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quitefawnish · 5 months ago

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the prize of prey

knight!au, simon riley x reader, kyle garrick x reader, johnny mactavish x reader, brief soap x gaz, mentioned john price x reader

cw: noncon/dubcon, abuse of power

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: this is inspired by one of my classes actually, where we discussed how knights in the middle ages only had to court noble women, whereas any peasant woman was open to their desires, and they were in fact encouraged to do so. while this is disgusting as a concept, i am also disgusting, so ofc i wrote this..

Everyone in the kingdom knew to stay out of the way of the knights. It was a common sight to see a vendor being heckled by a group of knights while many people walked by without sparing a glance. So you were well aware of how fucked you were when a group of them approached you at the market.

They were in their casual wear but the scabbards at their hips spoke to their knight status. The first one that started the conversation had tanned skin and a crooked grin that caused the edges of his stark blue eyes to crinkle.

His brown hair was styled in a mohawk, with the hair on the sides of his head crudely shaven away, and by the nicks that were spread across his scalp, you guessed he did it himself.

“Well, hello there, bonnie,” he practically whispered in your ear.

His hands gripped your waist as he pulled himself to stand closer to you with his chest against your back.

You stiffened, turning your head slightly backwards to peer at him. You had seen the group of them wandering the market earlier and you had hoped that’s the last you would see of them. You were not so lucky.

The second one, to your relief, pulled Mohawk off of you.

“Don’t crowd her, ye git” He gave you a grin, acting as if his friend hadn’t just groped you a second ago, but you had to admit, he was so pretty, it almost worked.

He had brown skin and tight curls that were close-cropped to his head. His facial hair was neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes sparkled with a mirth you didn’t share.

“I’m Gaz” he said, then he pointed to Mohawk, “he’s Soap.”

“But ye can call me Johnny, if ye like,” Soap interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Gaz just shot him a glare and then pointed to the last man who had just been observing this whole interaction, “and this is Ghost.”

Ghost was a hulking creature of man, and if he wasn’t intimidating enough, he had on a skull-painted balaclava. Through the gap in the fabric you could see just his pale skin and soulless dark brown eyes that were boring into your soul.

You introduced yourself as they all stared at you expectantly.

“‘s a pretty name fer a pretty lass” Soap practically cooed at you.

This made you tuck further in yourself, wishing you could just disappear on the spot, “I.. don’t think this is appropriate.”

Gaz cocked his head slightly, “And why is that?”

You swallowed thickly, “B-because I don’t think my husband would approve.”

It was a complete gamble, maybe these knights would leave you alone if they thought you had a man to protect you. Problem is, you were decidedly not married, and all you could do was hope they wouldn’t see through your bluff.

“Husband?” Soap made a show of looking around, “if ye’re married, then where is he?”

“A man shouldn’t leave his woman to fend for herself in such a dangerous place, especially not one as beautiful as you, someone might try to take advantage,” Gaz said in a worried tone, but it was ruined by the slight grin on his face.

“He.. he went home already, I told him I needed to get one last thing, and I would be right home,” your lie was falling apart as soon as it left your mouth.

“He should have waited, no sense in making your woman walk home alone,” Soap grumbled.

By now, they had almost backed you into a corner, both literally and figuratively, as they advanced forward, forcing you to inch back towards the fruit stand behind you.

“He-he knows the people in the community, they would never do anything to me,” you managed to stammer out.

“If this husband o’ yours is real, where’s your ring?” You were startled as Ghost finally spoke up, his voice deep and rumbling as he glared at you with accusing eyes.

You put your right hand up and looked at it, faking bewilderment, “Oh! I must have left it at home this morning.”

“Ah, right, sorry for pestering you, then,” Gaz said, bowing slightly for emphasis, the other two following suit.

You gave them a small, nervous curtsy in response and smiled awkwardly at the three of them, “It’s quite alright. If you’ll excuse me, I think I should head home now.”

You started to walk away when Soap put out an arm to stop you, “Aye, but it wouldnae be right of us to let a woman walk home by herself.”

Your heart plummeted to your feet and your eyes involuntarily widened with horror.

“I should be okay walking by myself, thank you for the offer, sirs,” you said as you attempted to shoulder past Soap.

He just moved closer to you, “It wouldnae be right,” he said in a darker tone, implying this wasn’t up for debate.

You looked between Gaz and Ghost, who had blocked your other exits, and it didn’t seem like they were willing to budge on this either. You swallowed nervously, “R-right, let’s go, then.”

When you made it to your house, you had half-hoped for them to bid you a good night and go on their way.

They, of course, insisted on meeting your so-called husband and giving him a good talk about respecting his wife. You were fairly certain that at this point it was like a game for them.

It was obvious from the start that they never believed you and they knew you knew that, but that didn’t stop them from continuing this ruse, they were having too much fun.

You opened the door to an empty and dark house, it being abundantly clear that no one had been in the place since you left that morning.

“O-oh, I don’t know where he went, he must have gone looking for me since I took so long,” you lied, but winced at your wavering tone.

“Lass, we would have run into him on the way,” Soap said, making you turn around to face the three of them.

“He knows some different paths, maybe he took one of those,” you continued lying, knowing that it was never going to convince them, but you needed to keep talking or you were going to cry.

Noticing the devastated look on your face, Gaz walked forward and took your face in his hands, “It’s alright, luv, we’re not going to hurt you.”

You were shaking so bad that your teeth were practically rattling out of your skull, “You’re not? You’re.. going to leave me alone?”

Soap just shook his head, tutting at you, “We didnae say that, just that we aren’t gonna hurt ye, in fact, you’ll probably like it.”

The grin on his face made your stomach churn, and you stepped back from Gaz’s hands, backing up until you hit your bed frame. It startled you as you stumbled back into the wood, and you looked back to see what you had run into before trying to steady yourself.

When you turned back around, Gaz and Soap were practically face-to-face with you, Ghost choosing to settle in a dark corner of the room, settling into a chair as it let out a big creak of stress under his weight.

You turned your gaze back to the two knights in front of you who both have matching looks in their eyes, a mix of lust and excitement, as they eye you up and down.

“P-please don’t” you managed to stutter out.

Soap just pressed a finger to your lips, “Shhh, you’re okay. We’re going to take good care of you.”

You tried to lean out of the way as Gaz’s lips came towards yours, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could pretend all of this wasn’t happening.

Rough hands gripped your head, pulling your face towards Gaz, who captured your lips in his. As your eyes flew open, you saw that it was both Gaz and Soap’s hands that were holding you steady. Gaz’s other hand settled on your waist, gripping at the soft flesh underneath the fabric of your dress.

He leaned into the kiss, being somewhat gentle, as if he didn’t want to scare you off just so soon. You gasped softly into his lips as you felt Soap’s tongue on your neck, licking a stripe from your neck up to your face, ending it with a wet kiss to the apple of your check.

Gaz pulled away, staring blatantly down at your body before he began to undo the strings at the back of your bodice.

You tried to pull away, muttering out a soft “no” in protest, but Gaz worked efficiently enough that he was able to pull the piece over your head before you could do much else. Soap grinned down at your body, the top half of your thin chemise having been revealed.

Your hardened nipples poked through the sheer clothing, your body having betrayed you in response to Gaz’s kiss. Soap seemed transfixed as he palmed at your breast through the material, cupping both hands underneath your nipples.

“So bonnie, and just for us to see, aye?” he asked.

You couldn’t even move your mouth to answer and you just remained rooted to the spot no matter how much you wished you could move, fight them off, anything.

Soap didn’t seem to mind your lack of response, carrying on fondling your tits. While Soap was transfixed, Gaz slipped off your skirts, leaving you now with one practically translucent layer, which he was now starting to pull off as well.

That was when you got the courage to move, attempting to cover your body while also trying to keep your chemise on. Instead of grabbing your arms like you thought they would, Soap simply pushed you backwards so you landed with an ‘oof’ on your bed.

You tried to scramble away, slipping over your sheets in your desperation but Soap yanked you back towards them, “Behave.”

You swallowed nervously and stopped trying to struggle away, actually finding yourself nodding to his command.

He grinned, “Good girl.”

His words sent shivers down your body, ending with a fluttering in your cunt.

“Told you we were gonna make you feel good, yeah?” Gaz said, positioning himself in the space between your legs, gripping your thighs open with an ease that betrayed just how strong he was compared to you.

“I don’t want this,” you surprised yourself when you said this, having been frozen in fear just moments before.

Soap, who was now positioned in the space above your head, smiled down at you, brushing your hair back against your scalp, “Dinnae say that just yet, think ye’ll like this next part.”

Knowing that your protests would fall on deaf, uncaring ears, you shut your mouth and looked back down at Gaz who had now pulled the bottom part of your chemise up to reveal your pussy to the night air. Once again, you tried desperately to have some remaining decency and pulled your dress back down, only for Soap to grab your hands and pull them back to your chest.

He held them in an X formation with one hand gripping around both of your wrists, “Och, dinnae be naughty, lass. Wouldnae want for Ghost to have to punish ye.”

Your eyes flicked over to the man who was sitting in the corner who was staring over at the three of you, and you noticed him lazily palming at a bulge in his pants. You swallowed nervously and shook your head, looking back at Soap, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He seemed satisfied and nodded to Gaz, who had flipped the bottom half of your chemise up once again. He pressed gentle kisses to your inner thighs, trailing up until he reached your entrance. It was horrible because even though you wanted them to stop, you needed for Gaz to hurry up and put his mouth on your aching bud.

As if sensing your thoughts, he put his lips to your clit and sucked. You couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped from your lips as he did this, your face flushing at the realization of the obscene noise that you had made.

It only egged Gaz on more as he began to practically make out with your pussy, wet smacking sounds echoing around the room.

Soap, meanwhile, had shifted your hands to pin them above your head, therefore giving him unobstructed access to your tits. He latched his mouth to your right nipple, sucking through the fabric.

He used his free hand to grope at your other breast, practically kneading it like a cat. All you could do was whimper softly, your arms and legs both being restrained. It wasn’t long before you could feel a pressure building between your legs, feeling the pleasure crescendo until it hit its peak and your body started shaking uncontrollably.

You could dimly hear Soap praising you with his mouth still on your nipple with your ears ringing slightly.

As the wave overtook you, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes back into your head. Gaz unsucked with a loud popping noise, and as your sight returned to normal, you saw him grinning triumphantly between your legs.

Soap had already unlatched from your tit, the sheer fabric that covered it being almost translucent from the saliva. Now that you had finally relaxed, or rather, was too tired to move or try to struggle, Soap let go of your arms. You left them where they were hanging above your head as you tried to catch your breath.

At that moment, Ghost stood up from the chair, startling you, as you had almost forgotten he was there.

“My turn,” he said gruffly, which made both Gaz and Soap complain loudly.

“Och, but I’m achin’ LT,” Soap complained, almost whining as he gestured to his dick which was straining against his pants.

“‘ave Kyle take care o’ you” he said matter-of-factly.

Although you weren’t sure of their ranks within the knight’s guard, it was clear that these two readily deferred to him as Soap reluctantly slipped off the bed.

Ghost walked towards you, looking you up and down with almost calculating eyes. All you could do was whimper softly as he approached you, half paralyzed from fear.

His eyes softened slightly as he looked down at you, and although you flinched as he outstretched a hand, he simply stroked your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Poor thing, probably scared out o’ your mind.”

You nodded meekly, hoping maybe he would take mercy on you and leave you alone.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good, yeah?”

He then undressed his lower half which was littered in scars and which also freed his erect cock, one that looked like it could split you in half, precum glistening at the tip.

Your eyes widened at the sight of it, “I.. I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

He shook his head, “It’s gonna fit, don’t worry, ‘sides, my boys warmed you up for me, didn’t they?”

You looked over at Gaz and Soap, the former helping Soap out by stroking along his cock with spit-slicked hands, making Soap moan out words in a language you didn’t understand. You stopped looking when Ghost’s hands found your jaw and turned your face back to him.

“Asked you a question, love.”

You nodded, but your lower lip wobbled slightly.

That just seemed to egg him on more, and his eyes crinkled through the gap in his mask. He repositioned you so you were facedown on the bed, legs dangling off the side so your ass was level with his pelvis.

He pulled up your chemise, and once again, your pussy was exposed to the night air. He sucked in a breath at the sight of it, dragging one finger up through the folds and dipping it into your hole. You inhaled sharply at the intrusion, clenching slightly on his finger in shock.

