduceus’ huge palm cradle the side of his head and pull him into his chest. “Shhhh,” he soothes, so low that it rumbles through the both of them. “I’m here, I’ve got you. Breathe, breathe.”

Caleb comes back to himself slowly, like the tide pulling back from the rocky cliffs of Darktow - the exhaustion is still there, burning behind his eyelids, but the thunderous crash of his heart in his ears slows to a steady echo under Caduceus’ touch. He takes in a tentative breath and nearly buckles from relief as it stays in his lungs.

Caduceus murmurs something to himself, pensive. Caleb hears it more through his chest than his ears. “Better?”

He sucks in a few more breaths before he feels calm enough to answer, slumping further against Caduceus and drawing his hands cautiously away from his face. “I am fairly sure that is not how ti- ah, how that is supposed to work,” he says tiredly. “But at least it is over. Caduceus, I am sorry-”

“Oh, I’m still going to tickle you,” Caduceus says, and Caleb nearly starts choking again.

A thousand startled exclamations catch in his throat. “Why,” is the one he gets out, and oh, he does not even begin to know what to do anymore with the excited little twist in his belly at hearing Caduceus’ words.

Gentle fingers take his chin and tilt it up until he can see Caduceus looking back softly back down at him. “You’re not being very nice to yourself, are you.”

That wrenches a rueful little smirk from him. “And why should I be?”

“Don’t do that,” Caduceus admonishes. He doesn’t - frown, exactly, just looks at Caleb more intensely until he has to fight the urge to wriggle himself loose.

“You were disappointed, earlier, when it didn’t tickle, don’t think I didn’t see it.” He tries to shake his head, but Caduceus holds him still. “I saw how you looked when I said we’d have to hold you down later, too - you want me to tickle you, Caleb, so I’m going to. That’s enough.”

Caleb opens his mouth to tell Caduceus that he doesn’t want it, that he has long since accepted that tickling is a happy and childish thing for those who do not have to try all the time to not be terrible, but he can’t quite get the lie out under his steady gaze. “I shouldn’t,” he says instead. “I should sleep, I am just wasting your time.”

Caduceus huffs, cuddling him impossibly closer and rubbing a thumb over his cheek, and Caleb has to close his eyes - he does not know, sometimes, how these people can be so careful with him, so willing to offer affection, unless he has tricked them somehow. He does not know how to repay it, either. It is hard to tell which piece of his ignorance is worse.

“You’re not. We’re going to talk about that, someday, when I’m not trying to put you to bed,” Caduceus tells his eyelids. “But that night after the dragon, a little tickling put you to sleep just fine - and you were doing all right until you decided you were going to be stubborn.”

Caleb has to smile at that, just a bit - Caduceus sounds openly affectionate, if mildly frustrated, and even though he does not deserve that it is a little funny to think that he might be as much of a troublemaker as Jester or Beauregard simply for refusing to sit still in Caduceus’ lap.

Caduceus pokes lightly at the slight round of his cheek. “There, that’s better.”

He loosens his grip, then, letting go of Caleb for just long enough to loop his arm around his chest. Caleb opens his eyes, curious - Caduceus is smiling at him, slow and mischievous, and his elbows automatically twitch halfway to his sides before he realizes that Caduceus’ arm is in the way and blocking him from getting them all the way down.

That tricky, light feeling takes hold of his chest again. “Ah - Caduceus?”

Caduceus adjusts his grip a little and raises his other hand, wiggling his fingers in a way that might be considered thoughtful if they were not pointed distinctly in Caleb’s direction. “Yeah?”

Despite everything, Caleb finds that he is fairly good at reading people when he needs to be. Which means, in this case, that he can tell - Caduceus is trying to make him more ticklish.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop it from working.

He widens his eyes entreatingly. “I was not being stubborn! I - I just panicked-”

“I told you to be good and stay still, didn’t I?” Caduceus’ arm is more than long enough to wrap all the way around his skinny chest, especially without the holsters - his hand curls carefully under Caleb’s arm, and he has to press his lips together tightly to avoid laughing then and there.

“I couldn’t!” he pleads. “You - you were-” He stumbles over the word itself, half hoping Caduceus will interrupt him again - but he doesn’t, just holding him steady. “I was trying,” he finishes lamely, willing himself not to blush and failing entirely.

Caduceus is grinning at him now, through his beard, smug in that gentle way of his. “And I was trying not to rile you up too much.” he muses, “Suppose we’ll just have to tire you out instead, how’s that sound?”

Caleb gapes. Caduceus is the nicest and gentlest of all of them; surely he is not about to trap Caleb in his lap and tickle him until he cries. And surely he should not want it, the traitorous squirmy feeling in his belly up and fluttering like a live thing.

The long, downy fingers of Caduceus’ free hand pluck his shirt loose from where it’s just barely still tucked in and slip underneath to tease at the fuzz of hair on his tummy, and such logical reassurances suddenly lose much of their weight.

“You - you planned this,” he accuses breathlessly. “You did, I didn’t - hm! - even do anything-”

“I mean, I don’t plan a lot of things. Dinner, mostly.” Caduceus prods at his belly button and he jumps, completely off guard for what comes out of Caduceus’ mouth next.

“You’re just really, really ticklish.”

Caleb whines. Just saying it makes every nerve in his body hum with anticipation, now, and when Caduceus pokes his belly button again he’s sensitive enough that he can’t hope to fight back the peal of laughter. “Don’t.”

Caduceus snickers and just keeps poking at the same spot, sending him into a tumble of frantic laughter as he twists this way and that and fails to escape. “Oh, that helped, huh?”

“No, no, oh nohoho-”

The hand holding him in place tickles gently through his shirt at the softness just above his ribs - usually he is protected by layers of leather and paper there, enough to hold off one of Veth’s crossbow bolts, but all he can do now is whimper.

Caduceus’ free hand sneaks up his other side and repeats the process under his shirt, and he shrieks.

“Heh,” Caduceus chuckles, and eases off for a moment. “You gonna be good if I’m not holding on to you?”

Presumably he wants to get his other hand under Caleb’s shirt and torture him even more, but that’s not the reason Caleb reflexively clings to his arm. “No, no, I need-”

He cuts himself off before he can say that he needs Caduceus to hold him, largely because he does not want to admit it even to himself.

Luckily, he does not need to say more. “Okay, I’ve got you,” Caduceus says easily, and squeezes him a little tighter. “Let me know when you’re done, yeah?”

Before Caleb can ask what that means, Caduceus’s fingers spider under his shirt and start kneading, gentle and merciless, at the top of his ribs.

Caleb breaks instantly. He can’t get his arms far enough down to protect himself, can’t hope to get loose - he tries to bite his lip for a moment to stop himself from laughing, flinging his hands back over his face, but all his breath rushes out in a sudden squeal as the first shock of ticklish sensation hits him in full. “Ahahaaaaa - aaa!”

Caduceus tickles one side of his ribs until he’s sobbing and kicking, completely insensible, and then lazily spiders down over his sides and belly and back up to the other side to tease and tickle as he pleases. He tickles up into his armpits, around the soft curve of his tummy, and rubs his thumbs into the bony outcrop of his hips through the pockets in his pants - he goes back and forth, back and forth, until Caleb loses track of time and numbers and which language he’s begging in and can only measure how much air is left in his lungs before he starts wheezing again.

At some point, he can’t hold himself upright any longer - he sinks down against Caduceus’ bracing arm, but it only stretches the skin over his ribs further. He wails.

It goes on until all he can do is gasp and snicker weakly as Caduceus prods his way back up his side, stopping to trace at each ribin turn. His eyes drift shut, at some point. He doesn’t think he’s ever been tickled so badly in his life.

Still, it seems that there is the possibility for it to tickle even worse - Caduceus’ hand finally, finally slips out from under his shirt, and he just manages to gasp out a sigh of relief before it closes gently around his ankle.

His eyes spring open. “Mein Gott, bitte, bitte, not there,” he hiccups. “I’ll die, I’ll die, please!”

Caduceus hums - held upright, he can just see Caduceus’ wrist pinning down the top of his foot as his index finger traces a light, tickly circle around the thin bone of his ankle. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Caleb grasps for the threads of his thoughts, heedless of confession in the face of being tickled more, but to his surprise there is little left to worry about - even the exhaustion feels far away now, his whole world narrowed to the warmth of being held here.

“Nothing,” he says honestly. He giggles a little as Caduceus’ fingers keep moving. “Ankles, maybe.”

Caduceus laughs aloud at that, letting go of his foot and untangling their arms as he briefly nuzzles his forehead. Caleb’s seen him do it to the others, before, but never to him. He sighs at the warm, fuzzy pressure against his hairline, the light huff of breath that stirs the mess of his hair. It’s nice.

“Alright. Off to bed with you, Mr. Caleb, come on.”

He’s already dreaming, he thinks - Caduceus has to help him over to the pillows, where he flops out and curls contentedly into the blanket tugged over him. Maybe it’s that he can barely move from exhaustion, cheeks still sore from laughter, but the bed has never felt better.

Drifting off, he allows himself to hope foolishly that this might not have to be the last time.

#tickling #critical role #clayleb #caduceus clay #caleb widogast #chocfic #feel free to tell me how you feel about caleb pov i'm honestly curious how it comes across

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

Note

holly, for sad angst prompts: “ do you know how hard it was to let you go? ”

tarlos, maybe one of them has to rush into danger? >.>

crack and crumble, it's all too much

so...not exactly what you asked for. i hope you like it anyway my love 💚

@911lonestarangstweek day 3 - j is for...jump

thanks to @noxsoulmate for the beta

title from humpty by mitski

ao3 | 2k | suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, canon divergence, hurt tk, worried carlos, hopeful ending

TK used to be afraid of heights.

No, not heights.

Falling.

As a kid, he was terrified of falling, even if it was only off the playground equipment in the local park. He’d have no problem climbing up; the issue came when he got to the top, when he would freeze up as he stared down the two metre drop to the sawdust ground. The other kids would get annoyed, pushing at him until he almost, almost, fell—but then, at the last second, when TK was tilting on the edge, his dad would be there to catch him, lifting him up before he ever had a chance to fall.

His dad was always there, never failing to scoop him up in his arms, never failing to save him.

Until he did.

And, oh, how TK fell.

He learned to love the rush of it, that swooping sensation in his stomach as he took just enough pills to push him off the edge into oblivion. It was...beautiful.

TK didn’t know what he was ever afraid of.

And then, he fell too far. And he learned.

Heights haven’t bothered him for years now—no more than the healthy amount, anyway. He’s even managed to find some kind of pleasure in them, in the feeling of his feet leaving solid ground, always with the knowledge that he’ll touch down safely soon enough.

The team call him crazy for enjoying it, but TK has so little happiness in life these days. He’ll take whatever he can get, artificial and temporary though it may be.

He wishes he was feeling something now. He’d give anything to not be feeling the overwhelming empty that’s slowly been consuming him for months—even fear would do at this point.

But he’s staring down a drop that will kill him if he lets it, and he feels nothing.

Idly, he wonders what brought him here. Nothing had happened tonight—or, nothing out of the ordinary—but, somehow, he’d known. Known that it was time; that tonight was the night.

That, if he didn’t do it now, he never would, and he can’t just keep existing like this.

So.

A rooftop. An unknown fall. And a choice.

Fight or flight; stay or go. Legs swinging over the ledge, TK’s hands tighten on the edge of the roof, and he doesn’t know if it’s to push himself over or hold himself back.

(and, does it even count as jumping if he just...lets it happen? if he just leans a little too far forward and lets gravity do the rest? tk thinks it probably shouldn’t, but that’s what they'll call it anyway when they find his broken body splayed on the concrete below.

he jumped, they’ll say, which is wrong because that implies that tk was an active participant in all of this. really, he’s just too tired to try anymore, and if his body is going to slip off the edge of a building, then who’s tk to stop it?

but it’s semantics, nothing more. it’s not like he’s going to be around to correct them anyway, and maybe it’s better for them to think he chose this. that he wanted this, instead of just not wanting to exist. maybe)

Either way, he’s a coward. The only difference is that, if he jumps, he’ll be a dead one and everyone will know it; if he stays, he’ll be a living one, and holding the shame of it all inside him.

He already knows which idea he prefers.

TK has lived with his own cowardice for too long already—ever since he got shot, it’s been festering in him, growing and twisting with each passing day.

It’s jumping every time a car backfires or a damn plate shatters.

It’s telling Carlos that, if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll never contact TK again.

It’s putting on his firefighter’s uniform day after day after day, despite how ill it now seems to fit.

TK hasn’t been brave a day in his life, and he knows that it’s time to put an end to it.

His hands, still resting on the edge of the roof, press into the brick a little harder, and his body inches forward. He’s barely holding on now; shifting so his grip, latched onto the roof side of the ledge, is the only thing keeping him up here.

And— There it is.

The swooping in his gut that used to scare him, and now thrills him.

TK closes his eyes, taking a moment to bask in it. After all, it’s going to be the last thing he ever feels.

Except he takes too long.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him is lit up with flashing blue and red, and when TK opens his eyes, he can just about make out the numbers 126 on the responding fire engine. It makes him recoil, sliding back to relative safety on the ledge as panic flares up in his chest.

Nonononononononononono—

It’s not supposed to be like this.

They’re not—fuck.

And TK really must be a coward, because the knowledge that his family is waiting at the bottom for him to come down—whether that’s by the fast way or the slow one—brings all his forgotten fears roaring back.

Do they even know? Do they know it’s him who’s sitting on the edge of life and death? TK can’t figure out which one would be worse—not knowing and finding out when his body breaks in front of them, or knowing and watching him fall anyway.

Working it out is a lost cause, he figures. Maybe they’re equally as bad, but he shouldn’t care. He can’t, if he’s going to do this, and he was so sure that he was, but that was before the 126 showed up, before—

“TK?”

The universe must have it out for him, because TK knows that voice. He doesn’t turn, just sighs and slumps dejectedly, wearily replying, “Hey Carlos.”

“Hey,” Carlos says after a beat, voice quiet like he’s talking to a spooked animal. There’s a scared waver to it that betrays his mask of professionalism, and TK almost can’t handle the guilt it brings. “We’re pretty high up, huh?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act all nice and innocent. You know why I’m here.”

“Actually, I don’t.” There’s no hint of accusation in Carlos’s voice, but he has dropped the soothing tone, which is something. “Maybe you could fill me in? I promise I won’t say anything—I’m just here to listen.”

