deemin8386

[goodboytown]

oh, right. the flash drive. the flash drive with the emperor's schematics on it. the flash drive the resistance wants. the emperor's flash drive

[skinandscales-if]

Hello Rein! Hope you're doing well :) I wanted to, first, thank you for adding the ability to have disabilities in-game. It means a lot to me and, I'm sure, to others as well <3. I also wanted to know how we'll see the physical disabilities present themselves throughout the game? My MC, like myself, is HOH. I haven't tested other paths (yet!) but I really like what I've seen so far. I'm so curious to see the effects they'll have on the story/MC!!

Hey there! :D I appreciate this message more than you know- I really wanted to make the representation (if limited) significant in game, so I’m really genuinely glad to know that you find it fitting!

I think I’ve mentioned very briefly in some random tags before that the whole story, in its first phases, was extremely personal to me because it happened alongside me recognizing my own mental disabilities, so there’s a lottt of themes centered around concepts of community, care, and how society treats it. I won’t be able to cover all of the nuanced ground a conversation like that deserves, but I can sure as hell write some fictional dragons talking about it !

I’m hoping to make this clear especially to players who make their MC’s disabled in one way or another! There are currently multiple conversations planned about just this between the MC and the cast, with every character with their own relationship to it. For example, Skye is a lot more comfortable talking with someone with visible disabilities like her about her history, while Puck is still getting used to having such company. (sneak peek below the cut at the bottom👀)

So though for now it’s mostly flavortext, I’m really excited to dive into the heftier stuff in future chapters, where the significance really kicks in. It doesn’t make much sense to me for characters to just ignore this, especially when the story so heavily centers around similar themes, yknow?

Anyways! Sorry for the ramble didn’t mean to just talk at you lol but I hope you have a wonderful day anon! <3

[EXCERPT: ���Me? Psh- nah.” They reply, lifting a hand and adjusting their glasses as they look back out at the scene ahead of them. The group is still talking. “I'm not nearly that talented. I'm basically half-blind anyways.”

<<if $blindeye is true>>They take a second before whipping their head to look back to you, eyes flashing with worry as they let out a sudden regretful bark of awkward laughter.

“Shit. Not like that. You know what I mean- sorry.”]

[fanficsiwillneverwrite]

“Can we go now? People in the twenty-first century smell.”

“We do not,” says Clara, offended. She turns to the Doctor for reassurance.

But he hesitates. “There is… a stench,” he confirms after a long moment.

[lunarmoves]

Hi hi Miss Shayyy!! 1 and 22 for the fanfic writer asks? 💕

MISS ZEEE HELLO!!!!! ily ty for dropping by <3

1. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

hmmmm... smthn new.... does writing for the dca fandom count LMFAOOO. idk i'd never juggled with the sort of creepy tropes that come with sunmoon before. like... they are scary DSFHKF. i used to write creepy things with mha back on my other blog, but nothing like with fnaf, so getting to mess around with creepy sun or glitched moon was very interesting! 10/10 would do again.

22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

OUUUGHHHH hang on. i need to think.... okokok i think it's probably gotta be this scene i wrote for chapter two of love from the other side (the god/apocalypse au i told u abt):

I JUST. GAHHH. GOD ECLIPSE GGGAHHHHHHHHH. hes taken over my brain. this scene.... this scene goes so crazy... now all i gotta do is finish it KHSDFJKSF

[a-kaash-me-outside]

the walls are thin - ch2

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | ch2 | next [masterlist]

// stupid, annoying, really attractive, super funny, ravishingly charming atsumu ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6214 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ suggestive bits (& eventual smut), cafe date, incessant flirting, self-indulgent flirtationship with hanamaki, seijoh4 group chat, jealous, relentless, adorable, plantsitter atsumu, afab reader she/her pronouns

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

the second that you close your door, you can’t help but speak aloud to yourself, “what the fuck was that?” you run both of your hands through your hair, leaning against the other side of the door “what the fuck was that?” you say, louder this time accompanied by a harsh scoff and only the start of another sentence, “i- fucking-.”

it’s nearly 2 in the morning. you left your dorm room over half an hour ago tired and annoyed and now you can’t fucking imagine sleeping. you know that you won’t have to deal with any banging, that time has come and gone. and it figures that the one night you know you’re guaranteed no more noises, you’re shocked awake by one stupid fucking interaction.

your dorm room isn’t big by any means. there really isn’t enough room to pace the floor and yet here you are, walking the length repetitively, turning on your heel when you couldn’t walk forwards any longer. when atsumu wasn’t in front of you, it was easy enough to maintain your annoyance or, at the bare minimum, not instantly forgive him for being so inconsiderate. it was easy enough to pretend that at some point tomorrow you were going to bring up this fact. 

“hey, so about my sleep schedule,” you practice aloud, well, aloud was an understatement, more like every few syllables made it past your lips. you shake your head, groaning to yourself as you sit down on the edge of your bed. “funny story, actually,” you say, gesturing with your hands to the thought of tomorrow’s atsumu. “fuck.”

maybe instead you would just focus on saying actual cohesive words this time. maybe that would be enough.

/++/

yesterday, yesterday you were caught off guard. you were tired. you were defeated. you thought you would have to return to a room full of irritatingly repetitive noises. it wasn’t even a thought in your mind that you’d meet him last night. you weren’t going to take the blame for the state you were in or the way that he affected you.

but today? today you were a new person, reinvigorated by the 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep you got, the productiveness of your 9am class, and the will to make sure that you looked like an actual human being when he saw you this time. you wouldn’t admit it, the amount of time and effort and the preparation that you took in your appearance, made sure to sneak around your dorm so as to not hint that you were awake early. 

the entire time that you’re getting ready, there are a million thoughts going through your head. most of them circle around the fear that you’re going to look like an idiot again. some of them about how stupid it was that you were going to lunch with the person who’s made your life the most difficult in these past months. and the most recent one you’ve landed on is that the two of you never settled on a time. what if you spent that much time getting ready, wasted countless hours of pointless thinking about things that just weren’t going to happen? what if he didn’t remember or just blew you off?

knock knock knock. you scramble to your feet from the seated position you resided in on the floor. 12:01pm. you don’t have to peek through your peephole to know who was at your door, but you do anyway. 

and god are you glad that you did. it at least gave you some time to be prepared for the sight that was a dressed up, put together, looking far too good in casual wear atsumu. it’s silly now, in hindsight, that you hadn’t thought of the fact that he would also have time to be put together today rather than you catching him completely off guard on your walk home. 

but you’re smart. you take a step away from the door, take a deep breath, and call out, “grabbing my bag, one sec.” that will buy you a few moments to prepare yourself. you throw on your shoes, grab your bag like you said you were, and you take one last look through the peephole. 

then it hits you. he did also have the ability and time to get ready just like you and, just like you, he obviously utilized every second of it. you smile a bit to yourself, turning the knob and opening your door. “cannot believe my quietness has finally earned me a free lunch.” it comes out of you easily, not forced. you didn’t have to think about it all night or mull over it while you were getting ready. 

he doesn’t say anything back to you as you step outside into the hallway next to him, turning around and locking the door behind you. in fact, all you get in return is a small laugh so you push on, “where are you taking me?”

“oh, yea,” he clears his throat, “what are you in the mood for?”

“you’re going to make your date choose where we go to eat?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows at him before focusing on putting your keys in your bag. besides, you’re not sure that you could keep this up if you kept making eye contact with him. 

“i- well,” he tries, stopping himself and starting again. he gets a bit more traction, regains a bit more of the ground that he lost the second you looked that good standing in your doorway. “a date? i’m not sure i’m dressed up enough for a date-”

“i think you look really nice,” you say, holding eye contact with him as long as you can bare it. you don’t dare look down, don’t allow yourself the pleasure of taking him in, not yet. instead, you place your hand on his chest for just a fraction of a moment, just enough for the flat of your palm to feel a single heartbeat, and then you turn to walk down the hall.

you’re already making your way towards the elevator, nodding your head towards the exit as if he hasn’t also lived there the past 2 months. “hey! you stole my line!” god, he’s not used to this. he stammers as he jogs to catch up to you. guess you’re not the one that looks like an idiot this time.

“gotta be quicker than that,” you say, turning around once you’ve gotten to the elevator, putting your weight into your heels as he takes two long strides to catch up with you. in those two long strides, you let yourself falter, breath catching as you make the mistake of taking him in as he steps right in front of you.

his blonde hair is no longer tangled in the back, but you still find yourself wanting to run your fingers through it, still find yourself wanting to know how easy it is to get as tangled as it was yesterday, still find yourself wanting to hear the sound that comes out of him when you grab a fistful. the neatness of it all is making it even worse. 

he’s wearing a different jacket this time, dark denim, no longer shirtless underneath but wearing a plain white t-shirt that’s loosely tucked into his cuffed -fucking cuffed- tan pants. his bangs are no longer resting against his forehead, instead pushed up and back revealing more of his face, revealing more of this two step behind expression on his face. 

and, fuck, if you couldn’t look at that forever. 

it’s gone too soon, replaced by a devilish smile, hand out in front of him as he steps closer to you, palm upturned as reaches towards you. your eyes widen despite wanting to flutter shut and you’re about to lean into his touch when he continues his motion right past you, clicking the elevator button and letting his hand linger, halfway bracketing you in. “gotta be quicker than that,” he says.  

