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shockercoco · 11 days

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Necessary Revenge

Art Donaldson x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, sub!art, dirty talk, handjob, overstimulation

Word count - 2111

a/n - yeah this is definitely on the list of the dirtiest things i've written. by popular request, here's part 2 to Cheer Up, but it can also be read by itself. Also tysm for all the love on Cheer Up. Sorry this took so long, and I hope you enjoy :)

You hated it when Art teased you, which is exactly why he does it. All you want is a loving boyfriend who listens to you and does what you say, is that too much to ask? Apparently so.

Obviously, the only reasonable solution is to seek revenge. Unfortunately for Art, after being denied an orgasm earlier after a rough day, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Well, maybe not unfortunate since this is most likely what he wants.

You were trying to study and watch playbacks of matches on your laptop to better your skills, but since you’re no longer in the mood, you decide you might as well close it.

After cleaning up your area, you head into the bedroom to see Art leaning against the headboard on his phone, his back propped by pillows. The television is on but on low volume, he always needed some type of background noise. Art glances up from his phone once he notices you walk in and can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. As soon as he looks back down, you shoot him a glare.

“Back for more?” Art asks.

Just you wait.

“Not exactly,” you tell him as you climb next to him on the bed, using the sweetest tone possible. You get yourself situated against the headboard with him, making sure you’re comfortable – you plan on being here a while. “What are you doing?”

“Just texting Patrick, he’s complaining about the match he just lost and how he needs to find a way to improve.”

“Well, he always was a sore loser,” you say. Art hums and nods in agreement as he continues to text his best friend. He doesn’t make a move to continue the conversation, so you decide to begin your revenge plan.

You turn your attention to the tv hanging on the wall as you place your hand on Art’s thigh. He must be too into his phone since he doesn’t notice, so you continue to raise your hand higher along the fabric of his sweatpants.

Art’s body tenses as he feels your hand move up his body, his fingers frozen above the keyboard on his phone. You notice the questioning glance he gives you from the corner of your eye, but you continue to play innocent as you keep your attention forward.

You wait for Art’s focus to go back to his phone before drifting your hand even higher and stopping right over his crotch. You don’t hide the smile that starts to grow on your face as you feel his cock slowly starting to harden over your touch. Art’s breathing begins to shallow out as he tries to maintain his focus and keep his mind straight. Well, that is until you give his crotch a firm squeeze causing him to let out a small moan and his eyes to flutter.

“What are you doing?” he asks you, his voice low.

“What do you mean? I just want to spend some time with you,” you answer in a casual tone, but Art can see right through your facade. He can feel his heartbeat getting faster. You finally turn your head towards him to notice his blue eyes not slightly widened as he stares back at you. You notice the way his chest slowly rises and falls in anticipation as his grip tightens around his phone. “Is something wrong?”

He gulps. “N-No, just a question.”

“I’m pretty sure Patrick is waiting for you to text him back,” you say, nodding towards his screen.

Art continues to stare for a few more seconds before nodding and looking back at his phone, but you don’t take your eyes off of him. You let your hand hover above him as you wait for him to send a few more messages out before beginning to palm him through his sweatpants.

Art bites his lip as he lets a whimper. His cock is at full attention now as your hand continues to move. The grip he has on his phone is faltering, his hands starting to tremble and his face completely flushed. When his hands fall into his lap along with his phone, you stop and raise your eyebrows.

“Pick it back up and continue texting him,” you command, your tone firm. His phone is vibrating non-stop from Patrick’s pettiness.

“Baby-.”

“I said continue,” you tell him.

A look of desperation flashes across his face before he lifts his phone back up and responds to the messages. Your hand starts back up again, and Art lets out a noise, sounding like he wants to start crying.

He’s falling apart with just a touch of your hand.

Art is starting to get annoyed at Patrick’s texts and wishes they would just stop so he could enjoy himself. He knows you’re not too pleased right now, but he doesn’t care. It just feels too good.

You lean your head into his neck for you to kiss just below his ear, his favorite spot and his weakness. “What’s wrong? You were so cocky earlier, where’s that same energy?”

A shiver runs through Art’s body at the feeling of your breath on his neck. He lets out another whine as he closes his eyes for a second before opening them back up. He’s looking at his phone, but given the fact that his head is starting to feel empty, he can’t really make out the words on the screen.

“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” you taunt as you press down harder on Art’s crotch, causing him to buck up into your hand.

You pull away from his neck to get a good look at his face, which now has a distant look on it. His mouth is ajar as he looks back at you. You tilt your head, waiting for him to respond to you, but all he does is whimper and pant. He’s a complete mess.

You bring him into a kiss by grabbing the back of his neck, which he happily gives in to. The kiss is filled with nothing but need – more on his end than yours. Art drops his phone on the bed next to him so he can grab your waist, pulling you even closer to him. He whimpers into your mouth as you give his hair a quick put firm tug.

He plunges his tongue into your mouth, needing even more from you. You allow it for a moment before pulling back just a little to wrap your lips around his tongue. Art lets his eyes roll into his head at the feeling of you sucking his tongue. He feels his climax coming quickly from the combined pleasure, and you can tell by the fact of him squirming under your touch more and more.

“You’re not going to cum without my permission are you?” you ask after pulling away from his mouth.

Art feels his eyes become heavy as his forehead pressed against yours. “No.”

“Good boy,” you smile, and that brings Art even closer to the edge. He removes his hand from your waist to grab a hold of the cover beneath him.

“Can I cum?” he pleads as he throws his head back against the headboard, your hand still on the back of his neck.

“Not yet.”

“Baby please,”he pleads again, his breathing speeding up.

“No,” you tell him, wanting to torture him.

“Baby I can’t. I-I can’t,” he stutters, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed.

“That’s too bad,” you tell him. You feel his hips stutter under your touch making it known that he’s about to cum anyways. You already knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer.

Art lets out a cry as his orgasm floods through his body and shoots out of him. A wet patch begins to appear through his sweatpants as you keep on pressing against him. He continues to roll his hips into your hand as he rides his orgasm out, a string of gasps falling out of his mouth.

“Oh no,” you fake pout, “Looks like you didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry, I tried,” he pants as he opens, looking down at the stain on his pants before making eye contact with you. A look of embarrassment falls on his face.

He’s so cute.

You move your hand away from him. “What a shame,” you shake your head in fake disappointment. There’s a moment of silence before you say, “pull your pants down.”

“What?” Art asks, confused. He thought you were done, but he was so wrong.

“You heard me,” you say in a plain tone.

Art hesitates before shimmying his pants down his legs to his knees, along with his underwear. You look down to see a mess of his cum covering his shaft, and as you take a look at his underwear, you see some sticking to the fabric. His cock is red and starting to soften, but that’s going to change.

Art gives you a look of realization as he lifts his head from the headboard once it registers in his mind what you’re about to do. “Please don’t.”

You ignore his request as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He jumps at the feeling of your cold hand around him, still sensitive from his orgasm. You stare into his eyes as you begin moving your hand up and down. Art lets out a pathetic whine as his body jerks, trying to escape your touch, but it doesn’t work.

“You know, you’re just so easy,” you tease.

“Baby, please-,” Art cuts himself off with a whimper, his hips starting to writhe against the cover.

“Please what? You should be thankful that I’m doing this, unlike how you denied me my orgasm earlier,” you tell him. “I’m letting you cum as many times as you want.”

“Oh my god,” he says as he drops his head. His voice strangled as his second orgasm unexpectedly arrives. You watch as his cum lands on your hands and the bottom of his white shirt.

A sticky and wet sound echoes through the room as your hand speeds up around him. Art’s mouth falls open as his breathing picks up once again. He looks at you, silently begging, but you ignore him once again. You remove the hand from behind his neck and place it on one of his legs to help keep his body still.

“Say you’re sorry,” you tell him as you run your thumb over his tip a few times..

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, his grip on the cover tightening. He feels like his hands might be stuck in fists by the time this is over.

You pretend to think in your head before saying, “I don’t think you mean it.”

His voice is high and whiny as he throws his head back once again and says, “I am. I promise.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Make me believe it.”

Art begins to rethink his choices and starts to regret messing with you. “I’m so, so, so sorry, baby. I swear. It was wrong of me to do that to you.”

“Hmm.”

“Baby.”

You smirk at his desperation. “I forgive you.”

“Oh, no, I think I’m going to cum again,” he cries, his eyes rolling back once again as his body tenses.

“Go ahead,” you tell him.

Art’s third orgasm hits him harder than his previous two. He trembles as his back arches away from the headboard while watered down cum spurts out of him. Drool spills out the side of his mouth as you continue the motions of your hand.

