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skyloftian-nutcase · 5 months

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The Pirate (Dad Squad)

EVERYBODY COME GET YOUR LINEBECK SOUP!!

Abel shook the strange feeling off of himself as they stepped through the gate created by the item. If it had led them here, that likely meant its twin had opened a portal to this land as well.

Blinking a few times to reorient after the brief kaleidoscope of light, Abel took in the sight of a bright sun, the smell of sea salt, and the sound of crashing waves. They were obviously by the ocean, though he had no idea where in particular, or what sea. He only knew of the Lanayru Sea, but tales spoke of other bodies of water that rivaled it.

Rusl walked ahead first, adapting quickly, eyes alert but face placid. Abel watched the Fierce Deity walk after him, unreadable as usual.

Something clearly caught their attention as they stood at the edge of the dock, staring. Abel peeked around them, wondering what it was, when he caught sight of the scene.

A ship was sinking. But it was moving towards them. Its deck had just been submerged, and its mast was all that was remaining. A man stood atop it, glaring ahead fiercely as if willing the boat to make it to the dock in time, but his posture was proud as if this had been planned all along.

What in the world...?

The mast managed to reach the dock in the nick of time, allowing the man to step off. He blew out a sigh, looking like his knees were about to buckle, when he caught sight of the group of men. He sized them up quickly, eyes widening a little at the sight of the deity, and then waved sharply. "How's it going? I'm just passing through. Gotta go now. Important things to do."

"Wait," Rusl interrupted, stepping into his way. "Can you tell us where we are?"

The man blinked, hackles less raised, confusion evident. "Where you--this is Mercay Island. How do you not know that? What, you get clocked by those red spandex wearing freakshows too?"

Abel immediately stiffened. "The Yiga were here?!"

"The who?" the man bounced back, looking even more confused as the wind whipped through his dark brown hair.

"It's a group of demon worshippers," Rusl explained. "They've taken our sons. We're tracking them. Where did you see them?"

The man's face flushed, eyebrows coming together in outrage. "They took someone of mine as well! And he's my best crewmate! Well, he's my only crewmate, but that isn't the point! I came here in search of a new ship to track them down since they--they sunk--"

Here the man sniffled, glancing away in seeming anguish at the lost of his boat.

"I'm sorry about your ship," Rusl said appeasingly. "But perhaps we can help each other."

The man hummed, crossing his arms and squinting at them as if he were debating the matter.

Abel started to grow impatient. "Do you want to find your crewmate or not?"

"Don't get short with me!" the man snapped. "I am Linebeck, captain of the seas, and I know this place better than anyone, especially you guys. I'm your only chance to find those freaks, so you're going to take orders from me now!"

The Fierce Deity picked the greasy looking man by the back of his coat, bringing him to eye level. The man, in turn, squealed, flailing his arms and legs in a desperate maneuver to get out of the hold, yelling, "LET ME GO, YOU BEACHED WHALE!"

Abel glanced at the deity, tempted to tell him to toss the man into the sea, but if he truly had seen the Yiga, then they unfortunately needed his help. Rusl just sighed, seeming to grow a little tired of being the sole negotiator of the group.

"How do you propose we find the Yiga if your ship has been damaged?" Fierce asked, silencing the man's squeals. "If I retrieve it, will you be able to repair it expediently?"

"Retrieve--it's sinking into the sea, you small brained land mass!"

Abel did have to almost laugh at that one. Rusl looked unimpressed by the man's impolite demeanor, but at least his insults were entertaining. Nevertheless, they needed to move.

Fierce seemed to sense Abel's impatience and Rusl's disapproval, casually tossing the sailor aside as he walked up to the mast. The man spluttered, shakily trying to get to his feet before promptly falling back on to his backside as he watched the deity singlehandedly start to pull the ship out of the water with a firm grasp at its mast. Abel heard the wood start to give, though, not tolerating the force it took to fight the water crushing the rest of the ship, and he put a hand on Fierce's shoulder. "Let it go. We'll have to find another way."

Rusl turned to Linebeck. "We'll work with you, friend, but not for you. Understood?"

Linebeck gulped, still trying to process what he just saw, and then he huffed, rising. "F-fine. Whatever. But I'm still in charge."

Abel felt his eyebrows pinch together. "That's not--"

"Let's go!" Linebeck announced, twirling around and marching towards the island. "I know just the ship we can acquire."

The three trudged behind him somewhat reluctantly. Abel bristled at being given orders from someone like this, but he kept his mouth shut for now. Instead, it was the sea captain who spoke first.

"So... what are all your names?" he asked as he continued to stride ahead.

The Ordonian answered first. "I'm Rusl. This is Abel, and Fierce."

"Fierce?" Linebeck repeated, glancing back at him. "Weird name."

"It is my title," Fierce clarified.

"Title? Who calls you Fierce? Fierce what, Fierce Breaker of Personal Boundaries?"

This man talked entirely too much.

"What's the plan?" Abel asked before the conversation could continue.

"That ship," Linebeck said, pointing towards a relatively large ship sitting in the harbor. "We can use that to track those scum."

"If you already had another ship, why were you perturbed at the loss of your other one?" Fierce questioned.

"It's not his," Abel surmised quickly.

Rusl smiled, rolling his shoulders. "All right, then. Who owns it?"

Abel glanced over at the Ordonian, a little baffled. He still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around what kind of work this man did - he was the most polite and kind of the group, easy with people, yet he condoned stealing in a heartbeat.

Not that Abel wouldn't steal if he had to, but... he had to. Rusl was... he didn't know. This just certainly was not the first time the man had done it, that was for sure.

And clearly, this sailor was more akin to a pirate.

Sighing heavily, Abel listened as Linebeck prattled on about some women "who won't be a problem," and the three men started moving steadily towards the boat.

Surprisingly, it only seemed to have two women aboard - Linebeck claimed that the rest of the crew was at the market. That at least made things simpler.

The four moved quickly. Rusl crouched low, leading the way and pulling out a dagger he hid in his belt. Despite being quite the swordsman, Abel had observed that Rusl often resorted to a dagger in close combat, and the more he saw it, the more he questioned the blacksmith's occupation. Fierce, on the other hand, left his hands open, likely not wanting to use his powerful blade on a couple women guarding a ship. Linebeck was also unarmed, curiously.

Sighing, Abel unsheathed his sword. He caught up to Rusl, and the two rushed up the gangway, picking a target and quickly overpowering them. Rusl never unsheathed his dagger, only using its small hilt to smack the woman across the temple, knocing her unconscious and covering her mouth as she fell. Her companion caught sight of him before Abel could get to her, yelling, but Abel easily tossed her overboard while Rusl pushed the other down the ramp.

Fierce walked aboard next, glancing around, while Linebeck sauntered aboard. The pirate's face was tight, as if he hadn't quite expected the ferocity the men had displayed, but he tried to cover it with a quick little, "Well done. Now we can depart."

"Not yet," Fierce said quietly, his voice in that low tone he used when stalking prey. Abel immediately went alert, whirling to find what he was looking at, when--

"Intruders!!"

Turning sharply, Abel saw a woman pointing from a door leading below deck. Within an instant, at least ten other women appeared, all armed and snarling.

"You said they were in the market!" Abel yelled as he readied for a fight.

Linebeck didn't reply, seemingly vanishing into thin air, and Abel only caught sight of his blue tailcoats slipping under a barrel.

"Did--did he just--"

"Not now!" Rusl snapped as their enemies charged on them.

Abel focused quickly, dodging a strike from a nearby fighter before parrying her blade and kicking her away to create some distance. Thankfully, he still had at least one functional shield left, and he quickly used it to block a jab from another enemy. Before he could retaliate, the two women were swept away by a... screaming woman?

Abel glanced to his right to see Fierce holding one of the fighters by her wrist and using her as a weapon to ram into the others. At his questioning glance, the deity explained, "The little hero usually does not approve of killing mortals. If these women prove problematic, I'll eliminate them, but for now--"

"Behind you!" Abel interrupted, pointing as another fighter tried to leap off the rail of the deck and stab Fierce in the head. The deity swatted her like a fly, and she rammed into the opposite end of the ship.

"Jolene!" some of the others shouted. Abel immediately perked up at the reaction - clearly this woman was important, maybe even the leader.

"Toss her off!" Abel ordered the deity, moving to intercept a few other enemies. He glanced to his left to check on Rusl and found the Ordonian starting to accumulate a pile of enemies who were on the ground writhing or motionless.

The former knight felt a swell of pride for his friend before looking back to see Fierce easily throwing the leader off the ship. As predicted, the others followed to check on her, leaving the men in peace temporarily. Abel put his sword and shield away to pull out his bow and arrows while Rusl pulled the gangway up to prevent them from returning. Moving to the edge of the ship, Abel nocked the arrow, aiming for a second before letting it fly. It sank into the woman's shoulder, making her scream in pain.

He nocked another arrow.

"Abel," Rusl interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The fight is over."

Abel continued to stare at his target. Killing her would put the rest of her crew into chaos. It would prevent them from following them.

Rusl's hand tightened a little, reassuring but firm. "Abel."

Sighing, Abel slowly lowered the bow and arrow. His focus was interrupted as he heard splashing, glancing over to see Fierce throwing the bodies overboard.

There was a scrape of wood on wood, catching the men's attention, and they all drew their weapons to see--

Linebeck, peeking out from under the barrel. "Oh, are they all gone?"

I'm going to kill him. Abel marched forward, eyes alight with rage, when he was held back by Fierce, who pinched the back of his tunic to prevent him from moving ahead. He turned to snap at the deity, but his words were quickly overrun by the pirate, who dusted himself off and continued, "Well done, then! We're ready to set sail! I'll man the helm."

As he moved forward on the deck, he scurried all of a sudden, filled with seemingly feral energy, and stood on his tiptoes at the railing, shouting, "THAT'S FOR ALMOST BLOWING UP MY SHIP TWO WEEKS AGO, JOLENE!"

Before anyone could comment, he rushed to set sail as if his life depended on it, guiding the ship out to sea.

Abel blew out a frustrated breath, and he felt Fierce release him. He kicked the barrel under which the pirate had been hiding, taking little satisfaction from it but having to get his anger out somehow.

Rusl took a moment to calm himself as well, though far less noticeably, before he walked over to the wheel. "So where are we going?"

"Bannan Island," Linebeck answered, eyes on the horizon. "That was the direction they went, towards the north sea. They also claimed to be going to a Banana Island, so I think they heard the place's name wrong."

Banana Island. Goddess. Sometimes Abel was almost embarrassed that these were his enemies. Though it simply proved that sheer numbers could cause enough of a threat, despite how idiotic they were.

There was silence for a while as Marcay Island grew steadily smaller. The adrenaline of the fight wore off, and Abel slowly slid to the ground, feeling his stomach grow steadily more upset at the tossing of the waves.

"Who are these people, anyway?" Linebeck eventually asked, glancing at Rusl. "What do they want?"

"They essentially want to see the world burn," Rusl answered, crossing his arms. "Somehow that involves taking our sons hostage."

Linebeck pursed his lips, debating some issue, and sighed. "Well, that's rotten luck. Good thing you have me."

"Oh yes," Abel huffed. "Where would we be without you?"

Linebeck didn't seem to catch his quip, or if he did, his rebuttal was interrupted by Fierce asking, "Why did they take your crewmate?"

Linebeck's face soured, and he glared ahead of him at nothing in particular. "Whatever the reason, Link can probably get himself of out of it. But... I need a crew. So I'm finding the kid."

Link?!

No. Surely not. There was no way this disgrace of a man had a Hero in his crew, and--

Oh goddess he did, didn't he? That would be why the Yiga targeted him.

"Our boys are named Link too," Rusl said, eyes widening a little as he came to the same conclusion. "Heroes of Hyrule, spread across time. I think they must be targeting them because they know they'd stop them otherwise."

"Heroes? Hyrule?" Linebeck repeated, staring at him. "My kid isn't a--I mean, he's--look, he's my crew, and... he's a good kid, but..."

The pirate bit his lip, staring at the wheel a moment, still and silent. Worry etched every feature before he shook his head.

"The Yiga will perish," Fierce assured him. "We'll find your child."

Linebeck flushed. "H-he's not my child!!"

"Right," Rusl chuckled, patting the man on the back.

Abel sighed, ignoring the pirate temporarily and looking at at sea. The horizon bounced up and down along with the ship, giving him a headache, and he closed his eyes. He wondered if they'd actually have any luck this time - all they'd found were scraps of information and cold leads. This attack seemed fairly fresh, so hopefully they could make it in time.

Ugh. Closing his eyes made the seasickness worse.

Thunder rumbled, catching Abel's attention, and he hastily opened his eyes to see dark clouds ahead. "Uh..."

"Are we going to sail through the storm?" Fierce questioned, staring at the abysmal weather.

"No sailor goes through a storm on purpose," Linebeck immediately said. "That's just suicide. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent sailor. We'll skirt around it - I don't want to lose too much time."

At least Abel could agree with the man on that. But still... even he, someone who did not navigate the ocean, knew not to get near a storm out in the open sea. "Are we sure about this? We should probably try to avoid it altogether."

"And give those sea vipers time to get away?" Linebeck growled, glaring at the clouds. "Ha! I, Linebeck, master of the seas, can handle this just fine! I'm getting my crew back, blast it!"

Well... he couldn't fault him for his determination, at least. But still... Abel sighed, hugging the wooden support rung under the railing, lightly bouncing his forehead against it. "We're going to die."

Abel's relatively mild quip felt more and more like a promise the closer they got. The winds picked up, the sea turning a sickly green, and Abel nearly threw up with how much they were being tossed around. Rusl nearly flew across the ship as one wave almost overturned them, and Fierce had to grab him by his shirt to save him. The three men clung to the rail desperately, occasionally getting beaten by walls of water spilling overtop them.

Abel looked to the helm worriedly, feeling completely out of control and petrified, only to see Linebeck standing firmly, holding the wheel with a steel grip. He glared defiantly at the sea, almost daring it to try its worst, confident and firm in his stance.

At the sight, the former knight had to admit he felt almost a little reassured.

Another wave crashed into them, and Abel watched Linebeck release the wheel a moment, letting it turn sharply, guiding the ship to ride with the wave. Then he grasped it, guiding the mast with gritted teeth as he fought against the whipping winds. Fierce pulled Abel close, shielding both him and Rusl with an iron grip to the railing so the waves wouldn't knock them off.

Honestly, with the way they were getting tossed, Abel would be surprised if they didn't capsize. He clung desperately to both the rail and the Fierce Deity, feeling the mythical being's strong arm pressing him and Rusl closer together. Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, some kind of finality or certainty in each other's eyes as they nearly flew over another wave, facing it head on.

They still had to find their boys. Abel had to get back to Tilieth. He'd survived a damn apocalypse, he wasn't letting this be what killed him.

Glancing up at the pirate again, Abel saw the same fierce determination on his face. It was a promise, and despite how Abel's entire world was trying to kill him, he took comfort in it.

Abel closed his eyes, his forehead touching Fierce's sleeve, his hand brushing against Rusl's as they both held on to the deity for dear life, shivering and trusting and letting go.

Hylia... I leave this up to you. Don't let me down.