/++/

you let him choose where the two of you go for lunch, a small little cafe at the very edge of town, away from the business of the campus and the multitude of college students. you had never been there before, this small hidden gem in the vicinity of a crazy college town. 

atsumu also chooses your booth, sliding into a secluded one in the corner of the cafe away from the few patrons on laptops or coffee dates. “so did i do a good job choosing our first date place?” he asks. 

you’re amused, you won’t lie. and you know that you’re the one that brought up the date joke in the first place, but there’s something about the way that he says “first date” that makes it feel a bit too real. still, you play along, tapping your chin, chewing on your bottom lip, swerving your head from side to side. “really great, but i don’t know how you’re going to top it for our second one.”

he smirks. you’ve pulled a smirk from him. he leans forwards, arms crossed over one another on the table. “i’m not usually a second date typa guy,” he admits and there’s absolutely no way that your face isn’t bright fucking red. whatever feelings you were feeling yesterday are nothing compared to this moment. your stomach feels like it’s going to come up your throat and you have to make a quick decision as a whimper threatens to leave along with it. 

ahem. you clear your throat, shaking your head as you do, covering your mouth, hoping that it covers part of the burning in your cheeks. he doesn’t give you any time to recover. “so maybe let’s not call this our first date so that i can actually take you out sometime,” he follows up. it’s not making your situation much better. 

you reach your hand out, wrapping it around his forearm, not expecting it to feel so strong in your grasp, but you suppose that was your misjudgement. you tighten your grip, begging for the attention to be taken off your face and given to the contact you’ve just created. “we’ll see how good of company you are for lunch, first, yeah?” 

he speaks after a second, nodding along, “that seems fair.”

and then it’s quiet, but neither of you seem to mind, not when you have these few moments to just sit there looking at each other, your nails gently scraping against his skin.

you break the silence first, “so, what do you do for fun?”

“oh, hm, well, i-,” he stammers, laughing, obviously not expecting that question. “i play volleyball a bit and i go to parties and i mean, yea, that’s basically how i spend my freetime.” maybe that was a bit easier of an answer than a different girl every night. he’s about to reciprocate the question when an older woman stops by the table.

“the usual, atsumu?” the waitress asks, a light, friendly touch placed on his shoulder.

the question takes you by surprise, repeats in your head as you rattle off your order as politely as you can while you put the pieces together. what are you thinking. what are you thinking. what are you thinking. 

of course he’s been there before. he’s probably taken a handful of his one night stands here. the nights that you’ve spent struggling to fall asleep or at maki’s or in the library probably started right here with a conversation very similar to the one that you’re having now. you weren’t above having a one night stand. you weren’t judging him for having many of them. you weren’t even regretting this lunch because you’ve just been reminded of the fact that you’re not special in the eyes of miya atsumu. 

you’re regretting the fuck-me eyes you’re flashing and the less than clean thoughts that you’re having because you’re not going to fuck your neighbor who is notorious for one night stands are you kidding. 

suddenly the booth seems a bit too warm, shifting in your seat, taking your hands and putting them back on your side of the table. you still smile at him sweetly. you still shoot him a few flirty questions. you still ogle at him from your side of the table, but that’s as far as it’s going to go you decide. 

/++/

he walks you back to your door which isn’t really saying much since he lives right next to it. you’re not sure if he’s going to try to talk to you again after he realizes that you’re not interested in taking this further than what it is right now. maybe he’s holding out hope or thinking that you’ll break in the next 24 hours or by the time he asks you out to dinner inevitably, because you’ve never been extraordinarily great at reading body language, but his is loud and clear. he wants to kiss you or move your hair out of your face or hug you or stroke your cheek or something. 

his body is leaning forward, not actively, just positionally, but he leaves room for you to make the move and as much as you want to close the gap, fumble with his door handle until you can pull him inside, and finally be the one who can enjoy atsumu’s one night stand for once, you motion to your door. “i’ve gotta get ready to meet a few friends, but i’m sure i will see you around.” 

you fish your key out of your bag, unlocking the door, ready to say one final goodbye before entering your own room, but he says, “wait!” you do so. “can i have your number?”

you chuckle, furrowing your eyebrows at the thought. “what do you need my phone number for? you live right next to me?” you prop the door open with your foot, grabbing onto the door frame instead.

“right and how well did that work for us seeing each other all semester?” he asks, “besides, what if i want to bother you when you’re not home?”

with your freehand that isn’t on the frame, you mimic your motion from before, resting the flat of your palm against atsumu’s sternum, patting a few times, “take a number.” and if luck and karma was on your side, the smirk and wink that you throw at him will have him just as stunned outside of his door as you were last night.

/++/

as soon as you’ve closed the door, you let out a breath you’re not even really sure you knew you were holding. what were you thinking? flirting with your neighbor that you know is having one night stand after one night stand? flirting with your neighbor that is super inconsiderate and doesn’t care about the people around him he’s affecting? flirting with your neighbor that is incredibly fucking hot and that you have incredible chemistry with? flirting with your neighbor that you could be fucking right now if you had just played your cards right instead of having to hear him fuck some other girl tonight? shit. what were you thinking?

you shake your head, sitting down at your desk and finally checking your phone.

2 new messages.

> issei / 1:03 pm > can you fucking believe yn blew us off today without so much as a text

> maki <3 /  1:04 pm > maybe she’s sleeping right through lunch.

shit. how did you forget that you were supposed to have lunch with them today instead. well i mean you know why you forgot. but how could you forget to even just text them and let them know. 

< 3:23 pm < shit sorry guys. 

> kawa / 3:32 pm > sorry really isn’t going to get you out of admitting that you didn’t tell lover boy off last night???????????

< 3:32 pm < are u guys at ur dorm??? < i’m coming over

> maki &lt;3 / 3:43 pm > hajime’s at class > the rest of us are 

> hajime / 3:45 pm > i want to know? > and if i get a footnotes version > i will be so mad

> maki <3 / 3:46 pm > then don’t be in class, loser

> maki <3 / 3:48 pm > i’m sorry. it was a joke.

> maki &lt;3 / 3:52 pm > guys please.

&lt; 4:04 pm < omw to save maki’s ass

> maki &lt;3 / 4:04 pm > and that’s why i love u.

/++/

you feel like you’ve been talking for ages, explaining everything, not sparing any little detail (except for the feelings, you definitely left the feelings out). the three men look at you in disbelief. oikawa takes a deep breath and then closes his mouth and then opens it once more, “okay, yn, when we said to confront your neighbor, we didn’t mean…” his voice trails off, but your brain fills in the blanks.

“i know,” you say through your teeth, “i obviously know in theory that i shouldn’t be flirting with my neighbor who is obviously trying to get with me.” all three of them stare back at you, waiting for a but, “...but, i don’t know, he’s just really attractive.”

“hardly an excuse,” maki responds from behind you on the couch.

“that’s because you don’t know what it’s like to have that effect on someone,” issei says, shrugging as if it were just fact. it causes you and oikawa to burst out in laughter, maki’s cheeks tinged with soft red as a result.

catching your breath, you sigh, “no, maki’s right, i know it’s not an excuse and i’m not going to do it,” you pause, blowing out air, “he’s just kinda cool to hang out with. the banter is fun and he’s nice to look at and i’m not sure i know how to hang out with him without excessively flirting with him.”

“i’m sure it’s not that hard, yn,” maki quips, voice evidently joking in a way that actually makes the situation weirdly easier. he is right. you did manage the rest of the day. 

“don’t mind him,” issei rests a hand on your shoulder and you catch his attention just long enough to catch the smirk that comes with it, “maki’s just jealous he’s not your only crush now.”

“yea, yn, maybe i’m just jealous i’m not your only crush now,” maki repeats, arms folded.

“hey, i mean, it doesn’t matter, anyway,” you shake your head, “i don’t think he’s going to be trying to talk to me after he finds out that i’m not planning on having sex with him.” you stand up from the couch, placing your hand softly on maki’s shoulder, “you will soon be my only crush once again.”

“good. that’s how it should be.” maki gives a short nod. 

“sure, behind me and hajime,” issei responds back and you’re already getting a bad feeling about the quizzical look on maki’s face. oikawa scoffs, a rebuttal already coming out of his mouth, but he’s interrupted.

“really? because yn actually said that i was her favorite,” maki says sweetly despite the destruction he’s about to bring to the room.

a volume of protests erupt from the other two men sitting in the room. “oh! look at the time! i’ve gotta head back!” you say, checking your nonexistent watch and backing up towards the door. 

“fine! leave! traitor!” oikawa scowls. you blow the group a small kiss before slipping out of the room. 