He uses a hand and reaches down to pull yours away from his cock, but you slap it away. Art gasps as he continues to twitch in your hand, feeling like he can’t stop as cum flows out of him. You finally move your hand away, but his cock continues to spasm with your touch.

Wanting to torture him one last time, you lean down to wrap your mouth him, sucking and cleaning. Art’s body jerks as he curls forward and grabs your head. You laugh as you pull away.

You lean back against the headboard, pulling his head into the side of your neck to help him calm down. His breath tickles you as he tries to slow his heart down. You glance down at his spent cock with a smile as you gently rub his back.

After a long moment of silence, Art’s phone vibrates from its place on the bed beside him.

You shake your head as you ask, “Are you going to answer that?”

“Patrick can fucking wait,” he breathes out.

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson imagine #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #challengers #smut

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chairofchaos · 18 days

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Stormy Night in the Library

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Cozy, stormy Night Court reading night

Vibe: fluffy fluffy fluffy (Apparently I’m in an Azriel mood so enjoy!)

Warnings: None? If there should be any, let me know!

The book was… incredible. Emerie was right, the gentle adventure was exactly what you wanted for a night like tonight. With the thunder cracking outside and rain pelting against the window, there was nothing better than the roaring fire, a warm blanket, and a good book.

The only improvement that could be made would be having your mate sprawled in your lap on the couch, but he hadn’t made it home before the storm hit. Despite his promise he would be home for dinner, there wasn’t anything he could do about the weather. You had asked the House to keep his plate warm when he hadn’t arrived for dinner with you, Nesta, and Cassian, and you were sure it was still waiting for him, along with a note telling him exactly where you would be waiting.

A few chapters later, you heard the door swing open, and then shut again.

“Sweetheart,” Azriel murmured, bending down to kiss your forehead.

“Welcome home,” you said, reaching up to brush his wet hair out of his face. “You made it okay?”

He grumbled. “I need to warm up, but I’m fine.”

“Please tell me you ate your dinner.”

“Of course I ate dinner. That stew is my favorite, and if I hadn’t you would have dragged me back out there where it is cold. May I?” He holds the corner of your blanket up with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes,” you laugh, “but no funny business- I’m in the last chapters of this book and I want to know what happens.”

Before you’re even finished speaking, Azriel has knelt between your knees and then stretched out, his legs sprawling off the end of the couch and his head in the crook of your neck. His wings stretch over the back of the couch on one side, and to the floor on the other, creating a little tent of warmth for you both.

“Hmm,” he kisses you gently. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You kiss the top of his head. “You’re welcome, love.”

The storm slows, and for a while, the only sounds are the gentle exhales of Azriel’s breath, the turning of pages, and the roar of the fire. The main character has made a dumb decision- she’s trusting the character with the most dubious intentions instead of her best companion, and she doesn’t even recognize any of the tells which the author spells out. Your quick gasp draws a flutter from Azriel’s dozing eyelids, so you poke him in the cheek.

“Az.”

“Hmm…” he responds.

“Should we go to bed?”

“Bed?” he slurs sleepily.

“Yes, Az. Bed. Sleep.”

He jolts suddenly, causing you to drop your book.

“I’m sorry,” he reaches to the ground, picking up your book where it fell. “Here.”

You chuckle. “You’re so tired, Az. Why don’t we go to bed?”

“It’s just so cozy right-” he kisses your chin, your jaw, the hollow of your throat- “here. What do you say we make a night out of it?”

“How?”

“I’ll go grab my book and some snacks. We’ll make a whole night out of this storm.”

“Perfect,” you smile at him, his eyes filled with light and the slightest hint of joyous mischief.

“I’ll be right back,” he leaps up, making sure to tuck your blanket back around you before jogging out of the room. You shake your head, laughing under your breath at your handsome mate. He quickly returns, bounding into the room and kicking the door shut again behind him. His arms overflow with two books, one from your bedside table and one from his, and a couple pastries and treats from the kitchen.

“Here we are. Brought you your next book, since you’re almost done with that one,” he smiles, settling it all on the coffee table. He offers you a pastry, and your next book. You take them, tucking the book between your body and the couch back, and biting into the snack.

The chocolate filling of the flaky pastry fills your mouth, and you hum, letting your eyes slip closed.

He snorts, lifting the blanket again to rejoin you in its warmth. “Should I leave?” he quips.

“Ha-ha,” you snark in return. “Only if you want to keep your hair intact.”

Azriel mocks offense, his low laughter quickly following to join with yours. “You love my hair too much to do anything to it.”

“Of course I do. Just like I love all of you,” you kiss him gently, slipping the hand which doesn’t have chocolate on it around the back of his neck.

He chuckles into your lips, kissing you back gently before sighing contentedly.

“How’s your book?”

You smile, showing him how far you’ve gotten, even since he had gotten home. “I’m nearly finished. It’s good- but I think the author’s left it on a cliffhanger, and the next one won’t come out for a while which will be a hard wait.”

“Oh no. Well, at least you have a whole library to choose from.”

“The only thing to mend my broken heart,” you tease.

He presses another kiss to your lips, grinning. “The only thing.”

“The best thing,” you giggle. His grin widens to a full smile.

“Well, at least I know where your priorities lie. When you’ve finished with the only real remedy for your heart, come home to me?”

“Always,” you smile, bending to kiss him again.

As you both return to your books, the storm picks up once again, rumbling with thunder. You finish the first book, which Az takes from you and places on the table, hardly looking away from his own book. Instead of grabbing your next book, you take a few moments to admire him. These are your favorite moments- together, and yet in your own little worlds. His face twists with obvious reactions, the only time he’s unguarded when he’s engaged in the escapism of a good book. You admire the way the firelight’s flickering reflects in his dark hair, twining the ends between your fingers.

Eventually you both slip into sleep, Az’s hair twined between your fingers, his arms around your waist, and an open book on the floor beside the couch. The fire crackles on, a complement to the thunder and pelting rain. Cozy against the cold, you and Azriel sleep peacefully, the joy of simple togetherness being entirely unmatched, content in each other's arms.

#my work #written by me #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #acotar azriel

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obsessivevoidkitten · 9 months

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Your Guardian Angel

Male Angel Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Extremely dubious consent, stalking, possessive yandere, jealous yandere, general yandere behavior, manipulative yandere, emotionally manipulated reader, reader dies nonviolently but the story continues with them in the afterlife, reader's boyfriend momentarily has cancer, religious themes and concepts, heaven, angel disguised as a demon, mild biting, soul claiming, heartbroken reader) Word Count: 2.5k (This was written within one late night/early morning writing session and was not beta read, I hope you all like it and I apologize for any errors.)

Not everyone receives a guardian angel, there are simply too many humans in the mortal plane to meet that type of demand. Instead guardian angels are allocated based on greatest need to those who might be most vulnerable to dark forces and to those with stronger souls who would be too dangerous if corrupted by the likes of a curse, demon, or vampire.

But you were one such soul. Perhaps the trials you had struggled through in life had left your spirit bruised and battered and dark entities were primed to take advantage.

Or perhaps the things you had experienced had strengthened your will and that was reflected on your soul, making it a tempting mark for corruption.

Either way it really didn’t matter, the result was the same. You had a guardian angel, Eriphel.

Eriphel was, relatively speaking, still somewhat new to the work of guarding humans. He had been at it for a few human generations. Which was very short, considering the immortal life span of an angel. He was one of the younger angels that had been created for this task.

He protected each charge he had with complete determination, always near his assignment, remaining unseen to the mortal realm despite being on a plane that overlapped with it.

When he started watching you when it became apparent in your early adulthood that you required a guardian the job was no different from any of the others that he had.

But… there was something about you that fascinated him. He hadn’t allowed himself to pay much attention to the personal details of his previous charges.

Eriphel didn’t know what was different about you but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. No matter what you were doing he just had to drink it all in. Watching you do your job, watching you cook, watching you read, watching you do all your little human hobbies, watching you do anything filled his entire being with such foreign alien sensations.

His heart fluttered and his chest filled with warmth and longing. He even felt his pants tighten with arousal for the first time in his life. It was so euphoric… and torturous at the same time. The longer that he was around you the stronger all these sensations became.

After around a year it was no longer enough for Eriphel to merely watch you. To be only a passive observer as your life played before him like a movie he had no control over.

He started sleeping beside you in your bed, wrapping his wing around you protectively. Of course you didn’t know he was there, but your sleep did noticeably improve. No nightmares or insomnia, not on his watch.

Eriphel also developed a habit of hugging you at work, wrapping his arms around whenever you became upset or stressed. It helped your mood a lot.