He lost track of time. All he heard was the crashing of waves, like claps of thunder, roaring in his ears, making his heart pound. But slowly, surely, the boat jostled them less, the wind didn't howl as it had, and the ship rocked and bounced up and down like a hammock instead of feeling like an earthquake.

Abel opened his eyes, dripping wet, tasting salt and bile, and saw sunlight.

Linebeck smiled down at them, hands on his hips, looking triumphant. "Told you I was the best."

Rusl barked out a laugh, slowly rising while Abel continued to shiver in Fierce's hold. "Well, I'm certainly impressed."

"Are you alright?" Fierce whispered softly, his arm shifting to rest his hand on Abel's back.

Hesitantly, Abel rose, testing his legs, though his knees certainly felt like they could give out at any moment.

It was official. He despised sailing.

But he could recognize and admire skill when he saw it. "Well done, Linebeck."

The pirate beamed, postiively preening at the praise, and Abel found he couldn't hold himself together any longer, leaning over the rail and vomiting.

Linebeck cackled quietly, heading back to his original spot. "Well, it isn't for everyone, I guess. But I promise the rest of the way is less rough."

Rusl helped Abel sink back to the floor while Fierce grabbed some water at the Ordonian's request.

"You good?" Rusl asked. He was shivering too, just as soaked to the bone as Abel, but he seemed far better put together.

"Nothing fazes you, does it?" Abel asked hoarsely, somewhat annoyed and jealous.

Rusl smirked. "We all have our strengths. You're certainly a better fighter than me."

If you say so. Abel pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a little less nauseous, and accepted the water Fierce offered him.

The sun slowly dried everyone off as they continued to make their way to their destination. Eventually, Rusl, being the talkative man that he was, starting gently interrogating their captain while Abel leaned against Fierce with his eyes closed. The deity didn't mind, letting himself be a pillow, but Abel could hear fabric shift as he turned to listen in to the other two.

"How did Link become part of your crew?"

"Well, I was hunting treasure," Linebeck explained. "Link wanted to find the ship I was looking for. His friend, uh, needed some help. So we worked together. I figured the kid worked so well it only made sense that he stick around. He..."

Here the pirate paused, and Abel looked over at him. His eyes were cast downward, and though shadows pulled at the dark circles under his eyes, he had a gentle smile on his face.

"He's a good kid."

Fierce sighed quietly, barely audible over the breeze. "I must figure out why these Yiga are after our children."

Linebeck grew flustered. "I said he wasn't my kid!! Look, he's just a useful member of the crew, okay? Honestly, I'm not that soft!"

Fierce blinked, the slightest crinkle to his nose, a dead giveaway that he was bemused. "You speak of love and affection as if they are weaknesses."

"Wha--I--this is silly, I am a pirate, and--"

"And?" Rusl prompted, eyebrows raised, a mischievous, gentle smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. Fierce may not have understood the man's blustering, but Rusl clearly was just trying to mess with him now, seeing right through his bravado.

Personally, Abel was just a little exasperated by it. Men who pretended they were "tough" and nothing affected them all the time simply to show off annoyed him. He used to maintain a calm façade not because he was trying to prove a point, but because the last thing people needed was to see someone in charge panicking. This was different. This wasn't a way to keep others feeling safe and secure, this wasn't a means of protecting others, this was a pitiful attempt for Linebeck to protect himself.

Perhaps it wouldn't annoy him so much if he didn't suspect the man behaved this way in front of his kid too. He could act a fool to others, but if he denied his affection for his boy right in front of him, Abel did not approve of that.

But he didn't have to say anything. Fierce's innocent confusion would tear down his argument well enough.

Linebeck huffed, looking like he was scrambling for an argument, but Abel had to interrupt it when he caught sight of something. "Is that land?"

Everyone turned to look, seeing a small splotch of yellow and black andd green, and Linebeck laughed triumphantly. "There it is! Land ho! I told you I would get us there in record time! Now hold on, you sorry land slugs, we're coming in fast!"

He was true to his word as it seemed to take little time to reach their destination. For once, it was blessedly easy to find their target - a large ship with the Yiga symbol on its mast, painted sloppily as if it had just been done, was at the port. Linebeck worked to slow their approach, when Abel instead insisted, "Don't slow us down, just ram it - we'll take care of the rest!"

"There's a cannon on this ship," Rusl noted.

"We can't risk hurting the boys if they're aboard," Abel argued, shaking his head. "Just damage it enough to stop them from escaping, and we can board."

Linebeck nodded. "Just so you know... it's uh, all up to you once we get there. I'm a fantastic fighter, but I'm afraid my sword is on my own ship."

Rusl and Abel both stared at him dully. "Right."

The men prepared themselves, weapons at the ready. Fierce pulled out his double helix blade, making Linebeck's eyes double in size. "Geez, overkill much? Get ready, we'll hit them on the port side."

"The--the what side?"

"Port, on the port--ugh, on your left!!"

The three moved, and Linebeck snapped, "Your other left!! Left from facing the bow!"

Abel sighed heavily, positioning himself and bracing for impact alongside the other two. As the Yiga ship grew closer at an admittedly unnerving rate, he prepared to jump.

Their boat slammed the Yiga ship, impaling its hull slightly and causing it to rock so severely that they could hear some of the enemies screaming and falling into the sea.

Linebeck roared in satisfaction. "HAHA, TAKE THAT YOU BRAINLESS JELLYFISH!"

Abel let the momentum of the movement carry him, Rusl, and Fierce across as they leapt with the contact. The Yiga boat was still nearly on its side when they landed, causing them to slip a little, but Abel recovered quickly, decapitating the first Yiga in sight before moving on to the next. The team moved quickly, with Fierce taking out swathes of the enemy in one fell swoop while Rusl tore ahead. Abel scoured the area for signs of a leader, entering the underbelly of the ship as well.

When he reached the brig, he froze, breath stolen from his lungs. There was another gate there, its bright kaleidoscope dizzyingly swirling, and two Yiga stood before it, holding an unconscious boy.

Oh hell no! Charging ahead, Abel stabbed one Yiga quickly, kicking the other off the child before finishing him off. Rusl hastened in shortly thereafter, wiping blood of his sword.

"Anyone else?" Abel asked as he knelt down to check on the child.

Rusl shook his head, cheeks flushed, eyes aflame. He held up a booklet. "Found a journal log, though. Might be able to help us."

At this point, Abel honestly wasn't surprised, just exasperated. He supposed the Yiga's main purpose in being here was to take this boy. Theirs were still at large.

At least they'd spared this boy the same fate.

Fierce entered last. "The enemy has been eliminated."

Abel sighed, looking down. The boy in front of him was young, not even a teenager from the looks of it, though he was likely close. His hair was thick and wispy, golden as the sands and thick with mositure and sea salt. He wore a green tunic and undershirt, paired with white trousers.

"Link!"

Catching the men's attention, Linebeck rushed into the room, kneeling down beside the boy. His hands hovered over him hesitantly, face paling at the abrasions on the boy's face. At first his concern was genuine, but his eyes shifted to the dead Yiga around him and suddenly he looked woozy.

Abel fought the urge to roll his eyes. He motioned with his head to Fierce, who quietly removed the bodies. With the distraction gone, the pirate returned his attention to the child, considerably less pale but still oh so hesitant and gentle with Link.

The boy stirred, squeezing his eyes before slowly blinking them open. Abel could see the immediate sparkle of relief as the boy registered seeing Linebeck, and the former knight smiled a little.

Linebeck smiled in return, hands finally settling on the child, patting hsi cheek and helping him sit up. His grip settled on the boy's shoulders, and he took a steadying breath.

And then he started shaking him like a rag doll.

"You stupid sea monkey, what were you thinking do you have any idea how much trouble I had to go through just to get to you, they sank my ship, now we have to get a new one--!"

The other men stared, a little caught off guard, and then Rusl gently pointed out, "Easy, you're going to give the kid whiplash."

Linebeck paused, glancing at them, leaving Link nearly limp in his grip, eyes dazed and clearly dizzy. The pirate huffed, pulling the boy to his feet, and Link stumbled around a few paces before nearly collapsing against him.

Sighing, Linebeck settled an arm around the child to keep him from falling over, letting him lean against him. "Well. The job's done, at least. But... didn't you say your boys were missing too?"

Rusl smirked. "Ah, so he is your boy?"

Linebeck jumped, eyes widening. "W-wha--no, I--you're dodging the question!"

Rusl waved the booklet in response. "I'm sure this log will have valuable information for us. But you and your son should get out of here. We'll make sure the Yiga can't come back."

Linebeck was practically inflating with hot air to rebuke Rusl's claims about him and Link, but he instead stormed out. "Honestly, I rescue you ungrateful sea barnacles and you mock me. I'm leaving."

"You forgot your kid," Abel noted dully as the boy shook his head and steadied himself.

"Link, let's go, what are you waiting for!" Linebeck called from above deck.

Abel put a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder while Rusl smiled warmly at him. "Better get going, son."

The boy looked between them, adn then the Fierce Deity, and then he nodded, saying softly, "Thank you. Thank you for taking care Linebeck."

With that, the kid ran outside, and Rusl laughed. Abel had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Let's get through this gate and seal it," Abel suggested. "We can read the journal after we get out of here. The less likely they can come back, the better."

Fierce's reply was cut off by voices from above.

"Linebeck, look! It's Jolene's ship!"

"Of course it is, I stole it!"

"But then why is your ship over there?"

"What?! My ship was--that's my ship!"

"Oh! I think I see Jolene on it!"

"She fixed my ship? SHE STOLE MY SHIP??"

Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, and then they both snickered.

Fierce glanced hesitantly above deck, but Abel shook his head. "Leave him to his fate. Clearly this is not their first encounter, and they've managed without us. We should go."

With that, the three men strode forward, preparing for another adventure.

#Tetra and Ciela were with Aryll and Grandma because there are only so many characters I can write that I don't know much about lol #I feel like Rusl might get annoyed with Linebeck occasionally but overall can see right through his little act #Abel on the other hand... whether he can tell it's an act or not he'd drive him nuts LOL #Fierce is just like “he isn't a threat and he's helping me so ok”#I feel like if Linebeck had stuck around and become a permanent member of the squad Fierce would've eventually inadvertently called him out #Fierce: Why do you choose to hide your concern and care behind meaningless words and bolstering bravado? Does it make you feel powerful?#Linebeck: *spluttering*#anyway Linebeck is an excellent sailor thank you for coming to my tedtalk #no matter how goofy or immature or cowardly he is this man is king of the seas and even Abel can respect that #Let Linebeck Be Cool 2024 #and then let him be a goof again lol #this was SO much fun to write oh my gosh #sorry it took a while to write but here it is :)#hope y'all enjoy <3 #also hope Linebeck feels right #Dad Squad #abel #rusl #fierce dadity #linebeck #phantom hourglass #legend of zelda #writing

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bittybeanie · 4 months

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oh boy! time to post a new fic! I can't believe it's been *checks calendar* ....oh. uh. oops. ignore that! it's the fourth and final installment of (this) aspec reigen series, complete with a lite™ version of a couple different kinks and finally getting to touch the peen! this one's real long, folks, clocking in at about 9,500 words, so you might wanna get a nice beverage and settle in.

content notes: thigh riding, themes of consent, drunk almost sex, a discussion about the drunk almost sex in the following scene, praise kink, a very loose (literally) definition of bondage, and so so many pet names. minors please don't interact!

also on ao3!

It takes more than a couple tries for you to get settled on the bed. You’re too close, then too far, and Reigen can’t get comfy, and your hand keeps sliding out from under you, and he can’t decide how he wants your leg angled, and there’s too many clothes, then all at once so few clothes that it feels like too much at once and you hastily agree to put your shirts back on, not wanting to break the already fragile layer of quiet hope.

Finally, finally, everything is perfect.

Awkward, stilted, and a little tense, and you’re not sure how long your leg will let you keep it just barely raised like this before it cramps up, but he’s here, embarrassed but steadfast, breath coming out in shivery gasps, hovering over your thigh, one hair fisted in the back of your hair. If he tips over, there’s no way you’re not going with.

Perfect.

His thighs shake as he holds himself up, deciding which direction he wants to move. You reach for the small of his back to steady him. "Does this count as keeping my hands out of the way?" He nods, so you test the waters by sliding your other hand up his thigh.

"As long you don’t- just no direct touching. Close to is fine, just not… well." He moves a hand back and forth across where he’s hovering over your thigh.

“Keep off the goods. Gotcha."

"The goods? Awful. You're awful, I swear."

You slide your hand up, just barely skimming your fingernails over his hip when you catch the hem of his shirt, and his cock twitches in his boxers.

"The goods don't seem to agree."

"Oi." Despite his protests, the laughter loosens him, and he relaxes enough to lean back into your knee. “Fine, fine, just stop saying goods.”

“Alright.” He raises an eyebrow. You lift both hands in surrender. “I promise! I will never again use ‘the goods’ to refer to your perfect, gorgeous, suckable-”

“I get it! I get it.” He grabs onto your shoulder - maybe in an effort to distract you, or maybe just to keep his balance - as he shifts closer. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears. “Here, actually, can you-? Hm.” He presses a hand against the inside of your other leg, thumb digging in as he gives a shove. He slides a knee into the newly free space between your legs, leaning forward to get a better angle. Your hands settle back on his waist.

“Better?”

“Much.” He lets out a little hum as he pushes his hips forward, and you have to stamp down a whimper at the feeling, his dick heavy and warm even through fabric.

“Didn’t mean to just push like that, though. Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’ll survive a little manhandling, as a treat.” You hit the last “t” sound with a click of your tongue, and he falls into your neck with a laugh. You trace patterns on his hips as he moves, tracking the motion as you press your fingers into his skin. “God, how do you get your hips to move that smooth? It’s sorta mesmerizing.”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know, I’m just- I wasn’t thinking about it. S’just what f- ha, feels good.” His breath fans out across your collarbone, warm and fast.

“Yeah? You like using my thigh, baby? No thoughts other than what feels good? Your own personal toy to get yourself off against?”

“Oi.” His hips stutter once before he falls back into a slower rhythm. His fingers dig into your shoulder as he pulls you closer.

“Too much?”

“That’s not how I think of you.”

You can’t help but laugh, a light chuckle coming out in a breath against his hair. “I know, ‘Taka, I know.” You slide your hands under his shirt, over his stomach and up to his collarbone. “But would it really be so bad to belong to you?”

“I- fuck.” There’s a moment of worry when he shoves you away, but then he’s scrambling for the hem of his shirt and pulling.

“Are you sure?” It’s a formality, uttered even as you’re already reaching to help slide the fabric over his elbows, but it’s one you can’t even imagine going without.

“Very.” He lifts himself off of you to push his boxers down, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he shimmies them all the way off. The mattress shifts and pitches him over, and you hurry to grab his arm.

He crawls back over to straddle your thigh, the tip of his cock tapping lightly against your side before he leans back onto his ankles.

“Do I need to get-?” You chuck his shirt into infinity and gesture vaguely to the bedside drawer. He’s technically never told you that he started keeping lube in there, but he hasn’t made much effort to keep the secret either.

He shakes his head. “I’m close. Won’t matter.”

He tries to go back to rutting against you, anchoring his hands on your waist to tilt his hips this way and that, but something about the new angle is off, and he can’t get any good contact.