/++/

unfortunately for a lot of people, atsumu surprises you. unfortunate for maki, your second crush; your friend group for missing out on your typical presence; your own expectations; and you’re sure, atsumu, who just wanted to have sex with his cute neighbor.

he doesn’t just hang out with you once more and then decide to stop talking to you. he hangs out with you 6(7?) times in the next few days: lunch every day, a walk to the corner store, dinner, and a 45 minute talk in the hallway if you count that as hanging out. brought on either bumping into you or deliberately knocking on your door to coerce you into doing something with him.

by the third hangout, he meets your energy, flirting with you in tiny quantities, no more than he would flirt with a close friend. and it feels almost impossible, but you’re getting the suspicion that he actually wants to be friends with you. he has a million girls to choose from that he doesn’t have to try nearly as hard for, so why else would he continue to hang out with you like this?

he makes it so easy to want to be friends with him. after your initial infatuation wears off, he’s just atsumu, stupid, annoying, really attractive, super funny, ravishingly charming atsumu. and more than any of this, he makes it so easy because his room has been so quiet these past few days. you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep every single day since you started hanging out more regularly. 

there’s a tiny part of you that wants to chalk that up to you and how much you’ve been hanging out, but during one of your lunches he tells you about how rough volleyball is and that, unfortunately, makes more sense than him meeting you caused him to not want to fuck other people.

“i literally don’t have time for anything,” he said, shoving food into his mouth, checking his watch. “it has been nonstop practices, prep, training, matches.” he shook his head. 

“right, but you have time to hang out with me,” you pointed out. 

he laughed, lips spread wide to show his perfect smile, “okay. i have time for one thing and that is you, i guess.” he paused, swallowing his food. you could’ve fill the silence with more teasing and bantering, but you just waited patiently for him to speak again, not because you were trying to impress him, but because you could see that he was about to say something and you didn’t want to miss it. “i love volleyball, of course i do, but i’m ready to slow down just a little bit.” he made a pinching motion with his fingers. “‘m really glad spring break is this week. ready to get back to some routine at least.”

that’s exactly where atsumu is right now, fitting in another practice when he’s supposed to be eating because he gets an entire week off just like everyone else but unlike everyone else, he has to physically prepare for that.  

“god, the first lunch that we’ve had with just the two of us in-” he checks his phone, “5 days.” he shakes his head disapprovingly. “unacceptable.” you set your lunch down on the picnic table. 

“i know, i know, i’m sorry,” you say, swinging your leg over the bench. 

maki shrugs, “sorry isn’t good enough, i need you to make it up to me.”

“what do you want me to-,” you start, throwing your hands up in the air, ready, in the back of your mind, to give him the cookie in your bag that you really got for yourself. 

“yn?” you hear from behind you. you don’t need to look to know who it is, that voice has permanently ingrained in your head this week.

“y’know what, this works. this counts,” maki says as atsumu approaches your table.  

“maki, i swear to go-,” you start again and atsumu unintentionally interrupts you again, walking up close enough to your table. “hey!” 

you notice that jacket from the first time you met and those shorts from the first time you met and those shoulders from the first time you met and that messy hair and crooked smile. you notice all of those, easily enough to recognize when you’ve seen it all before, but there is something there on his face that isn’t as easy to recognize, because you haven’t seen it before. 

“are you just getting back from practice?” you ask.

atsumu runs his fingers through his already messed up hair, combing through the brassy locks before nodding his head, “yeah, i just got done. tomorrow’s the last one until we get back from break.”

“you told me this morning when we left at the same time, yes,” you tease, pointing for emphasis. he would normally play right back, poke fun or just laugh at your observation, but instead his eyes keep flicking over to maki. 

“oh! sorry, i didn’t- yea, this is atsumu,” you nod towards atsumu, “he’s-.”

“you’re yn’s neighbor,” maki fills in all by himself, “the volleyball guy.”

“amongst other things,” atsumu adds on.

“you sure are,” maki smirks, “i’m maki.” he gives a small wave, and you know that he’s purposely omitting a title. 

“maki’s just a friend,” you blurt, trying to slouch your shoulders and lean back to seem more casual, like the statement you just said wasn’t so pointed, like you couldn’t feel the tension. you swear to god you watch atsumu’s shoulders mirror yours.

“well, it’s nice to meet you,” atsumu replies. it’s not as dry as it could be, evidently shaking off whatever it was he was feeling a few moments ago, but the second that he turns to you and talks, it’s warm, “i’ll catch you later, okay?”

“yes! we still have stuff to go over before tomorrow!” you yell towards him even though he’s only taken 3 baby steps backwards.

“alright, alright, quit you’re yellin’,” he smiles, “you know where to find me.”

you watch him turn around and jog away, brisk and perfect form, and you’re not sure if you let out a lovey sigh or if it’s hanamaki mocking you or if you just thought it. anyway you slice it, there was a lovey sigh as he was jogging back. 

“oh my god he absolutely wants to fuck you,” maki laughs, “and we are even for like the next 10 things you do, oh my god that was so worth it.”

you punch his shoulder, narrowing your eyes, “not. cool.”

“9 now. 9 things.”

/++/

true to his word, you knew exactly where to find him.

when he opens his door, you’re expecting him to look irritated or bothered or uninterested for having to do this, but he greets you with a half-smile and steps out into the hallway with you. “okay,” you step into your room. “i’ve color coded them and i’ve included a chart. you literally can’t fuck it up. whatever the color, you refer to the little chart and you check the time slot when you’ve watered them, got it?”

“yn, i’m not going to kill your plants,” atsumu deadpans. “you know where i live.”

you let your giggles escape you, “are you ever going to stop using that joke?”

he pauses for a second, and in that second you realize how close he’s standing to you, how softly he’s looking you in the eyes, “maybe when you stop laughing at it.”

you turn away from him quickly, trying your best to hide the warmth in your cheekbones. “okay. noted,” you only half joke. “just,” you walk over to the chart beside the window sill titled atsumu’s plant checklist (pls dont kill these guys) ♡ “follow the chart and you’re right, you will not kill them.”

“got it,” atsumu nods genuinely. 

you point at him. “and in return,” you turn around and tap on the 10 digits in the bottom corner of the paper. “i am finally giving you my phone number.”

atsumu fakes a gasp, “for bothering you when you’re not home?”

“no! no. you will use this for emergency’s only. i am entrusting you with my dorm key,” you wave it in your hand above your head, “and if anything happens-,” you say, backing up, shaking your head. 

“nothing’s going to happen,” atsumu steps forward with you as you back up, lunging forward and grabbing your wrist, “now what are you so afraid of?” he doesn’t let go of your wrist, not as he cocks his head to the side and lowers your hand, pushing his fingers into your fist to grab the loosely held key. 

“okay then,” you say, quiet, really quiet because he’s pretty close and you don’t need to be screaming into his ear and your stomach is not letting you talk any louder, “i will see you in two weeks.”

he drops your wrist, slowly, not all at once, lets you feel his soft skin on yours until the very last second. “me, and all of your very alive plants, will see you in two weeks.”

unlike most everyone else on campus, you were leaving for two weeks instead of one, split equally between spring break free time and a university sanctioned event. this meant a really cool and fun two weeks away from classes and the mundane. it also meant two weeks away from maki and atsumu and your plants and your bed. 

you grab your duffle bag that you had packed previously, slinging it over your shoulder. both you and atsumu leave your room. atsumu locks the door with your key, checking that the door is properly locked like you’ve never seen him do with his own. “two weeks,” he says, pointing at you as you walk down the hallway. you shake your head, “two weeks.”

bzzzz bzzzz. before you’re even out of the building you get a text.

> unknown / 7:20 pm > about your plants… > have a safe trip 😚

yeah, your trip wouldn’t be so bad. 

/++/

> 12:34 pm > i’m back in 10, pls let’s get foooood

> tsumu / 12:35 pm > for sure. drop ur bags and we’re going > srsly 1 minute and im leaving without u

you did exactly that, opened your door for just a fraction of a second to throw your bag inside and then started banging on atsumu’s door, not stopping until he’s opened it, not even when he yells, “i’m coming, i’m coming, hold on.” when the door flings open, you’re met with maybe too many emotions, namely excitement and a realization of just how much you missed him. “god, so impatient,” is what’s coming out of his mouth before his eyes have settled on you, his face contorted into playful annoyance. the end of the sentence trails off and the playful annoyance is replaced with a smile and an expression similar to the one you’re wearing. 

there is no hesitance, from either of you, as you extend your arms out and wrap them around him. his arms follow suite at the exact same speed as if both of you had the idea at the exact same time, mutually exclusive in this reaction to seeing each other for the first time in two weeks. his arms clasping around your waist tightly, strongly and you try to match the squeeze as much as you can and you’re wondering if he’s feeling as safe as you are right now. 

you don’t even have it in your head to feel off about how closely the two of you are pressed together, not when you’re breathing in his scent, clean and a pinprick dab of soft cologne, not when you can feel his heartbeat against the side of your cheek. and definitely not when he squeezes you just a fraction tighter as he says, “missed ya.” there’s no way he didn’t feel your heart skip a beat.

truthfully, there wasn’t a single day during that 2 weeks that you didn’t text with atsumu. but, the same could be said about maki, so it’s not really that big of a deal, right? though, you suppose, maki wasn’t the first person that you texted the second you stepped foot back on campus. and maki wasn’t the one that you spent a solid minute hugging within the first minute you saw him. and maki wasn’t sitting in front of you eating lunch now, a lingering smile on his face that hasn’t quite left from that moment. and maki didn’t buy you lunch as a welcome back present.

but it’s still not that big of a deal.