TK knows what this is, too. It’s not that he’s been here before, exactly, but he’s been in similar enough positions to recognise the talk for what it is. But… The thing is, he kind of doesn’t care. He wants to talk; for some reason, he wants to tell Carlos everything that’s been piling up and up for months, and has now led him to this roof.

“I’m not moving,” he says first, in case Carlos gets any ideas about what this means.

“That’s okay.”

It’s not, but TK doesn’t bother calling him out. He drums his fingers on the ledge, staring vacantly at the drop, keeping his silence for a few minutes. It surprises him when Carlos keeps his promise, and the quiet is almost peaceful now.

“Remember I told you about my relapse? It was—It wasn’t just a relapse. I overdosed after I proposed to my boyfriend and instead found out that he was cheating on me,” he says eventually. “I should have died that night, but my dad saved me and made me move down here with him. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t fight him; I was too tired to care. It was like I told you—everything was grey and I just… I guess it never got better.

“I mean, there were moments, sure. But then I got shot and everything just fell off the rails for me. I’ve been going through the motions for months now and it’s not getting better and I’m sick of trying. It’ll be better for everyone if I’m gone, including you and including me.”

“Why’s that?” Carlos asks, the question almost startling TK.

“For me?” he starts, huffing a breathy laugh. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I barely want to get out of bed, so this is a definite improvement. My dad won’t have to keep cleaning up my messes, the team won’t have to deal with—with me. Everyone will be better off.”

“What about me?”

TK stiffens, almost turning this time. “What are you talking about?”

“I won’t be better off without you,” Carlos says, ignoring TK’s answering scoff. “I’m serious. I… After the solar storm, do you know how hard it was to let you go? It killed me, but I did it because I thought that was what you needed.

“I don’t know if you thought you needed it too, or if it was just you trying to push me away, but that doesn’t matter now, alright? There are people who love you, TK, and we all just want to help you.” He pauses and TK hears him sigh shakily. “Letting you go was damn near impossible for me the first time, but none of us want to try doing it for good. You’re wrong about us, okay? You dad, the team...me—we won’t be better off without you.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as tears spring up in his eyes. Guilt twists uncomfortably in his gut and his head is a mess, his mind at war to work out what he wants.

“You’ve probably seen that the 126 are here,” Carlos continues. “Your dad and a couple of the team are waiting on the stairs to get you down, and if you come back with us, we’ll do whatever it takes to get you help, in whatever way you need. Please, TK. Come down.”

TK shudders, squeezing the roof again as his body wracks with sobs. He feels sick when he considers the drop, considers the fall, and it’s like his fear, newly revived, is now anchoring him to the roof. He knows what will happen if he lets himself fall, and he doesn’t want to die like this.

Not now. Not yet.

Slowly, he nods, and Carlos must understand as TK hears him talk quietly into his radio. The next few minutes are a blur, tears slipping freely down his cheeks as more people—his family—join him and Carlos on the roof.

“TK,” his dad’s voice says, steady despite everything, “I’m going to come to you now with the rescue harness, alright? Don’t worry, it’s just me, I swear.”

He hears one set of feet slowly come across towards him, and then feels the presence of a body at his back as his dad kneels behind and to the side of him.

“Hang in there,” he says softly. “I’m just going to slip the rescue harness around you.”

A wave of nausea washes over TK at the thought of being touched, and he shakes his head. “No, please, don’t.”

“I have to, TK,” his dad says. “I’ll be careful and it’ll just be for a second, then you’ll be safe. I’ve got you, son.”

TK swallows once, twice. He learned a long time ago not to trust those words, especially not when they came from his dad, but this time—this time—he wants so badly to believe. He takes a few deep breaths, then nods, squeezing his eyes shut as the harness is secured around his body.

“Good, that’s good. Now we’re just gonna scooch back a little ways and we’ll be home free.”

TK closes his eyes as they inch their way further onto solid ground, keeping going until they must be at least five feet from the edge and his dad pulls him into a crushing hug.

“We’ve got you, kid,” he’s whispering in TK’s ear. “We’ve got you.”

TK blinks through blurred vision, gaze going from his dad’s worried face, to Paul and Marjan standing a few feet away, and then to Carlos, a small, sad smile on his lips as he looks down at him.

And, just this once, TK decides to believe.

#911lsangstweek #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #owen strand #lone star #911ls #tw suicide attempt #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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iamcayc · 4 years ago

Text

Sounds of Gojo | Chapter 15: Playful

A/N: Ooooh my lord, I'm sorry for the delay in posting!

Here's some sweet smut for you all <3

🚨 TW 🚨 This chapter starts with some flashbacks to Kaya's personal trauma, so references of sexual assault, death, neglect ahead

Cigarettes and rum. The pungent smells of both stick your nostrils while you fingers race across the ivory keys.

You can’t hear anything, not even your own heartbeat.

Your parents watch in the distance, haughty smiles taunting you as you struggle to keep up with a metronome waving frantically from its perch on the grand piano. The living room is drenched in harsh, white light, cleaning all the color out of the room except for the ruby puddle surrounding Alexander’s limp body on the floor.

You want to scream, but a palm I’m all too familiar with covers you mouth with its pair gropes my breast.

Tears stream down your cheeks and your breath comes in sobs.

“That’s it, sweetheart, stay focused on the music.” His voice is raspy and thick with intent as he palms your breast hard.

“Good girl, Kaya…”

Your heart thunders in your chest as his hand goes lower, pulling the hem of your uniform skirt up your thighs. Every ounce of you begs your body to fight back, to scream, to do anything but freeze and let this all happen again.

“… Kaya.”

Your breaths come in faster, shorter. Alexander starts to decay in front of your eyes while your parents turn their backs to you. His hand cups your mound and a strangled sob finally breaks past your lips.

“Kaya!”

You start to shake, your body trembling.

“Kaya!”

Satoru’s beautiful blue eyes are wide and dark with worry as he looms over you, his thumbs swiping tears from your wet cheeks. You inhale a slow, shaky breath that still sounds like a sob as the nightmare recedes back into the hole it’s claimed in your memory. He mutters a curse before lying back down, pulling you against his chest tightly, his face pressed against your hair as his hands rub your back slowly… soothingly.

“It was just a bad dream, kitten,” he murmurs.

Rationally, you know this. Especially since this particular nightmare pops up every so often just to remind you that you’ve lived though something extraordinarily traumatic.

But that doesn’t stop you from suffering the panic attack aftershocks for a few days.

The rational part of your brain knows that what happened to Alexander wasn’t your fault.

Just like the rational part of your brain knows that your abuser can’t hurt you anymore.

It’s just that the irrational, shattered, fucked up part of your brain seems to be in the driver’s seat right now and you can’t figure out how to say any of this without sounding like a complete fucking lunatic—

Large hands with familiar callouses cup your cheeks and force you to look in his aquamarine eyes.

“Breathe with me, Kaya.” He inhales slowly before holding the breath for a few seconds. You make a lame attempt to do the same, except it comes in like a sharp gasp and your chest wants to burst from having to hold it in while managing your racing heart.

Satoru exhales slowly, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones with the gentlest touch. You mimic him, the exhale going a little more smoothly than the inhale.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs before repeating the exercise.

You mind calms as you breath with him, focusing on the feel of his skin against yours and the lessening pressure in your chest as the panic seeps back into the night. How many years have you spent lying in bed, smothered in your emotions until they decided to give up on you? Too many, honestly.

And now, knowing how utterly safe you feel with a man who has yet to reject you and your baggage, you’re at a loss.

Once your heart slows and the sobs turn into hiccups, you pry yourself free of his hands and slip out of the bed to wash your face. You don’t dwell on the fact that Satoru just witnessed a solid ugly cry, complete with snot. Instead, you splash some cool water on your flushed skin and pad back to the bed after blowing your nose for good measure.

You almost turn on your side to hide, but the giant in your bed snakes his arms around your middle and pulls you over to face him again.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” you mumble after a moment. Satoru frowns and gently flicks the tip of your nose.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Want to talk about it?”

He’s asking you honestly, which is refreshing. Most just badger you until you tell them, but there’s a stronger foundation of trust with Satoru, more so than you had even felt with Zeyan.

“It’s a variation of the same dream I have every year on my birthday.” You start picking at invisible lint on the linens. “Sometimes it’s just a flashback, but foggy, more distant. Sometimes, it’s all the worst parts of my trauma smashed together until I’m lost in it. Tonight, it was the latter.”

He keeps quiet, his fingers trailing along the edges of your body gently. The smell of his sleepy fragrance continues to ground you in the moment, rather than getting lost in the memories.

“I kept feeling his hands on me.” Satoru’s fingers pause on your hip. “My parents just watched me struggle to play while he kept touching me. Alexander was on the floor bleeding out—decomposing as my parents ignored me. I couldn’t get any part of my body to move, I couldn’t stop him, again.”

You suck in a shuddering breath and snuggle up closer to his body, startling him. He recovers quickly, snaking his arm around your waist and working his thigh between your legs to close up any gaps between the two of you. Your body responds automatically to the pure intimacy of the position sending heat through your core, your nerves alert and lust yawning despite the early-morning hour.

“But you woke me up before it got any worse,” you murmur against his chest. His fingers sketch nonsense against the skin beneath your tank top, every stroke feeding a sense of need you didn’t expect after such an intense dream. “So, thank you for that.”

Shifting your hips, you ply a bit of friction to your clit against his thigh. A lick of pleasure flares in your belly at the contact, a flare that kindles something stronger when Satoru’s hips flex into your stomach, his cock hard and needy. He releases a shaky breath as his hands become more insistent: the left pulls you in for a hungry kiss while the right guides your hips into a slow, steady, sultry grind against his thigh. You pull at his lower lip with your teeth, instincts taking over as you melt into the pure pleasure coursing through you. Your mind stops considering the dream and your birthday; instead, you lose yourself in the building frenzy between the two of you.

Your hands come into play, weaving your fingers into his hair and nudging his body on top of your, the feel of his weight as comforting as it is intoxicating. Satoru moans into your mouth as your grip tightens in his hair, pulling at the strands just enough to lace the pleasure he feels while grinding his cock against your mound with a sting of pain. Still, you can sense his hesitation in his languid motions.

As his tongue laves against your neck, you arch up against his chest, reaching down to grip his shaft with a firm hand. His lips separate from your skin with a gasp.

“Stop holding back with me,” you pant, stroking his cock slowly. He rises up on his palms, his head hanging to watch you work his throbbing, leaking manhood. After a second, his hips start to match your pace, pumping to meet your hand as he chases the sensation.

“I don’t—fuck… I don’t want to trigger you.” Your hand tightens. He groans and pumps against your hand harder. “Goddamn, you feel so fucking good.”

Leaning forward, you nip at his earlobe and rub the weeping head of head of his cock against your drenched cunt. He hisses a breath as you work the slick along his shaft.

“I need you, Toru.” His pace quickens but you let go of his cock to get his attention. Aqua eyes with pupils blown with lust find yours. “All I ever want is for you to fuck me and make me yours, over and over again. Please.”

He practically snarls at you as he hooks one of your legs over his arm, his large palm gripping your ass cheek and spreading your pussy wide open as he sheathes himself in you. You both cry out at the feeling, his balls slapping against your ass and the wet, indecent sounds of him thrusting into you filling the night. You will never get enough of feeling him inside of you, against you, on top of you. Sweat-slick skin gliding against each other as you buck your hips to meet his—you just fucking need to feel him deeper, harder.

Fuck. The way his cock stretches your tight pussy sends you higher than any drug or spirit could.

Your lips claim his. Calloused hands spread your legs even wider. Your bodies do everything they fucking can to just meld into one being. Rational thoughts are so far out the window they might as well be in space. All that’s left is the feeling of you milking his cock and his lips nipping—sucking marks all over your skin.

The keening cry you make as your vision bursts into white and incinerating desire floods your body is met with a drawn out groan that pitches higher as he cums with you, pumping his sticky mess into you in an erratic but hard rhythm.

Pure, primal satisfaction settles into your body as you run your hands through Satoru’s damp hair, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. He makes no moves to shift his position, even as he shudders from the hypersensitivity of his cock as you adjust your hips to avoid that gods-awful cramp that tries to separate your pelvic bones from the rest of your body. His gaze locks with yours as you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks, still breathless. His fingers brush limp curls from your face.

“This.” You feel no hesitation as you answer. His mouth quirks into a smile.

“You want to spend your birthday with my soft cock plugging our cum inside you?”

Wrinkling your nose, you flick him mercilessly between the eyes. “No! Jesus, why are you like this? I meant, I want to just be with you today!”

Annoyed by the ruined moment, you jab his side as extra punishment. He squawks, as per usual, and rolls off of you to avoid the next attack. You glance at the clock as you scuttle towards the bathroom; it’s just after 4 AM. A disgusting hour to be awake.

Satoru joins you after a moment, both of you cleaning up quietly before he playfully ushers you back into the bed, curling up around you before you can try and put on a new pair of panties or even a shirt.

“I’m all yours,” he murmurs against your shoulder before kissing it gently. “For as long as you want me to be, kitten.”

Your stomach jolts, warmth blooming in your chest as butterflies take flight in your gut. You lace your fingers with his, nestling into his embrace further instead of responding verbally. You know he didn’t mean within the limitations of today; he meant for the long-haul—the conversation you two dance around like idiots and never really hash out the details.

His slow, even breaths lull you back to a dreamless sleep before your brain can run away with this new information.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re like a cat?” Satoru asks as you yawn for the tenth time on the train. You’re thankful that the route to Shimokitazawa is fairly direct from Yoyogi, though you continue to wish Natsumi opened one of her cafés closer to your apartment so you didn’t have to haul your ass so far when you want some of her famous French toast.

He pulls you closer to his chest, your back all but sealed against him on the crowded train. You know he’s being sweet to cover up the territorial nonsense kicking up against the wandering eyes around you, but in a weird way, you find it flattering.

“All the time.” You glance up at him, catching a glimmer of blue beneath the retro sunglasses from the first time you met. “Kento points it out all the time, to the point that nearly all the gifts he gives me are cat-themed. And it’s no surprise that Yaga made Apollo a cat, either. I’d get some serious side-eye for yawning all the time or asking to take breaks to nap during our training sessions when I was younger.”

A sky-blue eye winks at you from beneath the sunglasses and it pairs up with the Grin. “But you’re my sleepy lil’ pussy, aren’t you?”

“Seriously?”

The Grin widens and the arm curled around your waist shifts, his fingers slipping under the boxy sweater to make contact with the bare skin of your stomach. It’s an innocuous touch, but your body instantly responds with a flare of want and a rush of pleasure at his attention.