“Oh no, now horrible, your dick is just so hard it won’t stay down on its own.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he scoots to sit closer, flush making its way from his ears to the edges of his cheeks.

“That gorgeous curve probably isn’t helping, either. In this case, anyway. Be an absolute treat to have inside me, though.” You press your thumbs in just above his knees, encouraging him to spread his legs more, and he jumps with a squeak, hands flying to grab yours. “Sorry, sorry, di-”

“No, it’s-” He pulls your hands together, just in front of his stomach, and the tip of his cock brushes against you. For a moment, you think he’s going to pull down, but he guides your hands back to his hips, pressing them into his skin as he rolls his hips. “Here.”

He gives up and puts his hand flat over his dick, pinning it down against your leg. He lifts himself to adjust the angle, just his tip dragging along your skin until he bumps into your hip, precum rolling out in a thin line over your thigh. When he pulls back, he grinds down insistently, coating his length and covering what isn’t already marked of your thigh so he can slide more easily. After a few impatient jolts of his hips, he settles back into a rhythm, smooth and fluid, and lets up on the pressure of his hand. He slings his other arm over your shoulder to pull you closer, and he falls forward to bury his face in your neck, whining into your collarbone.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was close, because it only takes a few drags of his cock against you for him to seize up, body tensing before going boneless, cum rolling over his hand and onto your hip as he slumps against you in a mess of pants and sighs. You slide your hands up his back to support his full weight, pressing kisses to his hair as he catches his breath.

“Just… gimme a second, I can cl- get you- god, my legs.” He rolls off of you with none of his usual grace, limbs falling everywhere at once, lightly smacking your arm as he goes limp.

You laugh and push his hair back from his face. You don’t bother to untangle your legs from his, accepting your fate of needing a shower later in exchange for getting to lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Eh, let it dry.”

“I’m starting to think you like it more than tolerate it.”

“If you haven’t gotten the hint by now that I want you to absolutely cov-”

He gives you a shove, rolling his hand so there’s no real force behind it, but you seize the chance to topple with a dramatic moan, one hand falling theatrically across your forehead as your eyes flutter closed.

“Oh, stop it.” He crawls over and props himself up on his elbows. You can feel his breath fanning over your collarbone, stilted like he’s trying not to laugh. You crack one eye open, breaking into giggles when you see his forced serious expression, eyebrows pinched together and one cheek sucked into his mouth to keep the smile off his face. He breaks at your laughter, breathing out through his nose and pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Oh, you could take me anywhere, handsome.” You waggle your eyebrows suggestively, and he rolls onto his back with an exasperated groan. You laugh again and sit up, pulling a blanket over him so you can settle in without accidentally brushing somewhere he’d rather you didn’t.

“Hey, Arataka?”

“I love you, too.”

“That, too.” You chuckle. “But I have a real question this time.”

“Oh.” He turns his head. “Sure.”

“After you… when you took my hands earlier, were you…?” The fleeting moment of contact between him and your hands floats through your mind. You can’t help but wonder what he was thinking in the moment he hesitated, but it feels weirdly invasive to ask so bluntly. “Sorry, never mind, this is a weird line of thought.”

You lay down beside him, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together as his thumb smooths up your wrist.

“Do you mean…” He takes a steadying breath, grip tightening almost imperceptibly. “Do you mean after the clothes came off?”

You nod. For a moment, he stills, not even breathing.

“I was… I wanted so badly to let you touch me. I thought if I didn’t have to say it, if I could just… imply, then I could get around it, but,” he sighs heavily, and he sounds tired when he continues, “I panicked.”

You’re both quiet, long enough that you startle even yourself when you finally break the silence.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“...Panicking?”

“No, angel. Implying.” He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “Maybe you just have to imply for a little longer.”

“I’m not following.”

“What if you left your hand on top of mine? That way it’s like- it’s the same as when you do it, but it sort of, hm, bridges the gap? All the sexy, none of the surprise.”

For a long moment, you’re not sure if he’s quiet because he’s thinking or because he’s falling asleep.

He hums, shoulder rolling under your head, and he pulls you tighter against his side.

"Okay." You shift nervously, tucking your foot underneath yourself, then deciding against it and unfolding your legs. "Walk me through the zones again."

"I'm not a city planning map." He rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand. You’re not sure which one of you the gesture is supposed to comfort.

You shift back onto your knees.

"Here up, anything goes." He points at the middle of his chest. "But try to stay- so more like, well, from maybe..." He gestures to his collarbone and wags his finger up and down. "Here to here, really."

When he looks back at you, you can tell he's waiting for something. You settle for a small nod.

"Right. A-and then, here to here," he points from his chest to just above his hip, "Hands are fine. Doing... whatever." He steadies himself with another deep breath and rushes through the rest. "Legs, stay still, and anything... direct we'll do the- on the- yeah, got it, that's all."

You let him sit for a moment to make sure there's nothing he forgot. His grip on your hand tightens, and you swear he moves to pull you closer, but he must decide against it at the last second.

"Whose hand is going on top again? Sorry, we've swapped it so many times I can't remember if we decided."

"Oh. Right. Um." He hovers his right hand over his left, then swaps them, then swaps them again. “Yours under mine.”

“Got it.” You reach for him, letting him pull your hand up to his collar. "And you know you can tell me to stop at any time?"

"You tell me that every time."

"It's important every time."

He swallows thickly and traces a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Yeah. I know."

You shift to pull your legs off to the side, then cross them again, then sit back up on your knees. Gently taking the collar of his shirt in your hands, you trail one thumb along the edge of the fabric until you reach the top button. "And can I do this, or would you like to?"

He nods before realizing there were two options in your question, then points at you, then at your hands, then flashes you a thumbs up. "Yeah. Go ahead."

"Well, now hold on, I have manners. I'm not going straight for the goods." He laughs and shimmies to sit up straighter, letting his legs straighten out in front of him. "How about the pants later?"

"Uh, right, that's, I didn't think about that. I mean it would make sense that you're going to be- I mean it's not like-"

"Arataka."

"Yeah." He swallows.

"I'm not going to be offended if you’d like to take off your own pants."

He pauses, staring down at his knee. Eventually, he shakes his head. "I want you to do it."

"And your-?"

"Just do it at the same time."

"Got it." You take a steadying breath of your own. "I won't stay there, but is it okay if I straddle you for a little bit? I wa-"

His hands are pulling at your waist before you can get your legs properly unfolded, and you almost tumble over him. He laughs an apology as you move on top of him, hovering over his legs to avoid making any real contact.

You brush his bangs back from his face, following through with the motion until your fingers tangle in the shorter strands of hair at the back of his head. He tilts to follow your hand, craning his neck to keep you from pulling.

"Ready?"

He nods slightly.

"I’d like a verbal yes for this one, lovely."

He swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob.

"Yeah, yes.” He nods again. His hand jerks, taking yours with it, and he awkwardly lets your hand fall into his lap. You do your best not to move. “I trust you."

You drag your gaze back up to his face, searching for any last signs of reluctance. A bead of sweat trails down his temple, and you’re certain if you put your hand to his cheek you’d worry he had a fever. Sure enough, when you slide your fingers along his jaw, he’s hot to the touch, and the tips of his ears are turning brighter shades of red by the second.

He clears his throat, pushing his jaw into your palm. “Are you gonna-?”

“In a minute.” You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip. “I’m savoring.”

He scoffs at that, the same scoff he uses when he sees somebody do something stupid in public, and you take the opportunity to catch him by surprise, surging forward to push him down onto the bed. His hands go to your shoulders on instinct but he pulls them back almost immediately, hovering awkwardly in the space between you. Using your grip on his chin, you angle his head so you can lean down and kiss him without knocking your noses together.

Once you’re sure you can support yourself without falling on him, you allow your free hand to trail down, tracing down the muscles in his neck, across his collarbone and back, finally settling on the first button of his shirt. It takes a little effort to get it undone with just one hand, but you manage it, and you allow yourself to dip down as you settle into a rhythm, lips ghosting along Reigen’s skin as you uncover more of it.

He’s shivering, hand shaking where it hovers over yours on the last button of his shirt. When you slide your hand back up along his side, his hand falls back to the bed, pulling at a wrinkle in the sheets.

You kiss along his jaw, savoring the feeling every time his breath catches in his throat under your lips. Your hand trails down along his side, wrapping around him to hold his waist when he arches up into the press of your thumb. He hums, eyelids fluttering, and you dare to slide your hand down, ever so slightly, thumb brushing over his waistband and back onto bare skin.

He grabs for you, grasp tight around your wrist, almost painful before he slowly relaxes and drags your hand back up toward his chest. You push yourself off him, swinging your leg to kneel beside him.

“Here, let’s try this.” You guide him to sit up. Once he’s situated against the headboard, you settle in by his thigh, your knee pressing gently into his hip. One hand traces circles and patterns as you trail down to his stomach. “Still good?”

He hums, but he scrambles for your wrist again, holding on tighter and tighter the closer you get to the button on his pants.

“You’re allowed to change your mind, y’know. I can let you do it.”

“That’s not- mm.” He relaxes his death grip on your arm but keeps his thumb hooked around it. After a few tries to let go completely, his head tips forward into your shoulder. “I thought I would… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and slowly pull away. “Nothing to apologize for.” You cup his face with both hands and gently turn him, but he doesn’t hold your gaze for long.

“Do you want to keep going? Should I…?”

He opens his mouth, but says nothing. His expression is pinched, tight with something you’re not sure how to label. His fingers press together, thumb and index, thumb and middle, thumb and ring, thumb and pinky, over and over as you lean back, nodding softly.

“Stay in bed?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You swear he flinches, and you clear your throat. “Or move to the couch and watch something?”

“Couch.” He nods once, stiff and harsh, and swallows thickly. “Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and slides out of bed, starting to button his shirt back up as he wanders into the other room.

You keep nodding as if in a trance, and you follow him out.

Despite the now faint memory of some friend of a friend forcefully inviting you, there's not a single soul at the party you recognize. With the exception of a few people dancing by the kitchen, closer to the speakers, everyone has settled for taking a seat and awkwardly bobbing their head. You’ve repeated the same three lines of small talk more times than you can count, it's just cold enough that you've had the chills the whole time while still managing to feel overwhelmingly stifled, and the music is so awful you wonder how somebody hasn’t tried to change it yet. But there's alcohol, the good stuff that somebody is clearly very particular about, and lots of it. You can't remember how much you've had, and that fact is enough to tell you it was probably too much, but it doesn't stop you from taking whatever the host is passing out when they wander through.

You think Reigen might be the only person doing worse than you. He looks... woozy. His face is flushed and his eyes are lidded like he might throw up, pass out, or both at any moment. At one point he took a tumble when he tried to sit down, graciously ignored by everyone else, and you had to throw your arm around his waist to keep him from sliding down the front of the couch again. He's leaning on you for support every time he moves, and if there were anything left in his can you’re sure he would be spilling it on you right now.

He's restless at the best of times, you know this, but even through the fog you can tell something is off. Not wrong exactly, but he keeps giving you this sideways glance, digging his fingers into your thigh to steady himself and then yanking his hand away, knocking his head into your shoulder and muttering something you haven't been able to make out.

He laughs - way too loudly at something you're not sure was supposed to be funny - and stands abruptly. Your hand around his waist falls limp on the couch, and he sways without the support.

"I'm going to the re- the ba- I gotta piss."

Nobody but you pays him any attention. He takes a wobbly step forward, knocking his foot into the leg of the coffee table, but he doesn't seem fazed. His knees bend at a weird angle as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, then he straightens back up and whirls around to face you. The momentum sends him tumbling back down, and you manage to catch him before his nose smashes into your jaw.

"I guess you better help me there."

"Yeah." Your voice crackles from dehydration. You have to clear your throat and try again to get a recognizable sound to come out. "Alright." You do a quick mental scan of your legs to make sure they'll support you before you motion for him to get up so you can stand. He does, grabbing your wrist and pulling with the conviction of somebody who does not need help walking.

The gears in your head start to turn.

He drags you along, glancing over his shoulder as he rounds the corner into the hallway, only stumbling once when he has to screech to a halt and back up to yank a door open. He pushes you inside, pulling the door closed behind him after he follows you in.

It's pitch black, and you're not sure if the overwhelming lemon smell is coming from Reigen or something in the room. You reach out to find him, but your fingers brush against something cold and smooth instead, and it's not until it tilts and hits you in the head that you realize it's probably a handle for something. Reigen's hand whacks into your arm and he holds on tight, fingers digging into your shoulder as he pulls you forward.

"I don't think that was the right door."

"Hm? Oh, sure." You can feel the air beside you moving until eventually his other hand finds your face, one finger dragging across your cheek until it hits your nose. "No, I- yeah, I know."

"Then wh-"

He pushes, hard and sudden. You fight to keep your balance as you adjust to the weird backwards lean you find yourself in. Reigen hisses as he pulls his fingers out from between you and the wall.

"Dumb, that was so dumb. Sorry." He fumbles for your waist to guide you backwards, and you feel his hips press against you when he reaches past your head to lean on the wall.

Everything clicks together all at once.

Your hands fly to where his waist should be. Once you find him, you're not sure if you want to shove him away or pull him in closer.

"You're super drunk. I don't know if-"

"Tha's the point." The hand on your face slides around until his thumb catches your bottom lip. He sways, like talking about it has made him remember how much he's had to drink. When he leans against you, he's heavier than normal, like he can’t support his weight anymore. "Liquid courage."

"I’m drunk."

"Mm. Shit." He pulls away, just barely, and he nods. "Do you mind?"

Your mouth drops open uselessly. All your thoughts feel like static, indecipherable noise screaming for you to do something, if only you could figure out what. He's squirming now, like it hurts to stay still. You realize he's whimpering at the same time you realize he's grinding his hips against your leg.

“M’fine.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands as he shuffles around. You take the chance to stand back up. When you finally bump into each other again, he wraps his arms around you and squeezes, his breathing coming out in pants against your chest. He hooks one leg around yours, tapping his foot against your heel to bring your leg forward. You make a strangled humming sound when he grinds against your thigh.

"Hey, where's your hand?"

"My...?" You suddenly remember you have hands. You allow yourself a moment of silence for all the time you could have been holding onto him before you push one hand forward. It smacks into what you think is his stomach. "Sorry. Here."

"S'kay. Stay put." You keep your hand pressed against him as he leans backward. You're not sure when he stopped holding onto you, but one of his hands is suddenly over yours, and a loud zip cuts through the sound of you both breathing. He slides his hand down, dragging yours with it. Your fingers glide along his skin, smooth and soft, until you brush against a patch of hair.

A sobering panic cuts through you.

He must realize what he's doing at the same time you do, because you both freeze. His grip tightens. He guides your hand away from him slowly, stopping when he makes contact with your side.

"Stay... stay put."

He turns and scrambles for the door. Something falls beside you when he misses the doorknob, then you're squinting as light floods in from the hallway. You can make out the silhouette of him sprinting into the room diagonal from where you're standing, and then there's the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Your place is only two blocks away - no more than a ten minute walk.

You call a cab service.

It smells like coffee.