“what is that supposed to mean?!” you laugh, leaning forward, eyebrows knit together and, you’re sure, an adorably confused look on your face.

“i meant what i said, i get it,” atsumu tries, putting his hands up in faux defeat.

“you get why this 50 year old man tried to give me a keycard to go back to his room with him?” you repeat, trying to make sure that you’re actually hearing him correctly. 

“game recognize game,” he shrugs.

“you’re fucking ridiculous,” you shake your head, but you’re not even trying to hide the huge grin, laughing as you reach over to atsumu’s plate and pick a french fry off of it. there’s a pause, a beat, that just feels natural as it passes, but as soon as he’s said his next sentence, you know that moment was thoughtful, tactical, maybe even used to muster up some courage, if not just to weigh some pros and cons. 

“i mean, god, i really was trying to fuck you the first time we hung out,” atsumu says, admits, lets escape into such a crowded space, but the statement is gone as quickly as it came, carried away by the volume of the public space that you’re in. you knew this. of course you knew this, but there was still something so taboo about him saying it to your face.

what’s his angle here? you don’t even know how to respond, so you tease him, “yea, well, maybe you shouldn’t have been so insufferable and i would’ve fucked you.” you shrug your shoulders, stealing another fry.

he laughs, then, but it tapers out at the end. was that not the answer that he wanted? what was the answer that he wanted? you look at him, really look, as much as you can without seeming weird, and his smile is still as bright and his shoulders aren’t any more slumped, but there’s something in his eyes, a tiny damper that you might even have mistaken for hurt. 

you wait for something to change in your conversation, but he keeps throwing jokes your way, keeps asking you about your trip, telling you about his week of school without you. the rest of your conversation goes on like normal for the most part, if not just a touch less flirty on atsumu’s end. 

/++/

by the time you make it back to your room, it’s dark outside. between swiping notes from people from various classes and getting dinner with maki and hanging out with oikawa and iwa and issei at their dorm, when you actually make it to your room it’s nearly 2 in the morning. you pat at your pockets, search your tote bag, shit. 

his shitty ass handwriting catches your eye. if you are not yn do not take this key. holy shit he’s a dumb ass. still, you’re grateful that he thought this far ahead at least. what if someone stole it? or just went into your room? you shake your head, moving one door over, ready to both thank him and reprimand him.

you’re about to knock on his door and then you hear it, because it’s really been ingrained in your head since the beginning of the semester, this rhythm, this noise. and you know exactly what it is. you’re looking for it now. it’s faint, but you’re listening for it. and yet, you still end up inside your room, because no matter how confident you were that that is what you were hearing in the hallway, it would be louder in your room and louder meant it was actually happening.

it’s unmistakable, really, but you put your hand on the wall just to make sure. 

it’s been weeks since you’ve dealt with this, weeks since you’ve had to hear this, weeks since you’ve met atsumu and got to know him and flirted with him and got lunch with him every day and let him text you and trusted him to plantsit for you. 

you move away from the wall, stand up from your bed, and walk over to set your tote bag and notes down on your desk, needing to get rid of the things that are weighing you down because you feel heavy enough as it is right now. 

but sitting on your desk instead is the chart that you left atsumu, completely filled out with random smiley faces and check marks and doodles on each day and there is a new color on the bottom with one poorly drawn added box and a large, similarly badly drawn, star inside of it. next to the chart is a small cactus with the coordinated color tab wrapped around its base and a note that reads

??? cactuses are easier to take care of. please get more so next time it’s easier to take care of them. - atsumu  

p.s. you’re welcome for the new plant

p.p.s AND for keeping all of your plants alive. 

p.p.p.s welcome back. i missed havin u around.

p.p.p.p.s. it’s 2 days until you’re back dont hold this against me. been too quiet without u around.

for the few minutes that you’re reading and rereading the note, the sound fades away. but now you’re wishing the note was never ending because it’s back and it’s loud and fuck. fucking miya atsumu.

taglist: @natriae @simpfully-heartbroken @niverine @mobbbb1 @cloud-lyy @mimivinx @kjd55 @phantomremi @url0call1fter @kryzi @katsunarii @slut-for-dabi @ellie111593

[vampire-matcha]

Blood in the Wine-7

Chapter Seven: Mead

A/N: Thank you all for your love, patience, and encouragement. Life has its ups and downs, but one thing remains certain- I fucking love vampires

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Mean Soap! No smut in this chapter, just general spookiness and some suggestive language.

Song: Strangelove by Depeche Mode

MASTERLIST, CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4, CH5, CH6

---

Two pairs of eyes were fixated on you through the crack in the door. Gaz’s lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but Price waved his hand and the door slammed shut just inches from your face. You stood panting in the doorway. You couldn’t hear them say anything through the door anymore. 

Did you really just see what you saw? If the wetness in your underwear was anything to judge by, then the answer was yes. Your pulse was racing in your ears like a river. It was so loud, in fact, that you couldn’t even hear Soap walk up behind you until his hand was wrapped around your upper arm and he yanked you backwards away from the door. You stumbled backwards, barely managing to keep your feet under you. You shouted in surprise, finally snapping out of your stupor. 

“You’re fucking shameless, aren’t you? Just can’t fucking get enough?” he shoved you away from him roughly, and you had to catch yourself on the wood paneling walls. His voice was growling and vicious. You looked up at him and your breath caught in your throat. 

Dark, jagged gashes cut through his face; a particularly deep-looking one ran down over his left eye. The scabs were black, and they pulled at the soft skin of his cheeks as he spoke. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to-”

“What? You didn’t mean to do what? Didn’t mean to sneak a peek at Price’s cock down Gaz’s throat?”

“No!” You took a step back as he took one toward you. 

“Or you didn’t mean to let Ghost tear up my face like this?”

“No!” He kept advancing on you down the hall. Your back hit the wall. 

"Then what? Huh? Look at me!" He said standing over you. "Look what you did to my face."

"I didn't do anything!" You pleaded. You could feel your throat closing up around the lump you tried to come down, and your vision blurred with salty tears. 

"You did! All because you couldn't follow the damn rules. You should be grateful I threw myself in his way." His voice was lower now, colder. "Because if I hadn't, if Ghost had gotten his hands on you," he shrugged, "we'd be out looking for a new familiar." 

You blinked up at him, hot tears dropping from your cheeks onto your collar, and his eyes followed the movement. 

"Could take a bite out of you right now, couldn't I? Then I'd be right as rain again. Heal up nice and quick…" He leaned closer. Your breath hitched as you felt the heat of his blow over your pulse point. 

“You’ve already had your turn with her, Soap,” said an admonishing voice just a meter away. Price stepped closer with an unspoken air of authority, and Soap stepped back in submission, throwing you one last resentful glare. “You’re dismissed, Soap,” he said with a touch more force. If looks could kill, you’d have been dead where you stood, and Soap would have been the culprit. His icy eyes chilled you to the core, but he finally turned his back to you and swiftly disappeared around the corner again. 

You sniffled quietly to yourself. You hadn’t meant for it to happen. Not the incident of the past night, not Soap’s injuries, and certainly, you never meant to catch a peek of Gaz and Price’s… intimate moment. You never mean to be a less-than-willing ward of this manor, but that was old news by now. There was nothing more you could do. You’d agreed to the pact, and somewhere inside you, you felt that your actions with Gaz last night only cemented your place here. Your role to play had been decided.

A touch to your face shocked you out of your head and you flinched. 

“Easy, love,” Price cooed to you, standing so close now. His thumb brushed your cheek, interrupting the wet path your tears had made. “Goddamn MacTavish keeps making you cry. I’ll have to have a proper conversation with him, eh?” He held your face so gently that it was hard to believe the man was capable of such cruelty you had witnessed the night before. His tenderness almost made you forget his utter hypocrisy.

You leaned away but his strong hands followed you, keeping you close to him. He studied your face. He always seemed to be looking at you with a strange curiosity. His eyes followed the freshest tear down your face with the sharpness of a cat watching a mouse. You did your best to compose yourself, but being in such close proximity made catching your breath quite difficult. Price wasn’t the same soft comfort that Gaz was. Instead, he was a sturdy wall, and you found yourself leaning into the stability of him all on your own.

He pulled you closer to himself and kissed the tear away. His lips were soft between the bushiness of his mustache and beard, which tickled and poked you ever so slightly. He licked his lips as he stood back with a satisfied smile.

“Now, no more tears, darling,” he said as you stared up in shock. “Come, follow me. I’ve got something to show you.” He didn’t wait for you to follow; instead he took your wrist in your hand and pulled you along, leaving you no choice but to follow. His grip was one of iron, yet wasn’t hard enough to bruise. Soft, but unyielding. He led you down the main staircase. The cobwebs were still hanging heavy on the grand chandelier as you passed underneath. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, following him through the quiet halls, falling into step with him. 