It’s annoying how quickly he can get you going.

“I bet I can get you purring right now, too.” His fingers trail along your stomach lightly, the lack of pressure but obvious intent doing exactly what he wants them to: make you wet. “Maybe I ought to give it a try, seeing as you’ve got every guy’s attention right now.”

He’s not wrong. Most of the men on the train have been eyeing you since you stepped on, even though you had Satoru hot on your ass—not to mention most of the men are with their partners or far too old for the attention to be anything but creepy. But, the quiet, wild side of you can’t help but bask in the attention. It’s not like you’re an exhibitionist. No, you’re just petty enough to want to make all the women staring daggers at you insanely jealous for stealing the attention of all the men on the train and call the hottest one of them all yours.

You cock your head to the side, exposing the side of your neck—and the vicious hickie he left there this morning. You can’t see his eyes, but his fingers dare to slip lower on your abdomen, skirting the waistband of your leggings. His cock presses against your lower back with pride as he brings his lips over the bruised skin with a sultry smile.

“Now, that’s not fair, kitten.” He chuckles against your neck just as his fingers slip beneath your leggings, tugging playfully at the band of your thong so the friction taunts your clit just right. “You know I’m weak against seeing all my marks on your gorgeous body, especially your neck.”

“What are you going to do about it?” you taunt, your eyes glancing at the station announcement. A smirk pulls at your lips as you press back against him, earning a rumbling growl and a nip to your neck.

“I have half a mind to warp us out of here and show you exactly what I plan to do about it,” he retorts with a low voice. Fluttering your eyelashes, you snatch his sunglasses, slip them on and dart out of the train just as the doors open to your stop.

You laugh at his yelp of surprise as you dodge and weave through the busy station towards the exit. This playfulness—your instinct says to brush it off as a fluke, a spur of the moment kind of thing, but you know that isn’t really true. You’ve always been playful, even as a kid.

It just got buried beneath the bullshit somewhere along the way.

Not just because of Alexander; though, yeah, he was a big dump of emotional shit.

Just life.

College.

Work.

And, of course, avoiding anything that threatens the tiny semblance of peace you’ve found after stitching yourself back together.

You know you’re at the disadvantage, what with Satoru’s height giving him a bird’s-eye view of your moves, making it easier for him to warp to you. But you still run off, dodging the tourists and locals alike as you rush towards the café. You can feel his aura blur and solidify as he warps tiny steps to close the gap, but you can see the Sleepy Sheep Café sign getting closer and the training you pushed through with Maki and Kento pays off with a final sprint towards the door.

“Got ya!” he shouts as he reappears in front of you so your only choice is to run into his arms.

A peal of laughter bubbles out of you as he spins the two of you away from the door, somehow avoiding the curious on-lookers. He starts laughing with you as he finally sets you down, stealing his sunglasses back before kissing you soundly.

“When did you get so fast?” He pulls out your inhaler from your bag, priming it for you as you catch your breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huff, mostly because your lungs are on fire. “I’ve always been fast.”

He gives you a look that you ignore as you suck in the medication, holding your breath while holding his stare. After a second, he shakes his head and starts to usher you inside the café; the scent of fresh baked goods hits you like a delightful ton of bricks. You release a slow, steady breath and steel yourself to deal with the ogling girls at the hostess station.

“Welcome in, sir!” the faux-blonde chirps, promptly ignoring you. Unruffled, you look around the café for the head of curls you know is here somewhere while Satoru asks politely for a table for two. It’s only when you’re being led to a table near the kitchen that you hear Natsumi giving directions in the back, her no-nonsense tone making you smile.

“Here is your seat, miss,” the hostess says crisply, indicating the chair right next to the kitchen’s doors—one of the worst seats in the house. A weary sigh escapes as you pull out the chair, making a mental note to start looking for restaurants with male hosts.

“I thought I heard your laugh earlier.”

Natsumi appears from the kitchen, her expressive face set in a deep frown as she takes in the table, especially your seat. Her sharp eyes pin down the hostess, who stares at her, wide-eyed.

“I’d love to know why you sat my best friend and her boyfriend at the worst table in the café on her birthday, of all days.” Satoru watches the exchange with keen interest, chin resting on the heel of his palm as the hostess’s eyes dart between you, him, and Natsumi. You almost feel bad, except that your pity won’t save her from Natsumi’s wrath.

“I-I didn’t realize… I didn’t k-know she…” the girl stammers, eyes landing on Satoru as if he’s going to swoop in and save her from her own petty grave.

“Yeah, I gathered you weren’t using your brain so much as your eyes,” Natsumi drawls. She takes the menus and your hand, pulling you along as she leads you back up to the front. “I’ll be taking care of them. Get back up front and let the others know that Kaya Nissen is a VIP from here on out, you hear me? Pull this petty shit again and you’ll be fired on the spot.”

Your new table is at the very front, by the main windows. Natsumi places the menus on the same side of the four-top, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table with a sigh.

“Sorry about that. If I’d have known your sorcerer is such a chick-magnet, I’d have warned the girls ahead of time.” She pulls her hair up into a messy bun before fixing her eyes on Satoru, assessing him in that intimidating, quiet manner that tends to make men squirm.

You wave her apology away. “I’m used to it when going out with him. Besides, you had no idea I’d show up today, of all days.”

Her eyes land back on you, brow raised. “True. I can’t say I’m not stunned to see you out and about today, let alone hear you actually laugh like that.” She glances at Satoru. “Kaya’s laugh is most-recognized part of her. Ken and I could find her in a crowded mall instantly growing up.”

He looks at you, tucking a stubborn curl behind your ear to expose the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Today is only the second time I’ve heard it.”

“You’re definitely hotter than Man-Bun,” Natsumi notes, completely redirecting the conversation. You and Satoru turn to her, blinking in surprise. You had completely forgotten about that weird run-in at the bar. “What was his name again?”

“Geto.” Satoru goes still for the smallest second before relaxing back into the chair again, draping his arm casually along the back of your chair. You put your hand on his thigh, feeling the hidden tension in the muscle there. “Sorry, I forgot to mention this last night. We went out with Kento a few nights ago and this Geto guy started making a pass—”

“A very lame, chauvinistic pass,” Natsumi interrupts.

You roll your eyes and push on. “Yes, yes, a very blatant pass at me. Ken stepped in but he made a comment about you, so I got a bit defensive.”

“What she really means is she got pissed and put him in his place in the greatest way.” Natsumi snickers as she remembers the night, which surprises you considering how many shots of tequila she’d had that night. “Took his shot of Jameson like a fucking champ and told him that you’d ruined her for all other men.”

Satoru grins at that, his brow arching with smug interest. You sigh, silently cursing Natsumi for giving him something to hold over you for the foreseeable future.

“Right, and then I compelled him to forget me.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully as he listens, probably thinking about how likely it was that your compulsion actually worked. “But Ken wouldn’t explain how he knew him, or how Geto knows you.”

He shrugs, running his other hand through his white locks idly. “We were close back when we were in high school, you could say we were best friends. Then, we grew up and started down different paths. He’s a teacher at Kyoto Jujutsu Tech, their principal’s right hand goon, really. I’m surprised he was in Tokyo at all, though.”

“I didn’t see anyone else with him that night,” you recall, leaning back against Satoru’s arm as you try to remember that night. You certainly remember puking your guts up when you got back home thanks to the Jameson.

“Hmm. All the same, try to avoid being alone with him, yeah?” He looks down at you, his smile bright but tense at the corners. “If he finds out that we’re together, his interest in you will only get more problematic.”

“Sounds like a dick,” Natsumi points out, crossing her arms. Satoru chuckles as he nods in agreement.

“More or less.” He leans forward, his smile a little brighter, a little less forced. “Now, I heard you have the best French toast in Tokyo.”

You watch the pair of them discuss the best toppings for French toast with a soft smile, the kernel of concern you’d felt when talking about Geto forgotten as you fall back into the blissful bubble that’s become your birthday. Even when Sumi grills Satoru about his salary, apartment, and all the standard points a best friend hits to make sure their other half is well-taken care of, you can’t help but feel like you’re in a dream; when was the last time you laughed this freely, this often?

He dips his head to steal a kiss when Natsumi leaves to prepare the food. You feel his smile against your lips as you automatically let the kiss linger on, the hand you’ve kept on his thigh slipping higher along his inseam.

“I’ve ruined you for all other men, huh?” he teases. His breath warms your cheeks as he nuzzles your neck, no fucks given about the other people in the café watching you two with interest. The hand draped across the back of your chair moves up into your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp expertly and doing some ridiculous things to your nerve endings.

“I knew you’d latch onto that,” you reply, a little too breathlessly than you’d have liked. You palm the growing bulge in his pants once before leaning away and poking him in the chest to keep him at bay. “Behave. We need food and then we can pick this back up later, deal?”

His blue eyes simmer as he looks at you over the rims of his glasses. “Deal.”

Being warped to his apartment the moment you step into the empty alley by the café doesn’t surprise you in the least.

Getting stripped naked and pressed up against the floor to ceiling window of his apartment while he eats you out from behind surprises the fuck out of you.

The noises he makes as his tongue works your clit makes your knees buckle. Your palms flatten against the glass, everything about the situation fogging your head with lust. The idea of being seen—your desire to be seen in such a lewd, exposed position short-circuiting your reason. He works a finger into your hole, the invasion pulling a low moan from you as your legs widen for him instantly at the pressure.

“I love the way you respond to me,” he chuckles as he kisses the small of your back, just above your ass. Another finger slips into you, his pace steady and slow. “My sweet, needy kitten.”

“Toru, please. Please don’t stop,” you whine as you flex your hips back to meet his fingers.

He rises to his feet, his fingers never stopping while his other hand smacks the rounded cheek of your ass sharply. “I have no intention of stopping, sweetheart. This is what you deserve after teasing me all day with that sweet ass in those leggings. Not to mention getting me worked up on the train, or while your best friend interrogated me over brunch.”

He spanks you again, making you whimper and clench at his fingers. “Besides, it’s my kitten’s birthday and she wants to spend it with me. That means spoiling her rotten so she can’t think about anything but how much I’ve ruined her for other men, right?”

You’re never going to live that one down.

Your retort dies in your throat as he pushes a third finger into you, sharp words melting in a drawn out moan. Three sharp thrusts push you harder against the window before his fingers are replaced with his tongue—fuck. You love the way his tongue dives into your dripping cunt, laving at your interior walls with a hunger you hope never leaves him.

“O-oh, fuck. Oh, fuck!” His tongue drags over your tight asshole as his finger slip back into you. “Toru, Toru, Toru!”

The sensation of his tongue prodding your puckered hole combined with the pads of his callouses massaging your fucking G-spot has you seeing stars, the edge of your climax right there. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

I need more.

“That’s it, kitten. Cum all over my fingers.” He bites the swell of your ass. “Cum for me, babygirl. Do that, and I’ll give your pussy exactly what it wants.”

His voice is your undoing. The low gravel tones pushing you over the edge, your walls clenching wildly at his fingers as your words become a slur of his name and—fuckfuckfuck.

Chest heaving, you ride out your orgasm on his fingers and acknowledge the relentless need still churning in your core. You look at him from over your shoulder, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown. He’s still fully dressed and it’s a problem.

“Toru, fuck me, please,” you beg breathlessly.

His lips tip up into a grin as he starts shedding his clothes faster than you’d ever seen to date before he crowds you up against the window again, your ass smearing your slick all over his cock as he kisses you hungrily. Fingers pull your hair back, giving him better access to your mouth as the broad head of his cock pushes into you, the stretch blissful. He groans into your mouth as you reflexively squeeze his cock with your pussy, his hips rolling steadily into yours to get as deep as he possibly can.

“You feel fucking perfect,” he moans, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder as his hips thrust into you at a steady, deep pace. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I constantly want you. I’m fucking addicted to you, the way you feel, the sound of that fucking gorgeous laugh.”

His teeth nip at your neck, making you whimper and arch your back, getting his cock even deeper. His hands work your tits, pinching at your dusky nipples in time with his thrusts. You’re a live wire; nothing but sensory overload registers in your brain as he fucks you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your life. The wet sounds of your bodies joining together echo in your ears, mingling with his grunts and moans as he plays your body like an instrument, pulling whimpers and gasps and cries from you in a raw and wild symphony.

“You’re fucking mine, and I want everyone to see you come apart on my cock.” His pace shifts into a steady pounding as he pushes your torso against the cold glass. The change in temperature on your skin makes your pussy clench his cock. “That’s my babygirl. Cum on this throbbing cock.”

You were close before but as his fingers slip between your swollen cleft to rub your juices over your clit, a strangled scream leaves your throat as you tumble head-first into another orgasm, your body spasming against the cold window and his sweat-covered chest. Praise drips from his lips like honey as he grips your hips with his large hands and pulls you back to meet his cock faster and faster. He ruts into you mercilessly, the pressure of another climax building in your core.

“B-baby, please… fuck, oh god.” Putting words together isn’t working. “I’m… fuck! Toru, I’m going to—”

His shallow pants match yours as he works your clit with his fingers again. You scream just as your knees finally give out, but you don’t hit the floor. Instead, you collapse onto his bed thanks to a perfectly timed warp, his hips never stopping their rhythm as he overstimulates the fuck out of you. Like animals in heat, the two of you are a pile of grunts and whimpers, his cock urging you on to gush all over him. Just the thought of it—good fucking gods, you need to give him that. You know that’s what he’s after, why he isn’t stopping.

Another scream rips from your throat as all the stimulation finally breaks you. Tremors shake your body as he half-groans, half-yells your name like a holy litany, pumping his own release into you before you both collapse into a still-connected heap.

It feels like it’s taking years for basic communication to come back to you. Your thundering pulse all you can hear as it matches Satoru’s, his heartbeat pounding against your shoulder blade from where he still lies, catching his breath.

“Well,” he pants, “that confirms it.”

It’s ridiculous, how much effort it takes you to reply, “Confirms what?”

“You’ve ruined me for all other women.”

You know your heart would leap if you had the energy to let it. Instead, you let out a weak laugh and lace your fingers with his, the sentiment acknowledged with his hand squeezing yours.

“Another thing.” He rolls off of you, pushing you over gently onto your back while he remains propped up on his elbow. Aquamarine eyes shine brightly as he presses a sweet, slow kiss to your lips. If time stopped—hell, if the world fucking ended right now, you would die happier than you’ve felt in over a decade. That truth settles deep into your bones as you memorize his face in this moment, a moment you know both his walls and yours a nothing but a memory of a past life. When they finally crumbled, it’s hard to pinpoint; all you know is that this is the clearest you’ve ever seen Satoru Gojo and it’s the clearest he’s ever seen you.

