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bakugoushotwife · 1 year

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inextricable (sasuke x reader)

a/n: just gonna dip my toes in the naruto water..see what we think. It's been so long since I watched Shipudden so if I get something wrong...no I didnt xoxo. this is definitely gonna need a second part, I wanna see if anyone likes it before I get too ahead of myself.

summary: Itachi spared two souls that night, his brother and the sister of the man he held most dear. No one can find the second Uchiha, no one can find out that there is a pureblood male and female still alive, ones that were born to be...inextricable.

pairings: sasuke x reader, maybe some naruto x reader if you squint

warnings: mentions of blood and death, angst!!! asshole Uchiha nonsense, dad mode Kakashi, reader is a bully lmfao, uhhhh long as shit

wc: 7840

next final

You were born to be best friends. At least, that’s what each of your parents had in mind. When Hae Uchiha told Mikoto that she was once again pregnant, the latter practically jumped for joy. She was a few months along with another boy, and she imagined your mother’s next child would make a perfect pal for her second born. Itachi and Shisui got along famously, the two borderline inseparable.

Mikoto extended her hand to cover Hae’s not-yet showing stomach. “How far along?” She asked with a warm smile on her lips.

Hae closed her eyes and returned the same embraceful grin. “Just a few months, she should be born soon after your boy!”

“She! How exciting, I’m sure Sasuke will protect her for her whole life! Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Y/N…I always dreamed of naming my daughter Y/N.”

Mikoto returns her hand to her own stomach, her bump showing through. “That’s beautiful, Sasuke and Y/N…yes, they’ll be another version of our Itachi and Shisui!”

Hae beamed, knowing that her daughter would have a forever ally.

Well, she had hoped, anyway.

Nonetheless, you and Sasuke never spoke. He went out of his way to stay out of your path and you did the same for him. Truth be told, there was a great reason. There was hurt, and anger, and most forcefully, the fear, and what you had to do to hide.

You had been friends, once. Just like your mothers had wanted, from birth, the two of you became inseparable. Where Shisui was a few years older than Itachi, feeling like an older brother to two now; Sasuke was only a few months your senior, making the two of you closer than even your own siblings.

Make no mistake, Shisui’s love for his younger sister was widely known and highly regarded. One might mistake you as his own daughter, if he wasn’t just nine years old. You were a much anticipated gift to the boy, he had been begging for a sibling for years. And his parents tried and tried to fulfill this wish, overjoyed when it came true. You truly were the pride of your branch, as hard as it may be to believe with Shisui’s reputation. Itachi was always kind, about six years older than you. Itachi would often babysit the two of you, being the perfectly responsible young man he was. Itachi was just happy to see Sasuke happy, and bonus points for you as well. He seemed oddly relieved that Sasuke had someone to grow attached to.

So you were, for about six years. You learned to walk together, he learned how to spell your name before he learned to spell his own, you refused to take naps without him. Once, Shisui and Itachi built little tricycles for the two of you, Sasuke’s purple and yours green. You rode those tricycles all over the village, laughing in the hot Konoha sun. You would traverse to the mountains and collect fruits to bring back for your mother to bake into sweet pastries. It was magical, it was perfect. Until that infamous night.

That fateful night, the night that tore apart mind and soul, body and spirit. You thought it couldn’t get any worse. A hole had been left behind when Shisui died, something irreparable and ever painful. You couldn’t call it a void, for it was too powerful. It was nearly two years ago now, your tiny body and soul already weighed down with his loss. It created a rift between you and Sasuke, too. Itachi was blamed for his death for a while, and it hurt even more to feel so alone. You felt like you were drowning and no one was there to pull you back up, no one to even notice you slipping away…

You had grown numb to the life that was without Shisui and Sasuke, you went to training and classes like you were supposed to. You did what you were told at home, your parents just as much a shell of themselves as you were. Everything that was colorvision faded to dull grays and empty blacks. Where you once saw beauty, you saw injustice. Where there was once love there was now ugly pain that had rooted, hatred growing in its place. Hatred for who? For Shisui, for dying? For Sasuke, for letting rumors pull you apart? For the forces of the universe that caused it all to begin with? You weren’t quite sure, maybe it was a mixture of all three.

When you came home that evening, it took you a moment to realize. The house had been quiet since Shisui passed, there was simply no joy without him. Yet still, you were used to the sound of your father’s footsteps shuffling through the kitchen, the clink of dishes. The sound of your mother turning pages in her book–everything was silent. Eerily so. A dread washed over you, familiar with the haunting ache. What was left of your heart sank in your stomach as you realize there was blood on the walls. Your breathing became rapid and shaky, you crept down the hall, hoping it was some cruel joke from the village or–or maybe it was paint!

There was no humor in what laid before you that night. Your parents lay slumped over, almost like they were sleeping. Kagami laid propped up against the wall, seated perfectly on the floor with his head tucked into his chest. Your mother’s head lay in his lap, her torso twisted at an awkward angle, legs sprawled.

Tears cloud your vision immediately. You could feel your knees wobble and buckle, seemingly too heavy for yourself all of a sudden. You fell forward, hands and knees catching you and making a sickening squelch. You realize the stickiness soaking into your skirt was blood, the dark red blood of your parents. You scream. It’s more of a wail, your entire body wracked with emotion so strong, your eyes begin to burn. It hurts, it gives you a headache, and when you force your eyes open again, the world looks different. It felt…slower. You can see a glistening trail of what you can identify as chakra, it glows all over the house, coming in through a window and leaving through the front door. This had happened before, when Shisui died. Your sharingan was activated for the first time. This was different, it felt like a new level. You pull yourself up, running at the door. You throw it open and run into the street, tracking the chakra house to house where you only find more slumped over bodies. The entire clan, everyone…they’re gone. They’ve been slaughtered, every last one. You can’t bear it when the chakra trail leads you down Sasuke’s path, knowing you would find the last of your home in there. You never got to make amends, never got to reunite. Sasuke would be dead, just like everyone else you ever cared for.

You’re stopped in your tracks when you see a figure in the street, you notice glowing red eyes, the pattern so familiar you couldn’t help but gasp. “I-itachi?” Your chin wobbled, the tears coming back as you ran closer, relieved to find someone alive, someone you know.

“Back away, child.” His voice thundered, it chilled you to the bone. He had never spoken to you like that.

“Itachi, it’s m-me! Y/N, you know me! I-I’m scared Itachi!” You plead with him, the new vision of yours highlighting the blood on his clothes the closer you got to him.

“The second tomoe..” He revered, a nod of approval following, just as quick as it came, the familiarity left. He was icy again when he spoke, “You should be scared. You’ve realized what I’m capable of.”

You fall back, astonished. This couldn’t have been, no, you refuse to believe such a thing. Itachi wasn’t…capable of this? He looked as if he was going to speak again, but another figure moving rapidly towards you grabbed his attention. It was Sasuke, alive after all.

“I don’t believe it!” Sasuke said, tears streamed down his face, “This is too unlike you, Big Brother. I mean…” He looked around wildly, finding solace in your presence, relief. You couldn’t help the tears, the same relief he had coursing through your own mind. Itachi had spared you both, but why?

“You have the potential to become my opponent.” He directed his voice to his younger brother, ignoring you completely for the time being. “You are someone who could be able to use Mangekyo Sharingan just like me…” The wind blew ceremoniously, whipping up leaves from the ground and sacrificing them to the sky, to the full moon that was the only light to go by. “However, on one condition…that you must kill your closest friend..Just like I did.” His gaze flickers to you then, making Sasuke’s eyes widen.

Sasuke gasps, as do you. Itachi really did kill Shisui. He has now killed your entire family. Your brother, his best friend, died senselessly to the little brother he never had. You were wrecked, this realization makes your head spin, the boy you’ve known since birth…Itachi Uchiha was a cold blooded killer, and your life was forever destroyed because of him.

“That was…your doing?” Sasuke’s brows knit together in shock and confusion. “Big Brother, you…killed Shisui?”

“That’s right…and because of that I obtained these eyes.” Itachi replied stone-faced. As if you needed the confirmation, but hearing the words from his very mouth absolutely ruined whatever remained of your soul. You felt your eyes burn once again, the vision skewing, leaving you momentarily blind before you blinked and everything was clear again. It was clearer than before, you could sense the movements of two brothers before they did them, this shouldn’t be possible. You had just awoken your second tomoe minutes earlier, had you already gained the third through this extreme emotional distress? There was rigorous training involved to level up your eyes, you could feel the drain it put on your body as it began to sway in the wind, feeling light. You couldn’t hold on much longer, you knew that, but you were in danger…and so was Sasuke, you had to fight for consciousness.

“If you attain these eyes, you will become the third person including myself to utilize the Mangekyo Sharingan. However,” He turns abruptly, startling you both. “Neither of you are worth killing. And one day, Sasuke, when you have the same eyes I do…come and stand before me!” Itachi challenges, his eyes swirling into his familiar triangular pattern.

“And you…” Itachi says, beckoning you forward with the point of his finger. “Come here, child.” He says, issuing an order. Sasuke makes a strangled struggling noise before he falls to the ground, the emotional distress leveling his eyes too fast as well. He was in a genjutsu, you realize, by the sounds he was making on the ground, crying out in agony.

“Let him out of that! I’ll go with you, I won’t fight. Let him out.” You plead, not in the position to make any demands yourself. Even fighting wouldn’t get you out of this, Itachi was far too powerful, you could never hope to escape.

Itachi chuckled dryly and shook his head. “No. He needs this. He will foster hatred and turn it into immense power. You…you have to be hidden.” He says, his voice in a dream-like state. He was thinking deeply, wondering what he should reveal to you. Enough to keep you alive, and nothing more. “You will stay away from Sasuke…until it’s time. No one can know your identity. It’s imperative you understand this, child.” He says, and if you didn’t know any better you would think he was panicked. Itachi kept calling you that, child, as if he were not. He was only 14, but he clearly felt much older.

You were confused, but didn’t even know where to start asking him questions. He didn’t wait for a response, just sweeping you up in his arms and jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he was in the trees with you, Sasuke long abandoned on the outskirts of the village. Itachi was taking you somewhere, apparently to be hidden. “Itachi-san–please, I’m scared, I don’t understand!”

“You need to be scared! You have to understand. Force yourself to. They can’t know that I left you alive, they know Sasuke will live…they can’t know that you do as well…it would be most troublesome…” Itachi explains without explaining a single thing. Who are “they”, and what involvement do they have in this? “A male and a female Uchiha could save the clan, they will not let that happen. I owe this to Shisui.” Itachi says quietly, dropping down in front of someone’s door.

A man opens the door before Itachi can make a single noise. He was waiting for Itachi, you realize.

“Here she is.. Train her to be strong, stronger than you. Keep them apart, keep them safe.” Itachi pleads, or as close to it as he can get. He sets you down, letting you see your new caretaker for the first time.

“I understand, Itachi. It’s best if you get a move on, they’ll be on your scent soon.” The taller man says, the cover of the night obscuring your vision of him.

Itachi nods, taking one last look at you with a trace of pain in his eyes. You look down at your feet, not sure what to make of the situation, everything happened so fast. “Thank you, Captain.” Itachi says with a curt nod before disappearing into a puff of smoke.

It was silent. The wind blew again, whipping your hair into your face and pushing the clouds across the moon like it was a normal night. You begin to cry, everything so overwhelming you couldn’t help but do anything else. You’ve lost everything. Your family is dead, every single one. You, the sole survivor, have been placed with a stranger by the very man that murdered everyone you love. The last person alive that you care for is trapped in a genjutsu, lying on the pavement outside the house of his murdered family.

The man crouched down to be on your level. He looked young, but you couldn’t really tell. His face was mostly covered, his shinobi headband covering his left eye and a black mask pulled over the lower half of his face. The most notable thing about him was his tall and spiky gray hair. His one brown eye looked at you sadly, and at once you knew he understood. You felt more at ease nearly immediately. You were still wary, after all he seemingly knew what was going on and had worked with Itachi. But the look in his eye and the expressive way he puts his hands on either arm of yours makes you feel safer. He knew sadness too, you recognized it in him.

“Hello, little one. I know this has been…a horrible night, to understate…but you’re strong. You’re safe now, I’m Kakashi, and I’ll make sure of that.” He nodded determinedly, searching your expression for your next move. He frowns under his mask as you cry, unsure of how to console a young girl at his age of twenty two years.

“What’s wrong with your face?” You ask, sniffling out your sentences and wiping viciously at your eyes. Your mind was all over the place, you didn’t want to think of this night anymore but the only other thing you could ponder was why the man in front of you dressed like that.

He chuckled earnestly. “Oh!” He pushed his headband up to reveal a long scar running lengthwise over his eye and down his cheek to where the mask starts, but most strikingly a sharingan sat in the eye he kept covered. The sharingan consumes a massive amount of chakra for non-Uchiha wielders, so you gather that the eye was given or stolen almost immediately.

“That’s partially why he left you with me. I can help with some of your training. You’re in luck, little one. The Hokage has just released me to be a jonin Sensei. So you’ll get first class training living with me. I…I know I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or hell..even understand what you’re going through.” Kakashi slipped his mask down just for you in this moment, wanting to earn the trust of his new foster child. “I will protect you and make you strong, smart, and ready for this world. It’s you and me now. I set up a room for you..” he adds rather sheepishly, sliding his mask back up after a nervous smile. “We can..make changes to it as time goes on, I wasn’t sure what would best be suitable for a girl of your age.”

You blink at him,eyes still bleary from leftover tears. You wipe at your eyes, your own sharingan taking in his full appearance and making a mental note. His half-baked motivational speech was partly moving, and you could tell he was genuine in this. You tilt your head to the side to analyze him further. He was young, taking on a six year old at his age was surely difficult. He was nervous, you could see that much, but his chakra was powerful and in a way, calming.

“What about Sasuke?” You managed as he opened the door to his place.

Kakashi sighs. “He will be taken care of, don’t worry. We have to keep you separate for now, it’s for the best. When you start school it may be different. Do you remember what Itachi said?” He asks, partly wondering what all the boy even told you.

You nod. “He said they can’t know he left me alive. I don’t know who they are though.” You say, feeling everything all the time all at once. Pain, numbness, sadness, fear, nervousness and wonder. Your eyes were wide and your sharingan kept glowing, a red beacon in the dark night. You looked inside the home, small and neat. It looked like…a real place, which surprised you for some reason. With the night’s events it was becoming difficult to predict what would happen next, in your mind he was going to open the door to a slaughterhouse or some medical lab for testing. You were relieved to see it was a completely normal apartment. The young man led you to a decently sized bedroom right across the hall from the bathroom. It was decorated haphazardly, pink cherry blossom wallpaper was slapped on the wall, a little bed covered up with pink blankets sat in the middle of the room. There was even a closet outfitted with a few changes of clothes, luckily regularly colored. It was a nice effort, you recognized. It was natural for any young man to assume a six year old girl would love pink. Your favorite was green. It reminded you of rolling down hills and the bushes you would pluck fruit from, the trees the sun peeked over, the tricycle your brother built…and Sasuke’s was purple.

“I hate pink.” You say solemnly, feeling bad almost immediately, he had tried to think of your comfort and here you were, being rude. “B-but it looks nice! Thank you…” You looked to him a bit confused on how you should address him.

“Kakashi, that’s fine for now.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously, feeling a bit embarrassed for giving you a stereotypical girl room. It was clear that there was nothing to be assumed about you. “What color do you prefer, in that case? I can work on a replacement tomorrow.” Kakashi offered with a closed-eyed smile.

“Purple.”

Kakashi followed through on his promise. The next time you went into your room, the walls were painted a deep plum, the covers that decorate your bed were as purple as the evening sky after the sun had left, and on a table you noticed a few more trinkets and accessories. There were hair ties and clips, little earrings and a purple headband. He heard the word purple and ran with it. Kakashi wasn’t sure why he displayed all this effort, well he had an idea.

He had knocked against your open door, just to alert you to his standing there. You still looked so sad. It had only been a day after all. At least you had stopped crying, he would happily take the progress. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “I hope some of those things make you feel a little more at home, Kurenai helped me pick them out…” He mentioned, once again, scratching at the back of his head nervously.That was his nervous tick, you noted.

“Thank you, they’re pretty..” You say with a small smile, reaching for the headband and slipping it over the long black locks signature of your clan, luckily it was also a common characteristic of the citizens of the Stone village. That’s the story, anyway. Kakashi found you on a mission while in Iwagakure. You were newly orphaned, and had no one else to take you in. Which, now that you think about it, isn’t much of a lie at all. You were new to the Leaf village, and Kakashi was your young and kind foster father. It gave him a reason to change, and he didn’t know if he liked that yet; he did know that he wanted you to grow into a powerful kunoichi, and he had no doubt you could accomplish that.

He cleared his throat. “You know, Y/N…I..” He hesitated, wondering if it was worth mentioning at this moment. He sighed out and continued. “I lost my father when I was six, as well. I don’t pretend to know everything you feel, but I do understand some of your pain. You can talk to me, when or if you ever want to. I’ll listen.”

You look to your feet, the tears pooling in your eyes again. His kindness was overwhelming at times, you hadn’t expected him to be so warm. He just retired from the Anbu after all, and you were old enough to know what that meant. You nod your head after a minute, picking up a purple fuzzy stress ball. You squeeze down, finding it helps temporarily.

“Mhm, I will..thank you for being here.” You mutter out after a few beats.

“A-Alright. We’ll go out for dinner around 7. I’ll come get you.” Kakashi hummed pleasantly, touched by your gratefulness.