“What for?” he asked. You were too ashamed to look him in the eye, but you could’ve sworn you heard that damn smirk in his voice. He was going to make you admit it, wasn’t he? You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t! But as you lied to yourself, you could feel your composure crumbling. There was something about Price that made you want to obey… to submit. 

“For… eavesdropping,” you relented, bowing your head lower. 

“Eavesdropping? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he joked. You knew you were caught, and so did he. “And did you enjoy the conversation?” he teased. He squeezed your hand. When had your hand slipped so easily into his? “You should know now to knock before entering a room. There are things far more sinister than that to be found in this manor.”

“Maybe you should lock your doors, then,” you bit back, but there was hardly any venom in your words. You could feel your face positively burning at the way Price tiptoed around the fact that you saw him cum down Gaz’s throat, that he did so while staring you down. 

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” he said as the two of you stopped outside the double doors of the library. “Maybe I wanted you to see.” Your eyes stayed fixated on the old oak doors. You felt heat prickling at your brow and his beard sweeping over your ear. He pushed the doors open. The hinges creaked from years, maybe decades of unuse. 

You coughed as a surge of dust filled your lungs, but when it cleared, you stepped into a beautiful and spacious room, walls all lined with rows and rows of books, many of them looking utterly ancient. A rolling ladder was pushed into the farthest corner, and floor-to-ceiling windows lit up the entirety of the room with glowing golden sunbeams, making the speckles of dust more resemble fairy dust. You stepped into the room and trailed your hand along the carved wood of the back of an old velvet armchair. It was probably a vibrant purple once. Small round end tables were scattered about next to the various sitting areas, most covered with linens, but you were drawn to the reading nook at the foot of the wall of windows. The earthy, grounding smell of aged paper saturated your senses. A thin layer of dust covered every surface, and you imagined what the room must have looked like at its pinnacle. 

Price watched you with a sincere smile as you explored the open space of the library. He enjoyed the wonder and elation in your eyes. As you scanned the shelves, fingers tracing old spine after old spine, he picked three small, unassuming books from a shelf and waited patiently for your attention to return to him.

Once you made a thorough round of the library, you wandered back to Price. 

“This is incredible,” you said with a wistful smile. “When you said you had a library, I wasn’t expecting this. Some of these books look like they’re centuries old!”

“They are,” he says proudly. “I curated this collection myself throughout my first life, and continue to do so in this one. Whenever I’m able to, that is.” He lifted the books in his hands and nodded to them. “But this is what I really wanted to show you.” You looked down and read the old, simple cover, the canvas yellowed and the ink faded, but the title was clear as day. 

“Frankenstein.”

“Gaz mentioned you liked the classics.” He let you take the three volumes from his hands. You held the delicate books with reverence. You were worried they would fall apart if you breathed too hard, so you held your breath in your chest.  

“These are… how old are they?” you whispered. 

“First editions.” Your eyes snapped up to his in bewilderment. “Got them at a little bookshop one snowy January afternoon. It was a fascinating read, so I kept them, found a spot in here for them. Bloody good thing I did, eh?”

You were too stunned to speak, completely transfixed by the aged canvas and the soft, yellow pages. Price circled around you as you started to wonder if you should be handling these with gloves. You barely noticed the heavy presence of his chest so close to your back. 

"Big brute that everyone's afraid of… but he's really just scared himself. Can't control his own strength," he said, placing his hands on your hips. "Reminds me of someone I know," he muttered, and your body tensed at the feeling of his breath on your neck. You gasped at the feeling of his coarse hair teasing your skin, and subconsciously tilted your head to allow him room. You felt his chest swell with a deep breath, strong, firm pectorals pressing against your shoulder blades as he inhaled your scent. You closed your eyes to prepare for the inevitable bite you were sure was to come, although you didn’t know how much you could physically offer him after the events of the previous night. But the bite never came. 

“I had a very interesting conversation with Kyle this morning. He pleaded your case,” Price spoke into your neck, prickly lips tickling you with each word. “Said you were all worn out from last night, all shaken up from your little excursion outside… among other things.” You felt your face heat up as he once again alluded to your time with Gaz. “He asked me to give you the day to recover,” his palm moved up your back and brushed over the still-sensitive scratches through the fabric, “to let your back heal all the way before we start opening up new wounds.” He pressed his lips and face further into your neck and inhaled deeply, smelling the blood that pumped rhythmically just beneath the surface. 

“He was very persuasive. He’s quite good with his mouth, wouldn’t you agree?” he teased, and you could hear the soft laugh resting in the chamber of his chest. You shuddered at the memory of Gaz’s tongue licking through you, his eyes looking up at you from between your legs, his soft, plush lips kissing and sucking your clit. Price hummed at the way your breath hitched just from the memories he dug up with his own suggestion. With a final deep breath of your scent, he stated, “Take the day. I’m a patient man. I’ve been around a long time, dear. I can wait one more day to taste you again.” He pressed a final kiss to your tender skin, and you had to hold your breath to stop the quiet whimper that lodged itself in your throat. 

He stepped back, although reluctantly, and you listened to his footsteps distance himself from you, stopping at the door. 

“Enjoy the books,” he said, and then left you alone in the library, locking the door behind him. Your heart was racing, and your underwear was notably wetter than it was before. 

—

It took you a good while of deep breathing while standing in the same place that Price left you in order to completely calm yourself down. Once your heart was beating at an acceptable pace, you settled yourself onto the reading nook at the windows after wiping the dust from the aged leather seats. You tried your best to forget the sensation of Price’s lips at your neck, the tenderness of his kiss and the roughness of his facial hair. You brought your knees close to your chest and focused instead, on the first volume, and on not opening it too wide, lest you crack the spine. Before long, you had lost yourself in the world that the yellowed pages laid out for you. 

“Common misconception,” a familiar voice called out to you, making you jump. “But Frankenstein is actually the doctor, not the monster,” Gaz finished with a sheepish smile. 

“You seem to be making a habit of interrupting my reading with useless trivia,” you said, closing the book slowly and setting it on the windowsill beside you. You glanced outside and noticed the sun was higher in the sky. You’d been reading for hours. 

“Sorry, just figured you might be hungry. Made you lunch.” He sat beside you and placed a tray in your lap: coffee made the way you like, and a salad with grilled chicken. 

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile. 

“I used to like to cook,” he began, his gaze distant, “back before, well, you know. It’s nice to be able to do it again, even if I can't eat it.” He shrugged his shoulders, and the two of you sat quietly together for a moment. You sipped your coffee. 

“Thank you, again. For talking with Price. And I'm sorry for…” Gaz cut you off with a laugh. 

“It��s alright, don’t mention it.” he fixed his eyes on yours, more playful than embarrassed. “Seriously, don’t mention it.” Both of you laughed, the tension relieved. He placed a hand on your knee. “How are you feeling? Not too sore, I hope. Your back- I mean! The, er, scratches on your back.”

“They’re a little tender,” you answered, breaking eye contact with a small chuckle. “I should be all better by tomorrow, thanks to you and your magic tongue.” you nudge him with your foot and he elbows you back. 

“Yeah, you like my tongue, don’t you?”

“Yeah, so does Price, apparently,” you say, matching his smirk. He winces and rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back against the window. “So, what? You’re all together in some kind of… quadrouple?” you asked. He shrugs again. 

“I guess so. All we really have is each other. Or at least,” he rolled his head to the side to look at you, “until you came along.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t have a whole lot of say in that,” you murmured, and his smile faltered. He sat up, then, looking down at his shoes. He patted your knee and then stood up. 

“Eat your food.”

“Gaz…” 

“I’ll be back in a few hours with dinner. I’ll give you your space.” You called after him again, but he was already out the door, locking it again behind himself. 

By the time he had returned, you had finished your lunch and the first volume of Frankenstein. You’d placed the book back onto its empty space on the bookshelf. The sun was hanging just over the trees, and the sky had taken on an orangy tint at the edges. Gaz had dropped off a single-serve premade lasagna with only a few words exchanged as he collected your dirty dishes, giving you a tight smile and a squeeze on your shoulder, and locked you in again. 

The third time he visited the library, the sun was behind the trees, casting long shadows across the expansive lawn. You found it more difficult to focus on reading. The darker it got, the deeper the feeling of being watched ate at you. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you thought you caught movement in the woods; large, dark masses shifting and pacing, weaving through the thick trunks of old trees. You didn’t make it very far through the second volume. 

The click of the lock caught your attention. Gaz entered with a stiff back and squared shoulders. You stood to meet him, and he drew the thick curtains over the wide windows. You left the remaining two books on the cushions. The two of you stood together in the dark library, and he stayed at arm’s length. You wanted him closer. When Gaz turned to you, his eyes glinted red and green in the low light. Your breath caught in your throat. 

“You ready to go upstairs?” he asked. You nodded your head and let him guide you back out into the house. “Stay close,” he said with a hand on your back. The lights were on all through the house, but the warm yellow light seemed not to reach the corners. The cobwebs muted the glowing bulbs, making every shadow stretch out to you, like claws on an outstretched hand. The two of you walked briskly through the main hall, and when you hurried past the conservatory, you saw something large lingering outside the window, but the reflections of the lamps inside obstructed the view. 