“What?” He smiles and lets his lips barely brush against yours.

“Happy birthday.”

#jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #gojo saturo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x oc #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo is a little shit #geto suguru #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara #smut #writing #gojo satoru #also on ao3 #ao3

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #29 - The One Where Everyone Gets Super Shiny

Our issue opens up with Swerve laying down the Story So Far in the Exposition Dimension.

Fantastic, you funky little man.

If Swerve looks like he’s been tossed through the car wash a few dozen times, it’s because this is where our new colorist comes in! Everyone, please say hello to Joana Lafuente- known for her love of gradients and attention to light sources, this actually isn’t the first time we’ve run into her. Lafuente worked on colors for several issues of The Transformers (2009), Last Stand of the Wreckers #3, and a few issues of MTMTE Season 1. However, she was matching the styles of her co-colorists on a majority of these, so we haven’t seen her style properly until now.

Getting into the story proper, Cyclonus is busying himself with staring out the window at a PNG of space, as he is wont to do, when he hears the tell-tale sound of tires squealing down the hall towards his room. Oh, goodness, whoever could that be?

Nearly forgot about him, didn’t you? Yeah, it’s a little difficult to follow up on things like a character’s recovery from a horrific disease when you’ve got comic event contract obligations to deal with.

After getting tackled by Tailgate, who reminds us all about the time he stuck his dirty little fingers into a dude’s brain meat, Cyclonus takes the little nerd on a walk through the ship.

You’re not going to convince me to reread “Dark Cybertron”. I don’t care how much of a marshmallow you are, it’s not happening.

They’re passed by Megatron and a bunch of crew members carrying that coffin we saw at the end of last issue down the corridor, Tailgate has a moment, and we get a taste of Cyclonus’ distaste for the Autobots as a whole. Tailgate is mildly offended by this, as he gropes his chest in distain, showing off his shiny new Autobot badge- a gift for not dying a terrible, gruesome death.

Good job, Tailgate. Proud of you.

They’re also passed by an absolutely blitzed Jackpot and Mainframe, the former singing Tailgate’s Tyrest-stopping praises as the latter carts him over to the Medibay to deal with the almost alcohol poisoning he’s got going on. Cyclonus remarks that Tailgate was missed, though Tailgate can’t help but wonder if that’s really true.

Y’all like slowburn romance, right? Because these two dumbasses have been roommates for two years, and we’ve just gotten to the point where physical contact can happen without one of them needing to be dying.

Anyway, it’s been a good day for Tailgate so far. Let’s hope it stays that way for the little dude.

...And that’s a series wrap on Tailgate! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Hopping back in time to Megatron’s trial, things get underway, as Optimus Prime takes a nap in the judge’s bench as Gripper- whose name you don’t need to remember, as he’s not actually important- tells everyone about how brutal the Decepticon Justice Division is, even to Autobots. Which isn’t really supposed to be their deal, given their, y’know, name, but I suppose nobody’s perfect.

Up in the stands, in an… opera box, I guess? Rodimus is watching the proceedings, when Atomizer walks in. Which I guess you can just do in a Cybertronian court case. Sure.

Atomizer, in case you forgot, is the dude who has a bow and arrow, and used to be an interior designer.

Say, didn’t Whirl has a bow and arrow in the last issue when he attacked Megatron? Mighty curious, that.

Rodimus and Atomizer briefly reflect on the DJD, recalling the horror that was Vos- not that Vos, the other one. Rodimus would really just rather this all be over with so the Lost Light can get back to finding the Knights of Cybertron, and it’s at this point that Atomizer breaks out a thing he really ought not have- the count for the vote on whether or not Rodimus should stay on as captain. Rodimus doesn’t want to look at it, because it was supposed to be anonymous for a reason, and tells Atomizer to destroy the list entirely.

Hm, that’s not a terribly determined face there, Rodimus.

Back in the present, specifically in Swerve’s, Groove is threatening to break Streetwise’s arm, as we get the downlow on just what exactly our Legislator buddy’s deal is. Turn’s out, Swerve got one of the things reprogrammed, so that he follows not the Autobot Code, but something else entirely.

Hey, Swerve?

I don’t expect you to know this, because I don’t think you were present when they revealed this information to the readers, but… your new bouncer is made of people. He’s a dude made of other dudes, namely the Circle of Light. There’s a chance that you reprogrammed a sentient being, my good bitch.

Anyway, Swerve’s in a fucking mood because his shoulder hurts, someone’s stealing his shit, and Megatron has joined the narrative. Over at a nearby table, Skids, Nautica, and Riptide take a gander at the tabloids. Trailcutter, who is positively smashed, to the point where he’s just leaking booze out of his face like it’s his job, isn’t terribly interested in that, however.

What an astute observation, Riptide. And people say you’re stupid!

Trailcutter wants to drink some more, because it’s very likely he’s got a problem, but the mention of “Megatron’s super fuel” makes him feel like it’s time to stop hounding Swerve and start performing crimes.

Back during the trial, we get to Starscream’s testimony. He’s wearing his crown. He’s acting like a self-righteous asshole, as he defends Megatron.

Well, “defend” in the technical, legal sense, I suppose.

But really it’s more about him insulting Megatron’s intelligence, strength, and courage, in front of a LOT of people, while also trying to make himself look better in the war crime department. Megatron doesn’t appreciate this very much, if his murder-face is anything to go by.

Megatron lets Ultra Magnus (his defender, if you’ll recall) know that he wants a private word, and court goes into a brief recess.

Back in the present, Nightbeat’s busy looking at a pin-up of Rung’s alt-mode, when someone knocks on his door. That someone is Chromedome, who’s trying to solve the mystery of The Missing Declaration of Love. Not that he says that specifically out loud.

You two were married, why- okay. No point in yelling at this digital copy of a comic book.

Anyway.

So, the whole screaming thing only happened the one time, and everything was back to normal on subsequent plays of Rewind’s message. Nightbeat seems to be leaning towards the depressive isolating getting to Chromedome, which Chromedome responds to by telling him to get the fuck out. Alas, someone’s blocking the door!

YO WHAT THE FUCK-

Back with Trailcutter’s subplot, our drunken friend is in the middle of breaking into the Medibay. Our trio of cool-colored pals watch him from back at the bar, by way of a laptop that looks like it was built the same year I was born.

As Trailcutter attempts to commit a crime, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Ratchet pass by, trying to figure out how to handle the whole coffin situation. Trailcutter’s about to punch the locks off a door, and Nautica decides that this is where she’s going to draw the line today, leaving the gaggle of fools to their shenanigans. Then Tailgate glomps Skids, throwing the computer to the ground and breaking it, as Trailcutter finds the door to the Medibay magically open.

If you don’t know what glomping is, there’s a 60% chance that you’re not old enough to vote in the US.

Trailcutter sneaks into the Medibay, we get a reminder that Ambulon is super dead, and Trailcutter commits theft from a food bank. What a guy.

This is the point where security shows up, armed with a great deal of guns, one of which is Megatron himself. Trailcutter, instead of feeling super powerful, actually feels positively awful after consuming Megatron’s rations of “super fuel”. Because he, as an Autobot, doesn’t want to be within 50 yards of Megatron, Trailcutter breaks out the forcefields the moment the guy approaches him. And oh, what a doozy this one is.

Trailcutter’s gotten himself a fancy new trick- this forcefield he’s broken out lasts for a solid half-hour, and he can’t turn it off. I’m sure that won’t bite him in the ass at any point in the near future, no-siree!

Back in the past, Rattrap is commending Starscream on playing the field and getting the public slightly more on his side, but Starscream’s too busy patting himself on the back to really pay attention. He knew damn well that Megatron wouldn’t like what he had to say on the stand, and now things are finally looking up for ol’ Screamer.

Over with Optimus Prime, Slamdance is showing off how the general public is really into this whole “folks being held accountable for their actions” thing.

In the present, Chromedome and Nightbeat seem to have remembered they have alt-modes and are driving down the hall back to Nightbeat’s room- wonder what the speed limit for the Lost Light is?- and discuss just what the hell happened. The current theory is that the Rewind they saw was a Data Ghost- a collection of information so dense, it had a not-quite-physical presence that wasn’t 100% removed when he died.

Which is a little fucked up, but let’s see where this goes.

Nightbeat undoes the 40,000 locks on his door while Chromedome bleeds guilt all over the shag carpet over the fact that he hasn’t been looking for Dominus Ambus like he said he would.

C’mon James, gimme that Chromedominus endgame.

Nightbeat finally opens the door to find a small problem.

Hm. That’s… not normal.

Over in the Medibay, Trailcutter’s bubble has burst, allowing Megatron to slap him in the back of the head. This head-slapping induces his FIM chip permanently, making it so that he can never get drunk again.

Weird party trick, Megatron. Kinda shitty, really.

Megatron then gives Trailcutter the job of director of security, because he needs direction in his life. Trailcutter just sort of takes what he’s given, because I suppose you can’t really argue with a guy who can literally slap you sober, and also threatens to destroy you if you fuck up even once. Nice, Megs. Nice.

MEGATRON THAT’S BEEN SITTING LIKE THAT FOR OVER HALF AN HOUR YOU FUCKING WET NOODLE

So, since there’s mystery juice all over the floor and no one’s died, Megatron assumes that the coffin ought to be fine to crack open.

Please note that Megatron is not a medical professional, and his views are now peer reviewed by medical professionals. Megatron is in no way endorsed by the WHO.

Anyway, Rodimus is in there.

Pretty fucked up.

Back in the past, recess is over, and Ultra Magnus comes bearing bad news- Megatron wants to change his plea to “innocent.” This gets about the reaction one would expect from just about anyone.

Well, except Rodimus, who’s too busy reading that list that he wanted destroyed. He’s very sad about it.

I know, what a bummer!

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #world shut your mouth #issue 29 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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kkgbutsane · 4 years ago

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Lunch

lmao they’re dorks

“Wait, so you both panicked over the new girls? You both… got confused by them!?” Ryota couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His friends were crushing on the new twin sisters. It also seemed like everyone else was, except for their friend group it seemed. They were the talk of the school, mainly known for their stark white hair. Blue eyes, only barely differentiated by the slightest of shades, where one was more seagreen while the other moreso aqua.

Sayaka groaned, unable to focus on the homework at hand. She was totally, utterly smitten. Whipped. She was crushing on the new girl. The new girl with pretty features and a weird shade of lipstick but oh my God she adored how the girl spoke.

Kirari Momobami was going to be the death of her.

Mary wasn’t faring so well either, absolutely whipped by Kirari’s sister, Ririka. “Sayaka… help me please…,” she whined, pouting while slamming her head against the table. Again. “FUCK!” she yelled. “Why do I keep doing that, dammit!” The blonde rubbed at her temples to alleviate some sort of pain. “Maybe because you’re gay and absolutely whipped for a girl who thinks wearing ‘Poggers’ sweatshirts is cute,” Ryota replied, taking a sip out of his water.

“It is cute, fuck you!” Mary chided, flicking her best friend’s forehead. The boy just snorted and went back to eating his lunch. “Do they have this lunch?” he then asked, looking around to possibly find silvery hair. “Oh, one of them does.”

“WHAT!? WHO!?” two voices yelled, belonging to Sayaka and Mary respectively. “It’s… the one in the sweatshirt…,” Ryota then continued.

In a flash, Mary was gone to talk to her. Or at least attempt to. “Errr…,” Ryota said, just going back to eating. He was maybe possibly terrified of his friend. “I wish Kirari were here… she’s so inviting,” Sayaka complained. Ryota raised his eyebrows as a figure appeared behind Sayaka.

“Oh? You wish I were with you?” a silky voice spoke, causing the ink-haired girl to squeak, and bump her knee on the table. “Shit!” Sayaka yelped, grasping at her now bruised knee. It took her a few seconds to realize she was being asked a question. “Wha- Oh! Kirari! It’s nice to see you!” Sayaka managed, waving at the senior with a small, embarrassed smile.

Whipped.

Ryota tried not to snort at the situation. Seeing his friends having a good time, or rather this sort of time was comforting. It reminded him that they were in fact, human and not just students at a school.

Midari sauntered over after hearing the commotion with her lunch, snorting for Ryota. “Sup. you Sayaka’s new friend?” she asked, a shit-eating grin on her face. She sat on the table and began eating her lunch. Yuriko trudged over soon after, eating her lunch quickly and then promptly snuggling up to Midari. Sayaka rolled her eyes and gave the one-eyed girl a thumbs up.

“Oh hush, you’re totally whipped,” Midari teased. “Not as much as you,” Sayaka retorted.

Kirari only chuckled. “Is she a friend?” the girl asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yes. and ONLY a friend,” Sayaka clarified. “I’d sure hope so. You’re quite the catch, you know.”

It was Yuriko’s turn to snort. She wondered if Sayaka understood the implications of that statement.

“Quite the… beautiful fish in this long vast sea,” Kirari continued, smiling softly. “I do hope we can talk again soon, Sa~ya~ka~.” And then she left.

Sayaka had basically short-circuited after the ‘quite a catch’ statement.

“Was-was she flirting with me?” the girl asked after a few minutes of gawking. Ryota started laughing. “Yes! She was!” he responded. Midari started cackling while nodding and Yuriko gave Sayaka a thumbs-up.

“Oh damn… WAIT! I DIDN’T GET HER NUMBER!” Sayaka shouted, desperately running after the apple of her purple eyes.

Ryota’s lunch was very exciting today.

Mary was getting through the crowd, trying to find a chance to speak to her new friend. She wanted to invite the girl over to her table, maybe get to know her better. Maybe introduce her to her friends!

She bumped into a stranger suddenly, stumbling back a bit. They seemed quite tall. “Ack! What the-” “Mary?” the blonde stopped her sentence in her tracks when she heard the shy voice she was so whipped for. “Riri! I mean Ririka! Hi! I was… just looking for you!” Mary tried, trying to cover up her previous embarrassment with some idle chatter.

“Oh. Was there something you needed?” Ririka asked, a smile forming on her lips. Her lips looked so soft.

Mary was absolutely simping for this girl.

“Oh! Yeah. I was wondering if… you wanted to sit by us today? It’s your first day here and I wanna make sure you’re feeling alright about it all,” Mary requested confidently, trying to put on a mask of ‘I’m a fucking top’ when she really wasn’t.

Ririka thought for a moment. The girl was quite nice, despite her harsh exterior. She was inviting her to sit with her group of friends. Maybe she could finally socialize!