You were thankful that you wound up with someone like Kakashi. Last you’d heard, Sasuke was set up in a nice apartment, well taken care of and monitored by Lord Third himself. But he was alone, and that worried you. He was sure to become a cold shadow of the former joyous boy he had been, just as you are. But even you had another person around, someone to at least distract you from the constant pain. Sasuke didn’t have that, he didn’t even know if you were alive. The last thing he saw was his older brother sweeping you up and leaving with you.

The purple made you feel better. It helped you feel just a little closer to where he was. You hoped he would make friends with the kids in his building, if there was any. You hoped he could power through and find happiness in the little things. Would he try to remember you? Find you, even? Your heart ached, you physically covered it with your hand and winced.

You decided you hate Itachi. That you would do everything and anything it took to get to him and kill him. You came from a powerful line of the clan too, Shisui was a prodigy and the youngest to ever awaken his sharingan before you did it at four from his death. You committed, promised yourself in Kakashi’s apartment that you would train until your eyes bled, you would master genjutsu just as Shisui had, you would master chakra control. You would learn everything Shisui had mastered, and you would kill Itachi the same way he had killed your brother.

Little did you know that Sasuke had made himself the same promise. He would avenge his family, your brother in your honor, he would become a worthy opponent and he would use Mangekyo to kill the man that had caused all this pain.

He was beyond lonely, there was no word to describe the hell he was living. He relived his parents’ death again and again, trapped in a genjutsu by his older brother. But the nightmare was reality. He had no one, everything was destroyed. The only person left was missing at best, dead at the worst. Even once he was released from the genjutsu’s chakra control, the only thing burned into his eyelids was the scene of his parents' slaughter. The only thing he can hear is the sound of your tears as Itachi admits to killing your brother, it’s miserable.

Why did Itachi spare them both, did he really just want to fight? Well, Sasuke could give him that. He couldn’t wait to start the academy, to refine his talents and find a rival and friend that could fulfill his needs for the Mangekyo Sharingan his brother wants him to have so badly. There wasn’t a reality that existed where he would kill you for it, as his brother insinuated. He was sure that his new friends would suffice, when the time came.

Kakashi had arranged for him to proctor your bypass exam the following year. The rules for the Academy aren’t concrete, and you were a prodigy after all. Kakashi stressed your physical prowess and shadow clone jutsu to get you through the Academy in just one year, passing your genin exam easily.

Over time, your numbness had resided. You found yourself motivated by revenge and desire for rebuilding what was taken from you. Kakashi was a friend and mentor, and he helped you train your eyes and genjutsu regularly. He had to, as you weren’t allowed to display this power outside of the training grounds with no one else around. You had to train harder over the next few years, both your sharingan abilities and those you would use to cover your identity.

Kakashi and yourself had landed on a plant style jutsu, where you could summon different plants, both poisonous and strangling variations. It reminded many of Hashirama Senju’s wood style jutsu. Your chakra control was impressive, and your inclination toward medical nin was just another tool in your arsenal. You owe most of this to your mentor, who, so far, has followed through on his promise to make you as strong as he can.

He was impressed by you, a prodigy indeed. It was no surprise you were Shisui’s younger sister. He wondered how you could have absorbed so much from him since he passed when you were so young, now a girl of twelve. He can’t believe he’s had you in his charge for six years now, and how you’ve grown in that time. He cared for you like his own child, even though he was not much older than a kid himself when he decided to take you in.

It was hard work, especially now. He had been assigned as Sasuke’s sensei, along with two other promising shinobi. He was splitting most of his time between his new team and the child he’s been training for years. He found it hard to hand you over to Kurenai, even though the woman was somewhat familiar with your delicate case. She didn’t know your true identity, as Kakashi would never risk that knowledge to anyone, but she had helped Kakashi with the more delicate matters of your girlhood your entire life. He had kept you in his own training since you graduated the academy, it was time for you to join a team and attempt the chunin exams. He knows you’ll pass easily, so why is it that he’s so nervous?

Because he knows the days of keeping you and Sasuke apart are over. He knew he wouldn’t be able to prevent it forever, but he wasn’t ready for you to revisit that time in your mind. He didn’t wan your hard work to crumble once you faced your old friend again, under the guise of an adopted Hatake. Would Sasuke call you out immediately? He hadn’t been given the same warnings to stay away, as far as Kakashi knew. The boy was angry, and he was boiling over with immense talent. He had been working with the boy on chidori and other sharingan practices that he had once done with you. Kakashi knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent Sasuke from seeking revenge, and it bothered him…deep down inside he knew you were the same way, your anger tamed to your own mind. You were quiet all the time, your chakra a lime green–just a few shades lighter than your brothers. He could feel your emotions and recklessness bubble inside you. It was just a matter of time, but the seasoned shinobi worried what would come of the girl once she was faced with the Lone Uchiha, and what would come of him when he saw her.

You were first. The beginning match was you against a girl named TenTen. You thought she looked silly. Ridiculous, almost. Her speciality was weapons, you heard her talking about it as all the chunin hopefuls piled into the colosseum type building. As far as you could tell, she had no special control of chakra or any impressive jutsu. This would be over quickly.

The two of you stepped forward, the sound of your first name making Sasuke’s heart stop. He looked over at the scene, brows knitting together in confusion. His teammates, Naruto and Sakura started whispering about the match. But they truly don’t know how to whisper, Sasuke tuning into their every word. Y/N? Hatake…? It looked like you, at least close to what he could remember. But you were definitely an Uchiha, and surely he would have known if you were living in the village this whole time?

“Kakashi Sensei’s daughter?” Naruto asked with a sense of disbelief. “I didn’t know Kakashi Sensei had a family!” He adds.

Sakura slaps him lightly on the arm. “He rescued her from the Stone! She was six when her parents died and the villagers were just too busy to take care of her, that’s what I heard.”

Sasuke arched his brow in curiosity. Kakashi really hadn’t mentioned you, and the way you walked around the battle ring piqued his interest. You were confident, cocky even. You let TenTen throw a few exploding kunai at you, easily outjumping them. You weren’t using sharingan, he noted, but there was no mistaking that smirk. That truly hadn’t changed a bit, your features easily identifiable to him. It seems like Kakashi attempted bleaching your hair at one point, but it had grown out now. You had dark black roots, your eyes big and dark brown. It was you, there was no argument to be made otherwise. You chuckled at TenTen, making her scrunch her nose up in anger. She charged at you with another kunai. You grasped her wrist, quickly turning it and making her drop the weapon, kicking her hard in the stomach, sending her flying through the air.

The crowd gasped, knowing the other girl would be seriously hurt if she landed on the hard ground from that height, the power of your chakra control something to be feared. You closed your eyes and weaved a hand sign. Out of nowhere, a giant lilypad caught TenTen, keeping her from serious harm. As the crowd sighed with relief, everyone watched more vines burst free from the ground, tying the opponent to the lilypad without any fuss.

Needless to say, you won the match effortlessly. Kakashi took a deep breath of relief, wandering over to his own team of hopefuls.

Sasuke stared at you, watching you help TenTen out of the plant trap once the winner was announced. He didn’t even notice Kakashi coming up behind them.

“Certainly an exciting first match!” Their sensei said with delight, as if he didn’t know anything about you and was just as surprised as everyone else.

Naruto nodded with widened eyes before remembering that Kakashi hadn’t mentioned being a father. “Hey, Kakashi Sensei, how come you didn’t tell us you adopted that girl?”

Sasuke tore his studying gaze away from you to hear the answer to this.

Kakashi shrugged. “It never came up, of course. My job is to train you as shinobi, not teach you my life story.” He replied coolly, as if they were unreasonable for wondering.

Sasuke narrowed his gaze at Kakashi, identifying that there was more to the story. There was something he was missing, why would they change your name and try to hide your hair? Why would Kakashi be involved? He needs to find you and ask you himself, because he clearly wasn’t getting anywhere with his sensei.

But how could he be certain you would talk to him? The last memory you share is his brother basically saying he kept you alive so that he could kill you later. Maybe you were trying to distance yourself from him specifically. Maybe you didn’t know he was here just as much as he didn’t know you were. It was his turn to fight next, but he planned to track you down after the battle was quickly won. You beat TenTen in 18 seconds, his goal was to beat that time. Then he would just have to make you understand that he wasn’t a threat to you.

He beat your time by six seconds, dismantling Choji Akimichi in 12. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, he was very good. Just as you hoped. It would always hurt to stay apart, you realized then. He surely recognized you from your fight, so now you had to work to keep him away. Just as the battle was wrapping up, you pushed through the crowds, getting stopped by some of the girls your age. You had briefly talked to some of them, but you didn’t care to now. You had to get away, distance yourself. He would surely come looking for you.

“Y/N-chan! Who do you think the hottest boy here is?” Ino asks, a beautiful blond girl with a ditsy grin.

You roll your eyes at the question. “Really, that’s what you’re worried about right now?” You ask, confused by her priorities. You turn your head, noticing people parting a little down the way, knowing what that means you turn back to the girl.

Ino giggles and nods. “I’m a great multi-tasker! I know all the girls are dying to get closer to Sasuke Uchiha!” She purrs, cheeks turning red at the mention of his name.

You sigh, with forced disgust you groan. “I for one don’t want to be anywhere near Sasuke Uchiha.” You say, folding your arms and walking onwards, hoping the digging comment would keep Sasuke at arms length.

You should know better than to think yourself lucky. You feel a weight on your shoulder, keeping you from getting away.

“Why would you say that?” He asked, voice on the quiet side as he stared at your back. Your hair was wavier than it was when you were younger, or maybe it was just because it was so long.

You scoff. “I don’t owe you anything.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Y/N Hatake?” He practically hisses at you. “I think you owe it to me to explain why you’re not using your sharingan.”

You turn and clap your hand down over his mouth. Your eyes are wide with a frenzied type of fear, searching around to make sure no one heard him. “Don’t say that. You don’t understand.”

He pushed you off him easily, looking at you with a mix of frustration and confusion. “No I don’t understand because no one tells me anything! I didn’t even know you were in the village!” He says angrily.

You bite the inside of your lip, debating your options. Maybe it would be easier to explain it all, maybe if he could understand why this was happening he could play his role and you could both stay safe. You know that would help put Kakashi at ease.

“Come with me.” You order pointedly, walking out of the building with the knowledge that you had at least twenty minutes until your next battle. You keep walking, far away from the building or any people.

Sasuke follows you into the treeline, mind racing. He didn’t know what to expect. He eyes you with his sharingan, noticing your abundance of chakra and power. He blinks his doujutsu away.

“Now.” He orders expectantly, folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know why…” You admit with a shrug, thinking back to what Itachi said that night, both about Mangekyo and how important it is to keep away from Sasuke. “But when Itachi took me away, he said ‘they’ couldn’t know that he spared me, that it was dangerous to have a male and a female. He said it was imperative for us to stay away from each other, “until it is time.” I’m not sure what that means, really. But Kakashi agrees…there’s more to this that I don’t even know.” You explain cautiously, your eyes trained on the boy in front of you. He hadn’t changed much, except for the most striking thing. His features were haunted by grief, the once happy and smiling eyes turned cold and empty. You wonder if he thinks the same of you.

“I would never hurt you.” He says simply, a hint of annoyance laced through it.

You blink at him a few times, unsure of how to respond. “I’m not scared of you.” You clarify for him, looking at a spot on the ground. “I’m scared of the ‘they’ Itachi was worried about.”

He considers this, looking at the same spot on the ground that you are, as if there were hidden answers stored there. “So that’s why Kakashi Sensei never mentioned you, then. He doesn’t want me around you.” He determines, the annoyance gone and replaced with a hint of sorrow.

“It’s not a personal grudge, he knows how hard it’s been on me…” You defend softly, the corners of your lips dropping. “Until we know who I’m hiding from, I have to stay under cover like this. I’m sorry..”

His body tensed with anger, you could tell he was close to snapping. “I want revenge, I swear I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him for what he did to me, what he did to you!” He announces, eyes teeming with tears of anger. “We can get revenge together, we can find and destroy those that caused this, and you can live as an Uchiha, like you’re supposed to! You can’t be a kunoichi without your sharingan!”

You sympathize with his pain, after all, you feel the same way. His offer of revenge sounds nice, so you nod. “When the day comes where we are ready to seek revenge, I’ll accompany you.” You say, envisioning the two of you as jounin, ready to track Itachi down.

He smiles when he hears this. “Until then.” He says, taking another look at you. If he wasn’t so damned angry, his heart would be relieved to see your familiar face, just a few years older. You were utterly unchanged, even the grief written into your face seemed to disappear when you smiled. He would keep his distance like you requested, until it was time to enact revenge.

You wait for Sasuke to disappear back into the treeline before you begin to walk back to the arena. It would be your turn soon, and you intend to impress–without your sharingan–just to prove how powerful you really can be.

By the end of your second match against Sakura, the crowd of other expecting chunin whispered amongst themselves. It really wasn’t her fault, she was like the others. She was completely unfocused on being strong, only desiring to look desirable. It’s a shame, you hoped she would change after this. Your Venus Flytrap jutsu was too much against any opponent, she was just its latest victim. Your giant flower sprouts from the ground and grabs the unsuspecting opponent in its teeth, releasing venom on your command. You wouldn’t take it that far unless you wished to kill. You make a few hand signs, “Release!” You call, letting Sakura tumble from the mouth of your monstrous flytrap.

Still the crowd spoke of your victories, all quick and painless. You were surely impressive, and it was no wonder you graduated to genin in a year, just like your adoptive father. “You can tell she’s trained by Kakashi Sensei.” Someone said as you walked past, shaking their head in wonder.

“She’ll be another heartless Anbu member in no time, just like her dad.” Someone else declared, linking your emotionless victories back to Kakashi’s vicious streak. You wanted to lash out in his defense, but maybe it’s better if they thought that of you. It’s good for them to compare you, as if you were related the whole time. It kept them from thinking anything was off, so you’d take it for now.

Sasuke was thoroughly impressed with your abilities, though he’d likely never say so aloud. Naruto was also occupying his mind as his rival was also the other popular subject amongst his classmates. Naruto won all of his battles that day, all his classmates plus the mysterious Y/N Hatake made it to chunin.

Things only spiraled from that day. Kakashi relaxed a little when you told him that Sasuke understood why you needed to keep your distance. He didn’t mind for his team to interact with you as much now, but Sasuke did.

He hated being close to you while not being able to be close to you. That annoying Naruto was quickly becoming a close friend to you, leaving Sakura to obsess over him. Needless to say he hated everything about that arrangement. He didn’t want Naruto near you in the slightest, and he hated pathetic girls like Sakura. He hated everyone, no one seemed to understand. He was training for a real goal, meanwhile the others just wanted to be cool. He wanted more, he needed more. He would never relinquish this goal. He would never admit that Naruto was stronger than him, even if it meant he had to leave to become stronger.

You told him that you would go with him, right? That when the day came, when he was ready to seek revenge, you would go with him. That’s what you said. So Sasuke was loud about his plans, he didn’t care to put Naruto down when he tried to stop him from leaving that day.

Even when Kakashi explained to him that revenge was not all he thinks it is, he was undeterred. The emotions swirling inside him, the life that was stolen away…he had to get that back. And if Kakashi wouldn’t help him do it, then he would find someone who will.

Sakura tried to stop him too, right on the edge of the village. The two of you sprinted there when you heard, Sakura a mess of tears, you a mess of nerves and emotion.

You watched with your mouth agape as Sakura begged him not to go, only met with fierce rebuttals and disapproval from the Lone Uchiha. She even offered to go with him, which evoked a warped laugh from the dark haired boy.

He was different. Completely consumed by his grief and desire for justice. He wasn’t thinking properly, and your heart dropped when you saw several shinobi from a different village drop from the trees. They’re here as escorts?

“Sasuke!” You shout in disappointment. “You’ll make yourself an enemy of the Leaf, just settle down and think about this for a minute, please!” You step forward, past Sakura and her unyielding tears.

He chuckled with mirth. “This is all I can think about, Y/N. I refuse to let Sakura join me on this, she’ll just ruin her name.” He groaned, appearing behind the girl and knocking her out in a swift motion, laying her body on a bench. You eye him in disbelief. He was serious about this. You didn’t doubt your ability to stop him by force, excepting the three or four sound village ninja that would surely interfere.

He looks at you with a crazed glint in his eyes. He holds out his hand to you. “Are you ready to go?”

You look from his hand and then back to him, shaking your head in shock. It’s that curse mark, you think to yourself. This isn’t him, he just needs to see that. “Sasuke, you’re being controlled. You’re not thinking clearly.”

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Oh on the contrary, dear Y/N. I’m thinking clearly for the first time!” He protests, staring at you with disgust. “You told me you wanted revenge too, you told me you’d join me!”

“I thought you meant when we were finished training! As Jounin! I didn’t think you meant defecting!” You defend yourself, thinking of Naruto’s heartbreak once he discovered that he wasn’t able to keep Sasuke.

“Pathetic.” Sasuke hissed, shaking his head at you. “You’re weak. That’s why you can’t bring yourself to leave. You know you can’t take revenge, I wouldn’t want you weighing me down anyway.” He spat, his words cut like a knife.

“Please don’t do this. They’ll send people after you! You can’t do this by yourself..” You plead desperately, hoping against all hope that you could get to the friend you once held so dearly.

“Watch me.” He says, casting one last disappointed glare over his shoulder before walking to the shinobi waiting to guide him away.

You watch him leave, the figures disappearing into the trees without a trace. You didn’t even notice the tears begin to roll down your face, nor did you hear Naruto and Kakashi land on either side of your body.