The angel’s divine light was washing over your soul in these moments and even if you could not see him he knew he was the best thing for you. But he also knew that eventually you would pass away as all mortals did and your soul would slip through his fingers as it transcended to heaven.

He couldn’t allow that, he had to take ownership of your soul in the same way that demons did.

If he made a soul pact with you then he got ownership of your soul when you eventually moved on and then you would be his and his alone until the end of eternity.

But he didn’t have to rush it, you were not in any great danger and he could protect you and keep you alive from any external threat that could threaten you… even if it violated a few rules to intercept mundane physical threats.

He had plenty of time.

Or so he thought.

A bit of time passed and you met someone. A man by the name of Jason. A mutual friend had set the two of you up. You tried not to think too much of it at first, how could this tiny insignificant human have any possible influence on you when your souls had felt the holy embrace of an angel’s wings?

But as the days turned into weeks turned into many long months it became obvious you were in love with him.

Eriphel wouldn’t stand for it.

He had been with you for nearly two years by this point.

He knew your favorite color, he knew your favorite foods, he knew every single password that you had for every website, he knew what expression you had when you were deep in thought, when you were annoyed, when you were in the middle of an orgasm.

There was nothing he didn’t know about you.

As he stood before you in the dead silence of night watching your lover spoon you protectively tears rolled down his cheeks. He had never cried before, but he recognized the behavior from the humans he had watched over.

Something had to be done.

If he could just claim your soul then he wouldn’t need to worry about the relative tiny amount of time you spent in this world because you would spend eternity with him when you passed on.

Eriphel decided he would interact with you directly as you slept. He’d disguise himself as a demon and make a deal with you. Then you’d be his and everything would be alright. He was shaking with the sheer anxiety of what he was about to do, he had barely said anything to a human before and even then that was only with some who were deceased.

That night you had a vivid dream, it was so real. A demon came to you and made you a fabulous offer of wealth beyond imagining. You couldn’t remember what he wanted, but you felt the price was too high. You were scared. You turned him down and ran.

Eriphel should have known an offer of wealth wasn’t enough to gain what he wanted from you, still he thought it was worth a try. He knew you’d at least be tempted by all the good you could do with money.

When you next saw the monstrous demon in your dreams you remembered it even more clearly than you had before. You were in a pristine palace of obsidian and red, richly decadent but with an undeniably sinister undertone.

The demon spoke in a voice that sounded like several people talking in unison.

This time it offered to let your parents live longer, to give them pristine health for their age so that they could spend more time with you.

This time you were tempted, you hesitated. But after some consideration you still declined before fleeing. Your parents weren’t in bad health as far as you knew and them having a few extra years wasn’t worth the price of your soul until the end of time.

Eriphel was homing in on the solution, getting closer to the offer that would have you as his. But he wasn’t there yet…

A couple months passed and you and your beloved Jason moved in together. But tragedy struck as not long after that your boyfriend went to the doctor to get some worrying symptoms looked at.

Cancer. Inoperable brain tumor.

The news broke you, but you had to put on a strong face for Jason’s sake. He had always supported you and been the strong one when you needed him and now he needed you.

Jason fell asleep with his head on your chest as you held him in your arms. You made sure he was sound asleep before you let yourself cry silently.

It took a long time but finally the emotional toll of the day caught up with you and dragged you into sleep as well.

Once again you were in that clean, rich, sinister building of polished red and black. The horned demon standing before you again, terrible and proud.

“I can save him. I can cure him with a snap of my fingers. All you have to do is agree to hand over your soul after your death.”

You were shaky, you couldn’t think clearly after the events of the day, you wanted nothing more than for Jason to live the full life he deserved. If it meant you had to be a demon’s victim and tortured for eternity after your death then so be it, the years you had growing old with Jason were worth any price.

“Yes! Please! S-save him!!!”

He smiled and approached you, grabbing you by your clothing.

“Wh-what are you-”

“This is how a soul pact is sealed. You do want this deal don’t you?” You nodded and hung your head silently as he peeled off each article of clothing one by one. Suddenly you were in a different room, laying naked on your back with your legs propped up on the demon’s shoulders.

You knew he was a wicked and power hungry entity but the way he looked at you was almost like a human looking upon a holy relic. He took his time, shaking hands rubbing up and down every part of you.

This was not how a soul pact had to be sealed, but he couldn’t wait any longer to feel you.

The red skinned monstrosity kissed up your thighs, careful not to harm you with his horns. He was as gentle as a lamb.

When he finally got to the point where he was lining up his large cock with your hole he kept that same gentleness. You thought he’d have just ravaged you but he didn’t do that at all.

The demon slid his cock in you slowly, this wasn’t your physical body and no lube was needed, he glided deep inside you painlessly and moaned loudly as he did so.

Heaven was nothing compared to being inside his beloved darling who before today could have only dreamed of what it felt like inside of you.

As he slid his entire length in and out of you he bit at your chest, hungrily, but not very hard. Not enough to really hurt. Just enough to stimulate you and to taste your skin. He trailed up to your neck and licked, sucked, and kissed there over and over again like it was some drug he was hopelessly addicted to with no chance of quitting.

Your hands gripped the bed sheets feebly as he began to pick up speed. You felt a bit sick. You didn’t think that this would be pleasurable. You thought this would be as painful as he could make it, but it was so good. It made it feel like you were really cheating on Jason.

Even if this was probably just a stress induced dream your brain made to help you cope with devastating circumstances.

Eriphel couldn’t last long, being his first time and doing it with someone so supremely important.

His pace remained steady as his strong hands gripped your hips and pulled you close, slamming you down to his full nuts as he emptied them into you and the two of you shared a mind shattering orgasm. You could feel your very soul being claimed by his magical seed.

The demon kissed you passionately and then you and Jason both woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.

It was the doctor.

He was calling to explain that the machine was busted and was showing false tumors. He wanted Jason to come back in tomorrow for a scan on a different machine. He was probably okay.

The demon had kept up his end of the deal.

The two of you hadn’t slept long but now with the new test looming over the both of you neither of you could manage to go back to sleep.

When the time came the both of you got in the car with him driving and you in the passenger seat. Everything was fine and you both tried to calm yourselves and not get your hopes too high. Jason was likely okay, but there was always that small chance that he wasn’t.

You idly looked at the houses and trees as they passed when you saw movement from the rearview mirror. The demon hissing and lunging towards you. You screamed before everything went dark.

Doctors later examined your body and determined that you suffered a massive stroke. Not really what happened. Eriphel just couldn’t wait to have you, and he never said that he’d let you grow old with that… thing… you called Jason.

No, he said he’d cure him. And he had. It had been easy enough to reverse the magic he had used to give him cancer in the first place.

When you woke up you were in a large white room that looked like it was made out of marble, gold, and silver. The lights around the room looked to be carved out of pure milky white crystal.

You were confused. If you had died by the hands of that monster wouldn’t you be in the place you had seen in your dreams?

“Hello.”

You turned to see a tall lean man adorned in white robes, his hair was sparkling silver, he had a pair of great wings outstretched from his back, the feathers looked as if they had been dipped in the most thin and fragile layer of silver possible. His whole body glowed with a faint white light and his eyes were an otherworldly shade of shining gold.

“I understand you are confused. I am Eriphel, I am an angel that scours the mystic planes for demonic presence and eliminates it where I can. You were attached to a foul demon, a parasite of human misery. I noticed this just in time and snatched your soul at the moment of your death…”

You took in his words while staring transfixed at his beauty. You were really dead then. You introduced yourself and thanked him several times before calming yourself a bit and asking what you desperately needed to know.

“Is this heaven? Will I eventually be reunited with my boyfriend?”

Eriphel had to suppress a bit of rage that began mounting at that last inquiry.

“Sadly, your soul was marked by a demon, you can never enter the proper realm of heaven without being cast to hell, where that demonic entity would surely get you. But you are safe here, in my home. You will have to stay here… forever…”

His voice was mournful, and his eyes were wet with sympathy at your plight… or so you thought. Eriphel was really just crying because his fondest dream had come true. With no one else to interact with and his intimate knowledge of your every like and dislike you’d certainly fall in love with him.