Mary continued. “You don’t need to talk or anything if you don’t wanna. Whatever is comfortable with you!” Mary started scratching behind her neck. This was awkward.

“Sure,” Ririka finally replied, a small flush dusting her cheeks. Mary’s face lit up at this, and it made Ririka feel all bubbly inside.

She kinda wanted to see it again.

“You’re really cute,” the silver-haired girl said, not recognizing the implications of that statement as Mary walked with her to the table. “Wh- uh… Thanks!” she returned, smiling brightly again. Ririka really liked that face. She really wanted to see it again now.

“Where’s Yumeko?” Ryota asked when they got to the table. “I’m pretty sure she has Wind Ensemble right now. “Wind Ensemble? My sister has Wind Ensemble too!” Ririka said, face brightening at the mention of her sister.

“Oh yeah, we just saw her. I’m pretty sure she was flirting with your friend, Sayaka,” Midari interjected, running a hand through Yuriko’s locks.

Gay.

“Probably saw her on the way to the bathroom. I swear my sister has a bladder the size of a pin-pong ball…,” Ririka sighed. She felt comfortable around these people. Maybe it would be a good group to hang out with.

Mary laughed, almost choking on the water she was drinking. “Fucking shit, seriously!?” she wheezed, imagining the prospect of that statement. “Unfortunately. It gets annoying, but we live with it,” Ririka sighed.

“Well. I think Sayaka short-circuited from that one. She also went to get your sister’s number,” Ryota said, drinking some water. He had to stay hydrated, after all.

“Oh yeah! What’s your number? If you want, I can add you to the group chat we’ve made,” Mary asked, pulling out her phone. Ririka saw no reason to refuse. Mary was quite nice to her and made her feel comfortable. Ryota seemed nice enough, same with Midari and the brunette she was currently holding.

“I got it!” Sayaka yelled from afar, sprinting over to the table and panting. She held up her phone triumphantly. “She even took a selfie for the contact picture! I’m adding her to the group chat, if that’s okay of course- oh. Hi Ririka.” the girl sat down on the seat, waving her hand at their new friend. “Hello,” she responded.

“WHIPPED!” Midari yelled, cackling before getting flicked on the forehead by Yuriko for causing too much movement.

“So are you guys… together?” Ryota asked, eyeing the pair on the table. “Nah. she just likes hugs and cuddles,” Midari chuckled. In truth, the girl had been harboring feelings for her sleeping friend for a good 3 years now.

On God, everyone was just waiting for them to get together.

“Alright. I’m gonna go on a run, I have privilege after this so I’m gonna actually use it,” Ryota said, grabbing his gear. “I have privilege too. Mind if I come with?” Mary asked. “Please… I’m doing weighted runs, and I might need moral support for this.”

“How much weight?” Ririka asked, now suddenly interested. “50 pounds,” Ryota replied, sighing in horror at the thought. “You don’t seem to want to do it, why are you doing it then?”

The girl’s seagreen eyes were looking for an answer.

“He wants to be a firefighter, and is training himself to carry the weight while running. It’s been gradual obviously, but he’s taking this leap,” Mary said for him.

“Oh. Good luck. Maybe we can run sometime?” Ririka smiled softly. She was… secretly a gym rat. “Sure! I’d love a running partner!” Ryota gave her a thumbs up and then jogged over to the locker rooms to get changed.

“I’d better go help him. What he’s doing is really hard, so I wanna be there to support him.” Mary smiled, grabbing her backpack. “Wanna come with?” she prompted, giving her newfound friend a solid smile. “I have privilege too, so I don’t mind joining,” Ririka giggled.

“By the way, are you and Ryota together?” the girl finally asked. Mary stared at her new friend for a second, then absolutely bursting into laughter. “Oh HELL no. We dated like 2 years ago and just… no thanks. I love him. He’s my best friend but I don’t love him like that.”

Ririka nodded.

She was so fucking cute.

#kakegurui #ririka momobami #mary saotome #midari ikishima #yuriko nishinotouin #ryota suzui #au tag

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hurricanery · 4 years ago

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If You Went Away - pt. 2

A/N: Here’s part two of If You Went Away. You can read part 1 here. This is still pretty much angst but….I promise there’s light at the end of this tunnel. ALSO I want to explain in case anyone else was wondering 1) Amelink are not yet married in this 2) They have their own house in this story/they do not live at Meredith’s house like they currently do in the show. Hope that clears things up! Thanks so much for reading and sending encouraging messages it really means a lot <3

_______

(end of summer // present day)

“Amelia?” Maggie calls out as she pulls the spare key out of her sister’s front door lock. “Are you home?”

Silence.

She walks through the empty house, not failing to take in its current state. The piles of laundry not put away, dishes overflowing the sink, binders full of surgical notes and papers scattered across the kitchen table that are covered in Amelia’s messy handwriting.

She takes a look around the kitchen and notices the food that’s been left out, indicating that someone has recently been here. The food is perishable. So, Maggie decides to put things back in the fridge before they go bad. She frowns to herself as she notices the relative emptiness of the fridge.

She then searches through the practically empty cabinets, too. Before feeling like she’s doing too much prying. Pulling out her cell phone instead, she dials Amelia’s number.

To Maggie’s surprise, she hears a phone go off from somewhere upstairs.

_______

“Amelia,” Maggie enters her bedroom, where she discovers one sound asleep Amelia. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day. It’s like 2pm. What’s going on?”

There’s a pillow over Amelia’s head, and her only response is a muffled groan.

“Amelia.” Maggie says again, a certain harshness to her voice. Stepping around to the side of the bed, she rips the pillow away and tosses it aside.

Amelia immediately attempts to replace the pillow with her arms, not so successfully covering her head. “Maggie,” her voice cracks. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Spare key.”

Silence falls between them and Maggie just stares around the room. The curtains are pulled shut and the air is stuffy. There are a concerning amount of unfinished mugs of coffee and tea placed on every surface.

And then there’s Amelia, and her basically lifeless looking body, not even covered by any sort of bedding. The comforter happens to be in a pile on the floor. But she lay there anyway, in an oversized sweatshirt, hair an absolute mess, arms covering her head.

“Amelia,” Maggie says, all tough-love. No bullshit. “Get up. Get in the shower. I’ll make you coffee.”

_______

A solid half hour later and Amelia reluctantly rounds the corner into her kitchen. The sight of Maggie busying herself by cleaning the kitchen almost makes Amelia smile. Almost.

And Maggie’s heart clenches at the ounce of an expression.

Amelia looks rough, even after a shower. And that’s putting it lightly. The same oversized sweatshirt from before still covers her thin frame and Maggie can’t help but to notice the endlessly exhausted look in her eyes.

“There’s coffee, hun,” Maggie clears her throat, nodding towards the coffee-maker.

Amelia nods, and moves toward her cabinets, in search of a mug. “Thanks,” she murmurs, pouring herself a cup, not even bothering to add any creamer.

Maggie makes her way over to the kitchen table and Amelia follows suit, reaching forward to clear some of her books and papers out of the way.

“Sorry about the mess,” she mutters, stacking all of her surgical notes onto one side of the table.

She slowly takes a seat across from Maggie, her eyes not leaving her own hands, and the way her fingers wrap around the warm mug tightly. Her eyes sting unwillingly.

Ignoring the way her throat burns, she opens her mouth, attempting to persuade her sister that everything in this household is a-okay. “So, how’ve you been, Maggie? Been a while.” She lifts her stare and offers what she believes to be a smile.

Maggie stares back at her in disbelief. “Amelia,” she sighs. And Amelia pretends to be confused by her tone. “What is going on here?”

Amelia frowns, laughing under her breath. Her gaze shifts to the pile of surgical prep sitting on the table. “The spinal surgery,” she mutters, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “Maggie I’m prepping for an impossible surgery, I don’t know what you expect-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She interrupts. “And to tell you the truth, I’m a little pissed.” Amelia looks like she’s ready to respond, but instead shuts her mouth closed, her teeth clamping together. Maggie’s tough act softens just slightly, along with her voice. “I’m your sister, Amelia, let me be here for you.”

“I don’t need…” She blinks, trailing off.

“Shut up, Amelia.” It doesn’t sound harsh at all, in fact it makes Amelia’s eyes sting out of pure gratefulness.

Despite her attempts to repress any emotion, Amelia huffs a deep breath and blinks upward, but fails to keep the moisture out of her eyes. “Maggie the summer just…. flew by.” She explains, trying to make sense of her own feelings. “And I….still feel like….why do I still feel like this?”

Maggie’s heart breaks at the tone of her voice. Tiny and pleading and desperate.

“Amelia, I love you. And I want to be here for you. But you have to let me. You have to answer my texts, my calls.….”

Maggie trails off, waiting for the brunette to interject, or for her to at least make eye contact. When she doesn’t offer any evidence that she’s listening, Maggie continues.

“Amelia, you can’t ignore the fact that they come home this week.”

Amelia’s eyes snap to hers and she nods, because she knows Maggie’s right. She’s been so wrapped up in this upcoming spinal surgery that she’s been refusing to process the fact that Link and Scout will be returning back home, to this household, any day now.

“I know, I…” Amelia sucks in a breath, glancing at the ceiling as she gathers her thoughts. “I just, I….gave myself all of this time. This entire summer...to think. And, and to….figure out how I feel and…”

She trails off and Maggie nods at her, encouraging her to continue.

“I didn’t figure any of it out,” she laughs bitterly. But there’s no humor in her words. The tears springing to her eyes provide a stark contrast. “And now they’re coming home and I don’t even know what we are.”

“You’re still a family,” Maggie offers, in a guarded whisper.

“Maggie he left,” Amelia’s voice cracks on the statement.

“Amelia…” Maggie frowns slightly at this, but ensures that the reality of her next words don’t sound harsh. “Amelia, if I can remember….you told him to go.”

“But I didn’t think he would listen!” The brunette yells harshly back, and the slight outburst surprises both of them.

“Sorry,” Amelia continues, an octave lower. “Yes, I told him to go. And yes….he went. And then…” her voice cracks itself even more and it’s heartbreaking to hear. “Maggie I made it so much worse. I let this happen. I...I created this distance and he went along with it and, and now,” the tears are openly rolling down her cheeks now. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I know it’s hard. I know.” Maggie reaches across the table for Amelia’s hand. “But it’s going to be okay.”

“I haven’t really spoken with him in months.”

“You FaceTime with Scout almost every day,” Maggie frowns.

“I mean Link,” she shudders slightly at the realization that she’s distanced herself completely. She makes time for Scout with every free moment she has. But when it comes to Link, and every time he’s asked to talk, just the two of them, she’s made up some excuse about surgery and how she has to prepare for her upcoming spinal cord tumor case.

“It’s going to be okay,” Maggie interrupts her thoughts.

“How can you say that?” Amelia questions, under her breath.

“Because you are going to get through this, okay?” She stares at Amelia until she finally agrees.

“Okay.”

“Good,” Maggie gives her hand a squeeze. “How about some pancakes?”

And Amelia finally smiles.

“I’m going to make you pancakes even though it’s…” She trails off, glancing at her watch. “Closer to dinner time now. And then,” She locks eyes with her sister pointedly. “We are going to clean this house up. Mkay?”

“Okay,” Amelia whispers, a genuine smile still waving across her features.

_______

She’s been preparing for the sound of his car in the driveway all day but when the distinct sound fills her ears, she’s still not ready. She sucks in a breath as she hears the car doors slamming shut. And the sound of her son’s cheerful voice, taking in how much more full and lively it sounds in person, compared to through the phone. The distant sound of Scout’s laugh from the driveway makes her heart swell and she still doesn’t feel prepared.

She occupies her mind by tidying up the living room. She folds a blanket while she listens to their voices get closer, as they approach the front porch. There’s not much else to do that can distract her from this moment. Or to slow it down. Because Maggie had already ensured that this house was spotless. And now Amelia has nothing to do with her hands except wring them together anxiously until the front door is swinging open.

And when it does her breath catches in her throat.

Because her baby is home and now he’s running towards her full force, without any inclination of her nervousness.

“Mommy!” Scout cries out as he leaps towards her, and at the same time Amelia is bending down and scooping him up into her arms. She squeezes him tight, her palm resting at the back of his head as she brings it to her chest, her head lowering to the top of his to inhale his presence completely.

“I missed you so much, baby,” she breathes, swaying back and forth and running her fingers through his dirty blonde hair.

Link stands in the doorway to the living room, a suitcase in each hand as he smiles at the sight in front of him. It’s an uncertain smile. One that doesn’t feel like it knows it’s place.

Amelia sets Scout down and Scout is immediately babbling to her in full force about the trip. He explains excitedly about the playoff games and how ‘Dad fixed all their bones’ and how they ‘won all the games because of their new bones.’

Amelia smiles tightly, too overwhelmed to even keep up with her son’s stories. Too overwhelmed because she can’t believe he’s even here, in front of her. She crouches down to be equal to Scout’s height, squeezing his shoulders and just taking in his face as he stands in front of her.

“Oh, wait!” Scout yells enthusiastically. “We brought you something!”

Scout runs towards his Dad and Amelia finally takes a moment to glance in Link’s direction. The uncertainty on his face mirrors her own. But then Link looks away from her, as their son approaches him. He’s reaches into their luggage, handing something to Scout. Scout takes it and runs back to Amelia, where she’s still kneeling at Scout’s height in the middle of the room.

He excitedly hands her something and Amelia looks down at it. It’s a baseball. She chuckles and turns it over in her hands.

“That’s my ball, Mom,” Scout explains. “I got to throw the first pitch at the last game! I did! And that’s the ball that I threw!”

Amelia laughs wholeheartedly at her son as he bounces up and down with excitement.

“And look!” Scout points towards the baseball. “I signed it for you too!”

Amelia turns the ball over to see that Scout did, in fact, write his own name across it in permanent marker. The grin that crosses her features feels foregin, like she hasn’t smiled so genuinely like this in months. She doesn’t realize the tears that are springing to her eyes until Scout points them out.

“Mommy, are you crying?”

She wipes under her eyes quickly and laughs. “No, sweetie. I’m not crying.”

“Did I make you sad?” Scout looks genuinely concerned.

“No, no,” Amelia pulls Scout into her arms again, sighing deeply. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

Scout starts to squirm in her tight embrace and Amelia finally pulls away, taking another deep breath.

“Aren’t you going to hug Daddy, too?”

Amelia’s heart sinks at the question. She glances at Link, who still stands near the front hallway, where he’s been organizing their luggage. He awkwardly runs a hand through his hair.