“Wh-what just happened, Y/N-chan?” Naruto asked innocently, trying to delude himself against the truth before he even heard it.

“Sasuke left the Leaf.” You reply, eyes fixated on the spot he last occupied in front of you. He was bound to be tracked down or hurt by someone dangerous before he could come to his senses. Had you upset him so badly that he would speak of your secret? Kakashi seems to know what you’re thinking as you make eye contact. You knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, the curse…you can get him, bring him back and have the mark removed.

“I can catch him if I go now..”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

tags: @cullenswife @sixxze @anele-anomis @cigarettesandicedcoffee @jheneaikosbae

#naruto x reader #anime #sasuke smut #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #send requests

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 7 months

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You look lonely… (Miguel O’Hara x Spider! Fem! Reader) Drabble

This is based off that one part of Bladerunner 2049. I saw a tiktok user use an ai voice thingy to make Miguel say it any I instantly thought of this. Not proofread. Also cried writing this lmao.

Alternative universe reader, antsy, reader mourning, vague implications of reader being depressed and wishes she was dead (??? idk if that’s the best way to describe it) ,Reader’s version of Miguel is dead, mentions of throw up, mentions of animal dissection (it’s one line about it, it’s the whole dissecting frogs in science class thing), no use of (Y/N).

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

—

Your arms were beginning to grow sore, your vision continued to blurry and refocus underneath your mask, and your chest started to burn from the cold winter air. But you didn’t stop swinging. If you stopped swinging then you’d start to think, and you didn’t wanna think, not today.

It’s been a year since Miguel died. It’s been a year since you’ve started to lose purpose without his existence. He was… everything to you. The reason for your smiles and laughter, the reason you had hope for the world despite your first-hand experience seeing how evil mankind can be. He was the moon against your night sky. A beacon of light to follow during a time where you are shrouded in darkness and uncertainty.

You both met in high school during freshman year science class, when you were 14 and he was 15 You never really paid much mind to him at first. He was quiet, and somewhat shy, always sat at the front, he’d wear a pair of thick rim glasses and always had on crew neck sweaters. He was skinny but he wasn’t thin, he was quite lean from the looks of it, catching a small glimpse of his forearm once and a while when his sleeves would slide down a bit as he’d raise his arm to ask a question or answer one.

Your first real interaction together though was when your class was doing a unit on anatomy, and your class had to dissect frogs. You were partnered with Miguel, and everything was going well, until your stomach couldn’t handle it and you accidentally threw up on his lap. How he didn’t completely hate your guts after was a complete and utter miracle. He was so understanding about it, and assured you that he didn’t even like the jeans he was wearing that day and he was planning on tossing them anyways as you both made your way to the nurse’s office, you blabbing apologizes in between hiccups and sobs.

Since then you two became inseparable, late night movie marathons, “study” sessions where you’d end up talking about anything and everything other than your homework, him teaching you how to drive after he got his license in his old beat up Toyota Camry. When you first found out you had superpowers, he was listening to you ramble over the phone despite it being 2 am on a school night, helping you design and develop your web shooters and your costume, helping patch you up after particularly bad fights, always leaving his bedroom window unlocked for you just in case. He was your rock, unmoving against the constant waves of chaos your life had thrown at you. You could always count on him. It was you both against the word for the next 9 years after that fateful incident in freshman year.

Until a year ago today.

You wish you could go back in time, and stop him from following you as you made your way to time square. Tell him that if he followed you, he’d die and you can’t have that because without him, life felt so empty and devoid of happiness. Save him from the broken metal scrap that became lodged in his stomach that doc ock had thrown in your direction and you had dodged, not seeing him running towards you from behind. You wish you had more time to kiss him goodbye before death’s unforgiving hands took him from you. You wish death had taken you instead. It should have been you. It was supposed to be you.

It should have been you. It should have been anyone else. Anyone else but him. It shouldn’t have been him.

You couldn’t swing anymore. It started to hurt and you had to make sure you had enough web fluid to make it home. So despite your brain’s best efforts, you finally stopped swinging, landing and scaling the tallest building you were closest to before collapsing onto your back, and taking your mask off to properly catch your breath. You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of New York rather than the way your heart ached as you absentmindedly played with Miguel’s ring that you had on a chain around your neck. You were able to calm yourself down enough that you began to doze off, almost falling asleep until your spidey senses began to go off and you heard a weird nose behind you. You quickly got up and turned around, placing the necklace back into your suit just in time to see another Spider-person in blue and red suit walking through some weird portal. He was massive, it was honestly intimidating, you’ve faced larger men, but something about him was different… you couldn’t put your finger on it though.

You didn’t say anything as the thing he came through closed behind him and he stepped closer to you. Despite the mask on his face you could feel him staring into your soul, as if he was studying you.

“¿Que día… hmm?” he spoke in a soft tone, although the question felt rhetorical, you felt yourself nodding anyways, knowing what he said because you had picked up some Spanish from Mig. You didn’t get a catch to reply properly as he kept making his way towards you. (What a day…)

“You look lonely…” He stopped just out of arm’s reach.

“I can fix that.” Something about the way he said it made your stomach both twisted nervousness and erupted with butterflies, an odd warmth seeping into your chest and into your heart that you had thought had stopped beating long ago. Something about him seemed so… familiar…

“You look like a good spider…” The words feel like they should be seen as a taunt or condescending, some form of insult but the way he was saying it felt like he was genuinely praising you. You swallow the lump in your throat as you finally find the courage to speak.

“Who are you?”

His mask devolves into thousands of little pixels, before you're able to see his face. The sight draws a gasp out from your lips, you couldn’t stop your voice from cracking and your eyes from watering once more.

“Miggy?”

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel fanfic #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099 #spiderman astv

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larkspurglove · 21 days

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I think I’ve figured out why Topaz is so much more positive and trusting in the IPC than Aventurine.

I’ve been going a little insane about Topaz and Aventurine because with everything we know so far, it’s entirely plausible that Topaz could’ve ended up like Aventurine; cynical, unsympathetic to the people he collects debt from, and generally a lot less happy. It’s finally hit me as to why Topaz is a whole lot happier than Aventurine is - her people were actually saved by the IPC, she was by all means unremarkable until joining the IPC, and she has a support system.

First off, we know that Aventurine is the last Avgin. While Sigonia does appear to be doing better off than when he was a kid, his whole tribe has been wiped out. His people weren’t saved by the IPC. Due to this, he doesn’t have much of a reason to believe in them until Jade proposes that he join the IPC, and even then it wasn’t much more of a choice than Topaz had - it was join the IPC or die.

Topaz’s backstory is a lot less specific but it can be assumed that whatever friends and family she had on her planet was saved by the IPC, so she has that personal trust in the IPC’s abilities. It’s the whole reason she ends up joining the Strategic Investment Department.

Next, Aventurine was always considered special amongst his peers. Kakavasha, child blessed by Gaiathra Triclops, the shining hope of the Avgins. While being treated as a child blessed by a goddess didn’t make Aventurine egotistical, it was likely a huge shock to go from being treated as a goddess-blessed person to a piece of scum. Plus it would likely mess up his self-confidence a lot.

Topaz doesn’t mention how she was treated, both before and after she joined the IPC, but as can be seen in her character stories, she was a gifted girl who scored extremely well on almost all of the preliminary tests. She went from unremarkable IPC worker to an invaluable asset the IPC would like to hold onto.

Yes, Topaz and Aventurine are both nigh indispensable to the IPC, how else would they be Stonehearts after all. However, only Topaz recognises this and uses it to her advantage. Aventurine knows the IPC values him but in his mind that could change at any moment. If he fails, then he’s no longer a valued unit but disposable trash. Exactly how true this is lefts to be seen but he doesn’t want to fail and risk being seen as replaceable.

Finally, Topaz has people who have and continue to support her. Once again, there’s been no mention of friends or family in her backstory, but it can be assumed that they exist. She has Numby, a loyal companion and possible first-ever pet. There’s also her mentor, Dvorski. He clearly values her as a student and friend, and so does she. (She even calls him Uncle Dvorski) To a significantly lesser extent there is the Topaz Support Squad who are more like crazy Topaz stans if anything, but they exist anyway.

Aventurine’s only support system, his family, died a long time ago, and to our knowledge he doesn’t really have anyone that fits the standard definition of ‘friend’ - pretty much everyone he calls ‘friend’ is more of a willing business associate at best or blatantly does not like him. The closest thing we’ve seen him get to emotional support was the past and future versions of himself, Acheron in the Nihility dimension, and our dear Doctor Ratio. Even then, there were a LOT of microaggressions and we don’t even know for sure how much Ratio actually likes him since it’s likely that all of their interactions (that we’ve seen) have amped up Ratio’s condescension and Aventurine’s ‘playboy gambler’ personality.

There is an argument for Jade being a potential mentor and as such playing a similar role as Dvorski, but we know jack all about her and it’s entirely possible she didn’t really care for him as a person.

I really hope Topaz and Aventurine’s dynamic is explored more in canon because I would love to see them interact again.

#honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine hsr #topaz hsr #topaz #hsr topaz #lark rambles #queue’d #this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I finally bit the bullet and queued it #lark analysiseseses

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utilitycaster · 8 months

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Level Up Post: Mighty Nein: Echoes of the Solstice: The Speculation Version

DO NOT POST SPOILERS ON THIS IF YOU ARE AT THE LIVE SHOW IN PERSON. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

So here's the deal: I don't know what level they'll be (18-20), I am frankly assuming they level up in the first place (but like. why wouldn't they) and I'm going to have to make a bunch of assumptions, but here is a manageable-ish, I hope, summary, to be refined once we know more. Also: I'm assuming we've got Caduceus rather than Kingsley (I DO NOT KNOW THIS FOR SURE DO NOT RELY ON THIS BEING THE TRUTH) but I will make a Kingsley post if that is not the case (short answer - I'd recommend solely leveling up in blood hunter). As always with level-ups: if there is a significant omission or an error, please let me know. If I simply did not choose the same spell or feat you did, feel free to reply with "ooh nice, what about [spell]" but do not send me asks or get weird and sanctimonious about having different thoughts on subjective assessments. Anyway, here's the pre-show version; I'll make a new post Friday if appropriate.

Fjord: Let's get Mr. Complicated Tusktooth Stone Lavorre out of the way. He is currently Warlock 12/Paladin 5. Warlocks get a mystic arcanum at level 13 (7th level spell once per day) as well as another known spell for regular casting, a subclass feature at 14 (Master of Hexes for Fjord, which allows him to move his hexblade's curse from creature to creature if the first dies), and a mystic arcanum (8th level) and another invocation and another spell at 15. Paladins, meanwhile, get Aura of Protection (+CHA mod, so 5, to all saving throws to himself and all allies within 10 feet) at level 6, a subclass feature at 7 (Aura of Liberation - he and allies within 10 feet cannot be grappled or restrained, can use 5 feet of movement to get out of prior restraints [THIS WOULD HELP BEAU IF SHE SHOWS UP CHAINED BTW], and ignore penalties to underwater attacks) as well as another L2 spell slot, and an ASI at 8; his lay on hands pool also scales up by 5 HP per level. My personal feeling is: for the next level, take paladin level 6, which gives him and anyone within the aura +5 to all saves so long as he is not incapacitated; paladin auras are ridiculously good and every day I wish someone would play paladin straight through in CR, for me, much as I adore Fjord and Vax's dips into it. For his 19th level, I'd either take paladin 7 for the aura of liberation, or take warlock 13, which grants the mystic arcanum of which I'd take Etherealness, probably, or possibly Forcecage; the clerics can handle Plane Shift, and Finger of Death seems off-brand. He also gets another regular spell of which there are many; Contact Other Plane might not work under these conditions so I'm leaning towards Dream, which is just a great weird spell few people take, but also he could take a low level spell given he has paladin spell slots. And for 20th, take the one he didn't take for 19, for a final 13 Warlock/7 Paladin split.

Beau: Much more straightforward in comparison...but let's talk about the leveling up process. Level 18 grants Empty Body, in which she can spend 4 ki to be invisible for 1 minute and resistant to all damage other than force damage, or she can spend 8 ki to cast astral projection on herself alone, which is just hilarious and great and I would like to see it. She also increases her speed to 60 feet. Level 19 is an ASI/Feat; her stats are great so I say take Mobile because it's funny to make her normal speed 70 feet/round, or mage slayer for obvious narrative and "Beau, don't you want to pull a Cerrit on Ludinus" reasons. The capstone monk level kind of sucks (4 ki points back if she's tapped when rolling for initiative) but I don't have a good multiclass for her in mind so may as well ride it out. And of course she gets a ki point per level.

Caleb: Perhaps the only person for whom level 18 is actually fun (other than the multiclassed characters), at level 18 he gets to pick a 1st and 2nd level wizard spell in his spell book that he can cast at will. He can exchange these, but it requires 8 hours of study, so probably what he has going in to this show is what he has for the show. 19 is again a Feat/ASI, and honestly a con or dex boost never hurts a wizard. Level 20 gives him two 3rd level spells in his spellbook that he can cast once per rest (long or short) without using a spell slot. Might I suggest counterspell as one of them? And both he and the clerics gain extra high level spell slots at each level (5th, 6th, and 7th at levels 18, 19, and 20 respectively).

Veth: So she is actually trickier than Fjord, as the multiclassed character, in that I'm less sure how to split it out, but we'll go through the options: Level 17 in rogue grants her the ability to temporarily steal spells from another spellcaster who attacks her (Spell Thief) which is GREAT and she should definitely take it. Level 18 is Elusive; as long as she is not incapacitated, attack rolls cannot have advantage on her. And Level 19 is an ASI/Feat and an increase in sneak attack dice and also grants her a fourth level spell slot and new spell to go with it, which must be enchantment or illusion; Greater Invisibility seems like the obvious choice. I'd take the ASI to INT. On the other hand, if she pursues more wizard levels, Level 2 would give her a subclass and its features and another 1st level spell slot (and 2 more spells), Level 3 would give her 2nd level wizard spells and corresponding spell slots (and again, 2 more spells in her spellbook), and Level 4 is an ASI/Feat, a cantrip, and another 2nd level spell slot. I say take L17 in rogue first, then get a wizard subclass (transmutation does seem obvious for a number of reasons though abjuration, illusion, and divination have better L2 features and illusion makes narrative sense - divination would simply be hilarious), then take her final level in rogue for Elusive; but with both Veth and Fjord I think there's an obvious level to take (L17 rogue for Veth, L6 paladin for Fjord) and after that I respect Sam and Travis to pick what feels right.

Jester and Caduceus: At level 18, they can channel divinity 3 times per rest rather than 2. At level 19, they take ASIs, which honestly are up in the air for me - I'm excited to see what they pick, though @captainofthetidesbreath suggested Eldritch Adept for Jester which I would enjoy, and we haven't seen Caduceus's feat from the final episode yet which means I'm not sure about what he might take as a new one, though I'm personally always a fan of Chef. And at L20 divine intervention is guaranteed (though you can only use it once per week)...but to be honest if they are level 20, I am expecting this to be nerfed for solstice reasons because it is kind of game-breaking.

Yasha: So here's the thing. Barbarian 18-19 is kind of eh and 20 is good but not amazing. She could take it; she'd get indomitable might at 18 (treat any strength check as her strength score, 18, if she rolls lower than that), an ASI/Feat at 19, and her strength and con jump up by 4 each (and can exceed 20) - this would put her at 18 CON and 22 STR, assuming she doesn't increase either with the ASI (and to be fair I would take the ASI to strength). This is solid and entirely valid as a choice. HOWEVER, might I suggest the Grog move of taking her final three levels in fighter, which would give her a fighting style and second wind at L1, action surge at L2, and an archetype and its 3rd level features at L3. I like how Battle Master feels for Yasha but really it's that action surge that makes this great; Rune Knight or Champion are also decent options.

#mighty nein #critical role #echoes of the solstice

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pennyserenade · 1 year

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YOU CAN(T) ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x ex-actress!reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), fingering, pinv, unprotected sex, light dirty talk (not degrading), references to previous sexual encounters, mentions of rough sex) tags: angst, hurt/comfort, talk of drugs (weed), drug usage (weed), dieter & reader are a little toxic - i cannot lie, talk of parents word count: 4.8k+ summary: your relationship with dieter (albeit the very loose definition of the term) has finally landed you in the tabloids. he attempts to make it up to you a/n: unbeta’d. i don’t know what possess me when i write dieter but its very real and active right now lol. if you want to get updates on whenever i write, follow @belovedinfidels

The weight of knowledge wears you thin.

Dieter is a tabloid on page six, the embodiment of Hollywood idiocy sided up against a woman far too young for him. Half his age? the byline reads and the bitter laugh you let out earns you a concerned glance from the old lady in front of you. In his madness, he takes you with him, right there in the middle of the grocery store. You pay eight dollars to read the shit all week, like the spurred lover you can’t claim to be.

Your devotion is too incredible, but that’s the way you are. A strange concoction of bitter and sweet. You’ve never forgotten a wrong-doing and you choke what you love with sheer force of your eagerness. Dieter doesn’t know what he wants and yet he commits himself anyway. Which is why, usually, he is good for you. His touches are seldom chaste and his presence is hardly long-term. If you think you love him, he will disappear and you will remember that you don’t–or rather, that you can’t. It’s a convenience until he makes you remember you aren’t the only thing he occupies himself with in his spare time. Then it is a dull ache in your soul and a reminder of everything you don’t have.

In anger, you fuck a stranger on Tuesday. It’s a reckless moment that is the exception, not the rule, but it feels good. Your body isn’t past expiration, you learn, not an ugly thing. It is older than the girl Dieter was with in that paper, sure, but this stranger is so attentive to it. It responds in all the right ways. You are healthy, you are wanted. There is hope for you yet.