He just laughed, “Careful you don’t squeeze like that while I’m inside, yeah? ‘fraid I’d never pull out.” You took the message and forced yourself to relax, knowing that it was happening either way and it was best just to make things easier on yourself.

You tried not to jump again when he dragged his tip down your pussy, gathering the come that had collected in between your folds. Then he pressed into your hole, it traitorously sucking him in with ease.

He was able to get it in a good amount of inches before your insides started to ache. Sure, maybe you’d had a couple of fingers in there before but nothing like this, certainly not this length or girth.

You whimpered softly as he pressed in further and he soothingly pet your hair as he paused for a moment.

“You’re okay, I know, I know” he said, soothingly, “Just a bit more, okay?” You nodded weakly, knowing that it wasn’t an option to back out now.

“Good girl” he murmured softly as he pressed inch by inch into you.

You whined pitifully as his pelvis pressed against your ass, his cock now fully inside you.

It hurt, but what was worse to you was that this hurt felt.. good. You hardly had a second to take all of him before he slowly pulled out again, and stupidly, you began to hope he was done.

Those dreams were dashed the second he slammed back into you, making you cry out in surprise. He continued this, rocking back and forth into you, his cock dragging in and out of your hole as you gripped the sheets beneath you for stability.

Then, he lowered himself on top of you, bending over at his hips to press himself against your back. All you could hear were his grunts and the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy as he pounded into you.

Even though tears were building up in your eyes, you could also feel pleasure building between your legs at the continuous thrusting. Your body tensed up as you felt another wave overtake you, the sensations making your legs shake uncontrollably underneath Ghost’s.

Your breathy moans earned an even faster pace, causing a slight staccato in your breathing.

Now that your orgasm had ended, the pleasure bordered on painful and with the increased thrusts, you whimpered softly, “It hurts.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your head and through his panting he said, “I know, I know, just a little longer. ‘m almost there.”

You felt another wave building, this time it felt too intense, too painful, but you couldn’t stop it from overtaking you just as Ghost slowed above you, grunting in your ear as he finished inside you. You couldn’t breathe for a terrifying moment, your lungs drawing in no air as your vision darkened. The ringing in your ears grew louder as you lost sensation, and eventually, lost consciousness.

When you woke up what you assumed to be a few seconds later, Ghost had pulled out of you and you were laying on your back on the bed. You could feel his and your come dripping out of your pussy which was still fluttering around nothing.

He had pulled his pants up and redone his belt, now fully dressed again.

He looked over at you, “Lost you there for a second, that good, am I?”

You didn’t really know what to say in response, sure, he was good, but he also forced his way into your home and your body. You weren’t about to praise the man that violated you. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind your lack of response, looking over to Soap and Gaz who had both finished, seeming both literally and figuratively.

Soap gave you a lopsided grin, “Put on quite a show, lass. Told ye we’d take care of ye.”

“Will you leave me be, now?” you asked bluntly. Now that they had all had their fair share, all you wanted was for them to leave so you could tend to yourself and lick your wounds.

Gaz raised an eyebrow, “Rid of you? Who said anything about that?”

Your heart sank, “I.. I just assumed that once you got what you wanted, you’d leave.”

Ghost shook his head as if you had said something egregiously stupid, “Don’t you get it? You are what we wanted, and we’re not letting you go that easily. From the moment we laid eyes on you, we had to have you.”

You looked between the three of them, this hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing, they had planned this. You knew all along that they knew you weren’t married, but you didn’t think they had planned this, all for them to take you like some unruly spoil of war at the end.

“You can’t do this, someone will wonder where I am,” you mustered the energy to sit up in bed, glaring at the three of them.

“Really? From the looks of it, you live alone, no one knows who you are, and we’re knights. It’s our duty to take things like you home, protect you, take care of you” Gaz said, taking on a more serious tone.

“Y-you can’t do this” you helplessly repeated.

“Oh, lass, we can, and we will. Dinnae worry your pretty little head about it. King John already said he would be very interested in meeting you, doubt he would be too happy if you refused,” Soap’s grin seemed almost malicious now in this lighting.

“It’s time to go home,” Ghost said, scooping you up from the bed.

You were unable to do anything but cry weakly into his shoulder as they brought you to their horses, knowing this would be the rest of your life and there was nothing you could do about it.

a/n: ah ok! first fic on this acct and actually, my first fic writing smut 🫣 so lmk what you guys think, maybe i can write a part two if you’re interested??

sword divider by @/sister-lucifer

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #soap x f!reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #cod x reader #cod x f!reader #cw noncon #cw dubcon #my fics

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shurisneakers · 3 months ago

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unsolved (xiii)

Summary: Bucky doesn’t even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet’s amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, forests, sabotaging

A/N: lmao so initially this was actually supposed to be released on Halloween last year bc it was the 13th chapter. but of course, The Horrors. so have a Halloween themed chapter in the middle of fucking April. good day to you all.

Previous part || Series masterlist

Bucky doesn’t do Halloween.

To be fair, Bucky doesn’t do most organised festive celebrations.

But Halloween specifically, is not for him.

He barely has energy to exist in real life, and now he has to do it with a costume? Like a little circus clown boy begging for claps?

No.

So even though the team has mostly done the most with what they can, and dressed up to celebrate the spirits of the holiday, he has chosen to stick to his usual.

He begins to feel the guilt twirling around his stomach when he finally makes his way to the event ground.

The whole Halloween fair felt like fall in a bottle. Rows of vendor stalls lined the main walkway, overpriced cider and hot chocolate competing for everyone’s attention. The air was thick with the scent of kettle corn, fried dough, and bonfire smoke, and at the very center of the fairground, a massive pumpkin display loomed. IT was carefully arranged, family-friendly, and absolutely begging to be destroyed.

There were costumes everywhere. Kids sprinting between hay bales in bandages and plastic fangs, groups of teenagers posing for selfies in group outfits, couples holding hands.

It was nice. It might even begin to thaw his cold, solid heart.

The groans and bullying that follows when he pulls up half an hour late is warranted but he holds his ground.

Hands balled into fists, chest pushed out and sturdy, he takes his usual place next to you, bracing for impact.

“You’re a bore,” you say without skipping a beat. “You’re like fun-antidote. Where is your costume?”

“I’m wearing a costume,” he says simply. “I’m A Guy.”

“Your costume cannot be guy. I knew this shit would happen. I had a costume delivered to you one month ago, where is it?”

“If you think I’m dressing like that Dr Seuss piece of shit, you’re deranged.” Bucky casts a look at you.

He opened the package, saw the red stripes and closed it right back up.

“There’s no way you showed up with nothing,” Nat scoffs.

“Clint wore a full Pikachu onesie,” Wanda offers, joining the group with a powdered sugar moustache.

“That’s because Clint has no shame.”

“I heard that,” Clint calls from somewhere. God knows where.

“You were supposed to,” Bucky fires back.

Nat raises an eyebrow. “C’mon Buck. Not even a little face paint?”

“Do I look like a man who owns face paint,” he says dryly, glaring when he suddenly notices a little detail. “Why’s everyone looking at me? This one’s not wearing a costume either.”

He juts a thumb towards you. You narrow your eyes.

“I’m literally wearing one right now,” you say, gesturing to yourself.

“You’re wearing a black t-shirt and combat boots,” he argues. “That’s clothes. It’s not a costume.”

“It’s a good costume,” Sam pipes up. “I get it.”

You beam at him. “Thanks.”

Bucky glances at you, then at Sam, then back at you again.

Nat, leaning back against the table, exhales a short laugh. “Really nailed the details.”

“Right?” You glance down at your fit.

She nods. “Very accurate.”

Bucky stares for a few more seconds, coming up short.

Finally, he grumbles, “Whatever. Where’s the video shoot?”

“You guys are shooting a video here?” Wanda asks, tearing off a piece of funnel cake and popping it into her mouth.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be fun to go through the corn maze. Local legends say it’s haunted by the spirit of teenagers who got lost in there years ago and never returned.” You shrug. “I’m gonna attach a GoPro onto Bucky’s head and set him free in there.”

“You make me sound like a rat.”

“You’re the handsomest rat I’ve ever seen, baby. If I were a piece of cheese, would you want me?”

“Stop.”

“You’re really just gonna go in there together, huh?” Sam pipes up casually.

Bucky looks at him weirdly, but Sam has the deeply self-satisfied smirk of a man about to be a menace.

You don’t even hesitate. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Corn mazes have a history, you know? Just saying. ”

“A history,” you repeat.

Nat, ever helpful, leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Classic teenage makeout spot.”

Bucky’s eye twitches.

“I wouldn’t know, I spent my teenage years blowing up buildings,” you reply.

Wanda hums. “That’s what they all say.”

“Literally who says this.”

“You’re not missing out. It’s cold and itchy and the whole place smells like hay,” Steve chimes in, doing his best to aid the situation.

Sam nods solemnly. “Yeah, but next thing you know, you’re lost with no cell service, standing real close, saying shit like ‘oh no, my flashlight batteries died, guess we have to huddle for warmth–””

Bucky groans. “It’s a fucking corn maze, not the catacombs. There’s no getting lost and huddling for warmth.”

Clint, appearing just in time to make this worse, tilts his head innocently. “Oh, you guys doing the Lover’s Lane?”

Bucky gestures aggressively at the fair map. “It says Field of Screams.”

“Sure can be a field of screams if this night goes well,” you add unhelpfully.

Bucky turns to Steve, clearly expecting him to be the voice of reason.

Steve, unfortunately, is already hiding a smile behind his drink.

Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“Assholes,” he mutters.

Sam claps him on the shoulder. “Have fun in the murder corn.”

Somewhere in the distance, the haunted house’s chainsaw gag goes off, followed by delighted screaming.

Bucky adjusts the camera strapped to his head like a miner’s torch. “I thought you were going as the tennis ball from that threesome movie.”

“Costume didn’t deliver in time. So I found something better.”

“What are you supposed to be?”

You ignore him, but there’s an amused expression on your face. “I know you think that because you’ve gotten to this point, you’ve gotten away with not having a costume. Unfortunately for you, I have come prepared.”

Before he can react, you shove a piece of fabric into his hands.

He holds it up, balled into his fist. “Is this–”

“The cape from the laughing gas group, yes.” You nod.

“I thought I got rid of this thing, where the hell did you get it from?” He lets it unravel in all its unironed, crinkly wonder.

“I would never let you get rid of a piece of art like this. Now look, you’ve got a solid costume.”

“I don’t need a costume.”

“Well, now you have one. Put it on.”

“No.”

“Put it on.”

“No.”

Five minutes later, he has a shitty full-length cape on as you stand at the entrance to a haunted corn maze.

The wind picks up just enough to make his cape move ominously. He elects to ignore it.

You adjust the camera on your head, tilting it toward him.

“Well, well, well,” you narrate,. “If it isn’t the dark lord himself.”

“I hope the ghosts take you first.”

“That’s what I love about you, Buck. Always looking out for me.”

Bucky shakes his head, pulling the cape tighter around his shoulders when the wind threatens to blow it away.

The archway is wrapped in dim string lights, flickering unsteadily.

Beyond it, the corn stands tall and unmoving, the entrance swallowing the path ahead in a thick, oppressive darkness.

“Alright, you ready?” you turn to him.

He sighs. “Always.”

________

The night is alive.

The festival’s noise carries even through the thick walls of corn, muffled laughter and distant screams bleeding through the cracks, the occasional blast of music from a game booth still loud enough to reach you guys.

Teenagers run ahead, scaring their friends before the actors even get the chance.

Bucky walks beside you, hands tucked into the pocket of his cargo pants.

A breeze kicks up, rustling through the maze.

From somewhere to your right, a group of college kids run screaming out of one of the side paths, shoving each other as they trip over their own feet.

Bucky watches them, expression completely unimpressed. “They paid twenty bucks to get chased through corn by a guy in a mask.”

“We also have done that,” you remind him.

You walk for a while in no particular direction, just following the winding, trampled-down paths. Nothing creepy has happened yet.

“I had a place like this growing up,” Bucky mutters, stepping over a stray piece of corn husk.

You glance at him. “A haunted maze?”

“A fair. Smaller than this, but same kind of deal. Seasonal. My parents used to take us before it got too cold.”

You hum. “What’d they have?”

“The usual,” Bucky says. “Rides, caramel apples, bad magic acts. There was a fortune teller I was scared of when I was a kid.”

“You were scared of a fortune teller?”