The angel pulled you into a comforting hug as you sobbed into his chest at never being able to see Jason again, and he smiled wickedly as he rubbed your back. No one else would ever come between you again.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere exophilia #yandere exo #yandere angel #gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #male yandere x gn reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #My OCs #My OC Eriphel #yandere scenario

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musingsofahufflepuff · 2 months

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Into the Blackhole

Theodore Nott x gn!reader; fluff

summary: when it all just gets too much, there’s one place you can always find theodore nott, a secluded corner on the second floor of the three broomsticks

a/n: hogmarch prompt 2. it’s apparently my goal to be the last submission for all of these, sorry @thatdammchickennugget (it’s technically still the 13th). i went with the butterbeer approach and this pure fluff. lots of friends to lovers in my submissions, whoops. guess the trope is on the brain

Bad week. That’s the only way you could describe your current mood. Between the long ass essay Snape had assigned with only 2 days to complete and the howler you’d received from your parents about something that wasn’t even a big deal you needed a break away from the castle.

So here you were on your way to the Three Broomsticks. The path to Hogsmeade is familiar and the fresh air is already starting to improve your mood. With the sun setting soon, there’s a comforting light casted on the village.

The old wooden doors to the pub creak when you open them and it’s relatively quiet for a Friday evening. You decide to make your way up to your usual table to relax a bit before getting a drink. At the top of the stairs you find Theodore Nott already sitting there. A smile spreads across your face.

He looks like his week was just as bad as yours as you slide into the seat next to him. His blue eyes look up to meet yours when you sit down and his expression is immediately softer. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter.

“Bad week?” you ask.

Theo sighs and nods, “why else would I be here. Assuming that’s why you’re here too.”

You laugh softly at that, he wasn’t wrong. Since your first trip to Hogsmeade third year, you and Theo had decided this was the best spot in the village to get away from everything. You’d spent many a night here with and without him, and you couldn’t help but feel glad he was with you this time.

“Want something? I was about to go get a drink when you came up,” he stands from the table, eyes still on you.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

He gives you a nod before heading down the stairs, leaving the seat empty and a hole in your heart.

So, maybe you had a small crush on your friend. Maybe.

♡ ♡ ♡

His footsteps returning pull you out of your thoughts. He sets a cold butterbeer down in from of you and you give him an appreciative smile.

“I know you don’t like warm drinks, as weird as that is,” he teases as he sits back down with his hot butterbeer in hand.

“I’m not arguing about this with you again, Nott,” you tease right back.

He holds his hands up in surrender, which makes you both laugh.

There’s a comfortable silence as you sip on your butterbeer and you steal a few glances at him.

“Wanna talk about it?” his voice surprises you, making you snap your attention to him.

“Just a rough week,” you blink a couple times, trying to think of what to say.

“Yeah, my fathers been, persistent in the whole… mark thing.” He looks down at his mug.

“Oh, Theo, I-“ without thinking about it, you get up and hug him.

He tenses up for a moment at the unexpected touch, but easily melts into your embrace. You don’t ask anything else, you don’t need to. He turns in his seat to make it easier to hug him, his strong arms coming up around your waist.

“Thank you tesorino. I guess I wanted to talk about it, but my friends…” he trails off and you immediately understand. They’ve gone through similar if not worse, it can be too much.

“I’m always here for you Teddy,” the nickname slips past your lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you try not to blush at the Italian term of endearment.

“I know you are and-“ he hesitates, “I think that’s why I’m falling in love with you.” The second half comes out quieter, like he’s scared of your response. “Actually, I’ve liked you for a long time.”

His blue eyes meet yours and it feels like it’s just the two of you here in the Three Broomsticks.

Just the two of you in all the universe.

He blushes, “sorry, not great timing on my part.”

“No!” you blurt out, “I’ve had a crush on you forever. Since we met first year.”

Theo looks a little shocked, but it’s quickly replaced with a smile and you melt.

“Wanna maybe turn this pity party into uh- a date maybe?”

You laugh softly, which makes him join you.

“Sure, I’d love nothing more.” You sit back down in your seat, in your and Theodore’s table and you can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face.

“But first, another butterbeer?” he smiles and you happily nod.

#theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #slytherin boys #harry potter #hogmarch challenge #theo nott #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #hp fandom #theo nott x male reader #theo nott x gn reader

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blitzyn · 5 months

Text

relax

alhaitham x m!reader

Request: well, since requests are open, perhaps I could request an alhaitham X male s/o where s/o has been really stressed lately with school and has been overworking himself. Because of this, alhaitham being the caring boyfriend he is comes to comfort and relax his beloved s/o with sex and aftercare. If possible, pls let alhaitham call his s/o a 'good boy' and just a praise kink in general, tysm!! 💕 — @ezraelo

a/n -> this mf reminds me of my dad so i kinda wrote what I think he'd say if i was in reader's situation tbh. NOT THE SEX THOUGH. anyways pgr fic first then hate sex w/childe next its been decades since I've done him (⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) sigh sometimes i forget i don’t have to write so damn much

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> soft alhaitham (heart eyes pt2), anal fingering, anal sex, praise, not beta read

merry christmas and happy holidays!!

To say you were tired was an understatement—you were exhausted. Stressed. Angry. It felt like everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

First, you accidentally woke up late, was scolded by your teacher when you arrived and made the "perfect" example on what a scholar from the Akademiya should not be. Then you had to study for several hours for a few of your upcoming exams and evaluations—all while having to take some more tests the following week.

And as if that wasn't e-fucking-nough, you had done horribly on one of your essays so now you had to redo it for a better score, on top of needing to start yet another one regarding... Something. You forgot what the prompt was. Honestly, you forgot to do a lot of things. Like eat. Or drink water. Which was something that really didn't help to improve your mood.

You stumbled through the door trying to pry your uniform off, haphazardly tossing your hat to the side. You felt like shit and wanted nothing more than to flop on your bed and stay in there for the rest of your miserable life. But, like the universe was trying to give you the biggest middle finger ever, one of the loops on your clothes got caught on the corner of a counter. While you'd normally just take it off and go on your merry way, you weren't having it today and just yanked yourself forward, tearing the loop and the fabric it was connected to.

Finally making it to your room, you flopped on the bed face-first, muffling the loud groan that came from you. You stayed like that for a moment longer before turning your head, remembering to breathe deeply.

Two knocks came from the door. "You okay?" Your boyfriend, Alhaitham, asked, leaning against the frame as he stared at you.

"You're smart. Figure it out yourself," you muttered bitterly, wincing at the accusatory tone in your voice. You sighed, deciding to face him. "Sorry."

He shrugged, walking to sit on the edge of your shared bed. "What's wrong?" He questioned, his expression unchanging even when he watched your brows furrow in irritation.

"It's just... Ugh," you grumbled, rolling your eyes childishly. "Just a bad week. It feels like everything's going against me." You rolled onto your back, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. "I don't think I can catch up."

"You're in the Akademiya," Alhaitham said, giving you a look that made it seem like he didn't know why you were complaining. "Obviously it's going to be hard for you."

"'For you,'" you repeated, glaring at nothing in particular, but it was getting increasingly evident that you were beginning to direct your anger towards him. "Of course you don't get it. You've been smart your whole life."

He was quiet for a moment, letting you try to calm yourself before speaking again. "Don't sell yourself short like that. It's unhealthy."

You huffed. "It's not selling myself short if it's actually true." You pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw faint fireworks coloring the darkness. "I have to redo an essay because apparently it didn't go with damn prompt. Then I have to do another one, and I don't even know where to start, and—" you listed off your problems, your voice getting higher in pitch until you were on the verge of shedding tears, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of work you accidentally accumulated.

"Hey," he interrupted you, leaning to place a hand on your thigh. "Calm down." He gave you an unimpressed look when you snapped your mouth open to retort, watching you begrudgingly close it in defeat. "Breathe. You're getting worked up over things you can change."

But when you could hardly focus on utilizing the breathing techniques he taught you, he decided to take a different approach. "Let's have sex, then."

"What? Why? 'Cause of the post-nut clarity?" You sighed, rubbing your temple to stave off the impending headache after staring at him incredulously. Damn. Sometimes you forget how straightforward he could be.

Alhaitham gave you a look. It was deadpan—because when was it not?—but you could still sense the slightest bit of confusion. "If that's how you want to word it, yes," he said, before elaborating. "Sex can also help you relax and improve your immune system."

He quickly looked you up and down, and despite not saying anything, you knew what he was trying to imply. You looked like a mess.

"It can also help improve your quality of sleep," he added, crossing his arms against his chest. "It has a few other benefits than just feeling good, you know." He watched you ponder his suggestion, chewing on your lip absentmindedly before giving in with a sigh.

"Fine. But you're doing all the work," you said, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him better.

"That was the plan." The corners of his lips quirked up in a brief, subtle smirk as he leaned to place his hands on your shoulders to gently push you back down. "Just relax."

He continued when you nodded, running his hands along your body, gently caressing every curve and contour of your frame. An eyebrow raised in question when he felt the torn patch in your clothes but decided against mentioning it as he guided you out of your suffocating uniform with practiced ease. Already, you seemed a bit calmer than earlier, giving yourself a well-deserved stretch that made you remind him of a cat.