On Thursday, half guilty for no good reason, you tell Dieter congratulations on his new television show. You watched it. You liked it. You can’t help but confess it. He calls you after and you don’t answer, still full of some random man’s want. He doesn’t text you back but he hearts the message to show you he’s really seen it.

By Friday night, he’s got you bent over his kitchen table, his body strong, masculine and warm above your own. Whoever that girl was, she isn’t anymore. He doesn’t tell you this, but you know it to be true, for he is Dieter, and Dieter is consistent in his inconsistency.

He fucks into you with ferocity and you know he is trying to amend for some of his sins. The slick, obscene sound of his cock filling you, the way he presses into your shoulder, pinning you forward into the cold, hard table, the soft, guttural moans that he empties into the air—it is a form of devotion, albeit a slightly demented version of it.

It might be a little twisted, what the two of you share. It’s not love and it’s not necessarily friendship, but it is something akin to the ritual of opening one’s palm and sharing blood with another in a fit of childlike devotion. Forever, it yells with violence, but at the end of the day it merely remains a mess only on the surface. You wonder when you will grow out of it and start doing reasonable things.

When he easies out of you, he rewards you for your loyalty and asks if you’d like to watch an old movie – maybe even get high with him. The movie is an old western and the gunslinger dies in the end. The weed makes you tired.

When you wake the next morning, LA sunlight peeking through the blinds, you’re in his bed. His body is turned in the other direction and a lone pillow separates the space between you. You smile at the way this thoughtless man thinks. All your anger dissipates and he is right for you, all over again. —

On Sunday, you’re the tabloid story.

Finally, you’ve been caught in the act. A sneaky camera in the bushes, that lone photographer with a hungry belly and nothing better to do than explode your life. Half of twitter regals you with hate messages and the other half spouts encouragement. People discover you, search the depths of your online existence and find out more than you would like about everything you used to be.

By Monday morning he’s calling you.

“I’m sorry,” comes his hushed, apologetic tone, “I tried to do something about it but you know how those things are.”

You can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever been caught. Dieter has been your… your whatever since you stretched your acting muscles briefly in 2012. It was that shitty little pilot that didn’t even make it to cable, but you got him, that up and coming actor with an extensive background in theater. You’ve become several different people since then, changing occupations like clothes, and now you sit halfway between writer and unemployed. It’s okay, though. You have money. Once upon a time you were famous too; a child actor who worked too much and didn’t understand what was real and what wasn’t for far too long. Your mother was kind enough not to exhaust your funds. You think instinctively she knew someday you would be this way.

You shrug, coming to. “It’s okay,” you mutter, trying not to think of all the mean things you’ve read. “Hell,” you joke, “Maybe they’ll finally do that revival now. I’m famous again, so why not?”

He laughs too, so easy. “I’m glad you’re taking this okay. I thought you’d never talk to me again.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know but still. It’s shitty and you don’t deserve shitty. One day you’ll wise up to it.”

Betrayal curls up inside of you, makes a newfound home. All the unspoken things between you, and he must bring up this today: the way you do this to yourself. “Not all of us can readily admit to the things we know, can we?” you say evenly. “Listen, Bravo, I’ve got to go respond to some of your fans on twitter now, if you don’t mind. They’re asking for your dick pics.”

You hear his laugh. “Oh, knock yourself out. What’s mine is yours or whatever.”

“I don’t feel similarly, just in case you get the same kind of messages this week.” He doesn’t respond, and you furrow your eyebrows, letting your smile drop. “Dieter?”

“I know what they’re saying—“ he pauses, weighing out his words. “I know they’re not all being kind to you. I’ve seen it, and I’m sorry. Really. If I could do something about it, I would. I’ve been trying,” he repeats, sounding far too exasperated for your liking.

You pick the phone off the counter and turn it off the speaker. No one lives here but you, but some things don’t feel like they should be put out in the open air. “It’s just a photo,” you tell him evenly. “I’ve been in this business longer than you. I know how to handle this.”

“I just don’t want you to think you shouldn’t see me anymore. We can be more careful.”

“Where are you?”

“Wherever you’d like me to be.”

You snort. “God, nowhere near me with a line like that.”

“Oh sorry. I forgot you’re not into that sentimentality bullshit.”

You smile, liking the way his voice has turned from sober to playful in a matter of seconds. “Here I’ve been, thinking you’ve got my number. If you don’t know by now what gets me going—”

“—a good fuck, a single cigarette on a bad day or a drunken night, and most photos of Fiona Apple.”

“Well done, Bravo.”

“Can I come over?”

“Sure, but you better make a couple of wrong left turns on the way here for safe measures. Hate for you to get caught with the same woman twice in one week.”

“Oh ha, ha,” he says deadpan. “Unlock your door. I’m outside already.”

—

The public expects you to break. They always have. As you hand Dieter the badly rolled joint, you think about how pleased they’d be to know this is how you spend your time. The little girl wonder grew up just as fucked as they expected, from pigtails to ill suited relationships and drugs during the week. That’s how they’d see it, anyway. You think it’s a little more nuanced than that, but the public hasn’t ever been particularly good at leaving room for it in their judgments.

Dieter sits on the ground between your thighs, his back to your stomach. Your fingers weave their way through his thick, slightly curly hair, catching every now and then on a stray knot. “Fuck,” he mutters when you land on a clump near his ear. You grin, coltish. “Let me cut it,” you tell him.

“I have a girl,” he says as an answer.

You wrap yourself around him, your face on his back. “Always do,” you tease, humming softly.

He covers your arms, allowing you to envelope him. “I’m getting the vibe that you’ve grown a tad bit possessive of me.” You scoff, loosening your grip. He clinches down, trapping you. “I’m like that with you, too,” he adds.

You hear the confession racket through his body, your ear pressing to some part of his rib, and yet you are the one who feels transparent. “That’s fucked up,” you answer simply, unable to find the right words in this state. He’s always too coherent for you when you smoke weed together. It’s better when you just fuck; it’s a language you communicate best in, even when perfectly sober.

“It is fucked up,” he says, setting the joint down on the ashtray. He blows out a cloud of smoke and runs his thumb affectionately over one of your forearms. “And I think in a fucked up way, you enjoy it. I do. I don’t know why — probably something therapy could sort out.” He laughs, though it sounds a bit hollow. “I mean, it makes me miserable. I know when you’re with someone else. I can just feel it. It’s in the way you text me—or the way you don’t text me, actually. You grow so distant and I think ‘This is it. She’s a smart girl, and you’ve done it this time.’ And then, like with Friday, you come back and you let me have my way with you and it’s awful and it’s nasty and yet…” He clicks his tongue, hesitating. “It’s great. I want you so bad I’m…I don’t know. Overcome with it. All the misery leaves my body and it’s just me and you, and it doesn’t feel nasty or degrading, does it? I don’t mean for it to. I just…It feels like I’m on the edge of the rest of my life when I’m with you like that. I want to tear you apart and I want you to tear me apart and then I want to put us together again, just to show you it can be done. And it’s always done, isn’t it? I leave you feeling whole again, like I’ve just righted this terrible wrong.”

“Dieter,” you manage, voice heavy. “You’re a secret romantic.”

“That’s the most fucked up part about it,” he says poignantly. “I think a lot of screwed up people do a lot of the screwed up shit they do in pursuit of love, and yet they can never quite allow themselves to have it. I’d love to stay put but it makes me itch. I don’t know why.”

“Were you parents fucked up?” You lean back. He lets you this time, but he moves back with you, laying his head on your chest.

“Sure,” he responds. “They fought all the time, but most people did back then. I knew they loved each other, though. They liked to dance and they always used to have these lively conversations about everything. They were serious people, to the point that it was almost unserious.

“My mother, she was educated and my father loved to read and watch movies and talk, and I think she fell in love with him because of it, despite the fact he came from a more…less wealthy background than she did. They begged her, her family, to get a prenup but she never even married him, you know? They didn’t care. They just lived together and they were perfectly content with it.”

You stare up at the ceiling, listening. “Why do you say it like it’s over? What happened?”

“I am?” he asks. “I guess I’m talking in past tense, ‘cause that’s where I existed with them, in the past. I don’t speak to them much anymore, not because I don’t want to, but just because life got busy. They’re still together. Probably fighting or having a conversation about something trivial and unimportant right now.” He smiles, filled with fondness and nostalgia. “What were your parents like?”

“I don’t know. I’ve tried to remember, and I’ve tried to piece it together from what I have, but I can’t. I don’t think I ever could.” You close your eyes. “They love me immensely and they love each other immensely, but things happen. Good and bad things. I’m just their kid.” You shrug. “I feel like a terrible person a lot of the time because of it. Like, what did my mother want from life? Surely it wasn’t me. This. She must’ve wanted something and I’ll never know it.”

“Did she want to be an actress?” he asks curiously.

“No,” you say softly. “She wasn’t the projecting type. I wanted to be an actress. I loved it. She just put me in the theater to keep me busy during the summer and I took off. She encouraged me. She was and is the encouraging type.”

“And your dad?”

“He’s…well he’s there when he’s there and isn’t when he isn’t. I love him and I wonder about him and I feel like I know him more than myself. But I also feel like he’s a perfect stranger.”

“Hm,” Dieter surmises.

“I don’t have daddy issues,” you add. This makes him laugh and you feel it vibrate through you too. It’s so comforting, warm.

“I wouldn’t tell you that,” he says.

“I didn’t even want you to think about it. It's a cheap analysis that men have been pining on women for years. I’d sooner admit to fucking up myself. I mean, I’m sure he didn’t help me any but he didn’t do all the work. I’ve had directors more involved.” You crunch up your nose, remembering. “One of them hated me because of my mom. He had a crush on her and she wouldn’t go with him. I think he’s the reason I have a problem with authority.”

He breathes out through his nose and slaps his hand softly against your thigh, laughing. “For what it’s worth, I do not think you’re terribly fucked up. Just a normal amount, no worse than the best of the most successful. Hell,” he continues, “Maybe even a little better than them.”

You sink back into the sofa, feeling the room move beneath your eyelids. “Dieter, I’m so high,” you whine.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“I can’t talk anymore,” you say. “My brain wants me to say things I shouldn’t.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You groan. “Sentences I’ve already said, just worded differently.” The sincerity of your words makes him laugh — so heartily you squeeze his forearm in appreciation. It touches you everywhere, with your chest against his back like this.

“It’s okay,” he tells you, “Just close your eyes and I’ll keep talking.”

“Mm,” you acknowledge him.

But he doesn’t keep talking. The two of you fall asleep right there in your quiet contentment. You enjoy the peace that comes from soul purging confessions.

—

Tuesday afternoon and he’s still with you. It’s a record, almost. If there hadn’t been that five night stint you had pulled together during one particularly lonely holiday weekend two years ago, this would be the longest you’ve ever seen him. It’s certainly the longest you’ve been together and not had sex.

The pungent, sour-sweet smell of marijuana invades your home, clings to your clothes, and makes you feel like the love-sick, abandoned teenager you were at 17. It’s been a long, long time since then, but there’s a quality about Dieter that puts you back there. Tempting as it is to blame on his perpetual immaturity, you know it’s more to do with your own lack of control. The world spins and you spin with it—a fact that you’ve still yet to gulp down bravely and accept—and Dieter merely reminds you of it.

He thumbs through your record collection while you sip gingerly at a Coke on the couch. Under his breath, he whispers the title of albums that have made up your life, ignorant to just how intimate the act really is. Dieter sees a plethora of intricately organized vinyls and you see half your life; it is a collection made up of poor decisions, lovers’ gifts, and tokens of another life. He plucks out a Rolling Stones album and puts it on the spin table.

Domesticity threatens to choke you for a second before Dieter looks in your direction, sloppy grin on his face. “Let It Bleed,” he says, heading in your direction. “It has You Can’t Always Get What You Want at the end. I think it’s better this way, too, because you have to work for it.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes the Coke out of your hands and steals a sip, voice plugged with passion as he says, “Nowadays you can just listen to a song whenever you want but used to, you had to sit through the whole album. We’re losing the art of the music album because people don’t do that anymore.”

You take your Coke back and shake your head. “That’s not true. After David Bowie died, vinyls became popular again. Albums are very much still in.”

“So maybe they are.” He shrugs. “Regardless, I think they’re better this way. Don’t you?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I just want to listen to one song.”

He lays his head on the back of the couch, pouting out his bottom lip in consideration. “You’re angry with me,” he surmises after a moment.

You frown. “No.”

“You’re something with me, and it’s certainly not pleased.”

“I was just saying my opinion.”

“You want me to leave?”

“No.”

“I can’t quite reach you in there—“ he points to your head “—so if you want me to do something, or say something, you’ve got to tell me.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you tell him evenly. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I don’t,” you repeat, trying to soften out your features. “I’m feeling…I don’t know. Awkward. You don’t stick around this long and I guess it’s making me feel odd. Especially because you haven’t touched me.”

“Ah,” he says, straightening himself. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

“Have I ever denied you?”

“No, but I figured you might like to know I don’t mind seeing you with your clothes on too.” He offers you a kind smile and his fingers reach out and intertwine loosely with a few of yours. This is completely uncharted territory that makes your heart beat ferociously against your chest.

You tug him closer and he comes, his body leaning into yours as your lips meet. The shirt he wears is slightly too big on him, and the fabric brushes against your stomach as you open your legs to make room for him. His fingers press into your hips, positioning you beneath him, and you open your lips slightly, permitting him access.

For lack of a better word, you think: Homecoming. But it isn’t. This isn’t home. This is Dieter Bravo, page six, Mr. Half His Age. You smile against his lips and he pulls back. “What?” he says, smiling too. You feel his breath on your face, warm, and you lean up to press your lips to his again. “Nothing,” you tell him, knowing the joke won’t be funny.

He doesn’t seem to mind, allowing himself to be swayed away by the suggestive rock of your hips. He leverages himself with a hand on the back of the couch, and you pull him down, further and further, latching your legs around his waist. He is warm, burning, and as you deepen the kiss, you can feel the way he grows hard above you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, nodding his head up, disconnecting the two of you. Your lips feel rubbed raw, bruised, but you want more. He grunts softly when you press yourself into his cock and you look at each other for one dizzying second. Then he is kissing the underside of your jaw, his large hand palming your covered breast.

You try desperately to figure out how to shed the layers of clothing that separate you but he is quicker on his feet, pushing the college shirt you wear up above your stomach. He puts it behind your head, pinning your arms up. You watch as he licks down your chest, warm tongue flattening between the valley of your breasts. Then his breath ghosts over the nipples he exposes, his long, thick fingers pulling down the fabric of your bra quickly, desperate, hungry. He takes one in his mouth and you squeal.

Dieter isn’t usually patient. He fucks for leisure but never really revels in it for too long, so it surprises you when he licks down the rest of your body, swirling his tongue above the place where the band of your sleep shorts begins. You raise your hips for him and he sheds another layer, but again, just barely. Leaving you in your underwear, he worships you on the way back up, kissing your ankle, your calf, the inside of your thigh, even the place where your thigh meets your cunt. His fingers dig, eager to find skin full enough to grip; breasts and thighs, your hips, your ass when you respond to the hot breath that cascades over your cotton covered cunt.

He presses his hot mouth to you, underwear still in the way, and that’s it, you're ablaze and you are starved, crammed full of lust with an appetite that knows no bounds. You want to bare yourself to him—to spread yourself wide right there, and let him into the wetness of your cunt while you whisper dirty things into his ear. His words from yesterday echo in your mind — I want to tear you apart and I want you to tear me apart and then I want to put us together again, just to show you it can be done — and you think God, that’s it. The pulse point, the center, the raw and unbridled truth. You tear one another apart and it is tender, trusting. You’ve been getting him wrong. Over a decade and yet you’ve miscalculated it all.

He slips aside the fabric of your underwear, licks you, finds you wet and wanting. You are dripping. You feel it, know that his eager tongue is only adding to what his mere presence has caused.

That other man, he was lovely, young, flexible, all calloused hands and the taste of reckless mystery you thought you needed, but Dieter is ritual to you, like waves slapping against the rocks or the slow, inevitable spin of the planet around the sun. It happens and yet the sheer ferocity of the change it brings leaves you shocked. He is the taste of half smoked tobacco, the sweetness of a stolen sip of Coke, the warmth of an almost-orgasm rushing to your head.

His lips are coated with your slick, glossy beneath the warm living room light, but he doesn’t seem to care. He bites down on his bottom lip, pressing the pad of his finger to your entrance. Watching with heavy lidded eyes, he finds it in himself to smirk.

“Dieter,” you pant out, not taking your eyes away.

“You want it?” he growls, voice low and lust-filled. “Beg.”

You don’t hesitate. “Please. Fuck Dieter. Please.”

He sinks it in and the sound of your cunt welcoming him makes you both groan. It’s so deliciously obscene, the entirety of it. Your brain sputters, confused and overwrought, and you think: oh, I would never deny you anything. Never. Never.

His finger curls inside of you and his thumb presses down on your clit, focused and determined, the evidence found in the way his forehead crinkles. You note, even in this state, the way the front of his sweatpants tent and a dark spot where he’s leaked forms. He’s not wearing underwear and his finger is in you, above you, on you. You are warm, a beautiful burning thing around his thick finger. He enters another, says, “Fuck, you are so wet. Look at you.”