“She was fuckin’ aggressive for a woman whose entire job was pretending to read palms. I didn’t even want to do it. My parents paid ‘cause Becca begged, and then she got too scared to go near her. I got thrown in so it didn’t up being a waste of a few bucks.”

“Becca betrayed you.”

“Sold me out immediately.”

You laugh. There’s a faint smile on his face as he walks through the godforsaken corn.

“I had a fair once,” you say. “It wasn’t real. But they called it a festival.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“There was a little town outside the facility,” you say, stepping over a raised tree root. “Once a year, they’d set up these tests. The whole thing was so weird. Gave us candy. Let us play games. Just to see if we could blend in.”

“HYDRA did something similar.”

You snort. “You guys ever do the winter carnival, or was that unique to usl?”

Bucky groans. “Always fucking Winter Wonderland or Halloweentown.”

You laugh, kicking at a loose pile of hay. “I used to steal candy.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Without getting caught?”

“They probably knew,” you admit. “But they never stopped me. Maybe that was the test.”

Bucky hums, before saying gruffly. “Maybe it was just a win.”

You hold his gaze for a second. The careless upturn of his lip is enough to make you forget what nonsense you were about to say.

You wonder how much footage you’d have to edit out if it was just staring at his dumb, pretty face in silence.

A breeze shuffles the corn.

The distant scream of another maze runner echoes through the night.

It’s enough to snap you out of whatever the hell this is.

The festival noise is still going strong, bleeding into the maze, distant music mixing with the hum of people.

You reach a split in the path. A fork in the maze, with two equally stupid-looking trails leading deeper into the field.

Bucky stops, tilting his head slightly, scanning both directions.

You, on the other hand, just pick a side based on what the vibes emanating from them were.

“This way,” you say, already stepping toward the left.

Bucky does not move. “That’s the wrong way.”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky gestures down the right path. “That’s the way out.”

You fold your arms. “How do you know?”

“Because I do.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

You tilt your head. “Did you fucking map out the way to the exit?”

“No,” Bucky lies.

“That defeats the whole point of a maze.”

“It’s called situational awareness.”

“It’s called being a control freak,” you correct.

Bucky exhales sharply.

You gesture down the path you picked. “So what happens if I go this way?”

“You get lost.”

“Or.”

“No.”

“Or–”

“I’m not going the wrong way.”

“Fine. It appears that we have reached an impasse.” You pause, considering for a second. “I fear that our journey together ends here. Catch you on the flipside, partner.”

Bucky watches as you take a slow, exaggerated step backward down the left path.

“Are you seriously splitting us up?” he asks dryly.

“It is not I who refuses to tread the path of integrity.”

Bucky glares.

You take another step, arms crossed over your chest, combat boots pressed into the dirt.

He’s about to give in and follow your stupidass plan, when it suddenly clicks for him. Honestly, once he gets it, he’s embarrassed at how long it took.

“Is your fuckin’ costume s’pposed to be me?” Bucky’s jaw drops open slightly.

A grin breaks across your face and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” He takes a long, hard look at your ridiculous outfit. “What is wrong with you?”

“I think I did great,” you say, pulling at the hem of your black t-shirt. “I even made sure the shade was right.”

“You think you’re hilarious.”

“I do, yeah. Now let’s get a move on.” You clap your hands. “This maze ain’t gonna solve itself.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like that.”

“Afraid people are gonna think we’re the same person?”

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. You do the same.

“Stop.”

“I’m just existing, man.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Now who said that?” You narrow your eyes. “I’m dressed like the hottest person I know besides myself, you should take it as a compliment”

Bucky mumbles something under his breath, taking a step towards the path on the right.

“I see you’ve made your choice. The wrong one, but I respect it.” You salute. “See you on the other side, Barnes.”

And just like that, you disappear down the path.

Bucky stands there for a few seconds in silence.

Then, grudgingly, he starts walking again, taking his route. The correct route.

The festival noise is still there, still steady.

Bucky isn’t worried.

Because, first of all, it’s a corn maze.

Second of all, he’s already sure he knows the way out.

The first few minutes alone, he doesn’t think about it much.

He walks, eyes scanning the paths, the layout, the movement of people up ahead.

Unfortunately with the way his brain is hardwired, It doesn’t take him long to see the pattern.

The jump scares are timed.

The actors cycle between three or four spots.

The lighting is only dim enough to be “spooky,” but there are clear emergency lanterns posted at every exit route.

All things considered, it’s shockingly easy to navigate, so he wonders what’s so haunted about it in the first place.

By the time he reaches the third scare actor, he’s already figured out that they’re all positioned in the exact same intervals.

A few minutes later, the familiar mechanical rev of a chainsaw sounds through the corn again.

Bucky sighs, already exhausted.

The actor jumps out from the corn, mask on, chainsaw lifted dramatically.

Bucky stares.

The actor stares back.

There’s a long, painful pause.

Bucky slips past him and keeps walking.

_______

“How much fuckin’ corn is there?” he mumbles by the time he hits the next split in the path.

He hasn’t heard from you in a while, which doesn’t make sese because he should have run into you at some point. He would never admit it out loud but he would rather your incessant chattering than silence.

Seemingly ten minutes into his neverending trek, he pulls out his phone to track his way back to Steve using the damn Find My Phone bullshit

No signal.

He exhales sharply. Taps the screen a few more times, holds it above his head and even rotates it a few times.

Still nothing.

It’s annoying, sure. But beyond that, something about it feels vaguely unsettling.

The maze wasn’t that far away from the fair.

It wasn’t like he’d wandered into the woods.

He should have cell service.

He grumbles, putting his phone back into his pocket, continuing on.

_________

The paths aren’t endless.

The entire attraction is contained within the fairgrounds, wedged between the parking lot and the hayride station, which means if he just keeps moving in a straight line, he should hit the outer edge eventually.

Or at the very least, run into a staff member making sure no dumbass teenagers try to cut through the corn and ruin the layout.

And yet he’s been walking for a while now.

No exits are showing up.

Which is annoying. Because he’s usually good at this kind of thing.

If he can navigate a city he barely recognizes, evade people trying to kill him, track movement through urban terrain with nothing but a loose trail, then he should be able to walk out of a goddamn festival attraction.

But the paths just keep twisting, folding back into each other.

The maze stretches longer than it should.

EVen though he’d figured it out, Bucky doesn’t immediately notice it.

He’s too focused on just moving forward. Getting to the end.

But after another few turns, another five minutes of silence, it finally registers.

There hasn’t been a single scare in a while.

The last was what, ten minutes ago?

Before that, they had been stationed at every few turns, jumping out at whatever happened to wander through.

Bucky stops.

The corn doesn’t rustle the way it usually does.

It stands tall and eerily frozen.

Bucky tilts his head slightly and listens.

But the fairground is further away than it should be.

There’s still wind.

It's still chilly.

Like it’s been pushed back a little further with every turn he’s taken.

Which doesn’t make sense.

Bucky exhales, shaking it off, shaking it loose, refusing to acknowledge the stupid, creeping frustration in his chest.

This is fine.

He keeps moving because at some point, it has to end.

The sky is still clear.

The night is dark.

He rounds the next turn--

Agonizing minutes later, Bucky knows he should have found an exit by now.

Even if he somehow took the longest possible route, even if he completely lost track of where he was going, he should have hit the fairground again by sheer accident.

And finally, he sees something different.

A scarecrow.

Lying in the middle of the path.

It's an old, rotting, weatherworn thing that doesn’t belong in a festival attraction.

The wood is splintering at the edges. The burlap sack tied around its head is molded and sun-bleached. The hat it’s wearing is barely holding together.

And its arms, long and stiff and thin, aren’t stretched out the way scarecrows usually are, instead pressed tight against its sides.

Bucky stares at it.

A long, slow moment passes.

“What the fuck’s your deal?” he asks.

It does not answer. Obviously.

He stares for a few more seconds, raising his leg to step beside it and move on–

Something touches him.

His entire body locks up for half a second, reflex screaming at him to step back, to turn, to fight.

It’s barely anything.

A whisper of sensation, a brief, feather-light press against the metal of his wrist.

Not a grab. Not a push. Just contact.

And then there’s a giggle.

Soft, small sound that feels like it’s been yanked straight out of another life.

It takes a secodn to register that his pulse is hammering now.

Because it’s been months of this. Of coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t just imagining it.

Not from cold, clamping fear.

Something else.

The giggle sounds again, a few feet away this time.

She’d been following him. Watching him. Waiting for a chance to get him alone and-- God, what?

What was she going to do?

His head snaps towards the sound, trying to zero in on it outside of the rustling of stems.

When it floats by again, it’s further away.

His feet move before his mind registers it.

Soft peals of laughter, the same when he’d let her draw all over his sketchbooks, when he’d douse her in water from the hose, when his dad would throw her under his arm and carry her around.

It doesn’t matter.

He rounds the corner fast, boots skidding slightly on the packed dirt.

The air is colder now than ten minutes ago, stinging his skin. Or maybe that’s just in his head.

The laughter leads him around another corner, and the weight in his chest grows more desparate.

Because if she’s there, he can tell her everything he’s been thinking of for months now.

That he’s sorry, that he’d do whatever it takes to get her to rest–

He opens his mouth to call out her name–

He bounds down the path, heart hammering and eyes wide.

His feet skid to a halt, boots grinding into the ground when he almost collides straight into something.

Someone.

But no.

Face tucked behind a Jason Vorhees mask, fake machete resting on a shoulder.

Not her.

“Woah,” it says, “the hell are you running from?”

Bucky stops immediately, breathless.

It doesn’t take even a second to register the voice.

In the same short second, it is gone.

The giggle. The touch on the inside of his wrist.

It’s all gone.

And in its place, it’s you.

You’re standing like you’ve been waiting for him, mask lopsided, fake machete swinging lazily in one hand, like you just wandered in from a completely different reality.

Fuck. He’d been sure. So sure.

But then it’s you, pulling the mask up till it rides up your forehead.

“Look who finally showed up,” you say brightly, grinning like you haven’t been wandering the maze in abandoned slasher cosplay for god knows how long.

“I’ve been trying to find an exit for, like, half an hour. Got so bored I was about to float up and look for you from the sky.”

He doesn’t say anything, heart in his mouth.

He doesn’t smile.

He probably doesn’t even blink, head turning as he scans the area for any sign.

You cock your head at him. “...You good?”

“Yeah,” he says too fast. “Fine.”

She wasn’t here.

You give him a look. One you’ve used before.

He forces his hands to stay loose at his sides. Tries not to look like he’s still coming down from something. Tries not to think about the soft giggle he’d heard minutes ago, or how badly he’d wanted to find the source.

“You been in here the whole time?” he asks finally.

You nod. “Yeah. I got bored. The actors vanished a while ago. I found the mask and figured, why not.” You hold up the machete. “Also this. Very high-quality prop. Very stabby.”

He raises an eyebrow. Barely.

“I was gonna jump-scare someone, but no one’s been around.” You pause. “Except you, apparently.”

He's not entirely sure he's in the same plane of existence as you.

His gaze flicks over you again, with your mask, weapon, loose smile. Still completely unaware that he just nearly walked out of the last twenty years chasing a memory, only to find you instead.

He swallows. Pushes the feeling back down.

“Thought you said you were gonna levitate out.”

“I was!” You grin. “But then you showed up. How was your night?

He doesn’t answer right away.

Finally he just exhales for the first time in what seems like years.

“It was fine.”

But the longer you look at him, the less sure you seem.

You study his face, squinting. “You look like you saw something.”

“Didn’t.”

You chew on that for a second, eyes still on him, before saying, “You’ve been weird, you know.”

Bucky tilts his head slightly.

“Like, not just tonight. After some of these shoots. Not all of them. Just… some.”

Bucky says nothing. He knew it wouldn't be too long before you brought this up.

You go on anyway. “At first I thought it was just your usual ‘why am I involved in this bullshit’ thing, but it’s not that. Not every time. Some of these places are different. You come back quiet.”

You shift the machete from one hand to the other. It feels stupid, suddenly.

“I haven’t said anything,” you add. “Because I figured if you didn’t want to be here, you’d say something. But you haven’t and if this kind of stuff screws with your head in some way, we can pick other places. Or we can stop the show altogether. We don’t have to keep doing this if it’s messing with you.”

You look back at him now. Direct. Steady.

Bucky doesn’t flinch.

It would be easy to lie. Easier than explaining.

So he clears his throat, looks down the path where the maze bends gently left. “Good to know.”

Something soft on his cheek tugs his face back.