You felt the tension beginning to seep out of your body with every article of clothing that was carelessly tossed to the floor, reaching your hands out to tug him closer. He obliged without hesitation, sighing in satisfaction when he melded his lips with yours. His hands slid below your underclothes, snaking them upwards until they found your chest. He tweaked and pinched your nipples as he moved his way downwards, placing kisses along your jawline and neck.

You softly moaned, brushing your fingers through his hair that had him leaning into your hand. He removed your shirt, trailing appreciative kisses down your sternum. A hand made its way down your front toward your pants, slipping a hand inside to wrap his fingers around your flaccid dick. Your breath hitched, instinctively widening your legs to give him better access, much to his pleasure.

He was gentle; his hands were soft and careful, and neither of you were in a rush. You felt your eyes flutter shut as your lips parted with every quiet gasp and sigh that left you, and he couldn't help but stare.

It annoyed him how little you thought of yourself when he could clearly see you as something more. Sure, it irked him how you complained about things that could easily be changed if you put your effort into it, but you were also right. He always had it academically easy and often found it hard to connect with others or understand their problems on a level that wasn't with you. He was well aware of this issue, knowing that it often hindered his ability to comfort, and—for the first time in how long?—it frustrated him.

Even if he had no idea how to properly soften his words around you or to consistently change his facial expressions, he always showed he cared by spending time with you, teaching you new things, or helping you understand foreign concepts. But even then, he was willing to try to tell you that you were more than what those pompous Akademiya professors reduced you to, that you were better than what you said you were.

"Look at me," he said, his voice soft and smooth, coaxing your pretty eyes open. He slipped his hands out of your shirt and cupped your cheeks tenderly, ensuring your focus on him. "It doesn't matter what everyone says about you when they don't understand that you have strengths that rest beyond the traditional Akademiya expectations."

"But that doesn't—"

He gave you yet another stern look, to which you quieted down with a huff. "It's okay to struggle. Everyone does at some point. Even those professors found something difficult before they became what they are. But you know what they did?"

He paused, gauging your reaction. He was aware that what he was saying probably didn't make you feel better or make the most sense, but he hoped that you could feel the sincerity in his voice. "They took a step back, took a deep breath, and figured out what they were doing wrong. They didn't do that overnight or by working themselves to the bone. That's what you need to acknowledge."

"But all my other colleagues are doing fine, and I'm the only one struggling..." You appreciated his words, truly, but they did little to quell your worries.

"Are you? How do you know that for sure?" He countered, sliding his hands down to caress your hips. He watched you pursed your lips, squirming slightly under his gaze. "Point is, you shouldn't try to compare yourself to everyone around you and overwork yourself because that only leads to bad work and a bigger hole for you to climb out of. You have everything else to be proud of—not just your academic qualities. Understand? Besides, you made it into the Akademiya. That's something very few people can do in the first place."

You looked away with a frown, but you nodded softly. Even though it sucked knowing that you weren't the best, he did have a point. Wallowing in your own failure did nothing to better yourself, as much as you hated to admit it.

"Thanks," you muttered, sniffling a little. His thumbs swiped underneath your eyes, clearing away any of the tears that happened to escape you.

"Don't let them define you. Define yourself," he said finally, leaning back down to kiss you again. It was soft, tender, unhurried, like he wanted you to feel every ounce of affection he harbored for you. He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "Do you still want to do this?"

You nodded again, giving him a quick peck to the lips before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Mhm. I really need those benefits." Plus, you didn't favor being horny and sad.

Your lips curved in a smug grin when you saw his own quirk upwards in amusement, but he didn't comment on it. He sat up to tug your pants and underwear down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You shivered instinctively but kept your focus on him, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.

He leaned over to grab a bottle of lube from your nightstand, squeezing a generous amount on his fingers before pressing one into your hole. You sighed, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. He only offered a few pumps of his hand before adding a second one in, gently spreading them apart in a scissoring motion.

He wrapped his free hand around your cock, slowly jerking you off. He rubbed his thumb over the tip to smear the precum across your skin as wet sounds gradually filled the room. You noticed his eyes locked on your face and the expressions you wore, committing them to memory. He added a third finger for good measure, feeling you tense reflexively before relaxing just as fast.

"You're doing so good, [Name]," he praised, his voice low. He curled his fingers, pressing them against your prostate. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan, straining against the fabric. "I'm almost done. Then we can start."

You nodded, inhaling sharply through your nose when he began targeting the sensitive spot inside you. You could practically feel every surge of heat shoot up and down your spine, ending at your fingertips. Alhaitham could feel it too, every time your cock throbbed in his hold.

Your body felt warm and tingly when he moved both hands away from your body, wiping them off using a few tissues atop your nightstand. He grabbed the lube again and poured some on his palm to coat his cock, using his free hand to spread one of your thighs a bit wider. He peered up through his lashes, subtly raising an eyebrow in question. He continued as soon as you nodded, slowly pushing himself inside you.

You both let out a satisfied groan as he filled you, grasping onto his wrists as he held onto your hips.

"Fuck," he hissed, pushing further until he bottomed out completely. "You're such a good boy. You're taking me in so well." He perked up in attention when he felt you tighten at his words, noting how your eyes fluttered shut like you were savoring them. He wasn't overly aware of this newfound information, but maybe you had accidentally brought it to his attention now that you're stressed?

Either way, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to continue. “You feel so good, [Name]," he praised, leaning down to press his lips against the skin underneath your earlobe. You could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He let you take a moment to adjust to him before moving, gently thrusting his hips.

You noticed him moving away again as you opened your eyes, finding yourself enamored with the way his muscles flexed in every movement of his. Soft gasps and moans left your lips when you looked up, instantly noticing his gaze on you.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumbled shyly, squirming a bit. It wasn’t that you hated having him look at you—frankly, that’s all you longed for sometimes, it’s just that what you did hit you. Being as vulnerable as you were wasn’t something you preferred, even when Alhaitham didn’t berate you for it.

“You were staring at me, first,” he countered swiftly, and you could hear the rare undertone of his amusement in his voice. It was your favorite sound. “Besides, what’s the harm in looking at the most handsome man in Sumeru?” His monotony nearly made his words laughable, but you could see that he was genuinely trying. Knowing that sent butterflies in your stomach all over again.

You looked away, effectively flustered with all his attention. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Only because you make it embarrassing,” he said, sliding a hand upwards to toy with one of your nipples. He subtly shifted his hips, angling them so that his cock better pressed against your prostate. He watched you intently when you let out a throaty moan, feeling his dick throb inside you.

You reflexively clenched your thighs tighter against his hips, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. You snaked a hand down to your leaking cock, wrapping your fingers around the base to give it a squeeze. “You can go faster,” you muttered, looking down to watch the way he slid in and out of you.

He nodded with a quiet hum, adjusting his grip on your waist to shift the weight on his knees to sacrifice his slower, deeper thrusts for quick and shallow ones. Moaning, you jerked yourself off in time with his movements, unable to tear your gaze away from him, even for a moment. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you brought your free hand up to bring him closer to you by the back of his head. You kissed him needily and fervently, letting out noises that mixed in with the wet sounds that came from your hole. Your body rocked gently, listening intently to the rustling of your bedsheets and Alhaitham’s deep, husky breaths.

Suddenly, he lifted a hand up to place over your abdomen, lightly pushing down on it just as he buried himself balls deep inside you. He paused for a moment, sighing as he watched you squirm at the sudden stop before continuing, feeling himself move in and out of you. You could feel the heat in your belly intensifying with every thrust to your prostate, back arching, legs tightening around his waist.

“Fuck, I’m…” you panted, clenching tighter around his cock. “I’m so close, ‘Haitham.”

“I know. I can feel you,” he said, gently moving your hand away from your leaking cock to wrap his fingers around it. Quiet slaps mixed in with your soft noises and his breathy grunts as he fucked you a bit harder, eyes fixated on the blissful expression on in your face. His dick throbbed inside you as he eagerly chased after his own orgasm, leaning down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing up towards your ear.

“C’mon, [Name], cum for me,” he whispered, sending yet another wave of heat shoot up and down your spine. You could hardly stop the stream of moans that spilled from your lips as he focused on the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb on the sensitive spot just below it, as if trying to coax out your cum.

“Oh god,” your voice was strained as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten to an unbearable degree, trying to hold out just a little longer. “F—Fuck! Alhaitham!” You moaned in ecstasy when you finally came, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. You tensed and trembled as your dick spurt cum on your stomach and his fingers as he helped you ride out your high.