You shudder beneath him, a wordless moan escaping as you grip his tattooed wrist. The orgasm wracks through you, leaving you panting, pulling at his hand. So fitting - so ironic - that this is where he would mark himself with the symbol for femininity. Mother nature. That hollow triangle, pointed in the direction of you, sister to the darkened one pointing at him on the other forearm. That one means sun, masculine. They are earthly and complex, harmonic and just right.

Dieter puts his fingers flat on your tongue and you suck your own juices off of him, acidic - sour-sweet. He watches for a moment before he replaces them with his own tongue. There’s more of you there. As you work his sweats below his hips, dragging the fabric across his sensitive cock, he groans deep and you drink it up, hungry for more.

When he pushes into you, he does so with such ease, your body allowing him to sink into you like you’re his home, the missing half. It’s too romantic of a notion for you to carry in real life but somehow, like this, it fits. You crave the truth of it. As he rolls his hips into yours, deep as he can, you pull his shirt over his head and cover his lazy, soft lips with your own. You breathe each other in more than you kiss, bottom lips connected, top lips flirting, and tongues meeting each other as he seats himself fully inside of you.

Dieter is thick, makes you feel full in a decidedly feminine way as grinds himself against you. You clench around him, fingers thrusting into the skin of his back. He nuzzles into your neck, presses wet kisses to the sensitive skin.

You bury your hands in his sexed-up hair, let your body wrap entirely around his frame as he finds a rhythm inside of you. A soft flow of up and down, in and out, lacking ferocity but conveying a desperate need. He drags his cock through you, pierces you with it, and you take it gratefully, eyes shut and senses flooded. When nibble on his ear, you taste the metallic of his lone earring and his breath grows more ragged. “You feel so fucking good,” you whimper, voice high, “I feel you—I feel you everywhere. God your cock—you make me so fucking wet.”

You kiss him fully on the mouth again. Everything feels taut, moments away from being over, and you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist. You are one, a complete thing. Then he is pulling you apart before you know it, the twitch of his cock happening precariously inside of you. But he knows himself, well enough to pull out just in time, spilling his warm seed across the canvas of your exposed belly. A wordless sob escapes him and you reach out to hold the forearm he’s moved to the back of the couch again.

This is when it ends, the place where the two of you separate, go your own ways. He will hand you a tissue, wrestle out a pathetic ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ and the illusion will be broken–

“Do you mind if I spend another night with you?” he says, chest rising and falling. He sits back on his knees, looking at the milky white substance on you with a mixture of curiosity and fascination. He fingers it and you take it, bringing it to your lips. Dieter offers a lopsided grin, that dimple of his showing again.

“What’s mine is yours or whatever,” you echo his previous words, smiling too.

“That means a lot,” he says.

“More than you know,” you agree, “So don’t fuck it up.”

He presses his lips to your knee, the silence deafening, but you trust him despite it. This is different. He is different. He has to be. Please, you plead silently, running your hands through his hair again, Don’t ruin this for me.

He catches your eyes, smiles softly. “I won’t.”

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble #the bubble fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

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usetheeauthor · 2 years

Text

Run With Me

Ser Criston Cole x Targaryen!Virgin!Reader

Gif created by @jameswan

Smut (MDNI +18)

Summary: You are the eldest sister and daughter of the Targaryen family. Your father bypasses you as heir to the throne as the rules of realm proclaim you illegitimate to the line of succession. Because of this you feel ignored and develop a friendship with your knight Ser Criston Cole. One day before your wedding, he confesses his love for you.

A/N: I know people are hating on Criston right now. I hate him, too. But I still have a place for him in my heart because he’s a very nuanced character along with Alicent whom people also have their qualms with. Anyway, I wrote a happier version of the ‘run away with me’ sequence between him and Rhaenyra except it’s the reader of course. I hope ya’ll enjoy because I did.

Word Count: 4.9k+

Warnings: misogyny, feeling of depression and loneliness, attempted suicide, loss of virginity, p in v (unprotected), sub/dom dynamics, blood kink, choking, spit kink, spit as lube, creampie, doggystyle, breeding kink, oral (f receiving), spanking, cum eating, ambiguous happy ending

The bastard child. That was just one of the many names you’ve heard swirling around the streets of the Dragonstone when referring to you. It used to hurt a lot more but now you’ve owned up to the name.

You were not birthed by Aemma Arryn. Instead, you were a child born out of wedlock. Daughter of a whore and King Viserys I. As a young child, your father would visit every other fortnight, providing you with food and clothing while keeping you a secret from the public. Slowly, his visits would be few to none and your mother struggled to stay afloat for the two of you.

At age 17, your mother had passed away from illness. This was the point where you’d truly felt forsakened by the Gods. Your father left you and your mother to crawl through pits of hell, your mother’s gone, and now you were officially alone.

When you learned of the Queen’s death, however, you were saddened. In some way, you’d seen her as a mother to you indirectly. Although, she hated the idea that her husband had a secret love child, she still encouraged her husband to be apart of your life. So when she’d died the same day your mother passed, you were utterly shattered. Completely broken.

King Viserys I Targaryen, claimed you as his daughter not long after Aemma and Baelon’s funeral, as a promise to his wife that he’s stay apart of your life.

Just like that you were supposed to accept this new life. No longer on the streets, forced to wear pretty dresses, and learn the customs of the kingdom. Just like that and you were in the eye of the public sent to be torn to bits by rumors and societal norms that did not apply to you. And just like that…you were made to see the man who’s been in and out of your life for 17 years as your Father.

It’s numbing to say the least. Even after 4 years, at the age of 21, you couldn’t possibly see yourself as part of the family. Everyone knows this, too. Even if you shared blood with the King himself, you’ll never be a real Targaryen in there eyes.

The day that Rhaenyra was announced heir was evidence enough. Your father, although, kind and remorseful for his absence understood the rules of the realm already takes issue with a woman on the throne but an illegitimate child would cause a war of all wars.

Now as woman of the Targaryen line with no position for the throne, your next bet was to be married off to some high lord. Your father had plans to marry you off to Lord Jason Lannister. Little protest could be made, your duty was to marry to this man you hardly knew. A man filled with plenty pride but lacked intelligence.

It was as if no one could hear your pleas for help. No one. Not even your half sister could understand this pain.

You belonged nowhere.

————

It was the day of the royal hunt for Price Aegon’s 2nd nameday. Your father ordered you to spend at least a few moments of your time with Lord Jason much to your chagrin.

“Expect that in our marriage, Lady Targaryen, we bore 6 children. All healthy, strong boys that will become future great men leading within the walls of King’s Landing.”

“Although, that sounds…enticing. I just don’t think I’d like that many children. At least…I’m not sure of it so soon. I am young.”

“You are far above the age of marital age for women. Very well a spinster. Should you really have any standards for which you’d be willing to proceed?”

You seethed, clenching your teeth in order to keep yourself from saying anything rude. “Will you please excuse me, Lord Jason.”

You curtsied then walked briskly away. You were sure that your father had his eyes on you. You didn’t care. You wished to be as far away from this place as you could. Your knight Ser Criston Cole follows closely behind you.

You wanted to be alone. Hiking up your dress, you kicked off your shoes and made a run for it through the woods. Ser Criston following close after you.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your heavy garments weighed down on you, your feet hurt with each contact of the unsteady ground but you ran. You ran as if you were searching for the end of the earth.

Every now and then, you’d look back. He was gaining on you. You grew tired but with the last bit of adrenaline you had you continued forward. You abruptly stopped in your tracks when you realize you’d nearly ran over the edge of a cliff. You looked below you. The ragged large rocks and forestry had never looked so peaceful.

“Princess!” Ser Criston calls from behind you. You turned to face him, tears running down your face. Your inches away from the ledge, the tiny rock under your feet shift and roll off with each move you make.

“Don’t call me that,” You shook your head. “I’m no princess. I’m no Targaryen. I’m the daughter of a whore. I’ve lived most of my years scavenging through streets only a few miles away from where my father rules. Now I walk above those same streets but still…it’s only a few miles away. I will always be reminded of my past. I’m not wanted. Instead of my father willing to understand me, he marries me off to a prideful fool. It isn’t fair. I wish to live no more.”

You attempt to lift your feet up to hang over the ledge. Your white knight makes calls out your name halting you from further movement.

“Understand,” He says in a shaky voice, his hands put out in front of him. Gradually, he inches further up to you. “I know what it is like to come from nothing. To have no one. I’ve lost so much in my life that this life I know now is all I know and all I can remember. I would give anything to remember my life before all this that way I’d appreciate who I am now and know the legacy I carry. Your past is who you are. We cannot erase those parts of ourselves whether wish to or not. You have that privilege to know where you come from and use it to your advantage. You belong here.”

“I don’t. My father only came to find me after all these years because his wife requested it on her deathbed. She showed me more compassion final moments than he’s ever shown me in my entire life.”

“And he regrets this everyday. You don’t need to forgive him. It is your choice what you choose. But he only had the best intentions for you now. Even with marrying you off. You’d have a better life. You’d be comfortable and happy.”

“Happy? I’m not marrying who I want. I’m only a pawn for political power. I understand you come from suffering as well, Criston. But you do not carry these burdens that I do. I’m mocked constantly by my own people. I’m all alone.”

“Your not. If there’s anyone that could understand just a morsel of troubles, it’s your sister. She’s a woman announced as heir to the throne. You understand the kind of torment she’s facing because of this. If you’d talk with her maybe it won’t be so lonely,” He standing right behind you. “But please…don’t take your life. There’s more to look forward to. You’re not done seeing life yet.”

You breathing quickens, heavy. You breakdown crying. Ser Criston wrapping his arms around you and you melt in his touch. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to hold you against his chest. The embrace lasting for about 3 minutes before you part.

“Would you like to go back?” He questions.

“No. Not yet.” With that, you walked back through the woods and he follows you through.

The night arrived and you both set camp somewhere. A fire started in the middle you as your only source of light. You both exchange stories of your lives. Ser Criston not remembering much of his life because of the trauma he’s experienced but the parts he remembered fondly opened him up. His smile was quite dashing. It was enough to make you wish that you could always make him laugh.

He’d only every smiled around Rhaenyra most times. You could tell he was fond of her. She was beautiful so it was not hard to see why. She was also very daring. It was unheard for women to speak up so boldly. It was something you’ve always aspired to be. You always envied that you couldn’t speak up for yourself the way you wanted to. Sometimes you just wanted the chance to do as you please with no consequences.

“Have you ever though about what life beyond here is like?” You asked Ser Criston.

“Yes. I think about it all the time. What it’d be like to live life aside from my vows. It’s tempting dream but it’s just not in my future.” He shrugs.

“In my dreams, there’s a place called Sunfair. It’s beautiful because there…nobody knows who I am so they can’t judge me. I’m only a woman. I can do as I please. It’s peaceful. Every time, I close my eyes and dream, I hope to be there again only the next time I wish it to be real.”

“It sounds like a lovely place. I wouldn’t mind joining that nation.” He jokes.

“I think you’d be more than welcome, Ser Criston. A place like that needs a man like you. You’re kind, understanding. If I ever see it again, I’ll dream you’re there, too.”

The knight smiles. “I’d appreciate it, Princess.”

You smiled back. Comfortable silence falling between you with the only other sound being the crackling of the fire.

When the morning arose, you found Ser Criston had thrown his cloak over you while you rested on the soft moss. The walk back to the camp area was silent. At some point, the two of you spotted the white stag for the hunt. Instead of killing it, you approached it, looking in its eyes before setting it free. Your father immediately chastised you upon arrival but relief washed over him knowing you returned safe.

You took the time to approach you sister for a conversation to settle any tension between you two.

“Rhaenyra, I would like to apologize. I was cold. Distant. I made no effort whatsoever to form a relationship with you. I understand if you do not wish to speak with me. But I do want you to know that I would be honored if you were my queen. Your leadership would be much appreciated in this kingdom and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”

Rhaenyra laughs. “Thank you, sister. I should apologize, too. I wasn’t so easy to get along with either.”

“Well, both our mothers did pass away within each other, it was only natural that we’d have a hard time getting along,” You excused. “I would like for us to confide in one another for now on. I think we could really support one another especially during times like these.”

“I-I’d like that, sister.” Rhaenyra says, smilingly brightly.

The rest of the day, the two of you bonded over the struggles you both faced as women and the fight for your own autonomy. It was nice to know that you weren’t exactly alone.

You notice Ser Criston across the camp shooting a small smile. You smile back, silently thanking him for listening to you and for patching your relationship with your sister.

On the Sail back home, You and Ser Criston continued telling stories to each other to amuse you. He told you of the battles he’s been in and, although violent, it was captivating. He was warrior to say the least. Sometimes, you question if he forced himself to forget certain things to protect his own peace of mind.

When you arrived home, your white knight took his place standing in front of your bedroom door. You knew you had to go to bed soon but you wanted to talk just a little more.

“I want to thank you, Ser Criston, you’ve helped me out of my shell these past few days. It’s not been easy to say the least. I still struggle with the idea that I’m to be wed to a man with the arrogance the size of horse but I appreciate being able to make amends with my family. “

“If I could, I’d do all I could to make you happy so that you’d never feel the need hide yourself again.”

“Criston…” You whispered.

His hand rests on your cheek, lightly caressing it with his thumb. He’s looking down at you with so much love that it makes your heart full. His lips lower onto yours and he kisses you. His lips are pressed softly on yours like they’re barely there.

He pulls away, apologizing profusely. “I don’t know what came over me, Princess. Forgive me for my misconduct. I shall find myself punished for—”

You cut him off, placing your lips back onto his. This time adding pressure into the kiss. He places his hands over your arms, pushing you away.

“We shouldn’t.” He whispers.

“I don’t care. I just want you,” Your hands run through his hair. “Let me take care of you. In exchange, you’ll take care of me, too.”

“My vows…”

“Forget them in this moment. Let us go to that place in my dreams. The one where you are just a man and i, a woman.”

“It’s wrong.”

“Is it because you love my sister? I see the way you look at her. If that is who you wish to be with, I will not stop you. But I want you to know that I care for you. I have always cared since the first day we met four years ago and you noticed me in the far corner of the room when everyone else ignored. I just hope we can still be friends.”

“Princess!” He growls his hands, cupping your face. “How could you think I wouldn’t want you? I’m not in love with your sister. I love you. I’ve love you since then, too. I’ve just kept my distance because of moments like these. These moments were I’d want you all to myself.”

“You have me,” You turn the knob to your bedroom door. “Stay with me with night. Make me yours. I don’t want to spend another night without you.”

“Then, you have me as well.” He kisses you once more the two of you, stumbling into your room. He shuts the door behind him and he looks at you, eyes dark with pure lust.

You helped him out of his heavy armor, slowly removing them as a sensual way of teasing him. You found that you were only torturing yourself in the process. You needed him badly.

He helps you out of your dress and corset, kissing down your neck and back with each new part of exposed skin.

You turn to face him again, eager to feel his lips on yours again. Your back pressed up against the wall and his strong hand around your throat. You gasped against his lips at his sudden dominance.

“Take me, Criston. Don’t make me wait.”

Taking you by your neck, he peels you away from the wall, walking you back towards your bed. He show you back and you fall onto your mattress. You sit up on your elbows, watching him remove his pants in anticipation.

The moment he’s released from his confinements, you gasp. Your eyes followed v-line of his abdomen leading to something so beautiful. He’s large and erect. You’ve never seen a penis before but the mere size of him was intimidating. The view from where you sat made him look like a King before you. Tan skin glowing with contrast of the orange flames lit around your room. His chest chiseled to that of a Greek God, the hairs sprouting from his pecs adding to his manly presence.

Pulling your legs so that your ass hung just a little over the edge of the bed, he brings them to your chest, widening you for him. He’s on his knees before you. Your glistening virgin cunt presenting before him. He can practically see your heart beating staring down at.

Ser Criston’s eyes never leave yours. Sticking out his long, thick tongue; he licks a long stripe in between your folds collecting the juices that have accumulated. You mewled at this new sensation. Who would have thought the feeling of a wet tongue between your legs could feel this good?

He gives you a few teasing kitten lick before moving his mouth entirely from your core, sucking and biting your inner thighs instead. He wanted to torture you, is that it?

You couldn’t bare it. You needed him now. If he wished for you to beg him, you wouldn’t hesitate.

“Criston…please. I need you. I need your mouth on me. Please drink me.”

“Does my princess wish to have her first orgasm from a mouth willing to please?”

“Yes, yes. I want it.” You cried, hips rolling.

“Your wish is my command.” He chuckles, finding your desperation amusing. Then, his mouth latches onto your swollen clitoris and you go mad.

You moaning as if the walls were thin and yet neither of you cared. He’s shaking his head side to side, mouth fully dived into your pussy to drink from it’s fountain. He loved the way you even tasted so pure against his tongue.

Needing to know just how tight you are, he sinks a finger into you. You tremble at this new sensation. You’ve fingered yourself before but it’s never touched this level inside you. He laps at your clit while fucking his finger into you and another gush of your juices shoot up.

“Fuck, this cunt’s weeping for me.” He groans.

“All for you, Ser.”

He groans at this. He never thought hearing his title said during sex could sound so good. It made him go feral. Forcing another finger into you, he spreads them inside you in order to stretch you out. You were unbelievably tight and Criston worried that even with his fingers it wasn’t enough to properly prepare you for his large cock.

He’s devouring you and the mixing of his fingers pumping into you, massaging your sweet spot, was enough to have you hyperventilating. You’re eyes rolled into the back of your head. You were going to come and it would be with an intensity you weren’t sure you can handle. Yet, you rock against his fingers to reach for it anyway.

He smiles up at you. “That’s it, princess. Ride them the way you would my cock.”