He looks back at you, a small crease between his eyebrows.

You hold his face in place softly, but the look on your face is firm. "We don't have to continue the show. I'm being serious. It's not worth it if you--"

Bucky watches you trail off, but your hands don't let go of his face.

"I know," he says, voice a bit quieter, more tired.

Your gaze is intense, but he holds it. His throat constricts a bit when he swallows.

“Well. I was headed for apple dunking before this turned into a weird spiral. You coming?”

He knows you notice it.

Still, you don’t press. Just give him a small smile, search his face one last time before letting go.

“Yeah,” he says, letting out a deep exhale when you turn away from him.

“Good. I need a witness when I inevitably fight a twelve-year-old over a Fuji.”

“I will not take your side,” he manages to get out, following behind closely.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, casting a look over your shoulder. “But you’ll reap the rewards when I win.”

Bucky opens his mouth to say something in return, but shuts up when you slip your hand into his, interlacing your fingers and giving it a short squeeze.

His heart, poor fucking thing, probably won’t be able to handle another episode of racing tonight.

“Come on,” you say, swinging it back and forth. “You can buy me some cider.”

Bucky says something snappy, sighs a little and tightens his grip on your hand.

It takes a while before you finally see the fair.

You push a few stalks aside and sigh like you’ve just crossed a battlefield.

The fairground lights bleed brighter through the corn, the ambient noise getting louder with each step.

Bucky's kept his grip on your hand, but slipped it into the pocket of his jacket because the night only gets colder.

“I can’t believe I almost had to fly over this stupid maze just to find you,” you say. “What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?”

He shrugs. “Would’ve found a way out.”

“Oh?” you say, eyebrows lifting. “With what? Your ancient Boy Scout compass? Prayer? I was prepared to carry you out, you know.”

He snorts.

“Little rescue mission. One arm around your waist.”

He stops walking. “No.”

You blink innocently. “No?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? I can fly. Kind of.”

“I would rather die in the corn than be carried out like a wet cat.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Hasn’t Steve ever gotten a ride from Tony? I don’t hear him complaining about sitting on his teammate’s back.”

“Like he’s on a fucking horse?” Bucky says, scandalized. “No?”

“You’re emotionally allergic to help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“I know,” you say, turning to grin at him again. “But I’m gonna offer it anyway. Just to annoy you.”

The stupid Jason mask is still swinging at your collar, machete tucked like a trophy at your hip. Bucky rolls his eyes but can't help a smile from slipping out.

“Anyway,” you say casually, “I’m just saying, if I hadn’t found you, you’d still be in there. They’d name the field after you eventually.”

He doesn’t respond to that, but you catch him shaking his head.

You swing the machete against your leg like a toy. “Would the team have come looking for you if I hadn’t?”

Bucky glances at you. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” you repeat. “Cool. So like… couple of days?”

He shrugs. “Give or take.”

You nod sagely. “Okay. So if it takes you a few days to get rescued, I’m looking at what, two weeks? After someone trips over my skeleton by accident?”

He doesn’t look at you when he says, “That’s not how it works with us.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Us?”

He gestures vaguely. “The team.”

You scoff. “I literally had an entire PR team trying to erase me from the internet not too long ago.”

Bucky studies you with a sharp look for a few moments. You keep swinging the machete back and forth, one arm locked in place inside his jacket pocket.

“Do you think it was a coincidence,” he says finally, “that the week your article dropped, everyone just happened to go batshit insane?”

You blink at him. “What.”

“C’mon,” he says. “Steve makes a huge donation. Nat starts a fight on live TV. Clint breaks into a goddamn bank vault. Your story got the least coverage out of all of them.”

You frown slightly. “I thought that was just Avengers being Avengers.”

Bucky shrugs. “Nobody told anyone to do anything. They just did it loudly so you’d know whose side they were on.”

You fall silent for a moment. “Huh.”

He doesn’t push.

You don’t ask again, but you shuffle closer. He tries his level best to stay cool, and mostly succeeds.

The second you step out of the cornfield, it's like walking into a trap.

Scattered around the festival’s edge, half-lurking by the caramel apple stand and the booth selling “Blood Smoothies”, are most of the team, waiting.

Nat is nursing a cup of hot chocolate like it's vodka and watching everything with the faint smirk of someone who knew how this would end before it started.

Sam spots you first. His grin spreads instantly.

“Generally when people disappear for a while, they show up with less clothes than before,” he calls.

You glance at your mask and machete and Bucky tugs off the stupid cape.

“Just in time for the main event. I was about to start placing bets.”

“On what,” Bucky mutters, already tired of this conversation.

“Whether we were getting a call from you,” Sam replies, “or the morgue.”

You shrug. “Por qué no los dos?”

Wanda drifts in with a caramel apple in one hand and a too-knowing smile at your hand in his.

Bucky’s expression shutters instantly, mouthing. “Don’t.”

She shakes her head lightly, not saying anything.

You’re still smiling, focused on the conversation at hand, “He got lost. I heroically rescued him. It was a very emotional journey.”

“I wasn’t lost.”

Steve finally wanders over, coffee in hand, squinting at Bucky like he's trying to decipher something.

“You good?” he asks, handing him a slice of pumpkin pie.

Bucky nods. “Fine.”

Steve looks between the two of you. Then at the mask. Then at the machete. “You two gonna go find other hauntings or are y’all done for the evening?”

“I’m going apple dunking,” you say brightly. “I’m about to ruin some middle schoolers.”

“Emotionally or physically?” Clint asks.

“Whichever’s funnier.” You shrug, nudging Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m gonna destroy some third grader and dedicate the win to you.”

"I don't know you."

You give him a bright grin, and wiggle your hand out of his to follow behind Clint.

Bucky doesn't like the sudden lack of warmth, but he finds respite in pie Steve has handed to him.

Bucky’s always liked the noise of fairs.

Not because he actually enjoys them and the overstimulation it brings, but because he can disappear into the background. Everyone's loud. Everyone's distracted. No one looks at the guy who stands still.

So that’s what he does now.

Leans against a picnic table, a second slice of pie in his hands that he hasn’t even looked at, while Steve stands beside him with a cup of something steaming and unremarkable.

It’s easy, the quiet between them. Familiar.

Which is probably why Bucky says it out loud before he thinks about it too hard.

“Do you remember PBJ?”

Steve squints. “The sandwich?”

Bucky exhales through his nose. “No. The nickname.”

Steve takes a slow sip, then looks at him again.

“Oh,” he says, softer now. “Right. What I called you and Becca."

"D'you remember why?" Bucky doesn't meet his eye.

"Wasn't it 'cause she couldn’t spell your name properly when she was little? Wrote ‘Jam’ everywhere. Used to drive you insane.”

“She got very smug about it,” Bucky mutters.

Steve laughs. “Only ‘cause you kept calling her ‘Peanut’.”

Bucky nods, tight smile on his lips.

“I’d forgotten about that,” Steve says. “God, Peanut Becca and Jam. You were so serious about it, too."

Bucky notes quietly, “She wrote ‘PBJ’ on everything. Lunchboxes. Schoolbooks. Hell, birthday cards.”

"I remember."

Steve elbows him gently. “Why’d you ask?”

They stand there a while longer.

The lights flicker in the distance.

And there it is. That soft pang in his chest, sharp and sad and warm all at once.

Bucky hesitates. Opens his mouth to say something else–

“Gentlemen!”

You’re striding toward them with far too much confidence, holding a large, offensively purple stuffed bat in both hands like it’s a gift from a distant god.

“I bring tribute.”

You shove the bat into Bucky’s hands, grinning. “For being so brave in the cornfield. And for looking like you were about five seconds away from emotionally unloading on pie.”

The bat’s wings sparkle. Its eyes are mildly unhinged.

Bucky looks at it to you. “What is this.”

“A cherished new member of the team. And a gift to you.”

Steve’s face does something complicated behind his cup.

And for a second, Bucky just stares at the stupid plush thing in his hands, and tries to ignore the way his throat tightens.

Bucky huffs. “Thanks. It’s horrifying.”

“I know,” you say, bright as anything. “Try not to fall in love with me over it.”

He has the sick, annoying, grating feeling that it's a warning that's come too late, probably.

But he doesn’t say that.

Because you steal the rest of his pie.

And the ugly bat now rests on his bed.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

Next part

THANK U TO EVERYONE WHO BOUGHT ME A KO-FI FOR THIS SILLY FIC I FULLY EXPLODED WHEN I SAW IT

to know when this fic updates, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications! it’s the only way tumblr will let me have a taglist and i don’t post there at all except for fics </3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you

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deboracabral · 3 months ago

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I’m not very into sci fi, so this concept may very well exist out there, but I woke up in the middle of the night with the vivid image of a retro sci fi “portable” computer that had to be carried around like one of those carnival vendor trays.

#So heavy so clunky all the scientists are so buff #the little fans make soooo much noise but I guess that wouldn’t be much of an issue on the empty cold space idk #when I tell you I don’t know shit about sci fi I mean it #concept art #I guess #character design

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onceuponasnacktime · 18 hours ago

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I had a thought/concept for a Polytrix story but I know I'd not actually write a whole thing so here's the bit that wouldn't leave my head. I wrote it on my notes app just now and it may have spelling errors for that reason.

AU in which Rumi was raised in the demon realm after being rejected in the mortal world. The Hunters aren't really a thing. Zoey somehow stumbles into the demon realm trying to find a gift for Mira and she bumps into Rumi, who saves her.

She wasn't supposed to be here, that much was abundantly clear the moment Rumi laid eyes on her. She was brightly dressed with pale skin and she was most definitely a human. A human standing at a stall in the middle of the capital of the demon realm. Surely she must have a death wish? Except... it almost seems as if the girl simply hasn't noticed. Oblivious, she peers at the handmade talisman on the table in front of her as if nothing is wrong.

Is she a loose pet? Gwi-Ma won't be happy if he knows someone is keeping a human soul in his realm. They are strictly forbidden to be kept, or devoured, unless he gives the OK.

The girl looks up to the vendor as if to ask a question, and Rumi can see that He Knows. Surely in such close proximity he can smell it on her... the life. His eyes are glowing and he licks his lips, smile spreading towards lecherous.

Tightening the strings of her own cloak-hood, Rumi steps up to the girl, fingers drifting to her hip and dipping her head down to whisper in her ear.

"Follow my lead." The girl tenses, turns to look and her with a scowl, and her eyes are so beautiful Rumi forgets herself for a moment.

She looks sweet.

She looks pure.

The vendor clears his throat, almost drooling as his eyes dig into Rumi like a wolf on the hunt who has just been thwarted.

"There you are darling." Rumi speaks, tightening her grip on the shorter girl's hip but not looking away from the vendor. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to. Its not safe to run away around here." She stresses the last line and sees the girls eyes narrow before she seems to take a hint and actually /look/ at her surroundings. Her eyes widen and she seems to subconsciously scoot closer into Rumi.

The vendor isn't glamored, his large tusked teeth protrude from his mouth and his skin is a sickly purple, marks covering him sporadically.

"R-right. Sorry. I shouldn't have." She smells sweet, standing this close, apple? Maybe honey? The scent sends a thin wave of hunger through Rumi but she easily taps it down.

"We should move along." She tugs them away from the stall before the demon vendor can attempt to intervene.

They take a step, then another, before Rumi hears him shout and she stiffens at the words.

"Where you going with that human?" It's said loudly enough, he meant to draw the attention of those around them, and Rumi curses under her breath as head's turn their way.

"We have to run." She says, gripping the girl's hand and pulling her through the crowded street.

"Wait, what is this? What's happening?" The girl asks, frightened tone and unsteady steps as she tries to move with Rumi's speed.

She doesn't reply, just guides them out of the crowded shopping district, hoping beyond hope that no one chases them. When they get to a small secluded alcove she takes off her cloak and swings it around the other girl's shoulders.

"Put this on, it'll mask your scent." She's checking their surroundings for a few more moments before she turns back, eyes finally meeting the mortals.

"Y-you're like... like them? But actually not? Sort of? How do you have marks but look so h-" she cuts herself off and Rumi watches the girl's cheeks pink.

"Human?" She supplies, but the other girl just shakes her head and laughs.

"I was gonna say hot, but that works too."

She blinks, feels her own blush, and mentally shushes her silly little heartbeat increasing.

"Anyway," the girl says after a few beats, "I'm Zoey. Who are you and," she gestures around them, "what is this place?"