“Keep moving, Gaz told you. “They can’t hurt you if you’re inside.”

“What are they?” you asked in an anxious whisper. 

“Just keep going,” he repeated, his face pinched into almost a sneer as his red eyes glanced out the windows, once again glinting in the light like a cat on the prowl. He ushered you up the back stairs, and once you were safely inside your bedroom, he bolted the door. 

“What are those things?” you asked once again. Then, your head whipped to the barred window as a howl pierced the quiet of the dusk. Your blood ran cold and your breath stuttered. It wasn’t like the hoots and screams of coyotes back home. It wasn’t even a familiar call of a lonely dog. There was something deeper, something dark and primal in that sound. It spoke to a fear deep within you, something ancestral that made your skin sting with pinpricks. 

“Get ready for bed,” Gaz said sternly. His eyes, too, were fixated on the growing darkness seeping through the window. 

“Gaz,” you pleaded, needing answers. 

“They’re just trying to scare you, they can’t hurt you in here.” When you made no move, he looked at you with a softer face. “You’re safe, I promise.” He nudged you closer to the bathroom. “I’ll watch the door,” he offers with a reassuring smile. You let him push you into the other room, your bare feet padding on the tile, but you left the door cracked slightly. You needed to hear him there, to know he was still there with you. 

The water from the shower was loud enough to drown out the howling outside, and it gave you the smallest drop of peace of mind. You played Gaz’s words back in your head. They couldn’t hurt you in here. You took your time, and Gaz waited patiently for you to emerge wrapped in a fluffy towel. He smiled to himself and turned around to give you your privacy to dress yourself. 

You settled yourself into bed and waited for him to join you, but he reached for the door instead. 

“Where are you going?” you asked, sitting back up. He turned back around to face you, looking confused and concerned. 

“I just thought… you’d want to be alone.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well… what you said earlier. About not having a choice? I just thought that, maybe, you’d just want to be alone.” He looked down at his feet. It was quiet between you two, the kind of quiet that only came after midnight. The kind of quiet when the whole earth stood still and even the crickets slept. 

“It’s true,” you started, and Gaz’s arms tensed. “I didn’t have a choice. You didn’t give me one.” His hands curled into themselves, balling into fists; not in anger toward you, but toward himself, toward the hunger he’d let turn him into more monster than man. “But I’m choosing you, now. Gaz-” another howl interrupted the silence in your room and both of you glanced at the window. You reminded yourself that it was barred with iron, and for the first time you were thankful for it.

 “Stay with me,” you whispered to him across the room with a quiver in your breathy voice. “Please.”

Gaz didn’t need to hear another word from you. He crossed the room to your bed in three long strides. In that moment, he knew that he’d do just about anything for you if you only asked him. In seconds, he had his arms around you, wrapping you in the duvet. 

“Yeah,” he said soothingly. “Yeah, I’ll stay.” He was paradoxically warm. A cadaver heated not by his own blood, but by yours. A scarlet silk thread tying you two together. “I’ll stay.” He reached to turn out your bedside lamp and covered you two in a blanket of darkness. The howling continued, but Gaz was there. They couldn’t hurt you in here. 

As time passed, you watched the shadows of moonlight glide over your walls from where your head laid on Gaz’s chest, and eventually, the clouds covered the beaming white moon, and the howling stopped. You focused on Gaz’s breathing. You didn’t know if he could sleep. You thought he was still awake, though. You sure couldn’t sleep. A question on your mind nagged at you, nudging you awake whenever the waves of sleep got close enough to wash over you. 

"Gaz?" You asked into the darkness, your voice the only sound in the nighttime. "Were you ever really my friend?" Your head rose on his chest as he took a breath. "Or was it all just a ruse to get me here?”

Gaz didn’t answer right away, and for a moment you started to wonder if creatures of the night really did sleep like you did, and if your words fell on deaf ears after all. But then he spoke, his voice low and uncertain of himself. 

"Talking to you late at night on the phone was the first time I felt a connection since I became… what I am. The way you laughed, the way you told your stories to me, like I was actually there with you. I wanted to be beside you, I wanted to spend time with you. I think maybe it was the phone calls, because for the first time, I was talking to a human without hunger, without thirst. Just listening and being listened to. The days that we talked, just talked… I almost remembered how it felt to be alive again.” Gaz’s hand held yours over his stomach, his thumb tracing over your knuckles tenderly. 

“I don't know if I'm capable of love,” he said, his voice heavier than you’d heard it before. “After being dead so long, the heart atrophies… in a way that’s more than just physical.” He sighed, and it sounded like he had a weight much heavier than your head on his chest. “I'm sorry I can't spare you from what I am, what we all are. I’m sorry that we’ve taken so much from you already, and we’ll just keep taking. I'm sorry that I’m not what you thought I was." You absorbed his words. His answers finally gave you some closure, though it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. His voice allowed the waves of sleep to draw you in deeper. 

"The house seems brighter since you've been here,” he told you, his voice carrying you like a raft in the sea. “The floors creak when you walk. I didn't realize how much I'd missed that sound." 

---

Tags:

@cherry-slushee @iimfae @newcomernewcums @cowboybxtch @quiurifam @sad--pigeon @desert-fern @grizzers @the-wandering-pan-ace @quiurifam @wasteland-babe @obi-wansorrow @tbrfic @tdurmi @xespresso-depressox @mauveserpent @bloodyknucklesforme @330bpm-whiplash @grizzersmamma @amazingpandaz-blog @the-pan-ace-writings @kakashiislut @erinwhelan99 @ghost-2513 @confuseddipshit @avalkyrieofparis @beesucculent @enfppixie @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @lostmypopsicle @backupgal @wisp0329 @boxofgasoline @frazie99 @lothiriel9 @ummmmmbeans @roaringinthedeeap-blog @daristfx @itsberrydreemurstuff @legalpadawan @darkmelodies27 @discowizard88 @gloomdoomraccoon @warenai @thychuvaluswife @thriving-n-jiving @ihatethinkingofnames10 @warners-wife @sarraa-26 @bloodbatzz @yeoldedumbslut @ghostslvts

[lele5429]

Retired Assets - Story and Art Master Post

Story (Read the tags!)

Ch1: Prologue

Ch2: The Cold Within

Ch3: The Fire Won’t Light Itself

Ch4: Blind

Ch5: I Will Not Leave You

Ch6: coming soon

Ch7:

AO3 main page

Art

Illustrations for the Story (by Lele)

THE TITLE PAGE (Key Visual) - I’ve finished it but I’ll post it with the finale.

Ex Libris (book plate)

Ch 2: The Cold Within

Ch 4: Blind

Ch 5: I Will Not Leave You and Never Alone

Character Design and Sketches

A Precursor to RA Ravio: fanart for @shirley-99

The first drawing of RA Ravio

RA Ravio's costume design (spoiler-free)

ALBW vs LU vs RA Ravio designs

LU Ravio vs RA Ravio - comparison and design notes

RA Ravio in a more naturalistic style (first attempt)

RA Ravio smiles and Part 2

LU Legend vs RA Legend

Love transcends the veil of absence

RA Legend in a more naturalistic style (first attempt)

RA Ravio (TW: blood)

Ravio and Sheerow for an art challenge

Tagaki Ravio profile pic

Art Process

THE TITLE PAGE (Key Visual Time Lapse)

Key Visual - inking

Ch 2: The Cold Within - scrapped designs

Drawing Eyes

Ch 4: Blind - time lapse

Ch 5: “Never Alone” - scrapped designs

Unrelated dark Ravio

Artistic Responses/Art Gifts

Discussing the Script by @moonriver080

The Burning Bridge by @moonriver080

Emoticons ft. The cast @violet-xd09

Emoticons Part 2 @violet-xd09

Ravio’s magic and smile @violet-xd09

Illustrations for Ch3 @violet-xd09

Nursery AU @violet-xd09 and Part 2

Ravio in the headlights by @violet-xd09

Ravio Tegaki by @wardingshout

Ravio mural by @hero-of-fortune

Disaster bunny and his faces by @violet-xd09

Drawing faces (art challenge) with @violet-xd09

MS paint and Tegaki Ravio blorbo @violet-xd09

Mid-Autumn Festival @violet-xd09

Under Her Favourite Apple Tree by 枭柏

Bonus

Memes / Crack / Fluff (my art!)

Ravio wants you to stop and read the warning tags

Ravio with STOP sign animated

Disaster Bunny

Going to work with your landlord?

Get-along Shirt

PAY NO RENT

Why does RA Ravio fear Hilda?