He spanks your clitoris and your officially through. The brightness of a thousand suns blind your vision and your body stiffens as your orgasm slams through you. Then, you begin to convulse feeling his fingers continue to hit against the pressure so that it builds and builds.Tears flowed from your eyes and you wrapped a hand around his wrists to keep him from pumping anymore or you’d lose consciousness.

Showing mercy, he slows his pace until he finally stops pumping watching the way you writhed and whimpered at the sensation he’s given you. When he felt like all shocks had dissipated, he slowly slid his fingers from your soaking pussy. His fingers slick with your honey, he brings them to his lips for a taste. He brings them to your lips as well smearing it around. You instinctively licked your lips, tasting the ambrosia.

“I need to be inside you.” He says.

You move up on the bed, getting on your hands and knees. You press you face down into the mattress. “Take me this way.”

“But…it’ll be too much for your first time. It’ll hurt.”

“I want this, Criston. I mean it. I want to be fill by you. Every inch.”

He bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a desperate whine. You were going to be the death of him.

Positioning himself behind you, he spits in his hand and strokes himself a few times. He didn’t need to do so. You were already so wet but he figured anything could help you to adjust to him. He’s pressed against your entrance, your folds parting to make way for his intrusion. The pressure is heavy but he makes no attempts to move further. Impatiently, you rock back against him in an attempt to sink down on him. He holds your hips from further movement. You whine.

His hand collides with your plump ass and in the same swift motion, his cock splits you open. You clenched the sheets, gasping at the feeling of being torn apart. He moans above you. He understood that you were in pain but the sensation of your velvety walls swallowing him in was so blissful that all he could do is voice his pleasure.

Ser Criston stills. Only a quarter of his length is inside you. He pulls out, only the tip inside. Then, he plunges in again. This time half of him inside you. You let out a choked cry. He rubs your ass and your back as he continues to feed more of himself into your cunt with each thrust.

He snaps his hips forward, rough against you. This last thrust causing you to scream out. He’s fully inside you. Yanking you by your hair, he tangles a fist around it. With your face risen, he uses his other hand to clamp over your mouth, knowing that once he begins moving you’ll be screaming for bloody mercy.

He snaps his hips into you over and over again until he’s picked up a rough pace. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on that pressure of being filled to the brim over and over again. You sobbed into his hand. He’s growling above you like a mad man. An animal. This was how you were meant to be taken. Raw and pounded in with reckless abandon.

The grip of your hands bunching the sheets beneath you matching his grip around your hair. Your tears running down his fingers yet his grip over your mouth never falters. The clapping sounds of his hips clashing with your ass only made you clench around him harder.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so incredibly tight.” He groans.

He removes his hands from your hair and over your mouth, sending you falling forward against his harsh strokes. He pulls out of you and your disoriented and scared that he’ll leave you with no more of him.

“Please put it back in!” You could cry again.

He flips you onto your back, smirking. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He plunges into you again, a sign of his devotion to please you. You were going to cum on his cock tonight. He was going to make sure of it.

He’s strokes long and deep into you, dark eyes boring into your own. His cock sloshes around in your pooling heat. You lay a hand against his chest curling your fingers into the chest hair, feeling his heart beat.

His lips find your and your tongues fight for dominance. Your body are entangled in a hot and sweaty embrace and you wished you could stay like this forever. He allows himself the moment to remove his eyes from your blissed out face, staring down between your bodies. Your pussy eagerly draws in his cock begging for its presence even when he pulls out. The mix of blood and your creaminess coats his cock and he could feel pride consume him, knowing that he’s the one to take your precious flower. If he could, he’s keep the bloody sheets as a reminder of how well he’s fucked throughly into you.

Then, he witnesses your hands snaking between your body to rub yourself. He goes into a frenzy at this sight, thrusting so fast into you that you can hardly keep up your grinding. You accept his punishing pace, letting him fuck you into the mattress. Your orgasm was fast approaching.

“I’m gonna come.” You chant over and over.

“Me too, princess. Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you clench around my cock.”

“Cum with me. I want you to cum inside me. Make me yours.”

“You mean this?”

“Yes, I want to carry your children,” You cradle your face in your hands, pecking his lips. “Let go for me, love. Fill me with everything you’ve got.”

“Ughh.” He fills you clenched around him like a vice and he comes hard. His white essence painting your walls. He’s gasping and whines with each spurt.

You follow after him, your orgasm hitting harder at the feeling of him filling you. This was exactly you’ve craved from him for so long. You’d desperate wanted to have his children and this moment was an act of you love for him.

When you both came to, you smiled at one another. The wet, sticky mess between you was evidence of your desires for one another. He pulls out of of you slowly. You both groan from the lost. But once he lays beside you and rests you against his chest, you felt no need to mourn the loss of him inside you. You were whole again.

“I marry tomorrow.” You whispered.

“I know.” He sighs.

“I don’t regret any of this. I love you always.”

“I love you.” He says, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I will never be apart from you, even when you’re married. My life and my heart belongs to you.”

You held onto each other for dear life. The inevitable will soon arrive. So all you could do now is stall time and wish for it to freeze entirely that way you could forever be with the one you truly loved.

—————

In the morning, your handmaidens had prepared your wardrobe and hair for the wedding. You were noticeably disheartened but neither of them commented, understanding you didn’t wish to be married of to a Lannister. They pitied you but, nonetheless less, your duties are to be fulfilled.

The guests board the ships for the wedding venue and you felt sick at the thought that you were soon approaching a life of an unloving political arrangement.

Criston approaches you, watching as you looked out into the sea. “Princess.” He greets.

You turned to look at him, giving a small smile before looking out into the ocean once again.

“I must tell you. I won’t be serving here very long. I’ve decided I’ll be resigning my position. I’ve broken my vows and I’m sure if I continue my duties here knowing what I’ve done.”

You look at him, eyes widened. “No. You can’t.”

“I must.”

“If you leave, you’ll kill me dead. I’ll be all alone again. I can’t bare it if you’re not in my life.”

“Then, run with me.” He says, slowly closing in on you. “I know of a place. A place with beautiful green pastures. Oranges and cinnamon in abundance. We could go there. It could be our Sunfair.”

“But my duties—”

“You said you’d like to marry for love. We love each other, do we not? If you don’t wish to marry, we could flee. Rhaenyra will be queen. You won’t miss out on the crown or the throne. Come live with me and we could live happily. They’ll never find us.”

You were panting, this spontaneous decision taking you by surprise. This meant leaving your life behind for good. Your father and sister never to be seen again.

“Family…”

“We could start a family of our own,” He places a hand on your stomach. “We can have as many as you’d like. They’d never have to suffer for long as I’m here. But I do not wish to see them torn apart for the fight of royalty and legitimacy.”

“I want this. And I want you.”

“Then be my wife—Run. With. Me.” He stares you in the eye, pleading for your to say something.

“Yes,” You smiled, tears falling down your face. “I’ll be your wife. I’ll run with you. I’ll be the mother to your children.”

He beams with joy, cupping your face. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Take my hand.” He says, holding it out.

You hesitate, looking around before taking it. Reaching the peak of the boat, you step up along with him. People began to scream and yell at the sight, guards making their way to you. You looked at your father one last time a look of horror on his face but then your face lands on Rhaenyra and she’s smiling, nodding her approval.

You focus your eyes on Criston one last time and then you both jump ship. Regardless of whether you’d live or not, you did it. In the end, you’d get to be with him through the end.

Meanwhile, the people screamed for you from above. Below, you and Criston swirled around each other underwater, smiling then leaned for a kiss sealing your love for a lifetime.

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evilkitten3 · 5 months

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when you think about it. madara is just. so. niasndladnsndlnls

as soon as he shows up he starts his "can't rely on any of these losers smh" crap and he keeps doing it. he constantly has to do things himself bc his minions are all fuck-ups or have entirely separate agendas or are fuck-ups with entirely separate agendas. and yet

again and again and again and AGAIN he trusts people. not even for good reasons sometimes. he genuinely seems to believe he can't rely on anyone other than himself and yet he repeatedly puts faith in people. some of them are complete strangers

"oh yeah this kid i trapped in my divorce dungeon after replacing half his body with my ex's dna? i'm going to psychologically traumatize him, sell him my identity, and hope he takes care of things while i'm busy being dead for the next couple decades. even tho he has no reason to bring me back, hates my guts, and as far as either of us is aware could probably pull off our masterplan without any more help from me. i am also going to assume that the version of him in his 30s is the same as the teenager version of him i knew even tho not only have i myself been through puberty but also i have firsthand experience of how people can change from when they were teenagers bc my ex broke up with me via literally stabbing me in the back and killing me when i realized our dream wasn't going where we wanted. he knew to go for my back bc i told him it was my weakness as a child. also i don't wear armor there bc i don't usually need it. i'm sure this kid would never do that to oh hey he's stabbing me"

"hey this weird plant zombie thing showed up and said he's an extension of my will or something. i have absolutely no way of verifying this but i am cool as hell so i'm just going to assume it's telling the truth and not using me as a pawn in some greater plan as it is encouraging me to do to others. it would never do that to ah hell in the back again"

"my brother is dead but my only friend who is now my enemy and who is also the older brother of my brother's killer wants to make an alliance even tho our families hate each other and my family also hates me and i also hate me and would rather he just kill me already which is also what everyone else wants. except for him bc we're ninja romeo and juliet but with fascism and if romeo had been able to put aside tybalt killing mercutio and if juliet had instead of drinking poison stabbed romeo to death with a sword. and then tybalt took over the city after she died and made decisions which eventually led to all the montagues except one getting massacred by his shitidiot older brother on a propaganda high. but hashirama would not ever do that to me and if i pushed him to a place where he needed me dead he would surely do it honorably and not in the back and that's a wood clone isn't it"

"hello small uzumaki child that i have not ever spoken to and do not intend to interact with directly i am going to break into your home and steal your eyeballs and replace them with my own significantly cooler eyeballs (they used to be my little brother's so please be careful with them) and you can play around with them while you do my minion/replacement's bidding until you use them to bring me back to life even though this will kill you and you don't even know me and will in fact think that someone else is me anyway and why is this edo tensei wtf do you mean nagato's dead. who the fuck is naruto"

it's like if the "rip to ur grandma but i'm different" meme was a person. and that person was simultaneously the speaker, the person being addressed, and the grandma.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #uchiha madara #uchiha obito #senju hashirama #zetsu #black zetsu #kuro zetsu #uchiha izuna #senju tobirama #uchiha sasuke #uchiha itachi #uzumaki nagato #uzumaki naruto #what the fuck is wrong with him. i love him so much

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yesokayiknow · 6 months

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anything on 13 and 14 for the bigeneration?

-since there’s already two of them, fourteen never gets shot, which means fifteen won’t be around for a while yet 😔. it also means that both the doctors play their own games against the toymaker! fourteen sticks with highest card, thirteen goes with mario kart (and wins, for the record. yes she will be holding the fact that she won her game and fourteen lost over his head forever. oh what’s that his game was pure chance and doesn’t have anything to do with his level of skill? tough)

-donna's spare room only has one bed, and they argue over who gets it for like an hour (thirteen's like i sleep on the floor a lot anyway it's fine you take the bed and fourteen's like you literally died like 5 hours ago YOU take the bed) until donna's like Why Doesn't Somebody Take The Fucking Sofa. that somebody is thirteen bc fourteen's really tall lmao. donna comes downstairs the next morning to find fourteen curled up on the floor next to the sofa anyway and is like hm i sure hope this won't be representative of their general relationship!

-for the first week, thirteen is very much not fun to be around for reasons of she literally just fucking died and was kind of hoping that it would mean she didn't have to deal with any of that unresolved trauma (spoiler alert it's still there but It's Worse Now). eventually even fourteen starts avoiding her, which makes it ten times worse (turns out she's uh kinda bleeding psychically. that's what happens when two aliens rip open your memories again and again and then your best enemy forces a regeneration on you). this goes on until she snaps at rose, at which point donna sits her down in the shed and is like we're going to talk or else i will physically kick you out. an hour (and a lot of tears) later she brings fourteen in too. they end up having semi regular check in sessions after that and it really does help

-around a month in, they just Vanish and the tardis is gone too, and donna's like well they could've left a fucking note. but i get it. and then rose is like mum come look!!! and takes her into the shed, which is now bigger on the inside and has two full rooms, one with rose's workshop (now with a bunch of vintage sewing and knitting machines in) and one with the tardis and a hammock (for thirteen) and a sofa bed (for fourteen). donna's like oh you definitely should be in seperate rooms you guys are unhealthily close and they're like we can't hear you over our amazing coping methods

-yeah they're like. really codependent. they also have vastly different ways of getting comfort (fourteen needs to be touching somebody at all times, and also loves comfortable silences; thirteen needs a five foot cube of personal space and also can't stop talking ever Or Else The Thoughts Get Her) which isn't a super great way to live tbh! luckily you kinda need surgical tools to seperate donna and fourteen, and rose and thirteen can talk at each other for hours, so it kinda balances out. the fact that they physically need to interact with other people really helps dskjldsajklds

-while fourteen isn't ten, he's just like a more mature version of him, so he slots very easily back into donna and wilf (and even sylvia)'s lives. thirteen, on the other hand, is a completely new person, and does often feel a little out of place. once everyone else realises she feels like this they're like what the fuck are you talking about. you're sad and feral. that's the doctor

-they do eventually get better with uh lots of therapy and also getting desk jobs at unit (fourteen ends up more with the organisational side while thirteen is just Generally Sciencey. she has like forty experiments going at once. kate only knows about around 2/3 of them) plus the shed expands eventually and thirteen gets her own workshop and tinkering really helps calm her down. meanwhile fourteen starts getting into baking, and that helps him too. they both just really needed a breather, yknow?

#asks #anon #bigeneration au(s)#doctor who #the doctor #thirteen #fourteen #they're both doing very much not good!#thirteen goes through So Fucking Much in her life and stopping to think about it makes it all hit her at once #and fourteen's like the saddest wettest cat around. mainly because Look At Who He Came From #votest most depressing doctor duo #also since they both live in the same place they need a way to differentiate them #donna comes up with SO many stupid nicknames #her favourite is probably bitey and bony #there's also stripes and suit. blondie and spiky. shortcake and double decker. north and south #also fourteen ends up migrating from his suits into just comfy clothes but i don't think thirteen ever changes tbh. maybe also more jumpers #god i need to make these shorter #sorry 😔

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thinkin-bout-milgram · 5 months

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Deep Cover: Initial Thoughts

Okay, this one is a lot to look at , especially given how relatively little is actually said. Still, I think I'm starting to make sense of it, so here's my analysis that I've figured out so far.

I'll be using @/oehale on Twitter's translation of Kotoko's voice drama Yonah. As usual, I'll be bolding my general topics/thoughts and moving forwards with that. Let's get started!

Kotoko sees herself as the new warden.

The most obvious comparison here is the mimicking of UNDERCOVER. Kotoko, like the original UNDERCOVER, has lyrics that start with "UNDER" and are followed by talking about the other prisoners. She also basically says as much to Es; they're working together now. They should work together to make the "right" Milgram.

It's pretty obvious that our little innocent deal with Kotoko has gone straight to her head. She now sees herself as part of the authority of the prison, and believes it's her role to give out the proper punishment for guilty verdicts. However...

Kotoko believes everyone in the prison (other than her) should be guilty.

This is pretty obvious based on those previously mentioned "UNDER" lines. They're all very critical. Notably, the ones that most clearly indicate this-- towards the end of the song-- only include the innocent prisoners, but she's made it pretty clear that she agrees the earlier guilties should have also been guilty.

“UNDER” Doltish “001 Parasite” “UNDER” Obscene “002 Slut” “UNDER” Incessant “004 Phony Queen” “UNDER” Doomed “005 Dissection Pawn” “UNDER” Concealing “007 Deceiver” “UNDER” Inept “011 Guard”

Even Es, the "inept guard," gets to face Kotoko's judgment! That line is interesting in conversation with the audio drama, which focuses on Kotoko calling Es weak because they've grown to like and have sympathy for the prisoners. Kotoko has come to view Es, someone who is willing to forgive the guilty (in her perception) prisoners, as being guilty as well for not condemning them.

(Also, 011? Are you implying that something will happen after the tenth? Am I right about a Trial 4 in which we'll vote on Es??)

Notably, for Kotoko, wanting everyone to be voted guilty basically means that she wants everyone else to die. In the intro to the second Trial, Kotoko said that she wouldn't go as easy next time, and Mahiru already nearly died this time around.

So ridiculous, isn’t it ridiculous They’re still here, still here, it grates me

This also definitely seems pretty "get everyone else out of here (kill them)" to me, especially given that it's shown after Kotoko smashes all the pieces representing the innocent prisoners as well.

The guilty ones were already broken earlier into the MV:

Futa's and Mahiru's were broken first; they've already been "broken" in the sense that they've been attacked. The other guilty prisoners go next, as they're Kotoko's next targets. Then, finally, the rest of the originally innocent prisoners, who Kotoko hopes will be voted guilty sooner rather than later.

This is also a small note, but I find it interesting that the line "I want a reason for judgment execution, I want it" was initially translated as "I need a good reason to give justice" in the Trial 2 Song Preview. The specific reference to execution was added/wasn't emphasized in the original version. I don't know what the "correct" direct translation is, but I always stand by the fact that if the translators chose to translate something in a certain way, it's intentional.

(Side note, but I wonder if UNDERCOVER's change in official lyrics to include all of the prisoners' Trial 1 song titles happened when they decided to mimic it in Deep Cover, which also includes the Trial 1 song titles. Could be a reason for the change in translation.)