When you try to sit up, the room spins. You end up in a sort of half sit, half lean as you grab onto the side of the mattress, willing everything to stay still. You take stock of the things that are clear enough to look at, slowly making sense of what happened once you got home.

You're laying on top of the covers, still in your clothes from last night. One shoe is in the doorway, and the other is nowhere in sight, probably somewhere closer to the entrance. The coffee smell, growing more enticing by the second, is a good sign Reigen's in the kitchen.

You slide onto the floor beside your bed, not trusting yourself to stand up without falling just yet, to rummage for more comfortable clothes. Once you manage to get changed, you stand up slowly, and make your way to the kitchen.

Reigen must have grabbed a set of pajamas at some point last night, though you can't remember when. His back is turned to you; he's lazily stirring something on the stove. Two steaming cups of coffee sit on the counter beside him. Before you can decide whether you want to say something and risk startling him, he seems to sense you standing there, and he turns around with a weak smile.

"Hey."

"Morning?" It's both a greeting and a question, because you have no idea what time it is.

"Yeah." He lets out a breathy chuckle. "How, um, how you feeling?"

Your head is throbbing so bad your teeth hurt, your legs and back are sore, and you have a looming sense of guilt.

"I think I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine, really." He clicks off the fire and reaches for a bowl. "I told you, I felt basically back to normal after I- well, um, you know. Thanks again, by the way, for car- for carrying me."

You nod softly, feeling a little useless as he hands you what looks and smells like a very delicious soup.

"Reigen, I am so-" "I didn't mean-"

He reaches for a second bowl. "You first." When you start to shake your head, he rolls his wrist in a "go on" motion. "Please. I'm not actually sure how to say mine yet."

"Right." You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your spoon. Deep in thought, you miss Reigen slipping past you. He clears his throat and gestures to the seat across from him. You slide into the chair. Your spoon clanks against the bowl as you set it down. "I, um. Shit, I'm so sorry."

He seems surprised, a spoonful of soup halfway to his lips.

"What for?"

"Wh-" You blink. "Every... thing? I- I know sorry doesn't even cover it, but I-"

"Whoa, hey, okay." He shakes his hand in front of him. "Never mind, I'll go first, because I think you got the wrong idea and I'm not gonna let you apologize for anything that happened."

"But you trusted me, and I-"

"And I still do. That's- that was the whole- look, I-" He sighs. His spoon clanks as he sets it down, abandoned in favor of wringing his hands together. "I set you up."

"You-?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought- It was stupid, and I should have just told you what I was trying to do, I know , but I- I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, and I thought if I could speed up the process, then- I mean, there's only so many times you can put up with almost getting to- if I could- ugh, sorry, hang on."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You swear your headache is reacting sympathetically, because pain shoots between your temples, dull but persistent. He goes to retrieve the coffees from the kitchen, just cool enough to drink, and you down some as soon as he hands you a mug.

"You've been so patient, and I know you would never do anything I didn't want, but I... I keep overthinking it. And I thought it would be the perfect excuse to... to not have to think about it at all. I mean that's- that's just what people do at parties, right, and- I mean, it was... ugh." He sits back down, his posture unnaturally rigid. He chooses his next words carefully, pausing between words as if he’s testing out different sentences in his head. "I trusted you… to not take it further than I was comfortable with… more than I trusted myself to… not panic over nothing. So, I- I saw the chance and I..." He gestures weakly, hand falling back to the table with a soft thump.

"Liquid courage."

He takes a sip of his coffee and slumps forward, holding his chin with one hand.

"You... got drunk on purpose?"

"Not originally, but, uh."

You nod slowly. Your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven't actually eaten any of your soup. You take a reluctant spoonful, chewing slowly as you take everything in.

"When you froze up, it- I realized how little I had thought it through. I- it wasn't fair to you. You didn't do anything to- I never should have put you in that position in the first place."

"I... would have appreciated a warning, yeah."

"Sorry." He runs his hand through his hair and leaves it against the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted." Reigen relaxes into his chair. As he stretches his legs out, one of his feet bumps against your ankle, and you laugh softly. "I'm still sorry, too. I should have asked more questions. And I didn't... I think I noticed something was wrong but I didn’t realize it was that frustrating for you. Before, I mean. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something like that."

"It's exclusively a me problem, I promise. I thought something would have worked by now. I don't... I don't really know what’s getting in the way." He shakes his head, breathing out sharply through his nose.

“I mean, literally speaking, your hands.” You laugh and take another sip of your coffee. He tilts his head. “Because, you know, y-you always grab my hand before I-?” He stares, unblinking. “Sorry, too soon to joke, probably,” you mutter into your cup, taking another sip just to have something to do.

When he moves again, it’s with a jerky start, sitting up and leaning forward. “My hands.”

“Yeah, I-”

“No, my hands.” He throws his elbows onto the table. The bowls clatter and his coffee sloshes; his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. His wrists come together in front of you, palms up and fingers curled loosely, as he stares, silent, waiting for a glimpse of recognition to cross your face. It takes a moment, but when he finds it, he grins. “My hands.”

“If you want to stop-”

“Saying so has always been enough.”

You stand, leaning to match his eye level. You consider him, searching for hesitation, but you find none.

You take his hand, and you start pulling.

“This is… mine?” An old black tie lays across Reigen’s palms, the ends hanging loosely over his thighs.

“Yeah, you left it here. A while ago, I guess.” You shrug. “You never really liked it, though, plus you’re here all the time anyway, so I didn’t get around to giving it back, and it’s just been here ever since.”

As you slide the drawer closed, he catches a glimpse of an old t-shirt he left on his first night in your place, folded neatly in the back corner, under a small collection of his dress socks.

There are signs of him everywhere, really, if he looks. His toothbrush in your bathroom, a blanket he bought you for your birthday draped over the back of the couch, his favorite sweater of yours hanging on the handle of the closet, never out of service long enough to make it in with the rest of your clothes.

He’s struck with the realization it’s not just in your things, your home, but in you, the way you gesture with an extra dramatic flourish that wasn’t there before, the unwavering, tight smile that settles on your face when you talk to clients, the softness in your voice when you welcome the kids into the office, quietly clearing a table for them to do homework on, the flashes of movement in the kitchen as you dash back and forth whenever you make recipes he taught you - favorites from when things were harder and uncertain and cooking was his escape, before even the hardest parts of his life were laced with joy.

He’s wearing off on you.

He’s known it for a while, but he’s never put it all together like this, never seen it all so neatly represented in a single black tie, satin and unassuming and full of possibility. You kick your abandoned shoe out of the way, pushing the door shut with a soft click that startles him just enough to draw his attention.

“Still okay?”

He wonders how you’ve worn off on him, which parts of him weren’t there before that he doesn’t notice, can’t notice.

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m ready.”

He smooths his thumb over the fabric, watching it wrinkle and crease where he applies pressure. It slides across his palms, dragging slowly as you wrap one end around your hand, until he’s left with empty air, hands outstretched between you.

He feels light.

You take his hands in yours, turning them in toward each other, and start to lay the tie across his wrists.

“Oh, wait!” You pull back right away, and he holds up one finger. “Not- we should take my shirt off first.”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” You laugh and settle back onto your knees. “Yes, okay, let’s- yeah.”

Reigen stops halfway up. The fabric stays bunched when he lets go, and he pulls your hands to the exposed patch of skin. He can feel the tie, still wrapped around your palm, pressing against his side, cold and smooth, and he swallows thickly. As you drag your hands up, it slides up with you, and a shiver wracks through him when you finally pull the shirt off his arms.

He cups your face, pulling you into a kiss, fingers coming to press at the back of your neck to keep you against him as he topples backward. You catch yourself on one hand, the end of the tie flipping to rest over his shoulder as you climb to straddle him. He’s insistent, both hands tangling in your hair, little sighs and puffs of breath against your mouth as he refuses to pull away for air.

You press a kiss to his cheek to soothe the loss when you lean back. He drapes his arms over your shoulders, locking his fingers together behind your head.

“We could stay like this? My hands are… close-ish together.”

“I can’t see behind me to tie it, but,” you pull his hands around your head, “I’m sure we can figure it out after that.”

He nods. You turn his hands back toward each other and his fingers curl, knuckles pressing together as he relaxes. You drape the tie around his wrists, trying a few different ways of looping it but not finding anything you’re satisfied with.

“Sorry. I just wanna make sure you can get out if you need.”

“It’s alright. I like the attention.”

You freeze, a wobbly grin taking shape as your face heats up.

“‘Taka, I’m supposed to be the composed one!”

“I’m just trying to be honest!” He flexes his wrists, pressing his knuckles together to crack them.

“Don’t worry,” you press both ends of the tie between his hands and motion for him to hold them still, “I like giving you attention.” You fold the middle of the tie over to make two loops and start twisting them in on themselves. “And I wanna hear about it as much as you can bear.”

“You seem plenty composed to me.” He pinches his thumb between two fingers and squeezes.

“Quick recovery. I learned from the best.” You wink and put your fingers through the loops. “Here, hands in here.”

He flattens his hands to squeeze them through, stopping to let you shimmy the tie the rest of the way over. You hold the ends of the tie and give a quick tug before tying them together.

“There, it’ll have to do.” You slip a finger in each loop, making sure there’s enough room to be comfortable without him being able to slip out without meaning to. “It’s a little loose, so don’t pull too hard, okay?”

“Sure.” He folds his elbows down, letting his hands come to rest on his chest. He jerks one hand up toward his hair, pulling his other hand with it, and the tie snaps taut. He has the courtesy to look sheepish. “I’ll try.”

You roll your eyes, smile still wide.

“Hands above your head, please.”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to get at your neck.” You press up on his elbows, and he unfolds his arms. “Those were in the way.”

“O-oh. Right.”

You lean down, tilting his chin up with one hand, and press a kiss to his throat, savoring the way it moves as he swallows. You trail down until you reach his stomach, dragging your tongue along his skin on the way back up. He exhales sharply, breath moving your hair as you get closer to his face. He forces out a laugh, and he rolls one shoulder.

You glance up. The tie is already starting to come loose, untwisting in the middle, but his hands are clasped together, the tie held in place between his wrists, fingers over the ends.

You kiss him, quick and breathless, and slip your fingers under his waistband. When his breath hitches, you smooth your thumb along the bone there, a reassurance you won’t move yet. You can feel him tense under you, pressing up into your touch, then slowly settling back onto the mattress.

You’re both reluctant to acknowledge the fact that you have to get off of him to take his pants off. You do your best to shimmy them under you, and he lifts his hips to help, but you need both hands to make sure his boxers stay on for now, and you want to make sure he can move his legs, so eventually, begrudgingly, you climb off him.

He takes the opportunity to stretch, his back arching off the bed as you throw his pants off somewhere to worry about later.

“Ooh, pretty. Think you can do that for me again?” You press a thumb to the inside of his thigh, at the edge of where his boxer leg has ridden up, and he jumps, hips rolling against your touch.

“Trickery.” He squirms, a whine that refuses to come out shining through in his voice. “Not fair.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty more chances.” You trail your fingers up his thigh, along the “v” of the bone, up his stomach. He shivers when you trail back down, your fingers catching on the waistband of his boxers to drag it over his skin before letting go, settling your hand lightly over the bulge in the fabric. It’s slightly damp against your skin, and Reigen chokes back a moan when you press down.

You pull, grinding your palm down on his cock as the waistband moves until you can see the base of it, then you slide back up, tracing the outline of him with your fingers. When he whimpers, you’re too slow to hide your grin, and he glares halfheartedly.

“Having fun down there?”

“Oh, lots, thanks.” You slip your thumb below the elastic. “Seems like you are, too.”

“Hm.”

“Sorry, what was that?” You lift your hand with mock alarm, and he scrambles to reach for you, slowly lowering his arms to his chest when he sees your smile.

“Yes.”

“So, just to make sure, you are having fun?” It’s just as sarcastic as it is serious, and he seems to take it in equal measures, because he scoffs at the same time he nods. Both hands are on his hips now, both thumbs in his waistband, and you pull up gently to get him to lift his hips.

“Good boy.”

You’re not sure you would have felt it if you weren’t holding him, but he definitely shudders, trembling where your fingers press into his skin.

“Arataka.”

“Hmm?” He sounds breathless, and his chest heaves with effort, the rest of him as still as he can keep it.

“Should I keep calling you a good boy?”

“Um. If you want.” He jerks his hips up, and you take the hint to slide his boxers off, keeping an eye on his face as you do. You climb between his legs and lean over him, wrapping your hand slowly around his cock, firmly but gently, your thumb over the tip.

He squeaks, and he tenses, but he doesn’t reach for your hands.

“You’re doing so well, ‘Taka.” He swallows, and he shifts his hands, twisting the tie so he can lay his arms closer to his hair. “Such a good boy for me.” Precum oozes out of his slit, and you feel it roll down your hand.

“Mhm.” You lean back on your heels. “How about this? You tell me what feels good, and every time you do,” you pull your thumb down, spreading the precum along his length, “I’ll let you know just how much I appreciate it. Sound good?”

He nods, and you stop moving.

“Can I hear you say it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his wrists together, “yes, sounds good.”

“Good job.” When you lean to kiss him, grip tightening to keep his dick down against his stomach, his knuckles brush over your hair. “So perfect.”

You start slow, focusing more on touching every inch of him then keeping any sort of rhythm. When you trail up the vein on the underside, he shivers, and he gasps when you squeeze the base, and his hips jerk up when you pass over his slit, one leg coming up to press his ankle against your side. It’s not until you slip your other hand around him, though, arm passing through the space created by the bend of his knee to settle on his outer thigh, that he says anything.

“Fuck, that, more of that. P-please.”

“This hand?” You press your fingers into his thigh. He presses back.

“Yeah. I need… just, hold onto me.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course, sweetheart.” You scoot closer to wrap your hand tighter around his leg, spreading your legs to slip your knee underneath him. Once he relaxes, the full weight of his leg on yours, you press a kiss to his knee. “Good boy.”

“Shit,” he laughs, squirming closer to you. “S’not close enough.”

“Let me try something, then.” You slide backwards, reluctantly letting his leg fall to the bed, and you shimmy onto your stomach. When you pull his leg over your shoulder, he immediately hooks his ankle into your back and lets out a breathy moan. The pressure makes it a little harder to reach back around his thigh, but he relaxes into it easier, and the view is incredible. “There you go, perfect.”

You start up a little faster this time, twisting your wrist as you move up and down, and he bucks up into your hand. You risk a kiss to his thigh and his hands fly to your hair, the ends of the tie flowing down against your cheek.

“Sorry, too much?”

“Not enough.” His voice is scratchy now, and he gives a little tug once he gets a hold of you. “Can you, don’t put it- but, closer?”

“You want me here instead?” You press a kiss to the underside of his cock, flipping the loose ends of the tie out of the way to lay across his hip.

“Y-yes. Yes, fuck.”

“Gladly.” Between words, you pepper kisses along his shaft, following the trail of your hand up and down. “Thank you for letting me do this for you. You look so beautiful like this, feeling so good.”

He starts to make a noise of protest, but it quickly shifts into a stifled groan when you press a kiss to his tip, just barely letting your tongue drag across his slit as you pull away.

He whines and bucks his hips to follow you, and you can’t help but let an incredulous laugh slip out. “Alright, love, I’m gonna give you a choice, okay?”