Blue Potions

To Heaven

Jet lag

Legend explains things to Ravio (Ch4)

Self care or draw 25 and Part 2

RA Ravio ™️

Nope/Yep

Goodnight Ojousama

Account Deleted

Nothing is perfect

Ch 6 Teaser and Part 2

Drawing with my eyes closed

Babies need a hug

Why dis bun look so mad 😭

Working Properties - Retired Assets Actors AU

Take a break

Chibi

Ravio hugging Sheerow

Legend ╭(°A°`)╮

Sticker Pack #1

Poster Pose

Happy Fable

The Cold Within but Chibi

Apple juice

Hilda reading Ravio’s diary

Hilda Boop

Nursery AU (The Cast as Kids)

Nursery AU - first drawing

Kid!Ravio tries lemons

Crafts

Linocut: RA Ravio

Linocut: RA Legend

Prints ft. the RA leads, signed and framed

PAY NO RENT: heat-transfer vinyl T-shirt

Lasercut on wood: some keychains and tickets by @moonriver080

Button-making (with a sneak peek of additional memes)

Ravio’s robe and scarf (cosplay)

Bracelets inspired by LU characters

Stamp

Shaker charms and Part 2

Sheerow doll (by Alex Lynn crafts)

RA Ravio sleep mask

Q&A

Search for #retired assets ask game

Ravio character notes [1]

[terapsina]

EPILOGUE - Part 2 - She's Come Undone and Set Free- Angry BAMF Elena Fic

relationships: elena/elijah, elena & rebekah, elena & caroline, elena & bonnie, caroline/klaus, bonnie/rebekah

summary:

She’d been free. Freed from a conscience she couldn’t afford to give up again. Free from the grief she’d never actually wanted to abandon, not until the choice was taken from her. But also free from the two brothers that had been taking choices away from her from the moment they’d come to town.

And she didn’t want to give that freedom up. She wouldn’t. Not ever again.

/or/

When Elena feels her humanity returning she finds herself focusing on having finally been free from the Salvatore brothers, and doesn't abandon her justified anger. Unfortunately, she also realizes that her sire bond to Damon isn't fully broken and goes to Rebekah for help, help that involves a little trip to New Orleans.

On the way, Elena will have to deal with her newly returned humanity as well as some long-awaited truths about Caroline's old relationship with the older Salvatore.

There are some things that even the most compassionate person could never forgive.

read on AO3:

                   Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Epilogue Part 1 | Epilogue Part 2 | ...

sneak peek:

Rebekah had been stubbornly ignoring the sight of Caroline's judgemental eyes on the periphery of her vision for the past three minutes. The younger vampire didn't say anything, and yet the eyes seemed to be getting louder with each passing moment anyway. "What?" she finally snapped, once it became clear that unless she chose to acknowledge it, this might very well continue for the rest of the night. "You're doing it wrong," Caroline informed her. Rebekah tried to remind herself that she actually rather liked the blonde baby-vampire now. Unfortunately, after forty-eight hours of getting subjected to Caroline actively micromanaging every single, last aspect of this particular day... it was rather hard to remember why. She took in a fortifying breath and made herself remember how much she was looking forward to the sight of Bonnie lying beside her on some European beach in that new dark blue bikini Rebekah had seen her packing into a suitcase - an evening with cooling sand beneath them, still-warm light from the sunset playing across the lines and dips of Bonnie's relaxed form; the feeling of Bonnie's hand in her own as Rebekah pulled her into the frothy waves for a midnight swim - and that any new murder attempts on Rebekah's part would instead certainly result in a rather sad and lonely trip through Europe. Killing Caroline wouldn't be worth losing that. Plus Nik would probably bitch about it from now until Earth got swallowed by the expanding hunger of their sun. On the other hand... "It's a marshmallow, how exactly can I be burning it wrong?"

[mamawasatesttube]

a sneak peek of ch2 of androecia, rough draft, posted in order to motivate myself to keep working on it tomorrow:

He kisses Kon some more, because he can, and because kissing Kon is fucking radical. Today is different than last night—instead of a haze of frenzied desperation and need need need, he gets to actually savor it. It’s slow, warm and syrupy and sweet. He takes his time, leaning into Kon and exploring him properly.

Last night was all about Tim. But today, Tim wants to learn Kon. Every sound he can elicit by touching him, kissing him, caressing him; every different facet to his smiles, every gasp or sigh or hum of pleasure. The shape of his mouth, the way he likes to be kissed best.

One day, Tim will be a walking encyclopedia of all these facts. But today, he’s just setting out on his mission to learn and catalogue it all. It’s thrilling.

“Rob,” Kon breathes, his voice low and a little rough in a way that sends sparks shooting down Tim’s body. “Mm…”

“Clone boy,” Tim answers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point in his neck. Kon makes a breathy sound and tips his head back, turning his face into the sofa cushions, and Tim smiles against his skin. Kon likes neck kisses.

Kon’s crop top has ridden up his ribs between them, exposing a delicious swath of golden-brown skin. Tim runs his hand down Kon’s chest, relishing the way Kon sucks in a breath as his fingers brush bare skin.

Kon’s fingers twine into his hair, an echo of the phantom fist that refused to let Tim look away from the mirror last night. He gently but insistently tugs him back up for another proper kiss, licking into his mouth. Tim makes a low noise in response, shifting against him to try and get even closer, and Kon spreads his thighs apart invitingly, pressing Tim to his chest.

When he breaks the kiss, Kon drops his head back against the armrest for a moment. His eyes are alien-bright, his cheeks flushed and his mouth an enticing shade of kiss-red. Desire pulses low in Tim’s gut.

“Robbie,” Kon murmurs, gazing up at him. He reaches up, his fingers grazing Tim’s cheek before his hand settles in against his jaw, his thumb caressing Tim’s lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

Tim’s face burns. “I—” He clears his throat, ducking his head. “Says you.”

Kon blinks, and then his lips curve into a slow, lazy grin. “Aw… you think I’m pretty, sunshine?”

Fuck. Sunshine reaches right into Tim’s chest and carves out a spot for itself, settles in warm and pretty like a drop of sunlight itself. Kon can’t keep getting away with that. Tim stares down at him for a moment, trying desperately to kick his brain back into functioning gear.

The most beautiful person in the entire universe just asked him if he thinks he’s pretty. Tim stares at him for a moment or two more, lips slightly parted but fumbling for words. Kon just called him sunshine. And is now gazing up at him with those gorgeous, inhuman eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. This close to him, Tim can see the faint, faded freckles sprinkled across the apples of his cheeks.

“That’s…” Tim clears his throat again. “That’s the understatement of, like, the century, but. Yeah.”

On the upside, admitting it makes Kon blush. On the downside, Kon only gets prettier when he’s blushing and smiling up at him like that, his eyes shining with warmth. “Oh,” he breathes, beaming. “Wow, Robbie, that’s…”

Kon’s arms twine around him, pulling him closer again. Kon’s smiling into the kiss, which is so endearing that Tim’s heart flutters in his chest as he kisses him and kisses him. He wants to hear Kon moan.

God, Tim just has to kiss him again.

A gentle pressure winds around his whole body like a weighted blanket, smushing him against Kon. Heat flares through him at the reminder of what Kon’s TTK can do to him, and he gasps against Kon’s mouth, his toes curling under the blanket. “Kon,” he breathes.

Kon pulls him into another kiss, humming in answer. His fingers stroke over the back of Tim’s neck, slow and soothing. “Mm…”

Tim skims a hand down to his chest again, strokes against his ribs. His fingers play with the rumpled hem of Kon’s shirt, dipping under it just slightly. “Can I?” he asks, breathless.

Kon lets out a soft noise, almost but not quite the moan Tim wants. “Robbie,” he says, a little strained. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Tim’s heart skips, leaps, and soars. “Kon,” he says, and slips his hand up Kon’s chest.

[onskepa]

Sneak peek: Left behind ch2

“After shutting off the camera, I look at the picture of me and my daughter. I would stare at it for a while until my eyes drop. See this? It was the day I won a little toy for her at an arcade. She was so happy. Not often was I able to give her something new. Hopefully the paychecks are getting funded for her needs. I bet she is getting nice, brand new things” 

“So many birthdays I missed. Im so sorry baby girl, but I promise, the second I go back, I will give you the biggest hug ever. Buy you all the gifts you could ever want, hell, if the pay is that good, get a better place. Maybe close to your favorite park that you like to play in. Better yet, go to the zoo like you always wanted. I know you will be much older but I dont care. You are my baby girl for life. Nothing is going to change that” 

“Guess now I better log off. Big day tomorrow, this is Jake Sully, signing off”

[chocomony]

UNITED - Chapter 5

NEXT ->

Chapter List / CH 1 / CH2/ CH3 / CH4 / CH5

__________

Alright, let's get this going once again! Also I changed my mind, I'm doing two pages per week.

Want a sneak peek of what's next? Check the beta pages on my Ko-fi page!

[analogoose]

sneak peek - wn streetfighter au ch2

coming sunday (probably monday)

///

The bells above the door jingle to announce their arrival. They’re greeted by warmth and the familiar smell of potatoes and grease. Every booth is a bright red eyesore and the floor looks like it hasn’t been mopped in ages, sticky in certain places. Beatrice has been here enough times to know which chairs and tables are wobbly, and which ones give the best view. It was a different time in her life. When almost every training session was accompanied with a visit here. Sometimes coffee. Sometimes breakfast for dinner. On me, Shannon would say, but Beatrice always snuck away to pay when Shannon wasn’t looking. 