And, uh... that's all I got. That I'm confident about, anyways. I still have other thoughts, though, so rather than me having bolded claims as section titles, I'm just gonna have, like... categories.

The Girl

You.

We've seen her before, in HARROW:

So, she's the one Kotoko rescued from this guy, right? That's what this seems to be telling us. However, there are a couple of important details to consider.

Where's her hat?

What about the girl in the white dress?

What about the girl in the pink shirt?

I'll get back to 1 in a bit.

The girl with the white dress in question only appears shortly in HARROW, and as far as I can tell, not at all in Deep Cover:

It could technically be the same girl, I guess, given that we can't see her face. However, then there's the pink shirt girl:

There's also still this thing from HARROW:

In my original HARROW theory, I theorized that the guy abducted Kotoko (the girl in the pink shirt), but the girl in the white dress distracted him/sacrificed herself long enough for Kotoko to get away. The memorial/potentially a police notification?/whatever the sign with the flowers is belongs to the white dress girl. Kotoko then later tracks down the guy who did it, when he's abducting the girl in orange. Kotoko then kills him.

Honestly, I think that this still tracks. We didn't really get anything else about the memorial, the girl in white or the girl in pink in this MV-- or the guy she killed, for that matter-- so there aren't any conflicts. I'll be moving forward assuming that that's true.

So, then, back to the orange girl. She isn't wearing the hat Kotoko gave her when we see her getting dragged off. What does that mean?

Establishing the Timeline

It seems most likely to me that most of Deep Cover happens after HARROW's murder. That's not just because the opening shot of Deep Cover looks like the end of HARROW. There's a lot more going into that.

First off, there's the girl. I initially thought that she might be Kotoko's sister, given the apparent familiarity Kotoko seems to show to her, rubbing her head in the park scene. However, once I remembered my initial theory, there are only really two possible interpretations I can think of for her involvement with the man Kotoko kills.

Either

She isn't at all related to Kotoko, and they "met" when Kotoko rescued her by killing the man, OR

She IS Kotoko's sister, in which case Kotoko probably used her as bait to lure out the guy in order to follow him back to his warehouse and kill him.

The second one was my initial read, but after looking at it longer, I think the first one makes more sense on the whole. If I'm right that the first thing that happens in the Deep Cover MV is the murder, that means that the park scene happens after it.

This isn't hard evidence or anything, but notably, the hat the girl has says "LUCKY" on it. If she's lucky, it probably means that she's lucky that she survived the situation with the man. It wouldn't be luck if she was planted there by Kotoko; it would only be luck if she happened to be the victim who's abduction lined up with Kotoko's rescue mission.

The park scene is still a little confusing to me if they were strangers, though. After all, Kotoko pretty pointedly ignores the girl at 2:06 to 2:19ish, and as far as I can tell, nothing major happened between the park and then.

There are three main explanations I can think of.

The first one is that the girl tried to stop her. Like, maybe she thought it was really cool when Kotoko rescued her, but when she realized Kotoko went to go threaten/possibly kill someone who, like, stole something from a business or something, she thought that was too much. This is pretty much entirely based upon the fact that the "Tell me why you tell me stop" lyric lines up suspiciously well with the change in the girl's expression from happiness to surprise, and then eventually what looks like fear.

The second one is that Kotoko is distracted at that point. In the park, we see Kotoko still looking at her phone, presumably looking for more wrongdoers. She spends time with the girl while simultaneously working, so it's no bother to her to spend time with the girl. However, when the girl tries to greet her later, she's in work mode. After passing the girl, we see Kotoko marching on forward with smoke (?) around her. It's very dramatic and she looks very threatening. It's even possible that she's doing a werewolf transformation type of thing there. If Kotoko has her sights set on a target, she might be more unwilling to waste time talking to the girl. This would signify that the people she rescues are irrelevant to her; her focus is on punishing wrongdoers, not checking in on saved would-be-victims.

The third one is that the park actually happened after the thing on the street, but given that she's already wearing the hat on the street scene, which she first wears in the park, that doesn't make a lot of sense.

I think the second option makes the most sense, so it's what I'll be going with.

So, the timeline looks like this:

Kotoko, as a child, is abducted by that one guy. She wears a pink shirt in the flashback. The girl in the white dress intercepts and allows Kotoko to escape. Years later, after becoming a vigilante, Kotoko tracks down the same guy and kills him, rescuing the orange outfit girl in the process.

The orange outfit girl finds Kotoko in the park and either receives or shows Kotoko the hat she got. Kotoko, while still looking at information for her next target, entertains her because she isn't actively busy.

The girl tries to approach Kotoko on the street. However, Kotoko is heading after her next target, and there's no time to lose. The expression of intensity and general coldness Kotoko gives off intimidates the girl, and Kotoko proceeds with her plans.

So, that's how Kotoko's murder works, right? There's absolutely nothing else related to time that could drive me insane!

...

Becoming a Lunatic (The Moon Phases)

Okay, Kotoko's a werewolf, she attacks on the full moon, we all get it. Except... goddamn it, there's more moon than just the full moon.

As far as I can tell, there are three moon phases that are shown across HARROW and Deep Cover. The first one I'm talking about is the full moon.

The Full Moon

The wolf zone occurrence of the full moon in HARROW lines up with when she kills the guy, which makes sense. In Deep Cover, it's preceding the time where she smashes all of the remaining innocent prisoners. That hasn't happened yet.

Because moon cycles happen repeatedly, I think it's okay to say that the full moon happened in the past, when Kotoko killed the guy, and in the future, where Kotoko hopes to kill the other prisoners. It's even possible there's a full moon we didn't see when Kotoko attacked Mahiru and Futa.

Like, that's probably just a spotlight, but it definitely COULD be moonlight. Either way, we don't see the sky, so it at least isn't conclusively NOT a full moon then.

So, full moon = violence. What else?

The Waning Crescent

Disclaimer I know nothing about moons. I am working off of this chart from timeanddate.com. If it's wrong blame them, I can't find a better chart anywhere on the internet.

Notably, the waning crescent is what the moon is for pretty much all of HARROW, except the quick appearance of the full moon at the end. There are clearly visible shots of it around 1 minute and 2 minutes in.

I don't really know what specifically waning crescent is supposed to mean here. Google says that it's about change and reflection, but spoilers, that's what it also told me about the third moon phase that shows up, so I don't know how much stock to really put into that.

I think the most obvious (?) symbolism of it is that it's right before the new moon, when the light isn't shining at all. If I had to take a stab at what the new moon represented, I'd say it's times in which Kotoko is powerless. She's powerless when she's looking for information before the first murder, she's powerless when looking at her crossed out board (more on that later), and she's powerless now-- when we're going to vote. She can't give out justice without our help. This is the last part before we give our verdict on her, so as she's looking around at the other prisoners, innocent and guilty alike, she's preparing to be able to do nothing. She hopes she'll get back to that full moon and exact justice on the other prisoners, but that's only hypothetical for now.

Let's talk about that board really quickly. This is how it looks in the middle of Deep Cover, when the crescent shows up:

This is how it looks at both the beginning and end of HARROW:

This is another reason to believe that Deep Cover happens after the end of HARROW. After all, it'd be hard to un-black out the papers, and given that they're hanging in basically the same positions, it'd be surprising if they were replaced papers. So, that means that Kotoko blacks out her information sometime after she successfully kills the guy.

The scene with the blacked out board is immediately followed by the final moon phase, and then by the girl in orange in the park.

The Third Quarter Moon

The crescent moon on top of the board directly fades into this third quarter moon. This made sense to me until I saw the arrow on the moon phase chart telling me to read it counterclockwise. Then I was confused.

Because the third quarter moon happens immediately before the waning crescent, I think that this moon shift is meant to serve as a time rewind. The scene with the girl in the park (and therefore also, the girl on the street) happens before the scene with the blacked out board. This supports the idea that Kotoko ignored the girl because she was taking out a target; after that scene, all her targets are gone, so Kotoko can cross out the information about them on her wall.

This also checks out with the stuff with the girl in the park and on the street happening after Kotoko kills the guy, given that the third quarter moon comes a little bit after the full moon.

There's no occurrence of the third quarter moon in HARROW. However, it does actually show up one other time in Deep Cover.

At 2:28, the moon shows up in third quarter again, then transitioning to a pink full moon. I'd assume that this shift backwards in the moon cycle, as it did earlier, signifies turning back in time. However, the pink full moon refers to Kotoko killing all of the remaining Milgram prisoners, an event that's already in the future. What happens after the hypothetical future scenario of Kotoko killing everyone?

The answer is, Kotoko collapsing in the wreckage of the destruction she caused. She's in her warden outfit, so it's consistent. The scratch marks probably indicate that this is immediately after she turns back from being a werewolf, in the hypothetical pink full moon.

This indicates that, somewhere in her mind, Kotoko realizes that she might suffer from killing everyone else, collapsing under the weight. It does seem like Kotoko understands that being the one true savior is difficult.

K: I know it well. It's so hard to hold the responsibility of a guard all alone. I've also felt this way. You are such a kind person. You can't stand the prison changing with the power of your choices. So you need someone to be with. Leave all of the dirty work to me.

Even if she wants to present herself as someone who's crushed her own weakness, she still has to worry. The lyrics of the chorus are begging Es to give her her next target. If she doesn't have people to target, she doesn't have purpose. Her board is all blacked out; the guilty prisoners will be crushed. Once all that's said and done... what else is she going to do?

Conclusion

Anyways, that's my best shot at understanding this MV. It is... confusing. The main things I still don't understand across the two MVs are the many wolves with purple glowing eyes in HARROW and what the hell the pieces that represent the other prisoners in Deep Cover are. If they're not chess, then what are they???

oh wait lmao i forgot

VERDICT: GUILTY

We already knew this one.

I can't tell Kotoko that it's right to kill the rest of the prisoners, and she really needs to be restrained. I don't know exactly what the damage is gonna be to Kotoko's mental state, but for the safety of everyone else, I kinda have to. She makes fair points about us verbally torturing prisoners not being that different from physically harming them, but... we're at the very least not shooting to kill?? Like, if you kill them, there's no hope at redeeming them. That's what we're trying to do, even if the tactics Milgram gives us are less than ideal.

Anyways, tell me your thoughts and if any of this made sense! Happy end of Trial 2!

#milgram #ミルグラム #admin venus #kotoko yuzuriha #milgram theory #long post #5:43 am hell yeah #normal things #this mv did NOT make sense to me the first time that i watched it #like at all #the moon phases almost made me cry /srs #but i think i figured it out by the end!!#kotoko is such an interesting little creature #i want to study her #which i guess is what this post is doing lol #i should go to sleep

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dell-amor-te · 4 days

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Anyway, thinking about Dragon Age (Taylor’s Version) again, what else is new lately…and not to be all #different…but, like…I don’t buy into this theory going around that Lucanis really died and was brought back somehow and now has Fade powers or is connected so some kind of spirit.

I don’t think it’s a bad theory, don’t get me wrong. I just think, based on “The Wigmaker Job,” that it’s more likely that Lucanis staged his death, not that he actually died. And obviously “The Wake” comes after “The Wigmaker Job,” so whatever his weird headache-behind-the-eye Fade thing predates whatever leads to “The Wake.” Whether it’s a more recent change in his life or something he’s always had…who knows?

If a failed contract means death for a Crow…imagine being the favored grandson of the First Talon and trying to refuse your grandmother. Digital page 327 of “The Wigmaker Job” says:

“Death is my calling,” Lucanis stated, matter-of-fact. “Just as yours is to become First Talon.”

He smiled, hoping to ease the tension, but Illario's posture remained taut. “And if Caterina disagrees? If she thinks you're the better man for the job—”

“I don’t want it, Illario,” Lucanis insisted.

“But you wouldn’t refuse.”

“It’s impossible to refuse Caterina,” Lucanis admitted reluctantly. "Only prolong her, until she sees reason.”

He knew it wasn't the answer Illario wanted, but it was the truth. And in their line of work, honesty was hard to come by.

From what little we know about Caterina, I don’t see her being reasoned out of her favor of Lucanis. Especially given that she trained Lucanis so harshly that he hated her for it for a long time. It seems unlikely she’d bend her intent to name him as her heir, even for her other grandson, when it’s a well-known point or gossip among the Crows that their next First Talon, if things go Caterina’s way—and it seems they normally do—will be Lucanis.

So, while spirit companion Lucanis is a cool theory, I think it’s far more likely that Veilguard is going to show us Lucanis as the Mage Killer it already styled him as, and how he got there. We’ve seen that he’s willing to go out of his way to exact vengeance for victims, while being a Crow is just a job to him. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Lucanis faked his death in order to escape Caterina. Or…if that “soft heart” of his put him in a pickle that he turned into an escape route.

Or…maybe Caterina is pushing daisies and somehow Lucanis maneuvered Illario into her place, and Illario made good on his word to give Lucanis free rein.

I won’t pretend to know. But, whatever happened, I don’t think he really died.

And if each companion has a motive for joining the Veilguard and all seven members are all necessary for the success of the group, then Lucanis and his apparent warpath against the Venatori would make a lot of sense in that context.

Which also makes me think that if Lucanis is shown to be guilty of any kind of betrayal, it’s going to be along the lines of a Crow Rook being stunned that he isn’t dead. But that’s a whole different post.

And as for what his weird Fade spidey senses are…maybe there are more instances of that popping up in the world, just like Lace having magic now. Everything is in such a precarious state from the start of Inquisition with the whole Breach issue to now in Veilguard with Solas trying to destroy the Veil, let alone all the other things he has been up to in the nine years in between entries. I would honestly love it if they’re showing the consequences of everything that’s happened in relation to magic in the world manifesting in different ways and in different people.

Anyway…just some of my thoughts so far. I’m not committed to anything right now, of course, and I don’t want to come off as believing I’m right or that I think the spirit companion theory is bad (I don’t), I just wanted to share my own thoughts.

#ignore my google doc full of potential reasons and ways Lucanis would have faked his death #Lucanis Dellamorte #DA4 #Dragon Age #DA:TV #Tevinter Nights #Illario Dellamorte #Caterina Dellamorte #Samwise says stuff #also ignore the doc that contains how I could potentially tie Mage Killer/Venatori Slaver Hunter Lucanis to my Veil Jumper Rook

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sxtvrns · 1 year

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to reunite and resolve

🎶 now playing: don’t grow up too fast - grentperez

P: Connor Murphy x Fem!Reader

S: You were the one of the only people he called a friend. He wanted to call you more than that.

W: mentions of drug use, smoking, anxiety, cursing, sexual content, spoilers, short

N: Basing this off of Mike Faist’s Connor Murphy, because his version of Connor the one I envisioned while writing this. Some information is taken from the book adaptation of the musical. In the book, Connor explains that he is some form of LGBTQ+, yet it is never specified; hints of this are being used in this fic. this is super short and kinda shit LMAO

please interact if you enjoy!

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When he first threw that printer in second grade, you were the first thing he saw out of the corner of his eye. Everyone… well, almost everyone, looked at him in horror, screams so loud they could be heard from down the hall, besides Jared Kleinman, who said that the whole facade was so cool.

Some kids ran, some kids took cover, but you stood there with your mouth hanging open, gaze switching between Mrs. G and Connor. And to think the only reason for this was because he didn’t get to be line leader that day.

He couldn’t tell what you thought of him after that. There wasn’t a single thought behind your face that could determine whether you thought he was cool or you thought he was insane. But he resorted to the worst— you thinking he was a crazy maniac who had a breakdown only because he didn’t get what he wanted that day.

But no, that wasn’t the case. He sat down under a tree during recess one day, and you just so happened to be lurking on the other side of it. You peeked out, looking at the book he was reading. “Is that The Little Prince?” You ask, startling him. “Yeah. Why?”

“It was a bit sad, but I liked it. Which part are you on?”

“The part where he dies.”

Awkward.

“I’ve read this book 5 times.”

“So it’s your favourite?” He shrugs. “One of them.” You sit down next to him, eyes skimming over the words on the page. “I don’t like Mrs. G very much. She always finds something wrong in my work and points it out to the class,” you start, staring at Mrs. G who’s talking to a teacher far across the playground. “I don’t think you should do it again, but I thought that was cool.”

“What was cool?”

“When you threw that printer. Was it heavy?” He shakes his head. “You’re strong! That’s even cooler!”

He shuts his book with a quiet thump. “Shouldn’t you be talking to Lily over there? Or… Jane?” You shrug. “I don’t really have a group of friends. I talk to them and we’re friendly with each other, but… they don’t like the things I like. I don’t know– it seems like on some days they don’t like me and then other days they do. Maybe I’m just scared of that.”

“You’re lucky the printer didn’t hit Mrs. G. You’re even luckier you didn’t get in big trouble. I think that you were angry and you didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” He’s surprised by how well you manage to read him. He didn’t even know how he felt himself. It was an overwhelming feeling of rage that any six year old would have when things didn’t go their way, just that he approached it in a way that no one would believe a six year old would be able to do.

“Do you wanna see the books I’m reading later? You can borrow them if you’d like.” Connor looks at you and that stupid hopeful expression on your face, reluctantly nodding. He wasn’t one to turn down a read. He’d gotten sick of the rose hunting prince anyways.

Most kids in your class would rather go for the toys and playmat while the library picked up dust. Connor watched you every time you went to the little library in your room to pick up a book, always leaning over to see what you were reading. You seemed like one of the only avid readers in your class, not dozing off or merely flipping pages for convenience during silent reading. You really took your time in absorbing what was on the pages; sometimes he witnessed you even shed a tear.