#kpdh #polytrix #rumi kpdh #zoey kpdh #kpop demon hunters

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yvesssssssss · 2 months ago

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hiii, can you do a scenario where reader hates everyone but shin? Like they’re out somewhere and someone tries to talk to her, she I guess digs her head into his shoulder like unwilling to listen? Do you think he’d feel a little prideful or grateful? Idk lol

I literally love you so much thank you for your writing!! Remember to prioritize yourself first!!

Just you

—shin asakura

Thank you so much for the kind words!! I hope you enjoy!!💞

You hated crowds.

No, loathed was a better word.

Too many people, too many loud voices, and too many strangers who didn’t understand the concept of personal space. You weren’t mean per se—you just didn’t want to talk to anyone. At all. Ever. Except for one person.

You currently stood beside that person—Shin Asakura—as the two of you waited in line at a busy street food stall downtown. The smell of grilled takoyaki wafted through the air, and Shin was rambling about something you could only halfway hear over the buzz of the crowd.

You weren't really listening to the people.

You were watching them. Suspiciously. Like each one was a threat to your peace.

Shin looked over at you mid-sentence and laughed softly. “You look like you’re one second away from setting someone on fire.”

“I am,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “I don’t trust anyone here.”

Shin snorted and leaned into you just a little. “I’m honored to be the exception.”

You didn’t reply, but the slight upward curve of your lips gave you away.

That was when some guy behind you tapped your shoulder. “Hey, uh—sorry, but do you know if this line is for the—”

Without a word, you turned, stepped flush against Shin, and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his waist like a barrier from the world.

Shin stiffened in surprise, and you heard his heart skip a beat under your ear. Then, slowly, his hand came up to your back.

The guy awkwardly blinked, took one look at your full-body No Entry stance, and backed away with his hands up. “O-okay. Never mind.”

Shin stared after him, stunned. Then he looked down at you, still curled into him like a blanket.

“You really hate everyone, huh?” he whispered, a smile growing on his lips.

You let out a tiny huff of air, your breath warming his collarbone. “Mm-hmm.”

“But not me?”

You shook your head gently, face still buried.

God, his heart. It actually hurt a little in the best way.

He wasn’t used to being the one someone clung to. He was used to being the one who reached out, the one trying to keep up. But now? You were here. And you didn’t want the world. You just wanted him.

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, fingers stroking gently up and down your back. “You know, you could’ve just said you wanted a hug.”

“I don’t want a hug,” you murmured. “I want you.”

He almost melted right there.

“You’re really saying sweet things in public now?” he teased gently. “I might die.”

You pulled back slightly just to glare at him. “If you die, I have to talk to people again.”

Shin laughed. He couldn’t help it. You were prickly and guarded and sharp-tongued—but with him, you were soft. You were home.

As the takoyaki vendor called out the next order, Shin placed it with one arm still around you. You didn’t move from his side, and he didn’t ask you to.

The rest of the world could be overwhelming, loud, and obnoxious—but for now, standing here in the middle of it all, with your arms around his waist and your forehead against his chest?

It felt like your own little bubble.

And Shin swore he’d keep it safe for you. Always.

#good morning lovelies!#sakadays #sakamoto days #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days shin #shin asakura #shin asakura x reader #shin x reader #shin

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serenitys-alcove · 1 month ago

Text

Meet Cute

Tang Bo x Fem!Reader

He'd been watching you. Undercover, of course. Who did you think he was?

Tang Bo was nothing if not subtle, a master of his practice, the best of the best—

"Sir?" A meek voice called out, making him blink. He looked down to see an anxious middle aged man. "What are you doing on the roof of my shop?"

"Ah." Perhaps not as subtle as he thought. He scratched the back of his head. "Your shop offers the best vantage point."

"I-I see," a drop of sweat rolled down the man's forehead.

Oh. He was being a bother, wasn't he? Well, that wouldn't do.

Bo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small satch of coins. He tossed it carelessly to the man. "Here, compensation for your troubles."

It hit the man in the face. "Oy!" He grunted, scowling in irritation. Then he opened it, and his eyes bulged at the contents. "T-thank you sir! Spend all the time you like up there!"

"Sure," Bo waved him off, fixated on something else entirely.

That something else being you, of course.

God, he could watch you all day. You were just so adorable.

Creep, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his Hyung-nim rang out in his mind. He scowled.

What did that old grouch know anyway?

What did you call me, brat?!

Bo shoved the raging image of his Hyung-nim to the back of his mind, ignoring the string of expletives. Right, he had a mission.

Today was the day he was finally going to make a move.

The stage? Set. His outfit? Immaculate. His lines? Rehearsed about a million times in the mirror. All that was left was to set his plan into motion.

Bo narrowed his eyes, watching as you laughed brightly with a street vendor. You were wearing that cute little ribbon in your hair again, his favorite one. The vendor grinned at you, leaning closer.

"Oy," he frowned, hackles rising. That was way too close. Didn't that guy have any concept of personal space?

Bo grabbed a piece of debris from the roof, before launching it hard at the offender with a sharp flick of his wrist. It smacked into the man's arm, making him yelp and flinch back. He looked around warily, making Bo smirk.

Well, served him right.

You, bless your soul, were just as alarmed as the vendor, wide eyed and frantic with concern. If only you would look at him that way instead.

Bo sighed, closing his eyes. A man could dream, but now was not the time to fantasize. Much was at stake here.

Soon, you would be leaving to travel on your usual route back home, a winding twenty minute walk through the village. Bo would intercept you strategically, charm your socks off, and take you home. Hopefully.

After way too much attention spent on the damned vendor (Bo was going to scare him out of Sichuan if his eyes lingered for just one second longer—), you were finally on your way, wicker basket full of fresh fruit in your hand and adorable smile on your face.

Bo grinned, tilting his straw hat lower over his eyes as he leaned over the edge of the roof. That was his queue.

He soundlessly leapt off of the roof, landing in a dark, subtle corner out of view. From this close, he could faintly hear you humming a cheery tune under your breath. He had to suppress an amused smile.

Bo crouched in the shadows, counting down the seconds. The carriage across from you should be coming through in 3...2...1...

He walked out, directly in its path, making the coachman yell in shock. Bo 'stumbled' back, gasping in shock as the horses reared back in alarm. Of course, they could never trample him if they tried. He'd calculated the exact distance he had to fall to make it look realistic but still be within relative safety. That, and he could roll out of the way faster than the coachman could blink.

"H-Hey! What do you think you're doing?" The coachman shouted furiously. "You can't just walk in front of a moving carriage like that! Are you out of your mind?!"

"Aha..." Bo chuckled, scratching at his chin. "My mistake. I wasn't looking where I was going."

The coachman muttered something nasty under his breath, making Bo twitch. If he wasn't in disguise right now, that stupid brat would be trembling in his boots—guaranteed.

"Hey!" A sweet voice graced his ears, making all of his ire evaporate like water. He blinked up at your concerned face and outstretched hand. "Are you okay, sir?"

Oh. Now he was, thanks. In fact, he could sit here on the dusty road and stare at you all day and be more than fine. The way the sun was hitting your hair right now was making you look like a dream.

It was only when he noticed your eyebrows begin to crinkle that he realized he had yet to respond. Right.

He smiled sheepishly, taking your hand and letting you pull him up. "Yeah, sorry! I guess I wasn't paying enough attention."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a loud, undignified snort. He slapped an imaginary hand over his Hyung-nim's mouth, ignoring the string of muffled expletives.

You tilted your head, smiling gently. "That's okay, there's always a lot going on here. Be careful next time though."

Bo looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm actually new here, so I'm a little unfamiliar with my surroundings." Lie. "Of course it's fine if you don't, but I was wondering if you knew someone who could show me around?”

He looked down and fiddled with his robes for extra pathetic effect. God, he was good at this. He knew you were too nice to say no, or pass the responsibility onto someone else.

You slimy little leec—mmph!

A warm hand landed on his arm, making his breath hitch. He looked up to see your blinding grin, eyes warm and crinkled at the edges. His heart stuttered a little.

"What a question! Of course I know someone," you chuckled, shooting him a sly wink. "She's standing right here. Come on, follow me."

Bo trailed after you, a little dazed. He was feeling a bit fuzzy. Was this normal? Did he need to see a healer?

You are a healer, idiot.

Right.

Well, if he died, at least he would die happy. You had touched him. Twice.

Holy shit, this is pathetic.

Shut up, let me have this moment.

He followed after you enthusiastically, listening intently as you gave him a tour of all the places he already knew. In a way, it was like he was discovering them all over again through your eyes. Sometimes, you would even grab his wrist to pull him along. He swore he saw heaven for those few precious moments.

Every so often though, someone would recognize him through his disguise. However, a quick and well-timed glare always shut them up. He wasn't known for his patience, after all. Thankfully, you never seemed to notice, chatting away excitedly and bringing a genuine smile back to his face.

"This is the best florist in town," you told him eagerly, holding up an artfully arranged bouquet for him to smell. "Oh, and just down the street they sell the most wonderful foreign delicacies! The merchants come by every week—"

Tang Bo nodded along, eyes half-lidded and a stupid grin on his lips as he listened to you ramble. You were simply radiant, lighting up in excitement when you delved into something you were passionate about.

If only he could have stayed with you like this forever. But alas, all good things must regretfully come to an end.

"Sorry, I think I dragged you all over the place when you just asked for a quick tour," you scratched the back of your head, slightly embarrassed.

Bo had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grabbing you, tucking you into his robes and never letting you go. He needed you to think that he was kind and dignified, not some crazy psycho.

You are a crazy psycho.

His eye twitched.

"No, no," he cleared his throat, smiling reassuringly. "I learned so much today thanks to you. In fact, I haven't had that much fun in a long time."

His heart melted at the bashful look on your face. Awee.

It was true though, he did have the time of his life today. It was way better than he could've ever imagined. And he'd...ahem, imagined a lot.

Pervert.

"I want to repay you for all that you've done for me today," he bowed his head, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Your eyes widened, hands gesturing wildly. "Oh no, please! It was my pleasure. I actually had a great time too." You coughed, looking down with a small smile.

"Alright," Bo chuckled gently. This was it. He was really going to do it this time. "Then at least let me walk you back."

His heart thudded anxiously in his chest as he waited for your response. You blinked, looking up at him in surprise. Then, the most magnificent grin spread across your face.

"You know what? I would love that."

She said yes? She said yes!! Hell yeah!

Bo beamed brightly, trying not to show how much he was screaming internally as he offered you his arm. "Lead the way?"

"Of course," you winked, and the screaming kicked up two notches.

Bo floated next to you, barely harnessing enough self restraint to keep a serene expression on his face. Giddiness bubbled in his chest, threatening to explode at any moment. If someone had asked him afterwards to describe the scenery of the walk, he wouldn’t be able to say shit. What he could do was name about fifty different adjectives to describe your eyes. Honestly, he couldn’t stop staring at you if he tried. He was a fool for you—and you didn’t even know it.

“We should do this again sometime,” you grinned, turning to him once you arrived at your front door.

“What? Don’t tell me there’s more you haven’t shown me?” Bo smirked playfully, raising a brow. “And here I thought you were a diligent tour guide.”

“Well yes, there’s a lot to see in Sichuan,” you giggled, eyes flickering up to catch his. “But I meant that we should see each other again. Soon.”

Bo blinked, feeling a lump settle in his throat. He swallowed heavily, feeling his heart start to race. “Uh, yeah. Totally. Would love that.”

Ugh. Smooth, real smooth.

“But it’s strange,” you tapped your chin, making his stomach drop. Did he fuck up somehow? “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“A-Ah,” Bo smiled politely, sweat beading at his temples. “Is that so? I can’t say the same.”

“Really?” Something glinted in your eyes. Uh oh, that probably wasn’t good. You couldn’t possibly have figured him out, could you?

“Positive,” he squeaked.

“You know, somehow I find that a little hard to believe,” a smile pulled at your lips, and you leaned closer into his space. His breath hitched as you gently pushed up his straw hat with two fingers, exposing his green eyes. “Because I heard you’re the sharpest of your clan. Isn’t that right, Master Tang?”

He gulped. “I-I can explain.”

A million different apologies began to run through his mind. He couldn’t lose his chance with you before he even managed to ask you out.

“No,” you shook your head, making his face drop. Ah. So this was it, then? He always found a way to—

Peck.

Bo’s eyes widened, mouth hanging open as he processed the fleeting, soft warmth against his cheek. His eyes swiveled down to you, making you chuckle.