Sometimes, they would be joined by the others. Camila bouncing in after work to steal Beatrice’s plate of food instead of ordering her own. Lilith meeting them outside and spending the next hour sitting beside them as a living shroud that drank Starbucks peppermint mochas and talked in a low murmur. Or Mary, slumped against the window after a rough shift, three drinks already ordered—a hot chocolate for Shannon, black tea for Beatrice, and a filter coffee for herself. 

Even now, Mary looks right at home, like she never left the place. Three drinks sit in front of her. Beatrice’s throat closes up. She can’t remember the last time she was here. If it was just her and Shannon. Did Mary join them? Did Lilith? Or maybe Beatrice came alone. A detour after the funeral. Her memories are blurry and remembering only brings more pain. 

[oldfashionedmorphine]

it’s sunday again, so that means… time for another sneak peek of…

on the same frequency :)

(i also previously teased bits of this chapter back in september, if you missed it, check it out here!)

-.-. .... .- .--. - . .-. / ...--

December 24, 1985

“Y’know… you didn’t really tell me that much about it,” Jonathan says and then he looks right at him. “The campaign—just that it was really cool and how you didn’t get to finish it, but not much else. You used to tell me every little detail.”

“Oh, sorry. I—”

“Don’t be. It’s my fault really—I should be the one who’s sorry. I sorta checked out for a while… and I guess I’m realizing now that maybe you don’t know how to talk to me about things anymore or maybe you don’t think I’m willing to listen... Of course you don’t have to, but I just want you to know I’m still here—you can tell me things.”

December 24, 1995

And they’d only just gotten outside, with Mike trailing a few paces behind them and not even five feet from the front door of the house, when Holly shouts, “Oh wow!”

“What?” Nancy asks.

She points up at the sky. “Look, look!”

Nancy directs her gaze upwards and then so does Mike—the very moment he sees what had attracted his younger sister’s attention, his eyes go wide as overwhelming dread crashes down onto him like an avalanche. It was impossible to miss—waves of green light were shimmering throughout the cloudless starry sky. Outside of haunting him in nightmares, the last time the sky looked like this was almost ten years ago—the night they found Will’s body. The sight of it squeezes at his heart, leaving an ache in his chest as the memories of that horrific night quickly flood his mind—the sirens, the flashing lights, so much blood…

🎶 a song from chapter three 🎶

rating: mature

tags: alternate universe, not canon compliant, major character death, grief/mourning, ptsd, blood and injury, supernatural elements, time shenanigans, butterfly effect, thriller, angst with a happy ending

release date: 11/26/2023

✨ previous chapter previews ✨

ch1 | ch2

tagging:

@kaiminluu @greenfiend @total-serene560 @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @soyboystan @foodiewithdahoodie @booksandpaperss @likegoldintheair @mandycantdecide @hazmatazz @sparks-olivarpente @1-tehe-1 @lucasvenkman @rebellius @maru-chu @septembr-moon @kamomillatea

(if you’d like to be tagged/untagged for the next chapter preview, please let me know!)

[topsyturvy-turtely]

SNEAK PEEK at chapter two of MISSING!

A/N: happy birthday @safedistancefrombeingsmart!! 🥳🥳🥳 originally wanted to finish chapter 2 of missing (which is based on smartin''s edit) for you but life is too busy for me lately. however i wanted to prove i am actually (kinda) working on chapter 2 surprise you a tiny bit so here is the shortened version of the beginning of chapter two!! i hope you enjoy it. guess i'm kinda glad to know you 😜😘 hope you are having a wonderful day!

please keep in mind, that this is a draft! "[…]" signals that this is a part that i am not yet publishing. the word document got about 2100w so, i am really not that bad at writing ch2! (if we ignore that i didn't even get to the important part yet…)

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER ONE! read first chapter on ao3!

~~~

Even before Sherlock had left the hospital building, he called Lestrade. He started talking before Lestrade could start an unnecessary greeting phrase, “Tell me every little detail you know about this case. And I mean everything.”

“Sherlock?!”, Greg asked. “Where the heck are you?! One minute you were here looking at the-“

“Charing Cross Hospital. John is hurt. Badly. In fact, he is-“, Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.

He exhaled, seeing John unconsciously laying in the hospital bed, the bloody arm- arm stump. It wasn’t the blood that bothered him so much. It was the bones, the veins, the tendons - everything that was supposed to be attached to John’s hand for god’s sake – that made him feel sick, angry, and terrified. What if John was never gonna have his hand back? Never be able to cook, read, tie his shoes again? Sherlock knew for a fact it would make John miserable, absolutely heartbreakingly miser-

He had to focus. Find the hand. To find the hand, he had to know more about the case. He finally finished his sentence. “John is missing a hand. The doctor said she can reattach it, but it has to be quick. Give me everything you know. I am not going into details.”

“Shit, Sherlock. That is horrible- holy shit. Are you sure you are okay searching-”

“Greg.”, the consulting detective’s voice was sharp, intolerant. He could not lose any more time. “This is not the time for compassion towards me. This is about John. Finding his hand is my first and foremost priority. Tell me everything about this case. Now.”

Lestrade finally seemed to overcome his temporary attack of compassion and started to lay out the case to Sherlock.

[…]

"That’s it! That’s their connection!”, Sherlock concluded after their conversation.

“You- That’s true. Thank you, Sherlo-“

The consulting detective hung up on him. He raised a hand to call a cab. He got one immediately. “Just over Hammersmith Bridge. Drive fast, I’ll double the fare.”

"In a hurry, mate?”

Sherlock glared at the cabbie through the rearview mirror. The cabbie’s smirk left his mouth, because he hurriedly shifted into first gear and drove away. He was fast but not as fast as Sherlock would have liked. Sherlock paid with a generous amount anyways. Thames Path, secluded somewhere between the trees. That’s where John was found. The nurse had given him coordinates and with his phone Sherlock found the place pretty quickly.

Branches were snapped, dirt was posched up, a pool of blood was in the middle of a clearing. Sherlock got close, knelt down, tried to find more clues.

Then he heard shouting, he looked up but his vision was blocked by darkness, a heavy smell stung his nose and then Sherlock hit the ground with his back.

~~~

A/N: i hope you don't mind me tagging a few more people? and i hope the people don't mind either xD it's just that most comments on ao3 were like "OMG CONTINUE ASAP!" so i thought... that would maybe nice of me to tag other people? even though i did yet another cliffhanger with this teaser... whoops.

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful

[blueberrystudios]

Sneak peek 👀👀👀

Ch2 out sometime later on

Eric,Frankie, Grant and Nina belongs to @ericvelseb666

[mega-aulover]

Sneak Peek of Chapter 2 & 3 of An Everlarked Ever After

Chapter 2

“Care to tell me what happened?” Gale questioned.

“I dove off a cliff for that,” Peeta said, pointing to the painting.

“Whose horse is that and what happened to yours?” Gale said, pointing to the horse. Gale gave Peeta another tunic and cloak, since his things were wet.

“Mine lost a shoe, this one belongs to the old Everdeen manor,” Peeta said changing.

“Oh you mean the Baroness de Ghent home,” Gale made a face.

Peeta shivered when he thought of the Baroness. She was one of those women who vied for power as soon as she arrived at court with Sir Everdeen. The Baroness was trying to become one of his mother’s ladies in waiting. He recalled she had a few daughters he had not seen, since before he went to war. Peeta figured if they were anything like the Baroness he should stay out of their reach.

“I thought that place was abandoned. It was a coincidence that this horse was in the field. I switched the mounting. As I was doing that one of the servants called me a thief, I was lucky to get out of there with my life.”

Gale began laughing.

“Another got me here.” Peeta pointed to his forehead.

“I thought you got that from fighting the Gypsies!”

“You should have been there, the girl came charging out of the apple orchard. Gale, she had an aim better than most of our archers. I was on the horse traveling and she was a few feet away. She felled me from the horse.”

“What did she use?” Gale asked as they mounted their horses.

“An apple,” Peeta said.

Gale laughed. “An apple…my goodness I want to meet this servant.”

“Don’t laugh, it still hurts,” Peeta said, rubbing the spot on his shoulder as they rode toward the manor. “She got me on my arm, my back, and my legs.”

Chapter 3

Katniss stopped because the Crown Prince was blocking her way. She went around him.

“I am begging, a boon please.”

“Your highness, you want my name because you find me interesting, correct?”

“Yes.” He grinned revealing that dimple that would make many a maiden's heart flutter.

“My argument was for the freedom not just of my servant but for all of the servants.”

“So.”

“You freed one man but the rest are still slaves,” Katniss countered. She pointed to the carriage as it moved out through the gates of the palace.

“Do you always argue so passionately?”

“Yes, when I see a cause worth fighting for.” Katniss walked around him. She was so close to the exit. He was taller than her and for every three steps he took one.

“Who taught you?”

“A great scholar,” Katniss replied, thinking of her father.

“Please, I beg, a name,” the prince asked.

She was feet away and by now a crowd had gathered listening. Katniss needed to get out and if it took a name she would provide him one that would allow her to escape. “The only name I can give you is Countess Nicole de Lancrae.”

-

Just as an FYI I'm hoping to post Ch2 on Friday and Ch3 on Sunday this is beta'd so all mistakes are mine. @norbertsmom what do you think?