“You’re so beautiful when you orgasm,” he groaned, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm as he neared his own climax. He dug his fingers into your waist tighter, muttering praises into your ear when you began squirming at the discomfort of your overstimulation. It didn’t take much longer for him to finish as he stilled, gritting his teeth when he quickly pulled out to stroke himself to completion. He sighed in satisfaction when his orgasm subsided, leaving your abdomen coated in ropes of his cum.

“Wh—Why did you pull out?” You panted, wiping a bead of sweat off of your forehead.

“Isn’t it annoying to clean up afterward? You're always complaining about it whenever we have sex,” he questioned after a moment, taking a second to bask in the afterglow before getting up to reach for a tissue to clean your skin. He put his pants back on, gathering your clothes to put them in a laundry basket.

You shrugged. “I mean, sometimes. But I’m gonna take a bath either way.” You blinked in confusion when you saw him quirk a brow, fidgeting a bit when he didn’t stop staring at you.

“No. You’re going to sit and wait here while I make you something to eat, first,” he instructed, leaving no room for negotiation. “Afterwards, you’re going to go to sleep. Then you can take a bath when you wake up.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled audibly, quickly reminding you that you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. "But then I'm gonna be all sticky and gross when I eat," you said, knowing how much he disliked having dirty bedsheets for too long. It surprised you when he shrugged, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to decide.

"If you want to take a bath first, then I'll help you," he offered. You swiftly nodded, wanting to eat clean and comfortably. He nodded and told you to wait for a moment as he prepared the water for you, leaving you by yourself for a while until he returned. The two of you walked into the bathroom where a bathtub of warm water awaited you. But just as you raised your leg to enter, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame you. Luckily, Alhaitham was there to keep you from falling with a firm hand on your arm, carefully helping you into the water.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes darting across your face for any sign of distress. He relaxed upon seeing nothing but waited for your response for further confirmation.

"Yeah. It's just something that happens when I get too hungry, y'know?" You explained sheepishly, splashing some of the water onto your arms and back.

"No, I don't know." He ignored the way you rolled your eyes. "I'll be right back, then."

You hummed to yourself, not minding his absence as you savored the warmth surrounding you, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You nearly fell asleep in the time it took for Alhaitham to return, jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," he spoke, returning to your side with a bowl in his hand. "Eat this for now."

He kneeled down, bringing the bowl close enough to let you reach in and take whatever was inside. They were fruits, you saw as you happily grabbed one, tossing it into your mouth. You had to stop yourself from grabbing a handful and eating it all in one go, forcing yourself to appreciate every bite. You noticed him shifting behind you, leaning forward instinctively when he began cleaning your back with a small, wet towel.

The two of you basked in the comforting silence for a while as you let him take care of you until you turned your head to face him. "I love you," you said with a little grin.

"I know," he replied, putting the bowl onto the floor.

"Say it back." You pouted, but you knew he was only teasing.

His mouth quirked up in a faint smile, leaning forward to give you a quick peck on your lips. "I love you too."

566 notes · View notes

beanieboosstuff · 2 months

Text

Miso Soup - Mizu x Reader

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader

Quote: Hello :) . First time posting something like this here on Tumblr, I apologize for any mistake and please be kind to me. 😭

————————————-^_^————————————

POV: Mizu doesn't admit her jealousy and you decide to share your Miso soup to improve her mood.

Mizu doesn't get jealous that easily. Why would she? She has never had a reason to.

She's on a path of revenge, seeking vengeance against the white men that made her this way, impure— But the way her lungs ache every time she sees you and Taigen laughing about something stupid or him blabbing his mouth off near you, just because you're friendly enough to entertain his hundredth story about a duel that he won. Is he really that entertaining to you, that he manages to make your mouth quirk up in that sickly, saccharine smile?

Can you blame her? How is Mizu supposed to not be jealous when Taigen, Taigen of all people gets to make you laugh and grin in such a sweet way? She hated it. She despised it.

Which is why—Mizu's eyebrow twitches in irritation, blue eyes that are hidden by her tinted shows following every movement and action in front of her with narrowed eyes. Watching you, again, raising your eyebrow playfully at whatever idiotic thing Taigen said to you, huffing to herself from resentment.

Her eyes were trained on you, not even noticing Ringo sending her a subtle look, before dragging off Taigen, both of them having a small, smug understanding of the situation. You don't seem to notice this, as you stop by a nearby stall to look at the intricate trinkets the merchant was selling. Before long, you feel a small, almost faint touch on your waist.

"Is he really that funny?" Mizu asks— no grumbles lowly, tilting her head as she looks into your eyes from under her kasa. She stands close to your back, her calloused hand having found it's way securely on your waist as she furrows her eyebrows. Was she... pouting?

You looked slightly at her lips when the pout was still apparent. Adorable. Turning your gaze to her eyes, a confused expression forms on your face.

“Who?” You asked as tilted your head slightly to the side, trying to decipher the question.

"Taigen." Mizu stated, almost sounding... irritated by the subject. "Is he really…that funny? He only babbles on about himself and his duels.." Mizu paused as a small frown appeared on her sharp lips.

"I do not see how you find him entertaining. He doesn't ever say anything funny, just brags. Yet you look at him and smile like that..." She stated quietly as she glared into your eyes.

“Taigen?” You asked digesting everything that the woman with the blue eyes told you. Little by little, you understood why she asked that.

“I find funny how pretentious he could be, he's definitely like every other man.” Replying by rolling your eyes smiling as you remembered how self-centered man can be.

Mizu huffed quietly to herself at the small response. She hated it, she really did. She had sworn herself to this revenge, and yet— the way you laughed when you and Taigen joked together... the way you smiled softly when he complimented you.

There was not a single moment in which you and Taigen weren't having fun or laughing and smiling, and she hated it. She hated that those pretty lips of yours were always smiling. "Is that it?" She asked, sounding almost disappointed with your answer.

Still confused by the topic of the conversation, you take a trinket from the tent and begin to observe the object as you prepare to formulate an answer.

“He's not funny, his egocentrism is.” You concluded by raising your gaze to face the tallest one next to you.

"You find his ego funny?" Mizu asked with an inquisitive tone. She had barely let go of your waist when she leaned more towards you, watching you closely and narrowing her eyebrows as if sizing your up.

She wanted to know the truth, not some sugar coated lie— but there was no need. You actually did find his ego funny, but that's not the point. "He never says anything funny, just brags and makes an ass of himself. But that makes you laugh?" She asked with a slight scowl.

Stop touching the object, for a moment you are silent digesting Mizu's persistent question. Putting the object again on the tent table you turn to Mizu, watching her face.

“It makes me laugh because all I could think about is if someone would be able to love someone like Taigen. He is definitely not interesting in a female gaze, at least not in my gaze.” You responds calmly, shrugging in the last part.

“Is this answer enough and enlightening for you?” You ask by raising your eyebrows.

"Does it not bother you that he is always trying to flirt with you?" She asked quickly, her voice sounding low and quiet. She tilted her head and continued questioning you relentlessly.

"That he's always touching you... trying to hug you or grab your hand." Mizu asked quietly as her jaw clenched from irritation, the muscles on her arm tensing up as she tried to hold herself back.

Frown your eyebrows with Mizu's question, now making sense of why they are having this conversation. You approach her slightly, noticing her irritation on her face.

“You jealous, Mizu?” Murmurs low just so she could hear. You tilt your head to the side in an attempt to see her face.

"Jealous?" She asked quietly, sounding both amused and irritated. Her blue eyes twinkled with a faint smile as she raised an eyebrow and scoffed quietly.

"No." She tried to push away the subtle flush that graced her cheeks. "I'm not jealous." Mizu paused, leaning back from you lightly as she sighed quietly.

"Taigen and his stupid flirting doesn't bother me." She stated quickly, sounding slightly irritated still.

Surprised by Mizu's stubbornness in not admitting that she felt jealous, you look to the side seeing Taigen in a Misô tent along with Ringo. Looking back at Mizu, you smiled with a false air of innocence.

“If that had bothered you, I would be willing to ask him to stop...” You started, staring at her to know her reaction. “But you say you don't mind, so neither do I.” You shrug a smile.

Mizu huffer quietly to herself as her cheeks flushed even more brightly. Her jaw was tensed, wanting to argue the point with all of her will but couldn't.

Why couldn't she just admit it? It was a stupid question, anyways. She was just a little envious that someone as handsome as Taigen liked you that much, was what she was going to tell herself.

"It doesn't bother me!" She repeated slightly louder, though it sounded more like a half-truth than anything.