“I already know,” you said gently, squeezing his hand. “And my answer is yes.”

And then you turned around, opened your door, and left him standing on your front porch in the most jumbled mix of emotions he’d ever felt.

Huh…you really managed to pull something off, brat.

But Bo was already long gone, spirit floating up to heaven as his body short circuited. Steam poured from his ears as he twitched.

Hey, hey! Don’t you dare pass out on me! Tang Bo-ya!

****

Some extras:

You and Bo had never officially met before this

This hopeless idiot fell in love just by watching you around Sichuan (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

You’re always smiling and so kind to others that he couldn’t help himself

At first it wasn’t planned, but then he started to alter his plans to walk by the places he knew you would be

Of course you recognize him, he’s practically a legend in Sichuan ( ◡‿◡ ;)

But you never approached him before because he never did either ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭

He’s in disguise here cuz he doesn’t wanna scare you with his reputation or the Tang name

Pined so hard and for so long that Cheong Myeong stopped drinking with him for a bit because he was unbearable

He couldn’t stop gushing about you, and when he wasn’t, he just sighed in longing every few minutes

Will be definitely be smiling like an idiot all day after this (♡˙︶˙♡)

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joaosnovia · 5 months ago

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hiya!! could you write something for jamal Musiala about how you two being out and about in london, it’s a relatively warm spring day, you’re wearing a midi red polka dot dress, some docs paired with your miu miu ivy bag with cute charms on and jamal was wearing green baggy carhartt cargos, a black graphic tshirt, his go to black Nike cortez and a surpreme cap. You’re both wearing your matching jewelry (rosequartz bracelet) . His arm never leaves your waist, you’re snuggled into each other while walking and laughing about silly stuff your talking about or seeing on the street. You then go in for a kiss but his cap is in the way so he puts it on backwards, looking even more handsome, something about that backward cap is doing something to you, you quite frankly can’t stop staring and kissing him. in the middle of one kiss you’re getting interrupted by fans who want to take a picture, kindly accepting their request. You both have swollen and red lips from kissing and the most love sick smiles on your faces. Paparazzi and the internet goes crazy over you two.

Thank you :)

❦ - london days.

summary:: req says enough

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: idek what to say atp bro but it’s a cute concept i love it & also idk what happened but this didn’t save so this is rushed now

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the sun was shining brightly in london, a soft warmth filling the air as you strolled down the busy streets, hand in hand with jamal. it was one of those rare spring days where the warmth made everything feel light and easy. you couldn’t have asked for a better day.

you were both in your element, laughing, joking around, and just enjoying each other’s company. your red midi polka dot dress flowed gently around your legs as you walked, paired with your docs that added a little edge to your otherwise soft look. your miu miu ivy bag with its cute little charms swung lightly with every step. jamal, as always, looked effortlessly good. he was wearing his green baggy carhartt cargos, a black graphic t-shirt, and his usual black nike cortez. his supreme cap sat snugly on his head, completing the look.

but what made it all better was the way his arm never left your waist, how close he kept you, the way he pulled you into him like it was second nature. it was easy, familiar, like the most natural thing in the world.

‘you know,’ jamal said, a laugh in his voice, ‘i swear that guy just tried to sell me a “limited edition” air max for 500 pounds. i told him they weren’t even real’

you burst out laughing at the way he imitated the vendor, shaking your head. ‘you’re too nice, jamal. if i were you, i would’ve asked for a discount’

‘hey,’ he grinned, pulling you a little closer, ‘i’ve got a reputation to keep up. wouldn’t want to look too gullible’

you snorted, ‘right, right, so instead, you’re just gullible in a different way, got it’

he nudged you with his shoulder, his smile still wide. he made everything feel easy, like nothing in the world could go wrong as long as you were together.

as you turned a corner, the moment felt perfect. the streets of london were busy, but none of it really mattered. you were so wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world just faded into the background.

without thinking, you reached up to kiss him, but his cap got in the way, pressing against your forehead. he laughed, pulling back just enough to flip it backwards in one quick motion.

and something about that made you stop.

he somehow looked even better like this. the way the cap sat on his head, the effortless confidence in the way he adjusted it, your heart skipped a beat.

without thinking, you kissed him again, your hands finding their way to his face as he smiled against your lips. he kissed you back just as eagerly, his hands resting on your waist, holding you there like he never wanted to let go.

but then, just as you were completely lost in him, voices interrupted the moment.

‘excuse me, could we take a picture with you two?’

you pulled away, cheeks warm, lips slightly swollen. jamal looked at you, his expression just as dazed as yours, before turning to the fans with a grin.

‘of course’

they quickly snapped a few pictures, giggling and thanking you both. you tried to compose yourself, smoothing down your dress, though you could still feel the ghost of jamal’s lips on yours.

‘thanks for being so nice,’ one of them said, smiling as they walked away.

as soon as they were gone, you looked up at jamal. his lips were still a little red from kissing you, and his cheeks had a faint flush. he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

‘you okay?’ you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

he grinned, eyes soft. ‘yeah. just… getting used to this whole public couple thing’

you laughed, but you both knew it was true. the internet and paparazzi had already caught onto you two, and the pictures were probably spreading like wildfire. people loved the way you two looked together, how natural and real it seemed.

but none of that mattered. all that mattered was the way he was still holding onto you, how he wasn’t letting go.

you kept walking, still laughing, still holding each other close. the spring day had just gotten a whole lot better.

#football x reader #football one shot #football fluff #football x y/n #football x you #jamal musiala x y/n #jamal musiala one shot #jamal musiala x you #jamal musiala fluff #jamal musiala x reader

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writeblood · 2 months ago

Text

How are LGBT characters treated in your HL fanfiction?

Ignoring the meta-explanation that HL devs added in LGBT characters in order to distance themselves from Rowling's transphobia, let’s start off Pride Month with celebrating an openly LGBT-inclusive game world. And then let’s consider the practical implications of that acceptance. (This tumblr post was made by a ravenclaw, if you didn't know.)

Mirabel Garlick, Professor for Herbology, mentions that she is only interested in finding a wife

Sirona Ryan, owner of The Three Broomsticks, says offhandedly that she used to appear as a different gender. In mythology, Sirona was a healing deity of belonging, which fits with the journey of transitioning.

Nora Treadwell, who introduces the Merlin trials, and Priya Treadwell, a potions vendor, explicitly refer to the other as their wife.

Albie Weekes, owner of Spintwitches Sporting Needs, was assumed by the Hogsmeade villagers to be out with a male suitor.

Two male ghosts at the Deathday Party dance together after seeing the romantic success of their friend.

The context of these specific interactions are key to understanding how the wizarding world as a whole views LGBT people.

In three instances we have an adult directly and casually telling a youth about their life with the same aplomb as a straight person talking about their wife/husband. Villagers gossip about Albie Weekes’s romantic life with no special consideration towards the gender of his speculated lover. Two men, the era of their death unknown, dance together without hesitation.

It’s clear that the wizarding world views the interactions of LGBT people as a normal part of everyday life. Not only that, but gay marriage is recognized.

From the average civilian up to structural political institutions, LGBT activity is embedded in wizarding culture.

How does this make sense when 1800s muggle England still criminalizes homosexuality? Because even the Harry Potter books clearly indicate that the religious cultural values of the wizarding world are very different from the muggle world.

(examples: usage of wizarding swears, celebration of christmas being entirely devoid of its religious story, Rowling explicitly stating she intentionally distanced the HP world from the church, etc)

Additionally, while wizarding and muggle culture often intersect, it is obvious that wizards have unique aspects of their culture that differ from muggles. (examples: wearing robes and pointed hats, wizarding literature, literal usage of magic over mechanical actions. etc)

So the wizarding world lacks major incentive for homophobia and is also capable of having different cultural values.

Wizards having a starkly different perception of gender and sex than muggles is not surprising, especially when it’s already established that, for nearly a thousand years, the wizarding world has already held a radically different view of gender equality than the muggle world.

The very basis of Hogwarts requires the wizarding world to not be nearly as restrictive against women as its muggle counterpart.

Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff were considered equals to their male colleagues in the creation of a co-ed boarding school in the 11th century. Even if attendance were restricted to wealthy families, the concept of girls and boys gaining an equal education is one of the most important steps towards gender equality. This was accomplished in the Middle Ages.

Additionally:

The Holyhead Harpies, all-female Quidditch team, are the second-oldest team in the league and play against male teams.

Wizarding Britain had its first female Minister in 1798, whereas muggle Britain’s first female minister was elected in 1979.

This is not an argument for there being absolutely no misogyny/sexism in the wizarding world. Rather, I give examples of how the wizarding world has had less prejudice than the muggle world in at least one aspect.

Just because the wizarding world is seen as ‘behind’ the muggle world in many areas, it cannot be said that they can never be ‘ahead’ of the muggle world in a few topics. (Also, culture is not a progression tree in Civilization.)

Considering how closely homophobia is linked with misogyny and extreme religion, which the wizarding world has a reduction of, it is reasonable for wizards to be accepting of LGBT people, and obviously that’s canon in Hogwarts Legacy.

Personally, the majority of wlw fics I've read haven't included bigotry. In one m/m/m fic, it was a topic on how the muggle world was not accepting towards the trans muggleborn character. I haven't read many ominis/sebastian fics, but Ao3 indicates they are the most likely to include the 'period-typical homophobia' tag. I've also seen straight fics that have minor homophobia/transphobia exhibited by the evil pureblood characters.

Since our perception of the 19th century is one of intense homophobia and misogyny, some stories will replicate that extreme inequality out of a desire to appear period-accurate or to provide drama and discuss those themes. That’s fair. I think that a story without homophobia also makes just as much sense.

Anyways, this is fanfiction and you can make your setting as homophobic as you want.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #writeblood writing #mirabel garlick #lgbt #sebinis #sebastian x ominis

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crowlecroux · 12 days ago

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Could you tell us abt ur campaign???? I am very intetested in it but I didn't have the courage to ask until you said you want to talk about it (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

MY DND GROUP FOLLOWS ME SO I CAN'T SAY A LOT </3

But but but!! It's literally so cool!! We started off in a tavern as most campaigns usually do cuz like the initial concept I pitched to our DM was just "good ol' stereotypical fantasy campaign" and I wanted to play a half-orc barbarian who seems stupid at first... But is actually CRAZY EDUCATED!!

anyways we started in a tavern with 5 people: My character Douji, Lord Valerie the winter Eladrin paladin, Aster W. Clematus the warforged druid, Llux the yuan-ti ranger, and Jim Taylor, local PNG.

We head into the woods to investigate a "fallen star," but we find an outcropping of wild magic! Valerie makes a stone talk using a magic sword and decides to name him Stony Hawk. Then we get ambushed by cultists!

While everyone's looking away, we all hear a loud explosion and see a blast of light. When we turn to investigate, Jim Taylor is DEAD! A pile of ash! And on top of the ashes stands no other than Douji's old friend: Grobnar, kobold wizard.

Grobnar announces: "oopsie!" And without further elaboration, we enter combat with the cultists!!

After that, we're summoned to the capital city of Charmont. There, we learn that the cultists are after strange and powerful artifacts, and the council in Charmont wants to stop the cult from getting them. They send us on a mission to Fallcrest, to make sure the crystal in the lake is well-protected.

Fallcrest is a seafood export city, and when we get there we can tell the fish is all fresh and lively! The vendors explain that the crystal in the lake has some unstable properties, then we're told to speak to Mayor Yurious about the lake, but when we find him, he's knocked out cold! We wake him up, heal his injuries, and he explains he was attacked by hooded figures.

THE CULT!

We all race to the lake, only to find the cultists in the middle of stealing the crystal! All of the cultists who play hot potato with the crystal end up transforming in strange and terrifying ways--including our very own VALERIE! She gets turned into a goat in the middle of combat, and Grobnar rides her like a mighty steed!

Near the end of combat, Douji spots a cultist that sends him into a silent rage. He breaks the guys femur in one swing, and brings him back to the group for questioning. Mostly about the feywild, for some reason, but also about any potential hit points the cult may be scouting.

The guy turns out to be a changeling teenager, and Douji instantly feels remorse when he realizes how young he is.

The group takes the changeling and the mayor to the infirmary, where the Mayor grants them all free amenities for their services: room and board, as much food as they can eat, and a stagecoach back to Charmont.

Douji spends the night with the changeling, and asks him his name. The boy says he doesn't have one, so Douji gets to brainstorming. The next morning, after finishing up some final things in Fallcrest, the group departs towards Charmont, with their new changeling friend Itachi in tow.