He swallows thickly, then nods.

“Option one, you can tell me exactly how you want me to make you come. If you want my hand or my mouth or to go faster or slower or anything at all you just have to say the word. But I won’t do anything you don’t tell me, so you’ll have to say exactly what you want.”

His breathing is ragged, and he twitches in your grasp. “And option two?”

You grin and lean over him, propping yourself up on one hand. “I do whatever makes you the loudest, and if you stop making those pretty noises for me, I stop.” He seems to flinch at that, and you brush his hair back. “Just for a little while.”

He takes a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed, and he pulls his arms in and down to drape one across his forehead. The tie was never really secure in the first place, but after quite a bit of pulling and flailing, it’s fully undone by now, nothing but luck and stubborn determination holding the loops in place around Reigen’s wrists.

“Both options, of course, come with all sorts of praise and admiration.” You slip a finger under the fabric and give a light tug. He lifts his hands to let the tie slide free.

When he opens his eyes, a shudder running down his spine, he sees you absent-mindedly tying the tie around your neck, uneven and loose, hanging down between you to brush against his stomach. He’s sure you just needed somewhere to put it, something to do with your hands, but it flips a strangely possessive switch somewhere inside him. Not because he’s seeing you in his clothes - he’s had the privilege of that many times before - but because you’ve taken the thing that was supposed to restrain his ability to fuck up the situation, taken something he left safe for you to keep track of without even realizing he’d done it, taken the symbol of his presence in your space and your time and your life, and you’ve put it on without a second thought. He thinks of his misguided reasoning that got you into this situation, that he trusts you with him more than he trusts himself, and he knows what he wants.

For once, words are failing him, which just makes the choice even easier.

“Second one.”

Your eyebrows raise a little, like you’re surprised at his answer, and he almost takes it all back, but then you’re grinning and leaning down to cup his jaw, kissing him like he’s giving you the only air you could ever breathe, and he moans into your mouth.

You lean away just enough to pull in a gasp of air, fingers sliding to tangle into the base of his hair.

“Just like that, gorgeous.”

He laughs, sucking in a shaky breath as you wrap your hand around him again. It pinches into a sort of strained whimper as he starts to quiet himself and thinks better of it, and you start moving.

“That’s it, good boy, just let me take care of everything.”

For all he got into his head before, breaking the seal of touching him seems to have removed any last bits of hesitation, because he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. Your experimenting earlier left you with a good idea of what will get the best noises out of him, and he doesn’t hold back. You’re silently thankful, not only because you get to hear him, but also because you’re not sure you could have followed through on your threat of stopping. And if he’s exaggerating for your sake, all clipped moans and raspy mumbling and bucking hips, well, you’re not going to complain.

After a particularly tight stroke up his cock and a brush of teeth up the inside of his thigh, he pulls one arm over his mouth, pushing it against his lips with his other hand. You’re still deciding if that counts as muffling his sounds enough to slow down when he bites his wrist and yelps, a loud, desperate, frantic noise that seizes what little of your attention isn’t already on him. His head tips back as he struggles to prop himself up on one elbow, hand flipping to clamp down over his mouth, and you can see the bite mark, lines pressed into the pale skin just below the jut of bone where palm meets wrist. It takes you a minute to realize he’s saying something, your brain struggling to piece his noises together into words.

“Can I have your hand?” You hum, scrambling to extract your hand from his leg. “I just- I need,” he opens and closes his hands, “something.” When you hold your hand up blindly toward him, he takes it quickly and holds on tight, fingers lacing together with yours. He gives a few tugs, and you hurry to sit up.

“Please, I need- I can’t take it anymore.” He looks frantic, eyebrows pinched together and his chest heaving with ragged, shaky breaths. His hips buck wildly, quick and shallow into your curled fingers. You realize you’ve forgotten to keep moving as you were watching him, and you quickly correct your mistake, reveling in the shiver that racks through him as your thumb swipes over his tip.

He’s begging now, your name falling out in pieces between gasps and cries; he’s still tugging at your hand like you can’t get close enough, pressing his lips to your jaw like he can’t quite remember how to leave kisses there. He pitches his hips up and presses against you, knees coming together to press into your sides, pinning your hand against your torso as he lets out a final shuddering whimper.

He comes across your fingers, his whole body tense as he holds himself up, back arched and head rolled to the side. He moves to wrap his arms around you, forgetting that his elbow is supporting him, and he pulls you down with him as he falls the short distance to the mattress.

You do your best to roll off him without letting go of him during the aftershocks, but you’re not exactly paying attention to where you’re still holding, and he yelps again from the overstimulation. You yank your hand away with half an apology, smoothing your hand up his side as you lift yourself up on your other arm.

“Nono, wait, don’t-” He scrambles to grab you wherever he can, and you intercept him before he can smack you across the face.

“It’s okay, ‘Taka, s’okay. I’m not going anywhere. I just didn’t wanna crush you. Let’s sit up so you can get some water, alright? All that noise can really make your throat sore, I know.” You slip your hands under him, one at the small of his back and one between his shoulders, gently lifting him toward the headboard. “That’s it. You’re okay. I gotcha.”

Once he’s upright, a glass of water in two shaky hands, you lean over the side of the bed to fumble for a washcloth. When he doesn’t slow down on his own, you start to reach for the glass, but he pulls away for a big gulp of air before you can.

“How you feelin’?”

He doesn’t answer right away, leaving you to fidget with the cloth, slowly reaching for his thigh. He lets his eyes slide closed as you start to wipe him off, smoothing an apologetic thumb over his hip when he hisses from the sensitivity. You wipe your hand on a mostly clean corner before you chuck it in the general direction of the hamper, silently relieved when it makes it in.

“I think I died.” His hands are still shaking as he goes to set the glass on your nightstand, and you gingerly take it from him, lifting yourself up to set it on the far corner where neither of you can accidentally knock it off later. “I understand you now.”

“You didn’t die, I promise.” You allow yourself a smirk and pull a blanket up from the end of the bed. “That’s high praise, though.”

“You’re high praise.”

“You’re the one that liked it so much.”

He rolls his eyes, too tired to argue. As you pull yourself up the bed to sit beside him, he leans over, one hand sliding behind you to rest on your hip. Now that he doesn’t have the distraction of everything else, you can tell he’s starting to think, because his ears are tinting pink and he’s fidgeting with a string on the edge of the blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to oblige.”

You scoop his hand into yours, leaving the blanket’s seams to live another day, and examine the bite mark on his wrist.

“I can’t believe I did that.” He scoffs, shaking his head a little as you turn his arm over. “The hell was I thinking?”

“Obviously you weren’t, which is both the point and very hot, so hush.” He turns away stubbornly, but he looks pleased. “You could probably say a spirit did it. Biting seems like an evil ghost thing to do, right?”

“With clearly human teeth?”

“Maybe it… stole them?”

He laughs, pulling away from your grip to get comfortable against your side. Just as you start to drift off, soothed by the sound of his breathing slowing and his weight settling on you as he relaxes, you feel his fingers walking down your hip, making their way to your thigh. You crack one eye open, and he looks away with obviously fake innocence.

“Where you going with that hand, darling?”

He smiles, bright and daring, as his fingers dig in. “Your turn?”

You consider it. You’re not quite capable of fully ignoring how turned on seeing him like this has made you. There’s a bit of nervous energy, buzzing over what’s left of your hangover, excitement, the joy that bubbles up in your chest at seeing him smiling at you like that, everything coming together in an overwhelming, swirling feeling of wanting whatever he will give you. But there’s something else, a calm undercurrent to it all, coating the emotion in quiet and directing it all back to a single point, solid and unwavering and right .

More than anything, you are content.

He sees your expression and laughs, must know what you’re going to say the moment you decide, because he mouths the words along with you as he pulls his hand back up to your hip.

“Maybe next time.”

#reigen arataka x reader #reigen x reader #my writing #it's been so long i forget how i tag things lol #hey bestie you're for sure gonna get a notif for this and i apologize in advance lsjkdfk #thank you so so much to everyone that stayed through the hiatus #i have been reading all the kind comments and asks and even though i don't respond they absolutely make my day #i was trying to avoid the internet as much as possible and it kinda... just stayed that way for a long time #if you're worried about this being the “last” aspec reigen pls don't panic #there's a more detailed ramble on ao3 but basically there will be more of these two goofs in love #(and probably a third goof in love)#but i wanna change some stuff and it'll be easier to do that in a new series #since this wasn't really meant to be a series in the first place weirdly #so basically it may be slow going but this isn't the end #i'm dropping this and then going to bed so i'll see y'all in the morning i hope you enjoy!!#i have.... so much to catch up on.....

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firenati0n · 6 months

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wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends :) happy wednesday, hope you are well! happiest of birthdays to my babygirl Alex Claremont-Diaz, love you endlessly my beautiful big brained bisexual disaster with a heart of gold

thank you to @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls @bigassbowlingballhead @leojfitz @ships-to-sail @suseagull04 @dragonflylady77 @kiwiana-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @wordsofhoneydew @priincebutt @magicandarchery @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @duchessdepolignaca03 @saturntheday @itsmaybitheway @captainjunglegym @indestructibleheart @oxfordslutphase @tailsbeth-writes for the tags this week and on sunday :)

here's a snip from a tiny spy au coming this week if i can wrangle these men into submission:

“I'm serious, Alex. No theatrics. Certainly no blood. What's the code for trouble?” “Barracuda.” Henry clicks his tongue. “Too many syllables for my taste.” “Your name is too many syllables for my taste, yet you don't see me complaining.” “Touché.” He grasps Alex's shoulder, taking a long look into Alex's eyes. Henry's body is serene, but his eyes are always his tell for Alex. They're cloudy, tense; murky waters. “Be careful, please. We both know how dangerous these men are. Manu is unpredictable, even as the mafia equivalent of a middle manager.” “Aw, worried about me, sweetheart?” Alex grins, but it's a little unsteady, faltering at the edges. “Henry. This is easy. And if I’m lucky, no dicks will have to come out.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He really, really doesn’t want any dicks out this time. “See you in five, okay?” He squeezes Henry's arm, then slips out of the supply closet. Back to work.

xoxo roop

+ no pressure tags below the cut and open tag as always <3 tag me if you use :)

@ninzied @cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @getmehighonmagic @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @affectionatelyrs @14carrotghoul @rmd-writes @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @porcelainmortal @kj-bee @nontoxic-writes

#fic: sexually charged wrestling #roop writes #i wrote this for shits and gigs #there is no nutritional value #there is no purpose #it is just Vibes #do not look too closely at the plot or the body parts please #i am just a little guppy doing my best in a big ocean #and limbs are so hard to wrangle #i have so much respect for writers of action and smut GODDAMN #how do y'all keep track of bodies bro...they just love to go all over the place willy nilly!!!!!#they're just flying all over the fucking place #how does one keep track of hands and legs #let alone DICKS????????#granted there are zero dicks out in this fic #but it is not encouraging for my smut journey i gotta be so real #anyway #see y'all on ao3 this week afjsldfjkalsd hope you enjoy #I'm never writing spy or action shit again fajsdlfkjals lemme just go reread nova baby for the 600th time like a normal person #wip wednesday

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aioliravioli-69 · 6 months

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Detective Noir AU

Alright, this au has been sitting around, waiting for me to finish it but chances are, I never will :((

So instead, I'll just post what I have so far

This was inspired by that one comment on the au post the author made(at this point you could consider me a stalker for the amount of hours I've scrolled through her feed💀)

First things first, none other than our main character himself, Detective Hollow!

I made him the detective in this one mainly because I was basing it off of the theory that if there was no heroine the keyholder would simply become the hero instead(don't remember where I read this but I'm guessing it was the webtoon comment section).

I also my have just really wanted to draw him in an overcoat

gonna be honest, I did little to no research going into this AU, the thing I most tried to learn about was the femme fatale so I could get a good view on how to design Buddy

Speaking of the femme fatale:

Seems like someone got caught in the spotlight!

And before you ask, yes, those are pants. Weird ones, but pants nonetheless. I swear, I hate lighting when it's from the front. Frontal lighting can go fuck itself. Please ignore the little help lines I put in

Honestly, Buddy's outfit was probably the hardest part of this one. I wanted him to look slutty, but I didn't want to make it TOO slutty, but I feel like I may have added WAYY too many folds in his pantsuit and I kinda messed up on the overcoat lol. The diamond on his chest was inspired by the diamond on the villainess key more than anything and I tried to incorporate that into his gloves too.

Anyway, have some potential outfit sketches I made:

the two I thought might come off as too slutty and

the ultimate winner of the outfit ideas

As you can see the diamond chest window and fur coat were a mut in this outfit and I'm pretty happy with the end result

Y'all know how the femme fatale usually has to seduce the main character a.k.a. the detective?

Well, y'all know me so have an extra just for you <33

But I'm not done just yet!

Remember how I said that I made Chase the hero because of the lack of a heroine in the story? Well...

I did some more surface level research(and I mean very surface level) and decided to adapt the trope of the girl-next-door archetype for him!!

Don't think it suits him, since they usually just sit pretty and wait for the detective to notice them, but they do have badass roles once in a while and I live for those!!!

The one Chase has taken on doesn't though sadly :')

I decided to go with Charlie Hollow for this one because it sounded more like something the timid and 'pure'(yuck I know, but sadly film noir movies often prop up comparisons between the femme fatale and the girl-next-door, this being one of them) girl next door would have

Overall I tried to make this one as cutesy as possible because, why not lol

Lastly(I apologise, I made this in a rush because I was running out of motivation)

The distance between Buddy and the detective sure did close QUICK-

Originally I was planning on adding Deacon as a police officer and now that I think about it I could technically fit Prunella in here as well, but I just don't have any willpower left to keep this thing alive

My art blocks been acting up recently and I can't even pick up the pencil without immediately wanting to put it down :((

I wish I could have continued this and maybe I will someday, but until then this'll just stay in my drafts

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hygienic-soap-dispenser · 3 months

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Behold: Finland in a dress

This was initially meant to go along with my post about nations' genders and identities, but I decided that our Finny boy deserves the spotlight today in something cute like this :) <3 But he needs to pull up his sock!!

Specifically, he's wearing an Alavuden kuoropuku, or Alavus' choir dress! (Thank you for the correction! <3) FYI this is not technically considered to be a national costume, but was originally made to imitate them, and some people may still choose to wear this dress today as a traditional costume.

#hetalia #hws finland #soap dispenser art #aph finland #hetalia finland #cultural hetalia #tino väinämöinen #digital art #digital illustration #clip studio paint #hope y'all enjoy looking at this as much as I had fun making it <3333 #not an actual traditional dress sorry trad dress nation but this one was just so cute I had to do it 😭#hetalia axis powers #hetalia fanart #hetalia world stars

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johnsbleu · 3 months

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Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 173

warnings: dual pov, nsfw moments hmh masterlist

Y/N is always pretty good when it comes to scary movies. Usually she’s walking through the dark house after watching one and she’s completely fine. Not tonight. Maybe it’s because we’re at a different house and not at our home where she knows every nook and cranny, but she’s pretty freaked out. She picked the movie and she’s trying to be so brave, but I can tell she’s scared, which is why I’m staying a little closer to her. If I can make her feel safe, then I’ve done my job.