You face her once again waiting for another answer, but as she was too stubborn to admit it, you just accepted that the answer Mizu gave you would be just that.

“If you say so.” Shrug deep sighing, moving away from the samurai and heading towards Ringo and Taigen, craving to eat Miso.

She watched as you walked off to Taigen and Ringo, and she wanted to follow, to argue some more about whether she was actually jealous or not. But she didn't. Instead, she just huffed quietly to herself as she looked down at the ground and closed her eyes with a small sigh.

Why was it so hard to admit that Taigen's flirting bothered her? Why did she care so much?

Still walking towards the food stall, you turn your face back in an attempt to find Mizu's eyes, but all you could see was her looking at the floor. In a heavy sigh turning forward again.

“Hey guys, already chosen the food?” You ask smiling excited as soon as you get closer to Taigen and Ringo, receiving a kind smile from both of them.

Taigen nodded briefly at you as his grin widened and he put an arm around Ringo gently. "We got the pork miso." He commented, sounding more than a little flirty. He even smiled more widely which was enough for you to catch onto the fact that he was trying to get your attention.

“You coming with us?” He asked— but this time his words were focused solely on you, as though he ignored Mizu's presence completely approaching.

You face them both and smile, agreeing. “That's sounds good. I think I want one.” You speak approaching the bowls, bending slightly to smell the soup while closing your eyes.

Taigen smirked as his eyes wandered to your exposed back, and before you could even do anything about it, he came up behind you and grabbed you by the hip, wrapping his hand around your waist like some sort of jealous boyfriend— and he held you close. He even leaned down, placing his hand in the small of your back which made the two of you even closer.

Opening your eyes widely surprised by the sudden touch on your back. You look back and see Taigen next to you smiling, frown your eyebrow confused by his act. Through your peripheral vision, you see Mizu behind him observing this whole situation.

Keeping eye contact with Mizu for a few seconds, you quickly take Taigen's hand out of your body, getting up completely. Looking at the man inside the stall and smile politely while placing your order.

Taigen looked at you in surprise as you ripped yourself away from his grasp, and he watched as you ordered politely from the person running the miso stall. He smirked awkwardly and glanced over at Ringo, probably expecting him to say something witty, but the big one just hummed in disagreement.

Mizu continued to watch the whole scene quietly, not making any reaction. She did, however, observe the fact that you refused to let Taigen touch you, as if his flirtations actually bothered you.

Taking your bowl and bowing in thanks to the man, you turn towards the three who were waiting for you. Ringo and Taigen already had their bowls in their hands, only Mizu who didn't ask for anything.

You approach Mizu, while putting a portion to your mouth, letting out a moan of satisfaction. “This tastes amazing. Here, try it.” You say rolling some noodles in the chopsticks and raising it to the height of Mizu's mouth.

Mizu hesitated when you raised the bowl above her, her eyes narrowing. She was about to brush it off and simply turn away but then suddenly her curiosity got the better of her. Mizu slowly lifted her head and cautiously opened her mouth, ready to bite into your offering. She took a small piece of the meal that you offered to her and bit into it, chewing slowly.

Seeing Mizu leaning so close to your hand made you feel a growing heat on your cheeks. Cleaning your throat by putting the chopsticks inside the bowl.

“Good right?” You whisper afraid of your voice getting weak if raise a tone.

Mizu swallowed the piece of noodles in her mouth, nodding quietly as a small smile appears on her lips.

"It is, very good..." She stated quietly— though there was no trace of any awkwardness or embarrassment from her tone of voice. Mizu's eyes glanced to the side, not willing to meet your gaze for long. There was a slight blush spreading across her cheeks, but she tried to force the color out of her.

Also looking to the side, you realize that Taigen and Ringo were already out of your field of vision, getting lost in the middle of the stall.

Turning your attention to the bowl, mixing the soup a little more. “If you want to, I can share with you my meal.” You say shrugging while still staring at the food.

Mizu didn't want to admit that she was liking the attention you were giving her, that she felt her heart completely warm. She wanted to be close to someone, but at the same time she was hesitant, scared of getting close because it always ended in pain. So in the end, she would just do the opposite, distance herself from people.

She paused for a second as she noticed the two of you were now alone by the miso stall. "I would like that..." She said quietly, her tone of voice showing a small amount of vulnerability.

“Right.” You whisper smiling, as you took her hand and guided her to a bench further away.

Without realizing it, your action implied a new direction for the relationship of the two of you. Making Mizu felt seen, felt important in some type of way.

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eyed samurai

251 notes · View notes

zepskies · 5 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 18

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, brief mentions of the events of Part 13, some ADA Sam, Detective John, and a cliffhanger…

Part 18: “V for Vendetta”

After that first rocky month, Dean started to improve physically, and so did you emotionally, as he tried his best to let you help him when he needed it.

In turn, you did your best to gauge his moods; when he truly did need help, and when it was best for you to just be his girlfriend, not his caretaker.

January rolled onwards, and the resulting winter cold snap brought a kind of calm before a storm. Nick Savage still hadn’t been found, but that didn’t mean your worries were over.

Dean knew that this would hang over all of your heads until both Nick and his father were caught and exposed.

Today Dean walked with Sam on his day off, doing a few laps around the neighborhood as part of Dean’s rehab. They knew a police car was stationed nearby, watching them for their safety. It was a bit unnerving, but necessary.

They were walking back into the building when Sam stopped to check the mail. The box for their unit was along the wall in the corridor with several other locked boxes. Sam unlocked theirs and pulled out a rolled-up newspaper, some coupons, and a stray folded note addressed to Dean. Sam’s brows furrowed.

“What’s that, a love note?” Dean asked dryly. He took it from Sam and unfolded the scrap of paper.

20579. Your badge will join your dad’s on the wall.

Both the Fire Department headquarters and the 84th Precinct had a wall to commemorate firefighters and officers who had given their lives in the line of duty. Each of their badges had their own display plaque hung on the respective walls.

In short, the note was a threat.

Sam’s worried frown deepened as he watched Dean’s good mood evaporate. He crumpled up the note and pocket it, before he met his younger brother’s eyes.

“Keep this between us,” he warned. As in, don’t tell you.

Sam shook his head. “Dad needs to know, at least. And you two need to be careful.”

“That goes for you and Eileen too,” Dean replied. He reached for Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t matter that you’re an ADA. Azazel goes after cops and their families. He’s gonna be gunning for an opportunity to get to one of us.”

Sam’s lips pressed together, but he acknowledged that with a nod.

They went back upstairs together, where you were dressed casually and gathering up your purse.

“Heading out somewhere?” Dean asked. Sam shot him a glance, which Dean silently answered with a short nod. He looked back at you when you offered him a smile.

“Yep, we need a few things. Milk, eggs, more Twizzlers, apparently,” you quipped, lightly smacking his stomach. Dean quirked a smile.

“Give me a sec. I’ll go with you,” he said.

You made an uncertain sound. “Didn’t you just get back from a walk? You sure you don’t just want to shower up and relax?”

“I’m good,” said Dean. He knew you didn’t like the idea of him overexerting himself, but he didn’t feel comfortable letting you go out alone. He could tell by the look Sam once again threw his way from the kitchen that he didn’t think it was a good idea either.

Dean slid a hand up your arm. “How about this. I’ll stay in the car. I just want some more fresh air.”

You tilted your head at him, but you conceded. He followed you to the door and held it open for you.

“Can I drive?” Dean hedged.

You chuckled. “Don’t push it, Lieutenant.”

On the way back from the grocery store, you discreetly eyed Dean’s profile. His knee was bouncing as he stared out the window.

Sometimes he checked the rearview mirror of your Camaro. Sometimes he fiddled with the radio or checked his phone.

It was all nervous behavior you took a catalogue of. By the time you pulled back into the parking lot of Dean’s apartment building, he finally seemed to relax a fraction. You parked the car and turned to him.

“Okay, what’s the matter?” you asked.

Dean gave you a curious look, but there was an unmistakable tension in his demeanor.

“What do you mean?”

You tried your question a different way. “What’s got you all on edge?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Dean,” you prodded. “Does it have something to do with why you insisted on coming with me, even though I can see that you’re tired?”

His face tightened, but he reached over for your hand. Your fingers curled around his. Now you were getting worried.

“We’ve got the police watching us here, but anything could happen out there,” Dean said. “Until this blows over, I don’t think you should go out by yourself.”

Until this blows over. You wanted to ask when that would be, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

“Zachariah called me this morning,” you admitted. “He’s standing in for Nick as CEO. He said I have a job waiting for me when I get off medical leave next week. Everyone’s been working from home since the fire, but we’d be going to a new building the company owns downtown.”