Amelia stands on shaky feet, biting her lip. And then she feels a small hand wrap around her wrist, and she’s being pulled lightly across the room.

She doesn’t fight it. She let’s Scout pull her toward the front door. And then she’s standing right in front of Link. And the eye contact is making her heart race.

Scout stands between them, head shifting back and forth as he looks at each of them in question.

“You guys are acting funny.”

Amelia chuckles. And the look Link gives her represents both of their surprise at their son’s own wit.

Link shrugs. And then he’s giving Amelia another deliberate expression, as if he’s warning her that he’s about to make this decision for the both of them.

He reaches forward and pulls her into a hug, and Amelia gasps into his chest. His arms wrap around her shoulders and hers automatically go to his sides.

Her pulse quickens as she inhales his scent. She hasn’t had any contact like this in months and it feels so out of her realm.

“You good?” Amelia barely hears him mumble into her hairline. It’s quiet enough that Scout doesn’t hear it.

Amelia nods into his chest and steps out of his embrace, dropping her hands away from his sides and watching his face fall.

She rips her gaze away from him and turns her attention to their son standing between them, smiling tightly. “Why don’t you put your stuff away, Scout?”

“Yeah, bud,” Link chimes in. “We have a lot of stuff to unload. Let’s leave your Mom alone for a minute.”

Scout nods, following after his Dad as he moves towards their pile of luggage. Link hands Scout a duffle bag before he fills his own arms with what he can carry.

Amelia watches on as the two climb the stairs, Scout chatting again about practicing his baseball pitch. She stifles a laugh at her son’s ability to fill each moment with words. He had to have gotten that trait from her.

She stands alone in the front hallway and glances upwards as she pays attention to their movement upstairs. She can hear Scout’s quick movements in his own bedroom. And she can hear footsteps enter the other bedroom, their bedroom, too. Luggage gets set down heavily above and Amelia swears she can hear Link’s sigh even from a floor apart. And in a way, she mirrors the tired sound, exhaling slowly.

_______

Amelia blinks heavily as she sits at the kitchen table, she tears her eyes away from the notes in front of her to glance at the clock. 11pm.

The coffee in her hands should help her stay awake for at least 3 more hours. She’s been staring at the same scans on her laptop for what feels like forever. The updated spinal cord scans don’t exactly provide her with any inclination of how to move forward in her tumor removal approach and she groans impatiently.

“Scout’s finally asleep,” Link’s voice completely startles her as he rounds the corner into the kitchen and she almost drops her coffee. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbles.

Amelia watches him as he moves about the kitchen, preparing himself a tea.

“It’s hard to get him to stop talking sometimes,” Link adds. “He basically talks himself to sleep.”

“I know how that goes,” Amelia mumbles, thinking about the amount of times Link has teased her for falling asleep literally mid-sentence.

Link takes in Amelia’s current position, hunched over at the table surrounded by scans and notes and halfway consumed caffeine.

“Gonna be a long night for you?” He questions.

“Uh, yeah.” Amelia glances away from her work momentarily. “I just got these updated scans and I….I have to re-think everything basically,” she bites her lip out of habit. “So yeah, basically a long night for me.”

Link nods slowly. He knew she had a lot on her plate right now, but he didn’t exactly know the extent of it.

“You should get some sleep,” Amelia adds. “You’ve been travelling all day.”

“Yeah, I was going to,” He glances toward the stairs, thinking about bed. Their bed. The bed he hasn’t been in for over a year now. “I was going to head up there.”

Amelia just nods. Not sure what else to say.

“You going to be okay down here? Need anything?” Link glances at the disorganized mess that is the kitchen table.

“Yeah, yeah,” Amelia quickly responds. “I’m good, I just….really need to focus.”

“Right,” Link mutters, moving towards the doorway with his tea in his hands. “Okay.” He takes one final look at Amelia before he exits the kitchen and she meets his eyes respectfully.

“Okay,” she offers back. She turns back to the notes in front of her and holds her gaze there until she hears the sounds of Link’s footsteps ascending the stairs.

_______

The first thing Link thinks when he wakes up the next morning is that he’s way too comfortable. He’s not used to this bed anymore and the mattress feels way too soft. He’s way too comfortable and the bed feels way too big. And that’s because it��s mostly empty. The space beside him is cold and bare and he clutches the emptiness before rolling over completely.

He frowns as he rests his feet on the floor, standing up and throwing a sweatshirt on as the morning chill hits his body.

He’s still blinking the sleep from his eyes as he descends the stairs, turning the corner into the living room.

When his eyes finally focus, they land on Amelia. Where she’s passed out, sound asleep on the couch. She’s still wearing the clothes she’d worn yesterday, like all she had done was move from the kitchen table to the couch at some point last night without getting ready for bed.

Link grimaces at the idea that she hadn’t come upstairs to her own bedroom to get ready for sleep. The frown deepens as he tries to push away the thought that it was because of him. His fault that she was down here on the couch and he was up there in a too big and too comfortable bed. He walks forward, and a shiver takes over his body. The early September air already unbearable.

When he reaches the couch he leans forward and grabs a blanket from the corner. He drapes it over Amelia as she sleeps and she doesn’t even stir at the slight disruption.

Link only watches her sleep for another moment before he backs away, uncertain where to go next.

_______

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #maggie pierce #amelia x link #amelinkfanfiction #my writing #if the sun comes up #greys anatomy fanfic #grey's anatomy fanfic #grey's anatomy fic

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luvrpop · 4 years ago

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the end

source: the devil all the time part: one/? pairing: arvin russell/reader requested: no tws: n/a (canon typical in later parts but this ones safe) word count: 1652 synopsis: you make some bread, and contemplate finality. extra: i wanted to challenge myself to write a reader insert without using y/n et cetera!! im so excited for this, and very proud :) Someone once told you that there is nothing in life that isn’t a beginning or an end. You’re not quite sure what you think about that, but you figure there must be some sense of truth to it. Hell, you reckon that if those words are true every damn thing you do is the beginning of the rest of your life. This train of thought will come back to you later.

For now, you wake up in the morning to begin your day, and eventually you’ll sleep at night to end it.

You open your dresser to begin looking for your outfit, and close the dresser to end that search. Naturally, you’ll put on your clothes to begin wearing them, and take them off at some point to end that.

You open the window in your kitchen to begin a steady flow of fresh air, but you won’t get a chance to close, and thus end, it.

Later, all the beginnings you started and endings you caused in the coming few days will become viscerally apparent to you. You’ll wonder which one is more important; those beginnings or endings? You’ll wonder if that matters at all. It probably doesn’t.

Currently, you are kneading the dough that you began only 15 minutes ago for a loaf of bread that you’ll never get to eat. Your radio plays quietly in the corner of the kitchen and you sing along, finding a rhythm in your movement. You feel as though you could live in this moment for the rest of your life and stay happy the whole time. But of course, the song ends so another can begin and your timer goes off to tell you’ve kneaded enough, and the tranquility of the moment slowly dissipates. You wet a towel and delicately place it on top of the lump of dough, and set it into a bowl and aside to begin it’s second hour of rising. That means that you have an hour to yourself, and you resign yourself to laundry. It gets boring pretty quickly, however, so you resolve to finish this load and continue a book you started reading last week.

You’re only a few chapters from the end. You like it well enough- the characters are charming and the plot is compelling- but the pacing of it all is what’s really losing you. It started as a decent slow burn character study into the mind of a troubled woman that tragedy followed like a shy dog, which you find interesting. However, at some point it seemed like the author was as swept up in the world as you were and was caught off guard by the need for an ending. The past few chapters have been a rushed attempt at a satisfying conclusion, and the original message of the story has been lost. The woman started out as thoughtful and resilient, despite the shit life kept throwing at her. You like her a lot. At this point in the book, though, things should be calming down. They aren’t.

You pick up the book where you left off, and immediately it seems to be trending in an unnecessarily painful direction. You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you definitely prefer a happy ending. The appeal in watching decent people suffer for nothing is lost on you. It makes it difficult to ignore the more uncomfortable truths of the town you live in.

By the time you’ve gotten to the last chapter, your timer is going off again, letting you know that it’s time to move your dough from under the towel and in the bowl to the oven. You leave the book open on the counter (it stays, because you accidentally broke the spine when you first bought the book. Your best friend chided you for getting as upset as you did. “There are bigger things in life to worry about than a 50¢ paperback novel, darlin’.” He had said.) and stand to wash your hands. The front door opens and closes as you turn on the water, and you call out a greeting to your father. There is no reply while you move the dough to a pan, and you wait a moment before calling out again. This time you get an answer, though the voice that responds is not your father. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you slide the pan into the oven and close the door.

Something you’ve noticed about Arvin Russel is the way he refers to the people. It’s never “good afternoon,” or “thank you,” or “how are ya?”; it’s always a “good afternoon miss,” or “thank you ma’am,” or “how are ya, sir”. He calls his sister Lenora little lady or hun; his grandmother is grandma or ma’am; his grandfather is grandpa or sir. Friends are bud and fella, and enemies are any number of vile swears and adjectives. You’re doll or darlin’, and you have been since you found him hiding behind the school back on the first day of sixth grade. It’s common down here in the south to call people anything but their name whether it be from respect or the opposite, but even as a child Arvin seemed to actively avoid using someone’s name unless he was saying something that he needed you to know he meant. Most people figured he was just some overly respectful kid, but you’ve always suspected that he just understands the power of his words. As you got older, you got the sense to wonder why a kid so young seemed to know so much about power and violence, both mental and physical. You’ve heard the rumors about why he moved to Coal Creek in the first place, but it never came to you to just ask if they were true and what living in Knockemstiff was like. You never considered it your business.

That’s all to say that when Arvin Russel greets you by name in your kitchen at 3:30 PM on a Saturday in the fine year of 1965, your hand stops on its way to the kitchen timer. A quick glance at the clock confirms that Arvin has work in 10 minutes, and you know that you live a solid 15 away from where he needs to be. You turn to face him, apprehensively studying the way he sits on a stool on the opposite side of the island that divides the room. He sits with a slump that shows an extent of exhaustion that seems deeper than the physical body. You wonder if someone’s soul could yawn. He seems like he hasn’t been able to relax all day, and even now there’s tension in his shoulders. Not to mention that his breathing’s uneven and he’s sweating like a sinner in church, so you decide to dampen a washcloth before asking any questions. He looks at you in such a way while you dab at his damp brow that chips away at your heart. He’s looked haunted since you met him, like Satan himself is dancing in his peripheral, always 3 steps away from finally claiming his soul, and you wonder for a moment if he’s always fought the devil all the time.

“Christ almighty Arvin, what happened t’you?” You ask, blotting away at his forehead.

His eyes snap into focus at that, like he’s remembering something, and he pushes out of his seat, snatching the cloth from your hand. “We gotta leave, doll,”

You look at him incredulously. “What in the world? You sit yourself back down and tell me what is goin-”

Arvin interrupts you by saying your name again. “I mean it,” he says, and you believe him. “You got- you got to get on packin’ and we gotta leave.”

“I’m not packin’ anything until you tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Arvin Russel. I mean it.” You say, and he believes you.

Unfortunately, you’ll come to understand that he doesn’t have the time to explain.

The two of you have fantasized about skipping town more times than you could count. A couple of times, you even packed your bags into the back of Arvin’s jalopy before school, planning on picking up Lenora and never looking back at this shithole. You were serious about it too, your father and whatever spends its time haunting Arvin giving you more than enough motivation. Still, you stayed. Arvin would say he’d miss his grandmother, which was true, but you both knew it wasn't what Lenora would want. After she died, Arvin swore he should have said damn it all and left anyway.

When he makes eye contact with you again, you know whatever is happening now is different than your idealized life on the run. Every time you planned this, you both swore you’d do it all together, and that included choosing the right time. Arvin was so particular about choosing the right time. Now, it seems that whatever he did that you two are running from didn’t have a right time. It just had to happen, and he was tired of waiting. A sense of dread nags at you perversely, and you know suddenly and without a doubt that if you don’t go with him now, you’ll never see him again.

He drops the rag then and leaves the kitchen with a sense of urgency you’ve never seen, and you tear after him. You meet him in your room and you both throw together two bags of your bare essentials. You’re out the door and shoving the bags into his trunk before you even get a chance to turn off the oven.

It won’t be until you’re leaning your head on the passenger window of Arvin’s automobile, speeding past the sign that cheerily reads You are now leaving Coal Creek! We hope to see you again soon!, that you will realize that you forgot your book at home.

#i am SO proud of this #modmori #the devil all the time #tdatt #the devil all the time fanfiction #tdatt fanfiction #arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #the end #lenora laferty #lenora laferty mention

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yugyummygot7reactions · 4 years ago

Text

Into the Night - 3

Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

New chapter posted every day from now to 10/31!! at 8pm EST!!!

Pairing: Jaebeom x You

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2511

Warnings: Blood Kink

After the morning you had, you knew you had time for one more small, much needed, detour. You ventured to the local bar, which you knew opened at 11am sharp, and figured you had time for one quick shot of tequila before looking for your next target.

Unbeknownst to you, that target was already there… waiting for you.