From there, the two of you became good friends. Every partner project, you two would pair up. Every gym class, you’d be on the same team. If anything involved pairs, it would always be the two of you together, to the point where people started joking that you two were dating. Of course, you always brushed it off, but Connor seemed to think otherwise.

At the time, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he felt about you. He felt safe, happy, content. He also felt compassionate, open, and endearing. But years later, only when he went to Hanover and was in his first relationship, dealing with a multitude of emotional troubles, was when he realized what those feelings were.

Connor’s head rested on Miguel’s chest as he exhaled a puff of smoke. “She read a lot, sometimes I went over to her place, she always stayed by my side even thought she was made fun of, we’d trade lunches–“ He’s cut off by the sound of his friend chuckling. “Wow, you must’ve really liked her.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve heard any guy in our entire school talk about a girl… not sexually.”

“That’s because we were in elementary. I wasn’t perverted.”

“Still, you blabber about her with such purity. Like a girl you really did love, even if you only were in the seventh grade. She seems nice. If you ever find her again, you should introduce her to me.” In the words that Miguel put it in, he was finally able to understand why he got so much more nervous around you. Why he’d scold himself for doing something moronic in front of you, unless that something made you laugh; he’d let out an internal sigh of relief.

Why he tended to defend you if someone teased you. Why he’d freeze up when your arm would brush against his. Why he’d always overthink about what you thought of him, knowing that you’d never leave his side. Instead, he left yours. He could see the hurt in your eyes after he told you he was moving schools and it almost made him want to stay just for you.

But knowing his parents, they wouldn’t understand why he’d change his mind so last minute.

Sometimes he didn’t understand why you stayed by his side. He knew you were somewhat of a fragile person, but watched you desensitize to those comments over the years.

Connor feels guilty talking about an old undetermined crush with a boy he was on indefinite terms with, but Miguel didn’t seem to mind. “I guess I did like her.” He squeezes Miguel’s hand, suddenly overwhelmed with disappointment. “And now I’ll never be able to see her again.”

“Didn’t you say you went to her place for projects and stuff? Couldn’t you pay her a visit?”

“What if she moved?”

Miguel scoffs. “Highly doubt it. What comes here, stays here.”

The suggestion played on loop in Connor’s head every day, even contemplating actually paying a visit. Yet he never owned up to it, until he was expelled and moved to a new school. Again.

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You rest your head on the desk, ignoring the homework reminders being given to the class. You stare blankly at the teacher through your hair, another boy coming into view that you hadn’t seen before.

His hair was brown, curly, and nearly reached his shoulders. He had defining cheekbones and painted nails, dark clothes and a messenger bag. A new student. A new student that you couldn’t help but think looked familiar to you, until you heard his name.

Connor Murphy.

He sat down in front of you, putting his bag to the side and kicking it under his desk. You wanted to talk to him, but it seemed like he didn’t recognize you either. Was it really him? The Connor Murphy who you sat under trees with, reading books and arguing about your favourite characters? The Connor Murphy who barely passed 4th grade?

“Connor…” You mutter a bit too loud, his head turned to side eye you. “What?” He replies, almost aggressively, his stare dark and hardening. You couldn’t believe it was him. But really, how many other Connor Murphy’s could there be in suburban New York?

He begins to turn away until you begin speaking. “Do you still read The Little Prince?” This time, he fully turns to you, eyes wide and no longer dull. “How many times have you read it since I’ve talked to you under that tree?” You smile, and Connor swears his heart stops. Out of pure shock, not attraction.

“Y/N?” He asks, and you nod, his face lighting up with a small smile. “Holy shit…” He sighs, his reaction making you giggle.

You’ve changed. You stopped tying your hair up, you gained a pair of dark circles, and he could just feel maturity radiating from you somehow. At least, you were more mature than he was.

“Um, I don’t really have anyone to hang out with during lunch. Do you wanna catch up then?” You offer, his head tilting. “Why not now? Instead of working on that project of yours.” Your face drops. “There’s a project?” What project was he talking about? Was it– oh, it was the role model one. You finished it already.

“Lucky you don’t have to do it. If we present, we get extra credit. I’m not up for humiliation though.” He turns around fully, and your eyes are drawn to his hands, slim and a bit veiny. He adorned a bracelet and his nail polish was black. He played with his fingers almost nervously, his hands on your desk. “What have you been up to?”

“I picked up guitar. Um, I do some vocal stuff outside of school.”

“Like performances?”

You nod. “Different genres. Jazz, pop, R&B… I’m in a few groups.” He nods. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I never showed off when we were younger. I’ve been taking lessons for a while.”

“Maybe you could show me later. Y’know, outside of school.” He quips with a hoping smile. “Are you flirting with me, Murphy?” You ask, leaning forward slightly, his eyes moving from your chest back to your eyes. “Maybe.” You scoff, shoving away his face. “You’re a pervert now?” You laugh, but his smile slowly begins to disappear.

“Oh, I was joking, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that– I mean, no one’s perverted to their childhood best friend right?” You awkwardly laugh while he sighs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to look at you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Y/N, I was staring at your boobs.”

“Like a pervert?”

“For fuck’s sake, L/N, I am not a pervert.”

“Never said you were.”

You were provoking him. If it was another person doing the same thing, he’d have their head. Thrown something at them or given them a black eye. With you, it was all natural humour and jokes. He could brush it off without the need for bruising. The worst part was that you didn’t know you were aggravating him, with your cheeky smile and mischievous gaze.

Later that day, during lunch, you catch Connor off guard, leaning against a tree in the back of the school grounds where no one was, blowing out smoke. He tended to find solace in places where it was quiet and mostly alone. In high school, it was hard to find that kind of privacy, so you thought he’d be away and in the back where no one hung out, besides the drug dealers and porn magazine sellers.

“You smoke now?” You ask, him inhaling and letting out another puff. “I started a while ago. Keeps me sane.” He pulls it away from his mouth, contemplating. “I was gonna offer you some but, you sing now. I guess that comes in conflict.” How sweet of him to be so considerate. “Yeah. Wouldn’t wanna try it either way.”

You pause for a moment, watching him discard the joint. “How was Hanover?” You ask, a rush of memories overwhelming him all at once. “It was a fresh start. I liked it. I, um, made out with a dude? I don’t know, it was complicated.” You certainly didn’t expect that. “You had a boyfriend, then?”

“I dunno, we never specified on it. Complicated relationship.”

“How about girlfriends?” You hear him scoff. “You really think a guy that went to an all boys school would find a girlfriend?” You shrug, standing beside him. “I thought it was common for all boys and all girls schools to collaborate or host events together.”

“I don’t know if there were any collaborating events. I always skipped. Speaking of skipping, would you like to join me on a trip to Burger King instead of going to fifth and sixth?” You shouldn’t be surprised he’s skipping classes. He always joked about doing so in elementary, yet it never crossed your mind to contemplate if he was actually going to do so. “Unlike you, I actually care about my grades. You can come over if you’d like.”

“After years you still expect me to know the address?” He jokes. “I haven’t moved. I’ll text you.” You pull out your phone, opening your contacts app and letting him type in his number. He set his contact name as ‘C’, with a cigarette emoji next to it. “If you ever call me and that name pops up on my phone while I’m with my dad, he is going to kill me. Thinking I have a dealer or something.”

“Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You text him the address, not seeing him for the rest of the school day. He frequently skipped classes, except for the classes you two had together. He came over many times, your dad eventually meeting him when he wasn’t rushing out the door for work.

Only… one particular visit caused something to happen with reasons unknown.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You open the window, lighting some scented candles you found in the closet. Connor looked at his joint, inspecting it carefully, instead tossing it somewhere in his bag rather than lighting it, laying face up on your bed with a sigh.

The first time he was in your room, the first thing he asked was:

“Why the fuck is there sheet music everywhere?”

Which surprised you at first, mostly because you didn’t think he’d know what it was in the first place. He’d always smoke, mostly out the window, and you’d drench your room in air freshener afterwards so your dad wouldn’t know.

Connor was a very touchy person, especially when he was high. Sometimes he’d rest his head on your shoulder, his breath smelling of weed. Or on your lap, where his hair sometimes got trapped between your thighs. A hand on your leg, or on your thigh. You didn’t think of it at first, because it was Connor.

Though he took touchy to an extreme one day.

“Have you kissed anyone yet? Y’know, while I haven’t seen you.” You look up at him from your paper, amused. “Why are you asking?” He shakes his head, turning over and looking at you. “Oh, no, just wondering. So is that a no?” You sigh with a silent laugh. “No, I haven’t kissed anyone, Connor.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So you’re a virgin, then?”

“Connor, where is this coming from?”

“Do you know about the jocks constantly rambling about all the girls they have sex with?” He ignores your question with another question. “Yeah. It’s fucking annoying.” You scoff with a breathy laugh, taking a sip from your bottle. “You know they talk about you, right?”

You nearly spit out your water, saving the drops that fall from your mouth from falling onto your shorts. “Excuse me?” You say after swallowing. “Yeah. It’s all, ‘Bet 10 bucks I can bang her’ while they point at you. Or they go, ‘Jesus, wonder how much she can take’.”

“So I’m being objectified?” He nods slowly, looking up at you through his messy hair. “Unfortunately, yes. Want me to do something?”

“If it results in you getting suspended, no.”

“You sure? Those guys are dicks.”

“They’ll never believe us without any proof. And your reputation is bad enough already. I don’t want you to fall any more because of me.”

“Y/N, I’ll do anything for you.”

Those words make you pause and reflect. Was he high? No, because he tossed his joint in his bag anywhere. Even then, Connor would never say that for anyone. It seemed so out of character for him that you almost laughed.

“Are you high?”

“What?”

“I know damn well you wouldn’t do anything for anyone.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.” His gaze is stern, dark, and hard but also eager, glossy and hopeful. “I don’t know, maybe it is the weed I smoked twelve hours ago, but you’re really pretty. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to become friends with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone so pretty that doesn’t give a fuck about the fact I do drugs or the shit I’m dealing with. I really like you, Y/N. Always have. You didn’t single me out, you never left my side— you’re the one person in my fucked up life that makes me feel like I belong. That I matter.” Your childhood best friend, who’s now sitting up with a hand on your thigh, just confessed his undying love to you.

And you had to admit, the more you two started to hang out and reconnect, the more you started to develop something of an attraction to him. He never smiled at anyone but you, he didn’t push you away or glare at you; it was like he had a soft spot just for you, and it made you like him even more.

“I hope you aren’t gonna fuck me over. Y’know, if you don’t like me back.” His finger traces patterns on your thigh, the way his hand unknowingly rides up making your brain go haywire. “I’m… I, uh– I’m not.” He looks at you, for some reason, disappointed. “Should’ve known you didn’t. Forget this ever happened, then.”

“No, no! I like you! I really do like you, Connor. You’re charming and handsome and…” You hear him huff out a laugh, his face closing in on yours. “I know no one else thinks of me like that but you. You’re obsessed with me.”

“Could say the same for you, Murphy.”

His head tilts, his nose touching yours. “Wanna kiss you.” He mutters. You simply nod, inviting. “Okay.” You reply. He presses his lips to yours, feeling full and complete the moment you two meet. He can sense your confusion at first, but you managed to learn how to move with him quickly. Perks of being a fast learner.

He hovers on top of you on your bed, admiring you when he pulls away. His eyes shamelessly trail down from your face, to your chest, your stomach, your legs, his face cupped in your hands and pulling him towards you to kiss him again.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, the mood instantly erotic.

His hands are all over you. The back of your head, your shoulders, your waist, your hips, your thighs; he placed them wherever he could push you closer to him. When his mouth follows his hands to descend to your neck, you let out a soft whimper, panicking when you barely catch sight of the door.

“W-Wait.” You pant, nudging Connor for him to move to the side. You scramble off your bed, closing the window and the curtain and turning off the lights, going for the doorknob. “Thought you said your dad wasn’t home.” Connor says as you lock the door. “Never know when he will be.”

When you join him on the bed, his hands at the hem of your shirt, you stop him with a touch on his wrist. “Um, I don’t…”

“Oh, shit, did I go too far? I’m sorry–“

“No, no! I want it, I really do, but… you know...” He realized how nervous you were, remembering you haven’t done anything like this before. He gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You know I have. You trust me?” He asks, giving you doe eyes you’ve never seen before. You nod, emitting a chuckle from him. “Let me take care of you then.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sex was one thing. Having sex with your best friend is another.

It’s either your dad stayed at work all night or he’s in grave danger, given you haven’t heard him scream out of pure horror, then yell at you first thing in the morning. You woke up unbothered, naked, and held by your best friend. Unless this whole thing changed your relationship.

Were you even friends anymore? Was this a friends with benefits thing now? But he practically confessed to you yesterday, unless he was high. But he didn’t smoke anything, and the room doesn’t smell that bad…

One thing is for sure: Connor Murphy knows how to fuck.

Maybe it was the fact that you were a complete virgin or that you did whatever he asked you to, but you swear you could still feel how you felt last night when he was in you.

Your head rests on his arm, wrapping around you and holding you close to him. The ends of his hair touch your own head, and you blow them out of the way. You can feel him move, and he groans, meaning you woke him up. You lean into him more, feeling his fingers lightly brush your side. You feel his head turn, his hair moving from your head.

“Hi.” He says, peering down at you. You look up at him, noticing his gaze. “Hi.”

He plants a kiss on your forehead, his fingers moving to brush through your hair. “I think I passed out after.” You say, hearing him chuckle. “You did. When I came back to clean up, you were nearly snoring.”

“Oh god, I snore?”

“Loudly.”

He notices you going silent, immediately worried. “I was just joking! Well, kind of, you snore, but not loudly. Not like a dad snore.” You giggle into the side of his arm, followed by a brief moment of silence. “What are we now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think friends confess their undying love for each other and tie it off with sex.”

He pauses, hearing quiet hums come from his mouth. “Can I be your boyfriend, then?” He feels you nod against his arm while you hum in response. “Yeah.” You get out from under the covers, going to stand up until a brief pain shoots up your legs.

Memories of the night before suddenly come rushing in. “Fuck those jocks, I’m the only one who can see you like this.” He said, after making a mess of you with only his fingers.

He really fucked you good last night.

You curse under your breath, legs weak as you stare at the scattered clothes on the ground, tossing your own into the laundry basket by your door. You grab a new change, turning around and noticing Connor staring at you the whole time, an expression you can’t make out.

“I was that good? Your legs are shaking.” You roll your eyes and throw his shirt at him after putting on a pair of shorts. “Shut up. A real boyfriend would help me and not make fun of me.” He fake pouts, getting out of bed and putting on his own clothes.

You turn on the TV downstairs, the morning news playing and showing the date as Friday.

Friday.

Shit.

You’re beyond late.

“Turns out there was a gas leak so there’s no school. That works out great for us.” Connor says as if he could read your mind. You hear the garage door open, meaning your dad had just come home from work. He enters the room, seeing both of you standing by the kitchen counter.

“Shouldn’t you two be at school?” Is the first thing your dad says, eyeing both of you. “Cancelled. Gas leak.” You feel Connor’s hand rest at your hip, wanting to swat it away but knowing your dad already saw it just by the look on his face. “Did he use protection? I know you’re on those pills, but–“

“Oh my god, yes, he did, look– can we talk about this later?” Your dad shrugs and nods before heading for the stairs, hearing Connor laugh beside you. “How did he know?” You panic, placing toast on both your plates. “Maybe he saw your legs shaking from there.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You glare at him, giving him a brief kiss before bringing both your plates to the table. He quite literally does as you say, keeping quiet the entire time he eats his breakfast.

You should do that more often.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You knew that Connor was a very mischievous person. He always has been.

He’d skip classes, casually threaten people as if it were nothing, smoke weed; he nearly flushed firecrackers down a toilet once. He didn’t go through with it because you told him not to.

He was also mischievous in terms of your relationship.

He let you leave hickeys wherever you saw fit, in places visible and invisible. You were more wary of it. He showed them off proudly; well, not really proudly, he just didn’t mind if people saw or stared at him with hanging jaws. He couldn’t be bothered to cover them— the only time he did care was when his family would point them out.

He’d sneak out and go to your place frequently; he always preferred your house over his, mostly because he felt like he had a parent he could actually tolerate (and love). If your dad were to ever barge in, he’d stare at Connor, then at you, then at Connor’s bag, and ask if he had protection before leaving and closing the door. Connor always said yes.

It was also a convenient reminder for you to lock your door anytime Connor was in your room, since most of the time nights would always end in sex.

You fumbled for your keys to unlock the front door, Connor’s lips on yours when you stumbled inside. You didn’t notice a bunch of men in the living room, including your dad, holding beer bottles and staring at you until you saw them out of the corner of your eye. “Welcome back. How was the party?” Your dad asks, as if he didn’t see the escapade between you and your boyfriend.

“It was shhh– It sucked. Yeah. It sucked. Hi.” You mutter the last part, eyes quickly dashing over everyone who’s attention is taken away from the game on the TV. “Um, we’re just gonna… yeah.” You drag Connor with you out of their sight and upstairs.

“Does he have–“

“Yes!”

You slam your door shut, locking it, seeing Connor visibly nervous. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Was the party too much?”

“A little bit. And then… your dad’s friends just staring at us. I don’t know– anxiety? This is a stupid thing to be worried about.” You sit down next to him, hugging him while rubbing his back. “Don’t worry about them, okay? They’ve probably done the same when they were younger.”

You feel him sigh into your shoulder, his voice muffled.

“Thank you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

don’t grow up too fast. don’t leave me in the past. as long as you never change who you are, i know in your heart i’m never far. 🎧

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen musical #mike faist #fanfiction

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