We decided to sit out on the back deck for a little bit, and she’s looking over her shoulder every few minutes. I reach over and pull her chair closer to me, then I drape my arm over her lap and lean in to kiss her, hoping she feels safer.

“Getting tired?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, we spent so much time in the sun today. I think I’m drained.”

I get up and reach for her hands, then I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder as she laughs. One of these days I’m going to be too old to do that, but it’s not any time soon, so I plan on doing it until my back breaks from old age. I open the sliding door, lock it behind me, then head to the front door and lock that one too. Y/N kicks her legs playfully, so I spank her.

“Stop that.”

“No!” she laughs, so I squeeze right under her butt where I know she’s ticklish. She screams so loud with laughter that I have to put her down so I don’t drop her.

I wrap my arms around her and lean down to kiss her as we walk back to the room, and she reaches down to undo my belt.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing tonight?”

She looks up at me and nods, “No different than the last two nights. I want as much uninterrupted sex as I can get.”

“Sounds good to me.” I whisper as I kiss her, “Really putting that new birth control to work, huh?”

Y/N tilts her head back and laughs loudly, “I’m glad I got the IUD instead of those stupid pills. Though, did you know there was a woman who didn’t realize that her IUD had fallen out and she ended up getting pregnant?”

I slouch a little and let out a big breath as I look at her, “Peach…”

“Sorry,” she laughs quietly, then she starts undoing my belt. I lean down to kiss her neck, and she begins to laugh, “Did I ruin the mood?”

I look at her as she laughs, “No.”

Even though she’s laughing, I lean down and suck on her neck, moving my hand down between her legs and rubbing her over her pajama bottoms. I slip my hand into her underwear, and she immediately stops laughing and lets her head loll back. I lay her down on the bed and pull her pajama bottoms off, along with her underwear, then I kneel down in front of the bed and smirk when she looks up at me as I pull her closer to my mouth, diving in deep for just a moment to give a taste of what to expect.

“You done talking now?” I whisper against her thigh, and she whimpers as she nods. “Good.”

You shoot up in bed when you hear a sound coming from the deck, and you reach over and shake John’s shoulder. He’s completely sound asleep, which yes, is flattering since he literally rolled over after kissing you goodnight, saying he loved you and immediately fell asleep. But now you need him awake right this minute!

“John!” you shake his shoulder, and he hums, “There’s someone outside.”

“No, there isn’t.”

You scoff and shake his shoulder, “Yes, there is. I keep hearing something hit metal.”

“I just got up to pee. There’s no one here.” he rolls over to his right side and pulls you into his arms, “Go to sleep, baby.”

“Wow, thanks for protecting your wife.” you glare at him in the dark even though he can’t see you. “You’ll feel like shit when someone breaks in and murders me.”

John laughs sleepily, “No one is breaking in, peach.”

You sigh loudly and lay down next to him, then you stare up at the ceiling, just waiting for the noise again because you know it’s going to happen. After a few minutes, you finally start to feel your eyes grow heavy, and you start to fall asleep. Just as your eyes close, you hear the noise again and sit up.

“I’m awake!” John groans and sits up. “I heard it too, and after mentioning someone murdering you, I got paranoid.”

You smile softly when he turns on the light, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Stay here.” he rubs his knuckle against his eye and walks out of the bedroom in his boxers with absolutely no fear of what he could find outside--he’d have it handled with no problems. Even in boxers.

God, it’s hot. If you weren’t so scared, you’d definitely go down on him when he comes back into the bedroom. On second thought, you definitely will if there’s nothing outside.

You pull your knees close to your chest and watch the doorway, then you furrow your brow when you hear the noise again and John laughing.

“What? Oh, god, be careful! John! Please be careful. Are you okay? What happened?”

Wow, you’re spiraling.

“Come here, baby.” he calls from the other room, and you immediately get up and rush out to him. He’s still laughing when you get to him, “This is what you’ve been so scared of all night.”

You scrunch your brows and walk over to see what John is pointing at, and you gasp and laugh when you see a small fluffy kitten playing with a string from your towel draped over the chair. Every so often, as it swats at the string, it bumps into the metal of the rain spout. That’s the noise you’ve been hearing all night.

You turn to John and cross your arms, “Told you someone was outside.”

“Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” he laughs as he kisses your forehead.

The kitten meows and walks over to rub up against John’s leg, and you grin and look up at John. He takes a deep breath and laughs since he already knows what you’re going to ask.

“Listen to me,” he laughs as you reach down and pick up the fluffy kitten, “If this kitten is here by the morning, we can keep him.”

“He’s hungry, John!”

“We don’t know that.” John laughs, then he gestures to the yard, “Maybe he has a momma around here. We’ve seen a ton of cats since we’ve been here--tons of kittens even!”

You pout a little, “But look at him. He’s so thin. I can feel his ribs.”

“Baby, it’s so late right now.” he closes his eyes, then he looks at you and exhales as a smile spreads on his face when you pout, “I don’t know why I’m fighting this.”

You hold the kitten up in front of John as it meows, “Look at him, he’s so cute.”

“He is pretty cute,” he admits, and you smile.

“I’m keeping him.” you say, happily walking past, and John laughs as he nods. “What are you going to do? Say no to me?”

John shakes his head, “I wouldn’t dream of it. You know I can’t.”

He opens the door for you and locks it when you get inside, then he kisses your cheek and smiles softly as you talk to the kitten.

“What are you going to feed him?”

“I don’t know.” you shrug and open the fridge, “Cats don’t actually drink milk. I’ll give him some water, but…I don’t have anything to feed to him.”

John opens the fridge and holds up the chicken that he had bought at the store earlier to grill out tomorrow, “You could boil this. Give him a little. It’s probably not great, but it’s something. We can go to the store tomorrow and get some food.”

You smile at John and watch him grab a pot and fill it with water before dropping a chicken breast into it. He puts the other chicken breasts away and turns to you, smiling when you lock eyes with him.

“God, you’re so cute. It’s dangerous, I hope you know that.” he says, leaning down to kiss you. “It’s 3 in the morning and I’m in the kitchen boiling chicken for some kitten we just found, and I already know we’re bringing him home.”

“Come on, he’s cute!” you hold him up and smile when he nibbles on your finger, “We can take him to the vet when we get home and make sure he’s okay.”

John nods, “What if he has a momma out there and she’s looking for him?”

“Well, we’re here for a few more days. I’ll ask around.” you get up and snuggle the kitten as you walk to John, “But until then, he stays here.”

“You putting your foot down?” John jokes, and you stomp your foot playfully. “Ronan’s going to be very happy with her birthday present.”

You look at him and laugh, “This isn’t your anniversary gift to me?”

“I mean…it can be!” he laughs, then he shrugs, “My gift is kind of shit anyway.”

You hold the kitten in your right arm tucked close to your chest, then you lean up and kiss John, “You’re a really good man. Now finish boiling that chicken, so we can feed this baby, then…I have a surprise for you.”

John perks up, “What’s that?”

“As long as you aren’t tired…” you back away and seductively wipe your finger against your bottom lip before looking down lower to John’s boxers.

“Lucky for you, I’m fully awake now.” he smiles, and you wink at him.

Since the kitten is pretty small, you didn’t want him to have full range of the house. There’s too much stuff that he could get into, plus he has been outside so you don’t know if he has fleas or not; you didn’t notice any when you were holding him, but you can’t be too safe. You folded up a few towels and made a little bed for him in the bathroom, then you put his water in there with him as well.

You were barely able to contain yourself this morning, so you got up quickly and changed your clothes to go see the little kitten. When you went into the bathroom, he was still sleeping, so you let him be--after checking to make sure he was still alive, of course.

John was in a pretty good mood despite you waking him up at three in the morning, most likely because he got a little bit of a treat before going back to sleep. The two of you went to the store and got some things for the kitten. You bought some food, a few toys, and some shampoo to wash away any possible fleas. John won’t admit it, but he’s excited about the newest family member, and you know he is because he picked out a cute little collar for him.

“Do we even know if it’s a boy?” he asks as you get out of the car.

You shrug, “I couldn’t tell, but I’ll look again. Either way, Baby Cat is going to look so cute in that collar.”

“Are we really going with Baby Cat?”

“Until Ro can name him.” you say as you open the door, “I’m blanking on names at the moment.”

John holds the door open and laughs, “Ro doesn’t know very many words yet.”

“Then let’s hope she doesn’t name the cat ‘dada’.” you say, and John smiles. “We already have a fish and an actual dada with that name.”

Before you can even drop the bags off at the table, you rush over and open the bathroom door, then you look down as the little kitten prances out into the living room. John kneels down and wiggles his fingers, and the kitten stops and wiggles his little butt before he pounces at John’s hands.

“Ro is going to love this,” John says, and you nod as you sit down on the couch and go through the bag.

The kitten walks over and tries to jump up to the couch, but he barely gets two inches off the ground. You reach down and pick him up, then you take out the toys and offer them to him.

“He’s so tiny,” John says as he sits down, “I wonder if he was the runt, which reminds me, I was going to go talk to the people a few doors down. I saw some cats outside their door.”

You frown a little, “I hope they don’t want him back. Well, I shouldn’t say that. If they want him back and actually want to take care of him, then we’ll give him back, but…”

John leans over and kisses your temple, “I’ll go talk to them.”

“I’m gonna give him a bath, then I’ll get some lunch started for us,” you say as he gets up, and he leans over and kisses you.

“Off to go bribe someone to let us keep their cat.” he says, and you look over your shoulder at him and laugh. “Anything for my girls, though.”

You’ve just sat on the couch with the kitten when you hear the door open. You look down at the kitten with his eyes closed as you take the towel and dry him off, and you melt a little when you hear him purring. John leans down and kisses the top of your head, then he sits with you and smiles when he sees the kitten lying on your chest as you dry him.

“Give me the news.”

John laughs, then he takes a deep breath, “Well, there is a momma cat, but momma cat has been…having lots of kittens lately and is getting fixed soon. So, I talked to them and they said that if we found a kitten, we’re more than welcome to take him.”

Your heart bursts as you sit up, “Really?”

“Yes.” he nods, reaching over to pet the cat, “It’s better that we take him than something bad happening to him. I told them that our daughter would be thrilled--and that my wife would be pretty happy too.”

“We get to keep you!” you say to the kitten, then you kiss him and hug him. Your eyes snap open and you look at John, “New family member!”

John furrows his brow, “Huh?”

“The psychic said we’d have a new family member and that it might not be a baby,” you hold up the kitten and smile at John, “New family member!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding his head, “Even more reason to believe her.”

You lean over and kiss him a few times, “It’s a boy, by the way. Found that out while I gave him a bath.”

John laughs, “Can’t wait to see what Ro names him.”

“We might just have to think of something.” you say, and John nods his head, still petting the kitten. You look at John and smile softly, “Thank you for this. I know we talked about getting her a kitten later on when she’s older, but…he kind of fell into our lap.”

Letting out a small laugh, John reaches over and touches your chin, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip, “I would give you anything you ask for. You know that.”

“I don’t ask for anything,” you shake your head and look into his eyes, “I just ask for you to love me.”

“You don’t have to ask me to do that,” he whispers as he leans closer, “Loving you is as easy as breathing.”

You tear up a little and nod, “I feel the same way. I love you so much.”

“I will give you and Ronan anything you ask for. Whatever you want, you can have. You two have me wrapped around your little fingers.” he says, and you lean over to kiss him. He cups your face and kisses you again with a little more intensity, then he looks down at the kitten sleeping on your chest, “Yeah, I get it, little guy, her boobs are great.”

“Shut up!” you laugh as you playfully swat John’s arm. “How did you just go from being so romantic to being…a man?”

John scoots over and rests his head on your chest too, “Ah, so cozy.”

“You’re weird.” you say, and John squeezes your breast a little as you laugh.

“Can I ask something and pray like hell you won’t get upset?”

You look at John when he leans up, “We’re keeping this cat.”

“No, no, it’s not about the cat.” he says as he sits up, then he takes a deep breath, “Have I made you feel…unsexy lately?”

“Unsexy? Is that a word?”

John nods earnestly, “I think so.”

“Okay, well, no, you have not made me feel unsexy. Why?”

John takes another deep breath and shrugs, “You just…don’t ever wear lingerie and I thought maybe I made you feel bad about yourself or something. I just want you to always feel good and feel beautiful, because I think you’re the most beautiful person. If I made you feel bad, I’d want you to tell me. I know you feel good when you wear that stuff, so I just…I don’t know. You can hop in to the conversation at any point here.”

You start to smile before you lean over to kiss him a few times, “I don’t wear that stuff because of you, actually.”

“Oh, god.” John puts his head down for a moment, then looks at you, “Tell me what I did. Please.”

“Well,” you set the kitten aside and turn to face John, “The problem usually is I want to wear that stuff because yes, it does make me feel pretty and sexy, but also I know you like it when I wear it. The problem is…you don’t let me get away from you for long enough to actually change into it. When you want me, you want me that moment, which, hey, I’m flattered, but you just don’t give me time!”

John exhales in relief when you smile at him, “So basically you don’t wear it because I need you right that minute?”

“Literally yes.” you laugh as John closes his eyes. You straddle his waist and sit in his lap, “John, you’ve never made me feel anything but beautiful and sexy. I would love to wear lingerie more, but sometimes we need each other right that minute and that’s okay!”

“Did you bring some with?”

You start to grin as you lean forward to kiss him, “Yes.”

“You should wear it tonight.”

Letting out a small laugh, you nod your head before nuzzling into the crook of his neck, “Anything for you.”

You bite into an apple slice and squint out at the sun going down. Baby Cat is lying in your lap right now and snoozing away. He won’t stop following John and you around, so it’s nice that he seems to be fine with being away from his momma. You look down at him and pet him, then you reach for an apple slice just as John does. He gestures for you to take one, then he smiles at you.

“Almost three years, peach.” he whispers, and you smile at him. “Three years since I met you. Can’t believe it.”

“Me neither,” you reach for his hand and kiss the back of it, “You make me really fucking happy, I hope you know that. I hope you know how in love with you I am and how I feel like I can be myself with you, and how safe I feel with you. I know talking about how we feel about each other isn’t an unheard of concept in our relationship--we tell each other how much we admire and love each other all the time--but I just really want to tell you that I am so fucking happy that I met you. You’re the best husband I could have ever asked for, and you’re my best friend. On top of being the best husband, you’re my best friend too, which is the most important thing.”

John cups your face and smiles, “I love you, sweetheart. The love of my life and my best friend, how lucky am I?”

“How lucky are we?” you smile, leaning over to kiss him. “You ever think about how different things would be if it hadn’t been me who brought the mail to your house? You could be living in Manhattan with April in a nice apartment or with Tess.”

“Well, for starters, April is a lesbian, so that’s not happening.” he says, and you laugh quietly. “And two, Tess is in love with my best friend and my best friend is in love with her, so that also won’t work. And finally, I am so madly in love with you. It didn’t matter who brought it over to me. I wanted to talk to you. I would have kept putting shit in your mailbox until you came over.”

You smile, “Or until you worked up the courage to talk to me.”