.... And then last session! Was a roleplay session, we mainly just dicked around in Charmont. Valerie drank some pixie pre-workout and failed to find any cute girls at the gym, Llux shot a guys dick off and was hailed as a hero, Grobnar read so many books, Aster got their shit rocked by a monk, and Douji spent most of his paycheck on a new outfit for Itachi. We set off for our next destination, Cursedrift, and as far as we know we've just entered the pure darkness surrounding the city.

IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT SESSION

#// ignovita campaign #I LOVE IT SO MUCH IM SO EXCITED #apparently Valerie's player recorded session 0 for us but he hasn't shared it with us yet... sighhh #maybe i can convince him today #// crow replies #oh also the main continent we're on is called ignovita thats why i've been calling it yhat hehe

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physalian · 5 months ago

Text

Word Counts and Why They Matter

I made a poll about whether, as you’re editing, you try to add extra detail to boost your wordcount, or trim and compact things to lower your wordcount. And I saw some reblogs absolutely baffled at the concept of adhering to any sort of wordcount goal so!

Obligatory one size does not fit all, just some general points I’m covering here. This is for original works intent on being published. Fanwork is lawless.

There are industry standards for different genres

Unless your reputation precedes you, looking on the surface like your competition, with a similar book size, thickness, and cover design helps your legitimacy, especially if you’re indie and self-published, you want to look as close to the pretty, traditionally published books as possible.

If you’re trying to get picked up by a publishing house, and your manuscript is too far outside the bell curve of the genre standard in either direction—by being too long or too short—you’re more of a risk. Too short and people might overlook it as being thin or lacking. Too long and people might not want to commit to 600 pages by someone they’ve never heard of.

Printing costs

Again, more for self-publishing, I haven’t been through the trad publishing process. Word count impacts page count, and the bigger the book, the more expensive it is to print (and edit), and the more your end customer has to pay to enjoy your work.

Even if you don’t want to charge them more, some platforms, like IngramSpark, cost so much to print, on top of the vendor fees, that you cannot publish at a negative margin (not that you’d want to). I have the same book on Amazon and IS, and on IS, it’s a whole dollar more because IS’s printing and vendor fees demand it.

So if you’ve got a really big book, you’ve got a really expensive book, and people might not buy it no matter how good it is if they can’t justify the price.

Consistency

This is not one size fits all. There are books that will have two hundred chapters, but those chapters might range from 5 pages to 15. One that comes to mind is the Maximum Ride series by James Patterson… but he got away with it because he had rapport. Those books were also consistently short chapters.

There’s also gimmicks like the 4 months of depression in New Moon when there were just blank pages in the middle of the book with only the months in the center of the page, to great effect. But those, too, weren’t four short chapters.

Consistency helps readers who don’t read entire books in one sitting know what they’re getting into and about how long it might take whenever they start a new chapter. If they just read one that’s 3k words and have time to read one more, and it’s 6k words that never ends, it risks not only being annoying, but damaging to the pacing if you can’t break up 6k words of plot into two chunks.

However, I don’t see a problem with “ramping up” the word count as the plot demands, a more gradual increase/decrease as opposed to one 10k word chapter in between two 2k word chapters.

Prologues and epilogues are an exception.

—

I think maybe the reblogs were more concerned with fanfic, in which case, go wild, there are no rules. I would like to mention though why I’m in the “I have to go back and trim my chapters down” camp.

Filler words

I don’t split hairs over trying to lower the total wordcount by 5 or 10 words, but I do go back for things like filler and crutch words that might only be 5 or 10 across the whole manuscript to improve the reading experience and overall maturity of the prose.

Efficiency

I don’t like lazy river style storytelling, and that’s a me thing. I need my scenes doing at least 2 things at once and having a rare few “this scene just exists to be fluffy and for no other reason”. So if I see that a chapter is too long, my first thought upon editing is “how can I compact some of the excess movement or redundant dialogue?” and I might move scenes around to the next or preceding chapter if it messes too much with my consistency.

I do have to worry about printing and editing costs, so being aware of my wordcount and not letting it run wild matters financially.

Within chapters, worrying about the wordcount goes out the window but I do try to ramp up and down slowly and not have a huge one sandwiched between two short ones.

Outside of one occasion, all of my books are multi-POV, and all my chapters are broken up into chunks. Which means shuffling around those chunks between chapters can mean the difference of 2-3k words if that’s what fits.

I’ll sacrifice wordcount consistency for pacing, but I’ve been doing this for long enough that if I do have a chapter that’s really too long, something somewhere is taking up too much narrative, or I’m trying to juggle too many elements at once, and looking at where the extra words are coming from helps me keep my chapters in focus unless it’s just that big of an event.

I tend to write some mammoth chapters, but since they're broken up into explicit chunks, it's easier to find a stopping point within a chapter of one of my books over one that's one long unbroken piece of narrative, but everybody has their preferences.

Individual chunks, however, vary wildly in their wordcounts, as they all serve different purposes coming together to tell the story of the chapter.

With that said, I have little excel tables with the wordcounts for each chapter I write… mostly because I love looking at statistics, and the range sometimes can very wildly.

So here’s a few of them just for fun:

Eternal Night Total — 111,423 Average — 5,982 Max — 9,162 Min —3,743

Eternal Night’s sequel so far Total — 49,195 Average — 7,208 Max — 7,907 Min —5,426

Tell Me How Long Total — 22,453 Average — 3,742 Max — 6,154 Min —1,533

Little Red Dot Total — 155,601 Average — 6,765 Max — 9,116 Min —2,375 (epilogue)

Little Red Dot’s unnamed sequel Total — 202,391 Average — 7,228 Max — 9,617 Min — 4,413

#writeblr #writing #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #word counts

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rpgchoices · 3 months ago

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Sometimes I really want to read a short summary of what to expect from a game… and thankfully people can also submit their summaries of games they played and help me (and others) find games that cater to their interests!

submitted by @lairofsentinel

(click here for other videogames)

what to expect from CLAIR OBSCUR: EXPEDITION 33

Mysterious RPG in a similar style to final fantasy. It’s a game very strong in its narrative.

Combat is turned-based but with a dynamic component: when your turn finish, you still have the ability to dodge and parry the enemy’s attacks without the restriction of the turn. This brings a level of kinetics that keeps you on your toes. Parry is harder than dodge, its time windows is shorter, but it’s much more rewarded: every time you parry all the attacks, the character/group does a counter-attack, which provides a lot of damage along the combat. The animation during these encounters is amazing and powerful.

For some unbelievable and cursed design-choice, the game doesn’t let you do more damage than 10k. There is an item later on the game that frees you from this restriction, but still you have to play 2 entire acts without it. Although it forces you focus to play around debuff builds and perfecting your parry skills.

Each character has a particular system of combat, damage, and mechanics. To maximise damage, you need to understand how to play each of them and as a whole. This brings extra challenge to the combat.

The companions have scenes in the camp where you can talk and have some mild choices. In general no matter what you pick, you increase your relationship with them, unlocking additional features for them in combat.

The game doesn’t have a strong RPG component when it comes to “choices”. The only dramatical choice is at the end of the game, when you pick the “ending”.

No customization of the characters: You play with a given set of characters which design can only be altered via cosmetics that you find along the game as rewards of bosses or buying it from particular vendors. You can change the hairstyle and the outfit of the group.

Characters are not diverse in sexuality. So far I remember, I only saw one black character in the background. Then there is Lune and that’s the end of racial diversity. There is diversity in age from a narrative point of view [journals], but all characters are in their 33 with the exception of some. The game has a clear disinterest in showing lgbt characters integrated into the story.

It has two potential hetero romances [one of them with incestuous implications].

The writing is good. There are many cinematic. Even the presentation of the bosses or the change of phase are filled with well crafted cinematic.

Game fully voiced. All dialogues between characters are voiced in an emotional way. Even the narrators of the journal.

The game rewards exploration with additional secret bosses and bits of lore. It has some bosses that can be understood as tribute to Dark Soul/Elden Ring games.

Multiple endings: there are only two.

There is also a “new game +” system. So, it has re-playability.

It treats emotional topics: grief and pain, broken families, tough choices that a char makes over the other, assuming it’s for the “best”. The complicated theme of “the Lesser Evil/the Greater Good” when entangled with family. The concept of “letting it go” and “move on” in life.

The game lasts around 20 hours for its main story. It can reach 40 if you explore the map in details. It feels a good duration.

——- Plot? ——-

You start the game playing as Gustav, a man who is saying his goodbyes to his ex before her Gommage. Gommage is a process in this world where humans disintegrate into petals. This process started when after the “Fracture” [apparently a big explosion in the middle of Paris] broke the world and installed a monolith in the horizon with a number glowing on it. Year after year, this number goes down, and all people older than that number disappear in the Gommage. In an attempt to stop this process, every year after the Anniversary of the Gommage, a new expedition is sent to the monolith, formed by people who only have one year of life. Gustav will be part of this year expedition.

——- Gameplay? ——-

It starts on exploration. You find resources and journal entries along the world as you uncover the mysteries of this lore. When meeting an enemy, the game goes to another screen where a turn-based combat is displayed. This combat has the extra addition that requires active dodge/parry intervention from the player during the attacks of the enemies, it’s not automatic.

——- Characters? ——-

You play as Gustav mainly. You can swap to any companion while exploring the world, but it has no effects in terms of story or additional content. The rest of the companion’s stories are explored mostly at camp.

——- LGBT? ——-

So far I played, none. There was a very subtle situation in the prologue that “may” look like that. My impression is that this game has a clear position about lgbt content: if it doesn’t ignore it completely, it puts it under the rug, so it won’t “bother” the players. There are no intentions in making lgbt characters part of the world in an integrated way. In fact, the game prefers to portrait an incestuous relationship over a lgbt one. For me, it’s clear the position they adopted in the game.

——- Sadness level? ——-

Deep. You have high chances of crying. This game is about grief and family.

——- Happy ending? Deaths? ——-

There are no happy endings in my opinion. There is a terrible one and a bittersweet/positive one related to accepting life as it is and “moving on”. Death depends on what you consider personhood and the choice of your ending.

#what to expect #CLAIR OBSCUR: EXPEDITION 33 #lairofsentinel #clair obscur #expedition 33

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kremlin · 2 years ago

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it is really, really funny to see these bush-league never-was dumbfuck crypto losers go out and spend $300k of borrowed money on gray market A100s in an attempt to mine cryptocurrency (which they will have no success with) just solely on the premise that those things are called "GPUs"

i was reading one account of a guy on reddit with a throwaway account freaking out because he bought SXM socket A100s which, like, it was pretty clear his thinking was that because he could manage to put together a embarrassing gamer PC, he would have no trouble with this. even experienced datacenter techs will avoid SXM if they possibly can, that shit is meant to be installed by the vendor, doing it yourself (especially on 300% marked up gray market hardware) is completely bonkers:

if you ever had an AMD cpu back in the day (i remember way back when i had a top of the line phenom 2 lol) you might remember pin sockets:

you had to align all of these incredibly fucking fragile gold pins right above their corresponding hole on the socket, you had to drop it in just perfectly and if you didn't, you absolutely could not nudge it in place otherwise you'd bend a pin and the whole thing is fucked

(i remember fucking one up & freaking out, i had worked at a grocery store all through summer in middle school to buy it, i took it to a jeweler who couldn't fix it, eventually found the pinout, and the pin i bent was unused, by the grace of god)

anyways, SXM is this but a billion times worse. the vendors that sell the server packages have special jigs they use to align them properly, trying to install freehand is just, rofl

and that isn't even the end of the story, if homeboy gets past seating it without fucking a pin up, he'll 100% not torque the cooler down properly, it won't be flush, and the thing will cook itself the moment its powered on

not that any of this matters though, even if all done correctly, the core concept would not work. if you try and run vertex CUDA mining routines on these ""GPUs"", it'll be like trying to make pesto with your garbage disposal. that is how little foresight these people have. lmfao.

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stargazer-sims · 3 months ago

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Journal Entry #28

previous // next // story index

__________

Yuri

Hello, everyone!

As you may already have worked out, this is going to be a very short and unconventional update. We don’t normally record journal entries back-to-back like this, but if you've already seen what Victor posted, I think it'll make sense why I'm doing mine immediately after. Victor’s a bit too excited to concentrate on making a particularly coherent video, and if I’m being honest, I am as well. Really, we just wanted to check in, to let you know our happy news.