The bar was dark, but the front door was propped wide open. You were immediately suspicious when the bartender was sitting on a barstool, slumped over the bar, almost looking like he was taking a nap. “Hey! You okay?” You asked him as you slowly approached. He didn’t move a muscle. “Seriously dude, quit playing around. You just opened and you’re already passed out?” You knew the bartender here was a drunk, but you didn’t think he had gotten that bad. You gently shook the man whose name you never bothered to learn. His body felt ice cold as he slipped off the stool and onto the floor, two small marks on his neck suddenly coming to view. “You were faster than I expected.” A voice said from the other side of the bar. You made the mistake of turning and making eye contact with him, “Now you don’t know how to use a crossbow at all in my presence. You are going to put it on the bar and not touch it until I am done with you.” The man stepped closer, his eyes flashing red, matching the liquid in the old-fashioned glass he was drinking out of. You knew immediately he was using his powers on you and you would once again be helpless to a monster. “What do you want?” you asked, setting down the weapon as if you were controlled by puppet strings. “You.” He said as he walked closer, licking a drop of blood from his lips. You stared at him a moment, taking in his lean, yet muscular figure and striking face. He was like a walking/talking marble sculpture with skin the color of the purest porcelain and hair as black as a starless night. You knew all too well that looks could be deceiving, but he looked as if he wouldn’t hurt a fly. “Why” You asked calmly as he took another swig of the bartenders blood and stepped closer to you. “It is a long explanation princess, but in short, I have wanted to taste you since you began guarding that wretched portal.” “I need to stop you, vampire.” “Jaebeom. Im Jaebeom, princess. If you’re going to attempt to stop someone, you should at least know their name first.” He laughed, “Why do you want to stop me princess, I can control myself you know,” he said, cockily. “It’s a long story.” You said, fighting every urge you had to fulfill your wildest fantasy of fucking a vampire. “I am all ears.” He pulled up a chair and sat, crossing his legs in front of him. “If you’re all ears, then I trust you won’t interrupt me?” You said, feeling like there was a game going on that you did not yet know the rules to. Jaebeom downed the last of the blood and crushed the glass in his hand. He waved his hand at your question, gesturing for you to continue and expecting you to say your piece. However, you enjoyed having the element of surprise, and so instead of saying anything, you dashed towards him and pulled him into a kiss, hoping to throw him off his game enough to gain the upper hand. You felt him stiffen like this was the first time he’d ever been kissed. After a moment, he pulled you close and held you there, pressing your body against his. Through your clothes, you felt how solid his body was. After a few seconds, you pulled away. You saw his expression shift immediately to one of irritation, and he opened his mouth to say something, most likely another snide comment, yet you had been expecting this type of reaction and placed your hand over his mouth. “You said you wouldn’t interrupt me, remember?” You said with a smirk of your own. You watched with great amusement as his expression turned even more perplexed. You were changing the rules to the game you didn’t know how to play and he was impressed. “Jaebeom, I want you to do one simple thing for me, that I think will help our… situation.” You paused again, watching his expressions. You saw his eyebrow twitch, and his pupils dilate in either desire or blood-lust. “I want you to fuck me.” Jaebeom’s previously twitching eyebrows shot directly upwards. He was clearly surprised that you would just offer yourself up to a monster and give him exactly what he wanted. You waited a few seconds for a response, yet Jaebeom remained completely silent, trying to figure out your end game. He suddenly moved with an incredible swiftness and pulled your hand away from his mouth before bringing you in for another hungry kiss. You responded immediately as his cool tongue brushed across your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively as you leaned into him, your fingers coiling around his long, black hair. You felt two tiny pricks on the inside of your lower lip as he pulled it into his mouth. You heard him inhale sharply as the faint taste of blood hit your tongue. You pulled away from the kiss and opened your eyes to see his expression. His crimson irises had been completely engulfed by blackness as his pupils dilated in carnal desire and blood-lust. “You taste a thousand times better than I could have imagined.” He spoke against your lips, licking your bottom lip for another taste, “After drinking from that man, I feel as if I went from a cheap wine to a rare vintage.” Jaebeom’s hands trailed down your body, starting with your jawline, lingering a little too long at your neck, before skimming over your breasts and down to your waistline. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt and pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion, before stopping to gaze at your half-naked form. Jaebeom then spun you around and planted his hands on your hips. He pulled your back against him, and for the first time you felt his hardness pressing into you. “You see what you’ve done to me?” You heard him whisper, his mouth suddenly at your ear. “I’ve spent years wondering how you’d taste. Now I get to finally find out.” He grabbed at your pants and pulled them down. He could see all of you, yet with your face two inches away from the wall, you could see none of him. However, this slight embarrassment melted away as soon as he pulled your hips back towards him and pressed you against his still-clothed hardness. You shifted your weight to your other leg and reached between your thighs. You heard Jaebeom huff behind you, as his hand glided down your hipbone before coming to join yours at your wet core. You pulled your hand away before placing it atop his and guided his movements. The dull ember in your core grew with each passing second. Before long, you felt your lover grow bolder in his movements, and when he pressed more forcefully against your clit, you let out an involuntary whimper that only made him want to do it more. As if reading your mind, you felt Jaebeom slide one long finger into your heat. You let out a gasp as his cold finger slid deep into you and you heard him deeply hum in approval as he met no resistance. You felt yourself melt under his touch; each second making you lean heavier into the stone wall for support. Your legs began to quiver before long, and you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to last like this under his touch. You didn’t know if it was years of being obsessed with fictional vampires, his powers, or just his skills that made this so good, but you didn’t want it to stop. You let out a cry when he added a second finger. You felt your walls stretch to accommodate this new intrusion. The last 24 hours had been so crazy, it felt like it had been days since your encounter with the incubus, but it had only been an hour. You’d almost forgotten how good the slight pain of being stretched open felt. Every second had the fire burning brighter within you, yet it still wasn’t enough. You let out a huff as he pulled his hands away from your body. You heard the sound of moving fabric before one large hand pulled at your hips and the other at your upper back, forcing you to bend forward. Instinctively, you opened your legs to keep your balance, giving Jaebeom all the prompting he needed to line himself up and press into your core. You let out a gasp as Jaebeom thrust into you from behind. Your fingers scraped at the rough stone walls as he pulled out, and thrust back inside with ever-increasing speed. Every thrust made you feel like your blood was on fire, had your legs shaking, had your blood coursing through your body a little bit faster, and you knew he could sense it too. You’d seen the way his pupils dilated every time your heart was beating earlier. You’d wager he could hear your heart beat from across the room, so you knew he was also going mad. “Jaebeom, I-” You weren’t sure what you were going to say. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. Every movement from the man behind you had you aching for more. You felt him pull on you tighter, causing your back to arch even further from him. You let out a stifled whimper as he wrapped one of his arms around your torso, pulling your body impossibly closer to his, and wrapped one of his large hands around your throat. It only took a few seconds for the light-headedness to kick in. You weren’t sure if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, or if his hand on your throat was simply an allusion to the control he seemingly so desired. Nevertheless, it was making it even harder for you to have any coherent thoughts. With his free hand rubbing your sensitive clitoris and his hard cock buried deep inside of you, you fell over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you orgasmed hard, your walls squeezing down on your lover. As your walls fluttered around him, you heard your lover let out a low groan. He lowered his head to your neck, and you felt two small pricks as his fangs sank into your skin. He sucked hard, and you felt blood flow from the wound. You let out another strangled whimper as he drank from you freely, before his tongue caressed your skin and sealed the wounds closed. “You taste better than any wine ever could,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “You should take care that I don’t take a liking to this.” Yet even after your orgasm, Jaebeom didn’t stop. Every thrust of your lover’s hard cock into you had you winding back up, and every second led him closer to an orgasm of his own. You felt his hipbones digging into your ass with every movement, and every thrust had your sensitive nipples scraping against the stone. “Bite me again,” you pleaded, wriggling back against him. “Please.” Jaebeom didn’t reply, but you felt him push your head to the other side and bite down again. This one was harder, much harder, and you let out a pained moan as he did so, but it wasn’t anything you didn’t want within that moment. His control on you had you not willing to fight him or fight back and you were enticed by this danger. Stopping him would have to wait until you both had your fill. He drank from you again, his hand still around your throat like a vice. You saw stars, and with another strangled whimper, orgasmed again, causing him to suck harder and moan against your bleeding neck. But this time, you weren’t alone; Jaebeom’s thrusts became more erratic with every passing second. He pulled you down onto him with increasing force, chasing his own release. You looked over your shoulder just in time to see him orgasm too. He was in such bliss you believed this could possibly be his first time in both his life and death. His mouth hung slightly ajar, revealing two long fangs among his perfectly straight teeth, and your blood covered his face and neck. His eyes were still seemingly black, his red irises completely eclipsed by dilated pupils. His hips slammed into you a few more times before he shuddered, spilling into you. You felt him thrust into your core slowly as he finished before he gradually stilled and withdrew completely. Without Jaebeom behind you for support, you nearly fell over. Your neck ached from the multitude of bite marks that he’d left and the whole lower half of your body ached from the way Jaebeom had fucked you so primally. Yet you wouldn’t complain to anyone about the pain. You’d enjoyed every second of it. “Wasn’t there a long story you were supposed to be telling me?” Jaebeom asked, his now severely bloodied smirk making an appearance. You shook your head slowly. “Not right now,” you replied, your voice slightly slurred, “but I think the next time we meet the story will end.” Jaebeom licked his lips, “So do I.” The vampire wiped his face with a bar rag and grabbed his clothes before coming close to you again. He held your face still as he locked his eyes on you. “You are going to forget I was ever here with you.” He whispered, “The marks on your neck came from another monster and I was never here.” You felt your mind get foggy. “You were never here.” “You are going to close your eyes and count to ten.” He whispered before wiping the blood off your neck and kissing you one last time. You closed your eyes and began to count. When he knew his mind control worked, he left in the blink of an eye. When you opened your eyes the bar was empty, sans the deceased bartender, and you didn’t remember anything after leaving the gas station. It was clear another monster has been here. “Hello?” You yelled out as you quickly dressed yourself, picked up the crossbow, and cleared the bar. You missed the monster, probably only by a few moments. “What did Yugyeom do to me?” You asked out loud as you reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of 1800 tequila. You took the bottle, leaving some money behind on the bar, similar to how you did at the gas station, and headed out of the town towards the local lake. You spent many days relaxing near the water and knew that you had to regroup without any distractions so you could find the remaining monsters. Once you arrived at the normally serene waterfront, you realized that you wouldn’t be getting any alone time any time soon.

#got7 #got7 smut #kpop #kpop smut #jaebeom #jaebum #jaebeom smut #jaebum smut #yugyummygot7reactions #into the night

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aknight · 4 years ago

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Vyzerre The Hive Knight

Thanks to a CERTAIN ASSHOLE IN MY DISCORD who got me addicted to Corruption of Champions and CoC2, I’ve been playing it nonstop for like two weeks at this point. So I decided to make a character sheet for my character as if he was an NPC that the Champion could recruit. I can sum up my experience with this one text.

Vyzerre

This Hornetfolk Hive Knight can be found in the Frostwood, occupying one of the tiles on the right side of the split in the path just after Evergreens Cottage. Once a harem breeder of a Vesparan Hive, upon first glance he appears to have suffered the same Corruption as his brothers and sisters but not to the same extent as those encountered in the Old Forest.

Appearance

A nearly nude Vyzerre stands in front of you, he looks to be nearly six feet, impressive for a male vesparran. With a warm smile he takes his crossed arms away from his body, taking a more relaxed stance making it much easier to take in his toned muscles. His warm smile turns into more of a knowing grin the longer your eyes linger on him, long, cape-like wings protrude from his back seemingly ready to snap out from their stowed position and take flight.

One of his hands rubs at his chin as a shy blush comes across his face as your eyes travel further down his slender and athletic form. Copper Brown flesh only occasionally interrupted by thick black bands turns to thick, smooth and shiny black chitin at his otherwise humanoid elbows and knees. No doubt at one point it was perfectly smooth but the nicks and breaks in its surface not fully healed shows that the natural armor only proves to further the aura and image of the domineering knight that you know Vyzerre as… at least when you're not gazing at him causing him to fidget.

Normally he’d dress himself in blackened bronze armor, and carry a blackened short lance and an oblong, convex shield that layers itself in a similar pattern to the chitin on his arms. Though currently his lack of armor and arms is making it difficult to look away, for the most part he's lacking any actual clothing aside from a slightly dirtied white breechcloth that runs down to just above his knees keeping him modest for the most part though leaving little to the imagination.

Dark brown fur wreaths his neck like the trimmings of a coat in stark contrast to the pale yellow hair is kept behind his long elfin ears at the sides of his head, its flowing waves only interrupted by his rather animated and candid antennae feelers. “I know I carry all the grace of my mother-” Ornate solid black orbs look over you with an eager gaze, his painted black lips curve up at the edges, “-but if you're going to stare so intently, I expect something at the end of all this.” His fuzzy insect abdomen sways impatiently, despite his efforts he is still a horny hornet at heart.

Information

Species: Vesparan

Gender: Male

Occupation: Warrior, Breeder

Family: Unknown

Location: Frostwood, Frost Hound

Stats

Health: 250

Resolve: 120

Description

Interactions

First Encounter

When first encountering the hornet, he takes up an aggressive stance, seeming more frustrated by your encounter than anything. Suspecting you to be a threat, another Katsune in disguise or would-be corrupted invader from elsewhere in the forest. You can Attack him, Speak with him, or Leave the first encounter without having done anything.

If you Attack, then you must follow through and fight the Hornet.

If you Speak, you will ask the Vesparan about himself and he will share his name and speak on how he is aspiring to be a Hive Knight. Afterwards you may subsequently introduce yourself, ask about his Hive, or Flirt with him. Once you have Flirted with him, he will offer to have sex with you.

If you Leave, Vyzerre wishes you well and allows you to go without a fight.

Subsequent Encounter

Subsequent encounters with Vyzerre will depend on how you acted when you first encountered him.

If you chose Fight and lost to him, or if you chose Leave, then he becomes a random encounter that can be met by exploring the Frostwoods area. In this case, on subsequent encounters, he will give you the options to Fight! or Try to Talk! - the latter option is the same as if you chose the Speak option on your first encounter.

Once you have spoken to him and learned his name, he becomes a permanent resident of the square where you first met him, and can be interacted with. In this case, you have the option to Talk, Challenge, Attack or Leave.

Talk

The Talk interaction allows the player to talk about Him, His Body, His Hive and Flirt options, as per the first encounter.

Once the player has had sex with Vyzerre at least once, the Talk menu also allows the player to ask him to cuddle, which restores 10 hit points and presents the player with the option to either have Sex or Leave afterwards.

When asking about himself, Vyzerre can give a series of banterous topics referencing the Kitsune in the forest, the Drider Queen and his encounters with Evergreen and her daughters.

When asking about his body, Vyzerre arches an eyebrow confused before the Champion asks if they’ve been in contact with the Hive to the south. He says that he had a run in with a few drones who had tried to assault him when he first arrived in the marches but since then he's avoided them not wanting to quote ‘go through that again’. When pressed by the champion he says that the pheromones were almost enough to kick in his breeder instincts. Returning to the Champion's original question he says he was originally smaller, but made a deal with one of Evergreens daughters to change his build, lamenting how he wished they’d him a bit taller and sturdier built like his sisters, quietly mentioning he wished he had a stinger too.

When asking about his Hive he seems less keen on talking about it compared to his other dialogue options, in the end he relents saying that he is far a Hive far to the south. Originally he was a breeder and a member of his queen's harem and later took it upon himself to become a Hive Knight.

When flirting, Vyzerre chuckles to himself before his cheeks change a color of red before averting his eyes saying it's been some time since someone has spoken to him in that way and that his race often dies when alone. Scratching at his neck he chuckles again talking about how he had gotten so used to being alone that he’d forgotten how it felt to long for another's company.