“Yeah, that too.” he grins, then he squeezes your hand, “Peach, you scared me. You still do. All I wanted was you, and I have you now. I’m never gonna take that for granted. You’re everything to me. Everything that I do, every thought that I have, you’re right there in my mind. Every decision I make, I do with you in mind. I mean it, you are everything to me.”

“That’s what I love so much about you, and I’m sure Helen did too.” you say, and he raises his brows, “When you love, you love with your entire heart. It’s really nice to be on the receiving end of that.”

John scoots closer and wraps his arm around you, “You love with your whole heart too. We were both so timid at first, but once we knew that this was real, we were both all in. I only ever want to be all in with you.”

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you close your eyes and smile, feeling the sun warm your cheeks as it dips lower. John presses a kiss to the top of your head and rests his cheek against your forehead.

Three years with this man already, and it’s flown by. Forever won’t even be long enough. Whatever time you get with him won’t be long enough. You can’t focus on it for too long, otherwise you’ll just be upset, so you open your eyes and inhale deeply.

“Can you believe Ro is going to be one?”

John laughs, “I can’t. How the hell do we have a one year old?”

“No clue,” you shake your head, laughing, “But I will say, she is your freaking twin, and I’m totally cool with it. I know she’s only one, but she has all of your good qualities, I swear. She’s sweet and kind, and she’s somehow so patient too. We’re raising a freaking phenomenal little lady.”

“Well, her momma deserves most of the credit here,” he says, tipping his head to you, “You’re doing a great job with her. I see the way she watches you and mimics you. You’re setting a great example for her, and I’m so happy to know my daughter is going to grow up to be just like her mom.”

You smile, “And her dad. He’s a great role model too; he deserves credit too.”

John laughs as he leans over to kiss you, “We’re doing a good job with her, I think.”

“Me too,” you smile, then you start to laugh, “We really just stroked each other's egos for a few moments. Felt great.”

“Sure did, and I’ll do it again.” John smiles, leaning down to kiss you.

Baby Cat stretches out in your lap, then he crawls over to John and stretches out, reaching his little arm out in front of him. John scoops him up and holds him close to his face, and the kitten reaches out to touch John’s nose. John gives his paw a little kiss, then he sets him down and laughs when he sees you watching him.

You grin, “You love Baby Cat.”

“He’s really cute, but I’m not crazy about the name.”

You laugh, “Well, I can’t think of anything! And he’s not getting the typical cat name like, Shadow, Midnight, Fluffy, and shit like that. Ronan needs to name him.”

“She’s going to be so excited to see her kitten,” John pets the cat and looks at you, “And she’ll be excited to see her momma.”

“And her dada.” you whisper, then you lean over to kiss him, “But momma needs daddy to herself for a few more days.”

John laughs as you push him down into the sand and kiss him, “I’m cool with that.”

“Time to exchange gifts?” you ask, and John laughs as he holds up the gift-wrapped box for you. You point at the two gifts on the table and he furrows his brow in confusion. “One for our anniversary, one for your birthday.”

John sits next to you and laughs, “Remember we weren’t being completely serious with these gifts.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware.” you say, and John nods as he hands the box to you.

You rip along the edge and pull the paper off, then you put it on the floor and smile when Baby Cat immediately pounces on it. John didn’t put too much tape on it, so you don’t have a problem opening the box at all, and you push the tissue paper down and gasp as you hold up the beautiful white and floral robe.

“This is gorgeous,” you rub it against your cheek and smile, “I love this. Thank you!”

John grins, “Cotton.”

“Yeah,” you laugh as you nod, then you lean over to kiss him, “Thank you. You know I love a good robe.”

“I do.” he smiles, watching you grab the box for him. He opens it carefully and tosses the paper down for the kitten, who is in love with the paper and the box from your gift, then John starts to laugh as he holds up the boxers. “Wow.”

You laugh and shrug your shoulders, “Cotton.”

“Yeah, I got that.” he holds them up and starts to laugh even harder at your face printed all over the boxers with ‘MINE’ written in funky letters over the crotch. “Wow, baby, these are…”

“I don’t know! Cotton is such a weird one! All I could think of was blankets and boxers and we don’t need any more blankets, so I just settled on those. I thought you’d think they’re funny.”

John looks down at them, still laughing, “I do think they’re funny. Might even wear them sometime just for you.”

“Oh, can’t wait.” you joke, knowing full well if anyone is wearing them, it’ll be you. You cup his face and kiss him, “Happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary.” he cups the back of your neck and presses his lips to yours harder before you pull away and grab his other gift. It’s just in an envelope, so you already know he’s very curious. He opens the envelope and pulls out two tickets, and he widens his eyes and looks at you, “What?”

You shrug, “Thought you and Jimmy would have a good time. Wherever the World Series is going to be this year, you and Jimmy will be there with the best seats--right behind home base.”

“Well, what if I want to bring you?”

“As much as I love doing anything with you, I think I’m going to sit baseball out, especially the World Series. Bring Jimmy. He’ll have a blast. You both will. Make a weekend of it.” you smile at him, and he lets out a small laugh. “Happy birthday.”

John looks over at you and smiles, “Thank you. This is very thoughtful, though I am a little sad you don’t want to come with.”

“Tess and I just want you and Jimmy out of our hair for a weekend.” you joke, and John laughs. “He loves baseball and you do too. And look, I know that…back when you two became closer, it was because he invited you to watch games with him--it’s how you two bonded.”

“You are so sweet,” he says softly, rubbing your back. “Thank you for this.”

You scoot over and rest against his shoulder, “You’re very welcome. Did I do good this year?”

“Well, last year you gave me a baby, so…” he playfully grimaces and clicks his tongue, “I’m gonna need a little more effort next year.”

“You are absolutely not getting another baby next year.”

John jokingly groans before leaning over to kiss you, “Another pair of boxers will do then.”

John stands next to you at the counter and begins to help you cut up some veggies for a salad. He leans down and kisses your bare shoulder, and he smiles when you look at him.

“I like this tank top on you.” he says, and you start to laugh. “Looks good.”

“I wonder why you like it so much,” you joke, and John glances at your breasts before he starts to laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He puts his hand up, still laughing, “It looks great on you. The fact that I can see your nipples through it is just a bonus. You look…hot.”

“I look ‘hot’?” you set the knife down and turn to him, “You think I’m hot?”

John furrows his brow as he laughs incredulously, “Of course I do! I think you’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. You’re sexy!”

You burst out laughing until you’re in tears, “God, please, why is this so funny to me?”

“Because you’re weird. Did our conversation about the lingerie tell you nothing?” John says, looking at you with amusement as you laugh. “Of course I think my wife is sexy. Baby, you have no idea how attracted I am to you.”

“I think I have some idea.” you say, squinting your eyes a little before glancing down at the crotch of his pants. You press your hand to your cheek and laugh, “I’m warm. You’ve embarrassed me!”

John smiles proudly, “You’re so cute. Come here.”

You fall into John’s arms as he laughs, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck and inhales your perfume. You close your eyes and smile happily as the two of you hold one another for a few moments before you hear Baby Cat meowing at your feet. You lean back and look at him, and he stretches out before he tries to climb up John’s jeans. John reaches for him and puts him on his shoulder--his new favorite spot to hang out.

It’s actually kind of ridiculous how hot this makes John. He’s already hands down the sexiest man you’ve ever seen, and honestly he’s just getting better with age. You were never really into those stupid firefighter calendars--the ones with the guys who clearly aren’t really firefighters posing with kittens and puppies, or they pose shirtless as they bake a cake--but seeing John hold a little kitten and kiss him, yeah, you’d definitely like to see him shirtless and just in his boxers as he poses with the kitten. Hell, even if he was shirtless in the kitchen with a huge mess behind him, you wouldn't mind that.

John is sexy. He’s always been sexy, but seeing him so vulnerable and sweet just makes him so much better--there’s nothing sexier than an emotionally mature man. Seeing him show up for you and Ronan every single day, seeing him with her, seeing how he goes out of his way for you on days when you struggle a little, all of that just makes you all the more attracted to him.

It sure doesn't hurt that he looks the way he looks, of course. His beard is still dark, but he does have some gray that is poking through here and there. His hair as well. His skin is amazing--you’re definitely still trying to figure out his secret for great skin. He’s still tall and lean with a little more muscle now than before since he’s been doing so much work around the house. He looks even better now than he did before, which is mind-boggling since he looked gorgeous before.

“Hey,” John taps your chin and smiles at you, “Where did you go?”

“I was just thinking about how sexy you are.” you say, and John scoffs. You hold his gaze and nod your head, “I’m not kidding. I was just thinking about how sexy you are and how sexy you’ve gotten.”

John perks up, “Really now?”

“Yeah, genuinely,” you look up at him, smiling, “You know how you always say that you’re more attracted to me now than before, and then you quickly add in that you were very attracted to me before so you don’t upset me?”

He starts to laugh, “Yeah.”

“That’s how I feel.” you say, and he chuckles, “Seeing you as a dad, seeing you be so vulnerable with me, seeing you so emotionally mature, seeing you with a tiny little kitten on you…”

“It’s hot?”

You laugh, “Yeah! I don’t know, John, you’re just getting more and more attractive to me. I like it a lot. I like that we haven’t lost our spark. Sure, we’ve had our little spurts where we’re not as intimate, but it’s not because we don’t want to be. We might just be a little more busy or tired, but it’s never been because we’re not into each other anymore--not for me at least.”

John laughs when you smirk and shrug your shoulder, “Oh, you know it hasn’t been for me either, you little shit.”

“Excuse you!” you laugh as John smiles at you, “You’re a little shit!”

“Nope,” he shakes his head and places Baby Cat back onto the ground where he quickly runs off to play with a toy, “You are a little shit.”

You scoff, turning your nose up jokingly, “I am not.”

“You are,” he pulls you to him and leans down to kiss you, “You’re my little shit.”

Letting out a small laugh, you kiss John as he helps you onto the counter, then he spreads your legs and steps between them as you two make out. You wrap your legs around him and pull him closer, and he lets out a small moan. His hands are warm on your back, and you shiver when you feel him slip one hand under your tank top.

Rain has been pattering against the windows all day so you’ve been cooped up inside, but you sure don’t mind. You really don’t mind when you have John in front of you to keep you entertained. Whether that’s with conversation or sex, whatever time you spend with him is well spent. Lying on the couch watching TV or reading, chatting about complete nonsense, or reminiscing about things from the past, as long as you’re with John, it’s perfect.

“Hey,” you lean back and look into his gorgeous brown eyes, “I love you.”

John’s finger trails along your jawline as he smiles, “I love you too.”

“We were making dinner,” you whisper, and he laughs as he looks down at his left hand resting on your breast, “I think we got a little sidetracked.”

“You’re very distracting, Mrs. Wick.”

A smile spreads on your face as you hold his gaze. You gently remove his hand from your chest and pull your tank top off, tossing it aside. John inhales deeply as he takes you in, and you reach for his hands again and place them both on your chest.

“Sorry for being so distracting.”

“You can distract me anytime.”

You start to laugh, “You’ve seen my boobs how many times?”

“Lots…” he nods, still staring at your chest as his fingers trail about your soft skin, “Lots of times. Still doesn’t matter how many times I see them, I fucking love them!”

You smile at him, “Still obsessed with my piercing, I see.”

John nods as he looks up at you with your nipple in his mouth, “Yes. Very.”

“When we get home--”

“I don’t want to talk about going home. We have a few more days. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We can’t go home yet,” you shake your head and reach up to cup John’s face, “You still haven’t fucked me in that amazing shower yet.”

John pulls you closer and lifts you off the counter, “We have time now.”

“We were supposed to be making something to eat.” you say, and John starts to smirk.

“You have something I can eat,” he replies, low and velvety, and you bite your lip, “And you definitely want me to, don’t you?”

You hug him tighter, “Well, you certainly are the best at it.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he whispers, and you close your eyes as he sucks on your neck. “I need to hear you moan for me, and I need it to be loud.”

You chuckle as John lays you back on the bed, “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that.”

John hovers over you and smiles before he begins kissing down your body, getting himself situated between your legs. He pulls your shorts down and tosses them aside as he licks his lips, then he pulls your underwear off and smiles. He moves his hand up your stomach to rest between your breasts, then he leans down and buries his face, causing you to immediately moan loudly. “Good girl.”

“Remember how you wanted me to wear lingerie?” you say, and John laughs between your legs, “This is the problem right here, John.”

“You want me to stop?” he asks, leaning up to look at you as you start to smile and shake your head. He moves back between your legs, “Good because I don’t want to either.”

taglist: @lilithlinen @ladyren33 @multifandombliss @ruby-octo @tnu-ree @scream-queen-25 @beingnerdyissupercool @sakurachan-9

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick x y/n #fic: hold my hand #john really loves to EAT. doesn't he.#and he just loves her god he loves her so much #if someone loved me like that i would pass out #i hope you all are loved like that one day #well i hope you enjoy!#they've been together 3 years now and that's so cute #and ro is gonna be ONE #like WHAT #that's my daughter y'all!#anyway lmao lemme shut up ENJOY!!!!!

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sun-undone · 1 year

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the glimmer of light that we keep alive

“Seriously though,” Cleo starts after a few more steps of comfortable silence. “She hasn’t left your side since we got here. She your bodyguard or something? Stalker? Clingy girlfriend?” And like the first few raindrops of an afternoon shower, JJ feels the dread start to pool again. Because of course he’s noticed how Kie only ever wants to go with him to collect supplies after Pope introduced the buddy system rule. Of course he’s noticed her body inching closer and closer to his after every sleepless night. If he thinks about it for more than two seconds, he knows exactly what that sinking feeling in his stomach means, what it meant earlier today for him to completely check out of the conversation at the first sign of any of the other Pogues noticing the things he’s noticed. If John B has started to catch on? Then it can’t just be his imagination. Something is different with Kie. With him and Kie.

Or, four missing scenes throughout the course of season three that show each of the Pogues being the massive Jiara shippers that we all know they are. jiara week day 7: missing scene

read the rest on ao3!

#my one and only jiara week fic made it just in time!!!#couldn't have done it without diana and orion i love y'all so much mwah #and extra thanks to saarah too for helping me with the moodboard!#hope y'all enjoy!!!! ☺️#jiaraweek2023 #jiaraweek23 #jj maybank #kiara carrera #obx #jiara #obx3 #jiara fic #outer banks fanfic #jiara fanfic #jj x kie

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Aaaaand fellas here we have Farangis' designs!! Took a while, mostly bc med school is a bitch and drained all my spoons while I was working on her T_T

Strap your seatbelts, lads! We're going on a Journey™!

The first outfit is one that basically communicates her status as a healer the most. White, light purple, and light green are basically the main colours I associate with her as a character, and I'm very pleased with how this one turned out. (Those were supposed to be pants but I think I made them way too baggy and now it looks like a skirt, whoopsies)

Those are supposed to be willow branches on her coat, but it's kinda debatable how much I succeeded on that front, and since willow makes a repeat appearance in her ceremonial garb, I will save the symbolism for that part.

For now, though, it's sort of unnoticeable due to her hair colour, but she is wearing an earring made from a raven feather! And wouldn't you know it, there's a symbolic reason for that!