Today, on this beautiful, clear, and vibrantly colourful October morning, we got married. Entered into a civil partnership, if you wish to be precise about it, but it's a marriage according to Victor and me, and I can tell you with complete sincerity that it was the most significant and wonderful point in my life so far.

If anyone had asked me even a week ago whether I could envision this day, I would’ve said no. It’s not because I couldn’t picture Victor and me getting married, but rather because I never expected I’d throw caution to the wind and agree to elope with him while on a hastily devised getaway to the city. I like to plan and organize and put lots of thought into things. Spontaneity isn’t my greatest strength, but somehow doing this just felt right.

Victor, in his predictably unpredictable and hopelessly romantic way, said that we couldn’t get married until one of us proposed to the other. That seemed a bit silly in my opinion, since we'd already mutually agreed that we were going to do it, but I've learned that sometimes it's best to go along with Victor's impulsive ideas.

In a turn of good fortune that seemed like it was lifted straight out of a film script, on our way to the courthouse we noticed a street vendor who was selling flowers. I probably don’t even need to tell you what happened next. Victor bought me a small bouquet and then, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, he got down on one knee. In front of the flower vendor and a handful of complete strangers, he asked me if I’d be his husband.

Obviously, the answer was yes.

We received a smattering of delighted applause and a collective “Aww!” from the people around us on the street. It was priceless, and I know I’ll cherish that memory for the rest of my life.

After our rather unorthodox courthouse ceremony, we went back to our little park where we had our photos taken the day before. I’m sure I’ll always think of it as our park, now. We spent some time wandering around. We didn't talk much. It was enough just to be close to each other and to take it all in.

When we were there yesterday, I’d noticed a swing suspended from a large old Japanese pine tree. Calder had taken a photo of us on it, but I wanted to go back and enjoy it with no one watching.

How lucky we are, I thought as we sat amid the falling leaves in the late-morning sun. Some people live their whole lives and never find what Victor and I have found in one another. I think there are people who don’t even believe the concept of soulmates exists. I feel sad for them, that they’ll never know what we know.

The aroma of the pine tree mixed with the earthy scent of the damp grass all around was soothing and peaceful. I could still hear the noise of the city, but it seemed muted and far away.

I gazed up at my beautiful, gentle husband, who was gazing back at me with a soft smile on his face, and I couldn’t imagine a moment any more perfect.

#writing #WAVYrevisited #yuri okamoto #sapphire writes

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jaim-inhothekid · 1 year ago

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⚠︎ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

[ W.C ! ] : 2k

[ Summary ! ] : Eustass 'Captain' Kid has a serious problem with jealousy. His girlfriend, Vera, gets frustrated with his overreaction after seeing her being friendly with a random vendor. Killer is called in to help. | NSFW ; OC x Canon

⌗ ✎ Author's Note : This is a work commissioned by the lovely @punkgibsons !! If you're interested in commissioning me as well, here's my sheet!

Eustass Kid has a plethora of issues, that much is obvious even to those who only know him by name and face on his wanted poster. His reputation precedes him, always did – Once as the violent rookie with a trigger temper and sharp tongue who carried the biggest bounty between the supernovas, leaving a bloody trail of civilian deaths in his wake. Then as one of the pirates who defeated an emperor of the sea during the raid on Onigashima, either way, Eustass Kid has always been known for being bad news. Some would argue that he put the ‘worst’ in worst generation.

But out of all the issues Kid has going on, the most obvious has to be his possessiveness. Eustass has a nasty jealous streak over his things and over his people. Much like a kid who had never been taught to and therefore hates the concept of having to share – what's mine is mine, what's yours is yours. Kid doesn't see the problem in being a little cautious, especially over his girlfriend, Vera. Men out there are nasty, he knows it better than anyone, is it really that much of a crime to not want some slimy pig to get all touchy with his girl? No, no he doesn't think so.

And Eustass makes his thoughts well known when his fingers dig sharply on the meat of Vera's arm in a steel grip as he drags her back to Victoria Punk grumbling and cursing under his breath. Vera's voice serves merely as background noise to the enraged man, complaints over the harshness of his touch and pleads to let her explain the situation fallen on deaf ears, those that were flushed a bright red at the tips – something that happened when Eustass got worked up, the flush only grew when pointed out as he got even more worked up with the addition of embarrassment. Vera kept her face covered with her free hand as they made their way back to Victoria, out of shame from the scene her boyfriend caused – the offenses being a destroyed vendor's stand and said vendor collapsed on the ground, cradling his bloodied face – and mouthed timid “I'm sorry's” to the townsfolk that caught her gaze.

Upon reaching the ship, Eustass threw the door of his quarters open with such force that the walls shook from the brutal blow. He was not at all softer to close it, either, the windows vibrated in protest when it was slammed shut. And Vera was pushed to stand in the middle of the room as Eustass leaned back against the door, arms crossed and nostrils flared, a grotesque scowl twisting his handsome features.

“Are ya fuckin’ stupid? Seriously, tell me– ‘cause you gotta be fuckin’ with me” Kid spat, his lips twisting in a snarl – it's a rethroical question, obviously. His clenched jaw and the bulging vein in his forehead indicate it very clearly. “Ain't no way you're that fuckin’ dumb!”

Vera alerts her gaze to a random point of the room, looking for anything interesting enough so she can focus her attention on – to escape from the oppressive weight of those burning irises. “... You got it all wrong,” Vera sighed, mentally chastising herself for sounding so meek. At least she found something to focus on, the scraps of metal Eustass has the nasty habit of leaving around at random, she gives him maybe until the end of the day before he trips on one of the piles. “The– The vendor was just being polite! And there was no need to break his stand or his nose! You overreac–”

“Am I, Vera? AM I?” Kid raised his voice, gesturing wildly at himself to further emphasize his questioning – smiling exasperatedly, running his hand through face and up to his hair, combing it back with his fingers. He was always so expressive, even more so when frustrated and angry, and in this case, jealous. “He was just being politeee-n!” Kid mockingly imitates the sound of Vera's voice, high pitched and grating in a poor attempt to recreate her soft tone, she scowls at the childish display. His mocking grin falls back in that enraged snarl, like the flip of a switch. “Yer always givin’ me that bullshit, no one ever flirts with ya– NOOO, ‘COURSE NOT! WHY WOULD THEY? I'm always overreacting! Right?!”

Vera huffs and rolls her eyes, stepping back to sit on their shared bed. Scowling up at the red haired man with her arms firmly crossed over her chest, she watched silently as he worked himself up over nothing. Childish, embarrassing, even. A whopping 6 foot and 9 inches worth of a whole – not quite, maybe ¾, disregarding the arm – grown ass man throwing a tantrum over petty jealousy.

“What?” He growled, face darkening and a dangerous glint shining in his eyes, menace hanging in the air “Why t’fuck are ya staring at me like that?”

Vera kept her mouth shut, crossing one leg over the other as her foot tapped impatiently against the floor, she looked at her empty wrist in a mocking imitation of how one would check their watch and then glanced back at the man, clear exasperation in her features. Are you done?

“Yer gonna be like that, huh?” Eustass clicks his tongue, kisses his teeth, a small huff leaving his mouth – expressive, noisy, overwhelming – the way he holds himself reflecting perfectly on all of his actions and general approach to life. The way his face momentarily falls into a mask of indifference was almost convincing, the calm before the storm, Vera knew him too well to think that he was done. “Fine, great. Fuckin’ awesome.”

Vera gave him the shoulders, looking straight at the wall, was she lowering herself to his level by offering the silent treatment? Maybe, was it just as childish? Yeah, definitely. But still, this was far from the first and definitely not even close to the last time Kid pulled a stunt like that. It was upsetting to have all of her interactions with strangers seen with malicious eyes – she was just friendly, what's so wrong with that?

Vera's thoughts were cut short when Kid took a large fistful of her dark curls, forcefully turning her head to face him again– and the first thing in her field of vision was his cock, thick and flushed pink, adorned by a ladder of golden piercings that followed the curve of his shaft, throbbing along with the fast beat of his heart.

“Y'Don't wanna talk to me? Fine,” he growled, a smug sneer tugging at his lips at Vera's immediate flustered reaction. He bucked his hips slightly, making the tip bump against the plush of her bottom lip, a small trail of precum left behind. “Talk to this cock, then”

Might as well, right?

Vera opened her mouth only partially, feeling cheeky. She didn't want to be too eager and comply with his demands right away, she was still angry at him, dammit! – even though the sight alone was enough to send a wave of pleasure running down her spine and made her momentarily forget what she was even mad about. Eustass was having none of it, sticking the rough pad of his thumb past her lips, he forced it open by pressing firmly against the roof of her mouth. Immediately sticking his cock inside the moment she gave him room for it.

“That's it, brat” Kid hissed, a mean smirk on his face as he used her throat as a free use sleeve. The little choked gargles and the enclosing warmth of her throat constricting around his dick made Kid suck his bottom lip between his teeth, “That's the best thing that pretty trap o’ ya's can do”

Eustass had an iron grip on Vera's head – fingers interlocked within the thick curls, he bullied his shaft into the wet cavern of her throat carelessly, his piercings making a soft clink! clink! Whenever they scraped over her teeth. His nostrils flare and a shuddered curse forces its way out of his throat when Vera hollows her cheeks and takes his shaft into her hand – jerking it once just to make his tip peek out from the foreskin, her tongue swiping over the slit to collect the pearls of precum forming on it. Kid's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuckkkk, I love that slutty mouth–” He groaned, tossing his head back at a particularly hard suckle on his tip, he had half a mind to pursue his lips before a whimper could come out. “Fuckin’ minx” He growled, taking his hand off her scalp to harshly pinch her nose – cutting of her air supply. Eustass slammed his dick into the back of her throat a few more times until fat tears formed on those pretty eyes and her hands went to grab his thighs, nails digging at his tensed muscles. With a devious smirk, Kid pushed her off his dick and into the bed with a hard shove to her forehead.

Gasping for air, Vera barely had time to reconnect with her surroundings before Kid was on her again. Pinning her body down and laying in between her legs, forcing them to spread wide open to accommodate the width of his waist – taking both her wrists into one hand, he trapped her hands in front of her body. Kid kissed her with the hunger of a man who haven't had a meal in months, licking into her mouth and tasting himself on her tongue, sucking and biting on her lips until they swelled and bruised, a thin line of spit connected their mouths when he pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers and growling darkly against her lips.

“Repel.”

Vera's thighs snapped open and she couldn't move her wrists– how?! She looked down, startled, blinking at the newfound metal restraints – a spreader bar digging into the supple skin of her thighs, with a chain connecting to the improvised handcuffs around her wrists, from the scraps on the floor, of course.

“Be a darlin’ and stay ‘ere,” Kid winked, delivering a swift spank to Vera's still clothed pussy. Laughing when her legs twitched against the restraints and whined, such a bully. “Not like ya’ can go anywhere else” He scoffed, giving her body one last, appreciative once over before tucking his dick back into his pants and exiting the room. Leaving her there in that vulnerable position.

It didn't take too long before Eustass came back with a familiar figure by his side, Killer. Vera couldn't help but flush bright red at being under the gaze of the two men – even though Killer was no stranger inside their bedroom, in fact, he was familiar to the point of not even being considered a simple guest anymore. The blonde smirked knowingly at her when he took notice of her flustered look.

“Is he being too hard on you, pretty girl?” Killer rasped on that low, rough tone of his. And Vera felt her bottoms getting more ruined by the second – the fabric damp with her dripping arousal.

“Too hard on ‘er my ass” Kid retorted, his lips drew back into a snarl. Nodding his chin at Vera's direction, they walked further into the room – Killer locking the door behind him as they came to stand over the bed, looming over Vera. “Sluts like ‘er aren't satisfied with just one man”

“That true, pretty?” Killer asked, a mean grin spreading over his face as he cocked his head down at her. Vera pouted, batting her eyelashes innocently at the blonde. “No, you're not a slut, pretty girl. I know you aren't–”

Killer's knee dipped on the mattress next to her head, cradling her neck softly as he sat down and eased her head to lay on his lap, teasingly close to the hardened bulge in his pants. Kid followed his lead, kneeling in between Vera's spread thighs – she gasped loudly as the redhead ripped at her bottoms, the thin fabric dangling in slashed pieces over her hips as her cunt was exposed, the candidly messy scenery of her spread legs and glistening core had Kid hungrily licking his lips at her.

“– But we know you love being fucked like one”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x oc #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid x oc #my stuff !!

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