Sex

Vyzerren has five sex scenes (Need to think of more innuendos)

Get a Treat - “So maybe it’s not honey, but it's still pretty sweet.”

The Challenge interaction allows the player to fight a practice spar with Vyzerre, suffering no penalties if they lose. During this battle, Vyzerre fights in a defensive stance, and he may take flight, making him harder to hit in melee. Oftentimes letting the player use their abilities before counterattacking.

Once the player has challenged Vyzerre three times whether or not they have beaten him, Vyzerre comments on how he appreciates the company and the practice the Talk menu will reflect his change in tone and allow the player to ask him about being a male Hive Knight, where he will disclose that he is the only Hive Knight left of his Hive and that he must get better.

Attack

The Attack interaction causes the player to attack Vyzerre unprovoked, causing them to gain 3 Corruption. If they lose, Vyzerre chastises them and steals some of their money. However, he remains in the square for further interactions.

Queen and Consort

Once the Champion has challenged Vyzerre three times and has listened to the subsequently unlocked Hive Knight? Dialogue option, the next time the Champion encounters male Hive Knight he will be deep in thought as he glances over the scars that chinks in the chitin that covers his hands. His face shifts into a snarl as he hurls his shortlance across the small clearing he’s taken to occupy before freezing up his expression shifting to one of embarrassment as he notices the Champion before slinking over to his shortlance to reclaim it. The Champion can either choose to Leave or to Ask.

If the Champion chooses to Leave, Vyzerre will shift awkwardly in their presence for a moment as if he has wronged the player in some fashion before bowing apologizing and flying off. (This doesn’t lock or disable the quest, the Ask option will appear the next time they speak with him) If the Champion chooses Ask Vyzerres posture and expression will relax, fluttering over to the Champion thanking them inviting them to sit and stay with him for a while. Where the Champion will be given the option of choosing Yes or No. Refusing the Knights offer, he will smile bitterly clearly disappointed by the players decision, responding with a simple ‘Oh’ before watching them as they leave.

Agreeing causes him to blink at you before turning and collecting a few pieces of fruit jerky and offering it to the party before he settles down across from the Champion and their party. As everyone partakes, he mentions that it was one of his Sisters who got him addicted to fruit jerky, and that he learned how to use the lance and shield thanks to her too. The Champion remarks how they are sure she would be proud of him. Grimacing, he spits a bit of the fruit jerky out onto the ground, the taste seemingly fouling in his mouth; before going on to mention that she's dead and so is his entire Hive.

It's clear by how his demeanor changes that it makes him uncomfortable to think about it, but he waves off the Champion's attempt at interjecting. He goes on about how he was the Queen’s consort, a member of her harem, and while he was not sent with his sisters on raids and nowhere near as strong as them, he blames himself for being absent the day his Hive was attacked. He opens his mouth a few times but no words come out. Settling on his phrasing, he says he did his best to avenge them, but came up short before coming north hoping to find some kind of conquest that would bring his Hive honor. Pausing, he relents in his domination of the story and looks to the player for their opinion.

The Champion can then make the decision to choose to ask, The Marches, Vengeance, Honor, or choose the option Next to advance.

Choosing The Marches, Vyzerre moves into his small camp retrieving a small book from his bag. Flipping through its contents, he goes over some of the stories he's transcribed onto its pages. Each is a story of his Hives past, though the one he settles more thoroughly upon is one of the Godswar where he talks of how his Hive could not resist the call of battle in the North and mustered against the Wraiths… he mentions in passing that mother always hated that story before gesturing in the direction of the local Vesparan Hive saying that he wondered if they might be distant cousins from a Hive Knight who stayed after the campaign concluded.

Choosing Vengeance, Vyzerre bites at his cheek before looking at you, much like how a child might a parent when they’ve done something wrong. He speaks on how he couldn’t let his family's deaths go unanswered and any death in the name of the Hive is worthy of honor, but he argues that what happened wasn’t just them dying, it was them being murdered. He reveals that his hive was smoked out and that its inhabitants died with very few being able to raise a hand in its defense, that they burned his Hive. He furrows his brow, saying he did his best to make sure that their killers paid.

Choosing Honor, Vyzerre nods affirmatively at the word, repeating it before smiling. He tells the Champion that he swore to his Queen that he would bring enough Honor to their Hive so that even upon his death, the Hive would pass on into legend. Bowing his head he sighs, saying that he wishes he hadn’t made such an impossible promise.

Choosing Next causes Vyzerre’s antennae to vibrate as he jumps to his feet and searches the edges of the small clearing before a party of Imps appear, attacking the party. Once they are defeated the players finds that Vyzerre’s small home has been ruined in the battle and its contents, all but destroyed. Sighing, he looks from the Imps to the Champion openly wondering why there are so many of the Imps running around and where they are coming from.

The Champion recounts their fight with the Alurain, Kasyrra, and the Hornetfolk to the south, to get where they are now. The Knight's black eyes twinkle like stars, muttering to himself about how amazing the Champion is, telling them that they would make their own Queen proud. Though once the magic of the moment passes, he furrows his brows and glances back to his hand before tightening his hand into a fist. There is a tinge of regality in his voice like he was standing in court. He asks if he could come with the Champion on their adventures.

Should the Champion refuse to bring Vyzerre into their company, he will frown his stance, deflating a moment before he straightens back up and mention that he will salvage what is left of his camp and make his own way back to Hawkthorne and see if he might hunt Kasyrra for what she's done to the local Hive.

(Updates and continuations planned)

Companionship

If the Champion decides to bring in Vyzerre to their company during the introduction of Queen and Consort, they will have the option to immediately add him to their party, or send him to Hawkethorne to be picked up later at the tavern.

At The Frost Hound, Vyzerre can be found under the Guests option where, if the Champion did not bring him into their company, they will have a Recruit option to bring him along. Other than the Recruit option, the Champion may ask Vyzerre about his quest, to which he laments that it is going rather poorly for those who have yet to recruit Berwyn.

Approaching Vyzerre once he has been recruited will bring up the following options:

Appearance

Talk

Him

His Hive

Flirt

Sex

Azyrran?

Royal Treatment

Give Item

If Vyzerre has been recruited if you haven’t sparred with him yet that day, there is a 20% chance that the Champion will receive a Vyzerre? option the next time they go to look for him at The Frost Hound. They will find Vyzerre missing from his usual spot and go to look for him. The Champion will find him outside the southern gate humming to himself as he taps the tips of his carapaced fingers on the surface of his shield, which he has resting across his lap. When asked what he’s doing, he will reply that he’s looking back towards home before correcting himself, saying where his home once was. Laying his hands flat on the shield's surface and explaining that every Vesparan knows where their Hive is no matter how far away they are, but his case is different, feeling more like a ghost clawing at him than a Mother calling their children home. His body trembles a moment before clearing his throat as he explains how he hates that something he used to take such comfort in now only serves to remind him of his past. His hands tighten into balls as he crushes his eyes closed, continuing on about how there were hundred of others who deserved to be the one to survive the fire. Stopping, he realizes how he is speaking in the Champion's presence and apologizes. Silence falls in the conversation for a few moments before the Champion redirects, and asks him what it was he was humming, prompting the Hornetfolk to smile with a downcast gaze. He explains it is a song from home, but doesn't know who started singing it. It's one of his favorites, going on about how his sisters would sing it when they came home from raids. The Champion will have the options of Sing or Leave.

Choosing Leave, the Champion excuses himself from Vyzerre telling him they will be waiting back at the tavern.

Choosing Sing, the Champion asks Vyzerre to sing the song for them to which he smiles and agrees drumming up a rhythm on his shield with his finger tips before he starts to sing.

(It's a work in progress)

‘We were born early spring to beat of royal wings and the loving grace of Lumia fell all over us.

O’ and every single night when the Knights would end their flight, they’d invite the neighbors out with this fine chorus.

No sense to run and hide, if you've already caught our eye. Let's tell the world how you won your medals.

Let's tell them how the beat of wings made you want to run and scream, from our Queen and all her lovely dames of Vespa. While we went one to one and never did we run when we sent the Wraiths back into their burrows.’

His voice is warm, like the honey as it often was, but this time it held more pride like a father boasting of their child. The Champion settles next to him as they enjoy his voice and the picture he paints, until his voice wobbles for a moment, but the Champion excuses it, thinking that it was their imagination, until it happens a second time, his voice wavering on another line. Opening their eyes they find Vyzerre with tears streaming down his face as he fights to keep them from his voice while he sings. As his voice is silent, he simply stares off over the path he had originally taken to come north, much like the Champion not so long ago his lips quivering as tears continue to fall.

The Champion rests a hand on his shoulder and smiles, snapping Vyzerre out of his would-be trance before he apologizes. The Champion tells him there is nothing to apologize for before pulling him to his feet, offering to buy him a drink back at the Frost Hound. Walking with Vyzerre back to the tavern the Champion is given the options of Drink, Sing Together, or Leave.

Choosing Drink, The Champion chooses to sit and drink with Vyzerre, who after a few drinks turns smiles at the Champion hugging them suddenly telling them that they are the first person outside his Hive who he’s sung that song to and that he appreciates them listening.

Choosing Sing Together, The Champion picks a pair of drinks from the bar before giving one to Vyzerre, drinking together for a moment before standing and telling him that they are glad this particular Knight found they’re way home starting the same beat they had heard earlier. The Hive Knight takes the hint, raising his pint to his lips and starts to sing with the player following suit.

Choosing Leave, The Champion drops Vyzerre off at the counter letting Garth take care of him before taking leave of the Hornet.

#Corruption of Champions #CoC #CoC2 #hornet #a.knight #original character #monster boy

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esor-ogramira · 3 years ago

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Digital Requests are OPEN! [2/2 slots available]

I've decided to try opening two slots for digital requests, and start opening digital requests on a rolling basis! Which means that traditional requests will now be open once a month starting after I finish the two traditional requests I have, so that I don't end up overwhelming myself. And next time I open traditional requests, I'll be sticking to one slot at a time for the same reason.

What I can/will draw

Humans/humanoids OC’s Copyright characters (as long as they are human/humanoid) Characters that are used as one’s persona (even fandom-based if they are human/humanoid) Simple backgrounds Nature-based backgrounds Limited blood (bloody nose, scrapes, cuts) Basic poses Dynamic poses

What I can’t/won’t draw

🛑 Hate art (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Fetish art of any kin, including inflation (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Any kind of NSFW (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Anthro/Furry/Fursonas (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Macro/Micro (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Vore (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Loli/shota (Anime/manga involving older women and men who visibly look like little children or teens. These animes/mangas can sometimes involve sexual situations with those particular characters. This term of mine is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Drawing any copyright female character who is not typically drawn with large breasts and a large butt as “thicc” (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 Drawing any copyright female character who is explicitly stated as being under the age of eighteen and is not depicted with large breasts and a large butt as “thicc” (This is non-negotiable.) 🛑 “Aging up” any underage character to make it “okay” to draw them in a seemingly sexual manner (This is non-negotiable.) Kissing and/or hugging (subject to change w/ art skills) Heavy blood and gore Fan characters (fandom-based, non-canon characters who are not explicitly stated as fandom-based personas) Buildings (subject to change w/ art skills) Complex backgrounds (subject to change w/ art skills) Animals

Conditions

Not first come, first serve. I have the right to decline a request for any reason, especially if it fits in with the non-negotiable terms of what I won’t/can’t draw. With copyright characters, I will attempt to mimic the art style the character is drawn in. One character per request (subject to change w/ art skills). Please be patient with me! I am autistic, and I have the inattentive version of ADHD. The artwork is yours to keep and use, just be sure to give me credit for the drawing when sharing it! You can use my handle on whichever social media account you contacted me on for the request, along with my handle on the social media site you are sharing it to: If you got the request from me on DeviantArt, my handle is @/MagmaAquariusWolf If you got the request from me on Twitter, my handle is @/artist_margo If you got the request from me on Tumblr, my handle is @/margo-rose-urbanfantasy If you got the request from me on Instagram, my handle is @/margotherealartist Unless you tell me not to post your artwork publicly, I will save the artwork that I make for you for my portfolio. I am only doing this so that when I do decide that I am ready to take commissions, potential customers will be able to see examples of my work. No matter what kind of artwork you want, I will always send you a screenshot of the sketch when it is completed, so that you may see what it looks like and what may need to be changed. If you don't want me to publicly post your artwork for any reason (which you don’t need to disclose to me if you don’t feel comfortable doing so), please make it clear that you don’t want me posting it publicly before I accept your request! I will respect your decision, and I will refrain from posting it publicly. But I need to know before I accept the request. I will be accepting requests on a rolling basis, meaning that once I finish the requests in the queue, I will open two (2) more slots. Give me at least a day to respond to your comment, at most three (3) days.

Options for requested drawings

Option 1: Digital bust-shot painted portrait

Painted in Krita. Transparent, solid, or simple background. Examples:

Character in this painting (Jerecy) belongs to JuliaMersmann on DeviantArt

Character (Rowan) belongs to me

Option 2: Digital bust-shot illustration (cell-shaded)

Done in FireAlpaca. Transparent, solid, or simple background. Examples:

Character (Clara) belongs to me.

Option 3: Digital illustration, shot from the knees up (cell-shaded)

Done in FireAlpaca. Transparent, solid, or simple background. Examples:

Character (Morgan) belongs to JamesTDG on DeviantArt.

Character (Delros) belongs to me.

Option 4: Digital headshot painted portrait

Painted in Krita. Transparent, solid, or simple background. Examples:

Character (Delros) belongs to me.

Older example w/ an outdated concept design for Rowan, but similar shading style to what I use these days.

Much older example w/ Rowan’s first concept design, but again, similar shading style to what I use these days.

To ask me for a request, you can use one of two methods. You can reblog this post with the four or five things below, along with the hashtag # Artist Margo Rose Requests, or you can reply to let me know that you want to message me with your request, then message me with the four or five things listed below.

1.) If you've read the terms and conditions and understand them after you've (carefully) looked up whatever words I've used that you might not understand, say "I accept the terms and conditions! :)" before you give me the below details for your request in your comment/note. 2.) A reference sheet of the character/a picture of the character 3.) Which option you want for the artwork (Option 1, Option 2, Option 3, or Option 4) 4.) What expression the character should have 5.) A description of the pose the character should be in, or a picture of a character/person in a similar pose to the one the character should be in (This only applies to Option 1, Option 2, and Option 3.)

I’ll reblog this post with the comment that requests are closed once those two slots are filled!

#artists on tumblr #free art #digital art #requests are open!#Artist Margo Rose Requests #digital art requests #reblog for visibility

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