Aside from being her familiar animals, ravens can represent death, the afterlife, wisdom, intelligence, adaptability, prescience, fortune, destiny, transformation, and the future. Their symbolism is both positive and negative, and they’re seen as both good and bad omens. Here's a few associations I picked up for Farangis:

“The raven symbolizes prophecy, insight, transformation, intelligence, and mystery. They can also represent wise people who bring messages to those around them. The raven also symbolizes recovery and healing.”

Farangis is a wise person who advises the people around her, both in this AU and in canon— and her proficiency with the art of healing is particularly well-suited to the raven's symbolism. Also, keep an eye on the prophecy thing, we'll get to it 👀 It's not as much a stretch as the spectacularly baffling pistachio-Aphrodite gymnastics in Ranna's design sheet here, but it does stretch things a little bit. You'll see, you'll see.

“Because of its black plumage, croaking call, and diet of carrion, the raven is often associated with loss and ill omen. Yet, its symbolism is complex. As a talking bird, the raven also represents prophecy and insight. Ravens in stories often act as psychopomps, connecting the material world with the world of spirits.”

Even in canon Farangis has a very close associations with spirits, as she regularly uses her crystal flute to communicate with them. That applies here as well, in Wolfpack.

Also keep an eye on the theme of loss and death. It'll all come together later, I promise.

“French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss proposed a structuralist theory that suggests the raven (like the coyote) obtained mythic status because it was a mediator animal between life and death. As a carrion bird, ravens became associated with the dead and with lost souls.”

More stuff regarding the topic of death and spirits.

“In Greek mythology, ravens are associated with Apollo, the God of prophecy. They are said to be a symbol of bad luck, and were the gods’ messengers in the mortal world.”

Farangis is a devout priestess in canon who follows the god Mithra: deity of oaths and covenants. And even though she is of the Arayan faith in the AU, she still honors Mithra as she feels right at home within Mithra's divine domain of oaths and loyalty.

And thus begins the prophecy quest. Let's get to it, shall we?

And regarding Apollo:

“The most Greek of the gods, Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. One of the most important and complex of the Greek gods, he is the son of Zeus and Leto, and the twin brother of Artemis, goddess of the hunt.”

Apollo is also often seen as “the most beautiful god” and Farangis' own beauty is noted by many, many people.

Farangis is a prodigious archer, a musician in this AU, and a more than competent healer as well. Apollo being a god of “truth and prophecy” also ties in with the djinn Farangis is so closely associated with in canon, and as she herself said: the djinn reveal lies from truth.

And when you speak of Apollo, one cannot forget his twin sister Artemis:

“Artemis is the goddess of the hunt, the wilderness, wild animals, nature, vegetation, childbirth, care of children, and chastity.”

Artemis is a goddess of the hunt who is also heavily associated with archery just like her twin brother. And you might also be aware that Artemis has a no-romance policy with both herself and her followers, ha. And though she had a lover in canon, it's all in the past and she does not seem like she'll be starting a new love life anytime soon. Or like, ever. And of course, in Wolfpack she is happily single and gloriously uninterested in romance. Good for her.

Ravens are not symbols of Artemis, but her symbols do include: cypress, deer, bow and arrows, and the crescent moon.

And wouldn't you know it, Farangis' canon crest features a crescent moon!

Also, funny thing, I was about to include deer antlers or something incorporated in one of her designs because:

“The Persian fallow deer (Dama dama mesopotamica), an ancient domesticate once thought extinct, was rediscovered in the late 20th century in Khuzestan Province, in the southern Zagros.”

Buuuuut I... forgot. Whoopsies, MY BAD.

Also keep an eye on the cypress. It'll come up again later. I know, I know, I'm asking you to put a pin on a bunch of things but I promise it'll all come together later.

(as a fun little aside, Farangis has emerald-coloured eyes and as I stated in Ranna's sheet, emeralds were said go be “a revealer of truths, they reputedly could cut through all illusions and spells, including the truth or falsity of a lover's oath” and they're associated with Venus/Aphrodite she is really beautiful and Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty and well this isn't all that significant in the grand scheme of things I just thought it was a funny coincidence— and what's really funny is that Aphrodite's divine domain and Artemis' no-romance policy is in conflicts alright alright I'll stop rambling about this now)

She is wearing a purple sash to signify where her loyalty lies, echoing both Arslan and Kazai, both people significant to her.

Her second outfit is akin to a hunting attire, more muted greens, not a whole lot of embellishments going on because I don't think she's wild about that, simple, functional, but still looks good on her. Not much to say symbolically in this one, only that here a raven feather features again attached to her raishal (crystal flute) on her necklace, and she is wearing the healers' badge here as well. And while the healers: badge specifically references Quercus castaneifolia, the chestnut-leaved oak, another species of oak is also significant to her by ways of being important to her homeland.

“Quercus brantii (covering more than 50% of the Zagros Mountains forest steppe ecoregion) is the most important tree species of the Zagros in Iran.”

Her homeland Khuzestan would be near the Zagros mountain range I believe— though I guess they're named the Nimruz mountains in Arslan Senki? I really need to brush up on my geography.

“Iranians use its seed in traditional medicine. Other useful products derived from oaks include fuel wood, charcoal and timber hardwood.”

They're also used in medicine!

I go into much more detail of why oak trees are used to symbolize the clan healers in Arslan's design sheet here, so I won't bore you by repeating it here again.

And OH I almost forgot about the designs on her boots. They're meant to be barley!

Forgive me for I won't be able to provide much in terms of proper quotes from articles and such, because when I looked up barley symbolism on Google I literally could not dodge the Bible stuff. All the info here is provided by a lovely French-speaking friend who went onto the French side of Google and hurled up a bunch of information for me.

@werewolfcoochie thank you SO MUCH for your invaluable aid. I couldn't have done this without you.

“Barley has been an important part of human culture due to is popularity as the most common grain used in the process of malting, which is essential for the production of beer, whiskey, certain candies, and sweet meal.”

And hey, while beer and whiskey don't equate wine, it's still alcohol and Farangis has like. God-tier alcohol tolerance.

Barley can also symbolize fertility, hope, abundance, and a good harvest— which definitely makes you think of the role the clan plays in the local agriculture.

“Historically, a society that is rich in barley can typically count on having a lot of food in total, so the crop can be connected with general prosperity and overall welfare.”

“Barley can potentially have a lot of religious significance for different people. It can also be seen as a general sign of hope and a desire for abundance and a good, healthy life. It is the most common grain used for the making of arguably the most popular form of alcohol in the world.”

It also seems to have associations with medicine and magecraft, which makes sense since those two things were often bundled together historically.

Barley was also used in ritualistic medicine in England. Witches would cook and then let barley evaporate in the room of the sick person, and then draw on them magic symbols using the uncooked one. It was also said to help with tooth pain.

The witch Circe used it in a potion to turn Ulysses' companions into pigs. Some people also burned barley on Apollo's shrines.

“Circe is an enchantress and a minor goddess in ancient Greek mythology and religion. In most accounts, Circe is described as the daughter of the sun god Helios and the Oceanid nymph Perse. Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of these and a magic wand or staff, she would transform her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.”

Eyyy, a sorceress! Though Helios is not Apollo, they're both associated with the sun. It doesn't mean much, I just thought it was fun.

Demeter was also linked to barley. After Demeter lost her daughter Persephone, some humans tried to cheer her up by giving her wine, but she refused, asking for alcohol made from barley instead. And as Demeter is a goddess of nature responsible for all plant growth including crops, it would make sense for her to be associated with barley.

In Middle Ages, there was a form of divination using barley called alphitomancy.

In India, people use barley for sacrifices and private life ceremonies like births, marriages and so on— and some shamans use it to curse people.

In Ancient Egypt, Osiris was linked to cereals in general, and he was always depicted with barley. Ancient egyptians would make little statues and plant barley inside them. The growth of barley symbolizes the rebirth of Osiris after being killed by his brother Seth.

“Osiris is the god of fertility, agriculture, the afterlife, the dead, resurrection, life, and vegetation in ancient Egyptian religion.”

(I'll get to all the death stuff eventually, I promise.)

They also used barley against inflammation and also as divination tool to know the sex of an unborn child, and modern tests have shown that barley can be used to determine the sex of a baby with 70-75% effectiveness. Just a fun tidbit!

Okay, I thought I didn't have much to say about the second outfit. Uhhhh, oops?

And now finally we move onto the third. Are y'all still alive yet?

It's the ceremonial attire she would wear as a mage-musician during celebrations and ceremonies, and though it bears similarities to the spirit dancers' clothes, there are also a couple little differences! The silhouette is different, and the musicians tend to wear one of the two colours (blue or white) rather than clothes that split between them. Farangis happened to favor white.

Aaaaaand the willow! Promised I'd get to it, didn't I? Get ready, get ready, we're about to take a trip into the underworld.

Don't be alarmed.

“A large tree with long, flowing branches and leaves, the willow tree often symbolizes flexibility and adaptability. The limber and supple nature of its extremities means it bends to accommodate and withstand strong winds and adverse weather. Many, therefore, see it as inspiring and symbolic of humans’ capability to withstand hardship, loss, and difficult emotions. Thanks to its long life and the ease with which new trees can be rooted from cuttings, the willow tree is also seen as a survivor and a symbol of rebirth.”

“The willow tree is sometimes referred to as the "weeping willow." This name comes from the way raindrops run down its long leaves, making it look like the tree is crying. The weeping willow is therefore associated with grief and mourning in many cultures.”

“A willow’s drooping branches and leaves are seen as a symbol of letting go. In many cultures, willows are planted near gravesites as a way to honor the dead.”

“The willow tree symbolism of grief may be due in part to its ability to thrive in wet conditions. This hardiness has led to the tree being seen as a symbol of resilience in the face of adversity.”

“Dreaming of willow trees can mean many things, but their main messages are feelings of rigidness, the need to move on, and feeling unsafe.”

Farangis endured jealousy and ostracization from her peers in the temple due to her beauty and skill, and though she stayed loyally until she was sent to find Arslan in canon, she decided to leave the temple to join the clan in this AU.

She was sent to the temple because her parents died and there presumably was nobody left to take her in— and having to deal with grief on top of a new environment seemingly very hostile to you can't be easy in the slightest. And here we get to the theme of loss— she lost her parents and struggles to deal with the fact before she joined the clan. All the death/afterlife associations I've built up until now all culminate in this grief of hers, those intense and complicated emotions that ultimately resulted in her leaving the temple (“letting go” of the expectations placed on her by the adults, by her parents, letting go of a toxic environment, no longer bound to her parents' wish) to seek out a “rebirth” under Eihon's guidance. No longer was the temple a place of refuge and safety for her, and it's debatable whether it ever was.

And regarding rebirth, you may have noticed a lot of clan-style garments go right-over-left which is usually opposite to how many cultures around the world do it: right-over-left is reserved for the dead. The people who join the clan are functionally dead to the world and the places they came from— the runaway slaves are practically “dead” to their slavers, runaway children and abuse victims are “dead” to their families and abusers, by virtue of them disappearing off the face of the earth and being impossible to find again. And many, particularly ones who had negative or complicated relationships with their previous identities/names and families often opt to change their names, making the death and rebirth a bit more literal.

Farangis and Gieve chose to keep their names because it wasn't their families/parents they had an issue with, and still love them despite it all.

“Most symbolism surrounding willow trees comes from their graceful appearance. Their lightweight leaves, long branches, and protective caves inspire many and hold a powerful message.”

“The willow tree originates from China, and in Ancient China, people believed that willow branches could ward off evil. They were often carried around or placed at doorways to keep evil spirits away. The concept of the willow tree bringing good luck and protecting against evil is also prevalent in countless cultures across the world.”

“Willow branches also brought protection in Ancient Greek mythology, although willow also symbolized power in general. Orpheus, the bringer of song, carried willow wood with him to protect against evil in the underworld. Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft, also used a wand made out of willow. Willow is connected to music in Greek mythology — the harp that Apollo gifted Orpheus was made of willow wood.”

“In some cultures, people plant willows near homes to keep away evil spirits. Willow branches are often used in magical rituals and spells to ward off negative energy. Willow trees also create a ‘barrier’ if they are allowed to grow down to the ground. People have sat inside these barriers during warm months to protect themselves from the sun.”

“The willow was a powerful tree that symbolizes healing, strength, and functionality.”

“The willow tree is often seen as a symbol of peace. This is likely because willow trees are known for their calming and serene qualities. The branches of these trees are light enough to simply sway in the wind. The soft rattle of the leaves also creates a calming effect that evokes peace in just about anyone.”

These just scream Farangis to me. Also, Hecate is the goddess of boundaries, transitions, crossroads, magic, the New Moon, necromancy, and ghosts— and associated with all of the above plus the night, protection from witchcraft, and knowledge of herbs and poisonous plants. The “transitions and crossroads” could be taken to represent the period between her meeting the clan people and choosing to join them, stuck between two paths before steeling herself to choose one.

And of course, they also have medicinal properties!

“In ancient times, willows were used for their medicinal properties. Their leaves and bark are said to help with inflammation and other ailments.”

Arrows were also apparently made out of willow branches in some cultures, which is fitting considering that Farangis is a skilled archer.

And at the bottom of the white coat, you'll see elaborate patterns adorning the side slits— they're supposed to be like, very highly stylized renditions of cypress trees though I certainly got carried away and now I'm not sure they look like cypresses anymore. Ha, told you I'd eventually get to them!

“In the words of the Shahnameh, cypress represents a single-minded, professional and wise man. In ancient Iran, at Yalda night, a tree called Yalda tree was decorated, which was generally made of cypress and pine trees. It is said that the decoration of cypress and pine in Christmas was adapted from ancient Iran, because the Iranians looked at these two trees, especially the cypress, as a symbol of resistance against darkness and cold, and they stood in front of the cypress on the first day of January. And they vowed to be strong and stable until the next year and plant another cedar sapling. In the classical tradition, the cypress was associated with death and the underworld.”

I have already talked about all the reasons I decided to rope in death and resilience in sections above!

“In Greek mythology, besides Cyparissus, the cypress is also associated with Artemis and Hecate, a goddess of magic, crossroads and the underworld. Ancient Roman funerary rites used it extensively. In Jewish tradition, the cypress was held to be the wood used to build Noah's Ark and The Temple, and is mentioned as an idiom or metaphor in biblical passages, either referencing the tree's shape as an example of uprightness or its evergreen nature as an example of eternal beauty or health. It is popular in modern Israeli cemeteries, with contemporary explanation being that its shape resembles a candle and its being an evergreen symbolized the immortality of the soul.”

“The tree is one of the oldest symbols of mourning. In fact, ancient Greeks and Romans referred to the cypress as the "mournful tree" for this reason. Adherents of Christianity and Islam historically planted cypress near burial sites and cemeteries for protection against evil spirits.”

So... there you have it! Farangis' design sheet! I hope y'all liked it, Gieve is slated to be next though I think I'll probably end up taking a good long break first.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #farangis #rotten egg's shitty art #the character design sheet saga #symbolism #how fucking long is this post???#long post #just in case #so yeah there you go!#hope y'all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed creating both the designs and the post #it is currently... *checks clock* 3:40am as of uploading #I have been typing away at this post since like 1am #I'm very tired and I'll head to bed now

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