Dean tightened up, just like you knew he would. His eyes closed as his head tilted back against the headrest. He let out a long breath through his nose. You stayed quiet, both waiting for what he might say and preparing for him to get upset.

He surprised you by calmly looking over at you again.

“It’s not a good idea. If Nick’s still alive, it means his dad probably knows you know who he is,” he said. “And not for nothin’. Even with Nick out of there, that place’s probably been built on blood money.”

Both were fair points.

“I know. I’m going to find something else, as soon as you’re better,” you said. Dean shook his head and held your hand tighter.

“Don’t let me be an excuse,” he said. His gaze was firm and direct meeting yours. “I need you to start taking care of yourself too, all right? Please.”

Faced with his earnestness, you couldn’t help but soften. After everything he’d done to save you, to protect you, was it fair of you to keep making him worry?

In the past, you’d felt justified. You couldn’t quit. You needed the money. You could handle it, whatever came next. You would deal with it because you had to.

But maybe this time, you didn’t have to. It wasn’t worth all this.

With that resolve, you let out a breath.

“I’m going to call Zachariah,” you said, “and tell him that I’m working from home, or I quit.”

Dean stared back at you with a measure of surprise.

“I’m not going back,” you said, squeezing his hand. “If he has a problem with that, I’ll use whatever I have left in my savings. Hopefully that’ll be enough until I find a new job.”

After a moment, Dean expelled a breath of relief. He beckoned you over, and carefully as you could over the upholstery, you leaned over and caressed his cheek before you went in for a kiss. He welcomed you, with his hands slipping up your sides and around your back, pressing you into him with a heady warmth.

He paused against your lips after a while. His forehead rested against yours.

“You don’t need to drain your savings. I can help you,” Dean started to say, but you pulled back and held your fingers to his lips.

“You’ve helped me enough. You’re already letting me live with you rent free,” you pointed out. “Let me figure out the rest.”

After a moment, Dean wordlessly agreed. He wanted to argue that you wouldn’t have had to move in with him if not for Azazel putting you in his sights, but at the same time, Dean understood that you’d been providing for yourself for a long time. He respected you for it.

So he just guided you back to him for another slow kiss.

John Winchester owned a condo approximately 20 minutes from his sons’ apartment. It was the home they’d grown up in after the house fire, over thirty years ago.

John had learned a lot since then. In fact, some might say that he’d become a paranoid bastard.

Aside from a professional alarm system, he’d installed hidden cameras inside and out of his home, and at every window. It meant that even when he was asleep, his eyes were never truly closed.

When the intruder took his first steps into John’s bedroom, the man himself was waiting with a gun cocked and loaded. The safety clicking back made a small sound, but in the silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.

The masked man swiftly turned and ducked, throwing a punch. The scuffle that followed was quick and covered by darkness.

The cameras on “Night Mode” picked up every moment.

And that was how John later showed video evidence of Alastair Rolston breaking into his condo, and subsequently getting his ass handed to him.

Both men had their fair share of bruises, but at the end of the day, Alastair was the one cuffed to a chair in the bowels of the 84th Precinct. He sat beside his court-appointed lawyer.

Meanwhile, Cas watched the scene from behind the one-way glass window of the interrogation room. Rufus Turner, their Lieutenant, was beside him, along with ADA Sam Winchester. He watched the man his father questioned very carefully.

“Well, I think you know what this means, Mr. Rolston,” John drawled.

Alastair’s stance in the chair was relaxed, almost unfazed. He gave the detective a wry smile.

“What’s that, John?” he asked.

“I’ve got you dead to rights on attempted murder of a cop,” said John. “It ain’t a good look, my friend.”

“Don’t answer that,” said the lawyer. Alastair glanced at the man, unimpressed, to say the least.

“No fucking shit,” he replied.

“I’d say you’ve got two options,” John pressed forward. He leaned on the table between him and Alastair.

“Did Azazel…excuse me, Daniel Savage, put you up to this? You can answer that question, or I could just skip to the part where you sit in a cell for 20 to life.”

Alastair’s face gave away nothing but calculation and amusement. John nodded, with a grim smile.

“I’ll bet you set the fire at Savage & Co. Trying to get Nick to look like a victim in all this—the consequence of doing business with the likes of Azazel,” he said. “Better yet, I think you’re his favorite hitman. Clean, precise, no tracks left behind, no traces of evidence. Perfect kills. I’ll bet you consider yourself a goddamn artist.”

Alastair lifted his gaze, and John saw the familiar depths of a killer.

“I don’t like setting fires,” said Alastair.

John was nonplussed. “I’m sure you don’t.”

The other man rolled his shoulders.

“It’s all very…messy, you see. Unpredictable.” A smile graced his lips. “But I know someone who does.”

“He’ll give you his employer,” the lawyer said. “The person who ordered the hit.”

“Which hit?” John arched a brow. “I can’t be the only special one. What about Paul Richardson, Jerry Stillwell, Amanda Waller?”

The lawyer shared a look with his client. Alastair rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper in his ear. After a moment, the lawyer nodded and met John’s gaze.

“He’ll tell you what you want to know, but only for a blanket deal of immunity.”

John could’ve guessed. Alastair smiled once more and leaned back in his seat.

The detective held up a finger and exited the interrogation room. He met Sam’s gaze, and the latter already knew what his father was thinking.

"Give me a minute," Sam said. He went into the room and tried to negotiate with Alastair and his lawyer, but the man wouldn't accept a plea of 20 to 25 years, even to serve all the murders they could charge him with concurrently. Nor would he accept 15 to 20, or even Sam's best deal: 10 to 12.

Sam exited the room and hid his discouragement. He met his father's waiting gaze.

“We can’t give him immunity,” Sam said. “He’s likely the one who committed Azazel’s hits. Not just for the past six months, but for God knows how long, and how many bodies.”

“At this point, it’s the only way we’re getting a chance at Daniel Savage,” John said. “Not just finding him, but pinning him as the mastermind behind the whole operation. Drug trafficking, arson, murders…the whole thing, Sam.”

Sam didn’t like it. No one did, for that matter, but even Rufus heaved a sigh.

“You can’t move forward without a trigger finger willing to testify,” he said.

“Yeah, because hitmen make notoriously credible witnesses,” Sam retorted.

“Do think he set the fires as well?” Cas asked John. “He seemed to imply that he committed the murders, but not the arson.”

John hummed in contemplation.

“We’ll find out. But first, I want a confirmed name from the horse’s mouth,” he said, shifting his attention to Sam. “Can you get me that, son?”

Sam’s lips pursed.

Within an hour, the paperwork was drawn and the plea deal was arranged. Father and son sat side by side on one side of the interrogation room, while Alastair and his lawyer sat on the other. Alastair finished signing the final document as the cuffs on his wrists jangled.

“All right,” said John. “Tell me what I want to know.”

Alastair smiled and spread his hands as wide as he was able.

“I’m an open book, Johnny. Ask away.”

John leaned forward.

“Let’s start with this,” he said. “Who ordered you to kill me?”

Nick Savage was unearthed from a luxury apartment in the south of France. He was extradited back the United States and hauled into a courtroom in Lawrence, Kansas for arraignment.

Sam Winchester was the prosecutor on the case. As luck would have it, one of his favorite judges was also assigned for this docket.

“What do we have here?” asked Judge Devereaux. He was a portly man, short and graying, with square black glasses that framed his perpetually surly face. The man now adjusted his glasses so he could read the slip of paper the clerk had just handed to him after reading off the docket.

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charge is a murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied. “Mr. Savage hired a hitman to murder at least five people, and succeeded with four. He also masterminded several arsons. This includes a fire at his own company building, which claimed the lives of ten people and injured several others. This is all part of a larger connection to organized crime, which the People intend to prove in our case. Due to the nature of the charges, and the defendant clearly being a flight risk, we seek his remand to custody without bail.”

The judge raised his brows. He turned to the defendant’s lawyer.

“What about it, Miss Richardson?”

Amelia shot Sam a glance, but she replied to the judge.

“What we have here is a conflict of interest, your Honor,” she said. “Detective John Winchester has a vendetta against my client. Therefore, Mr. Winchester should recuse himself. It’s a family affair, Judge, and they have no evidence for any of these charges, except for the testimony of a confessed murderer.”

“It’s called prosecutorial discretion,” Sam cut in. “Our evidence goes beyond Mr. Rolston’s testimony and will more than support our case. I’ve also tried my father’s cases before, your Honor. This defendant is no different.”

The judge peered closer at the docket with incredulous eyes.

“Except for the fact that one of the attempted murders was on your father. John Winchester?” Judge Devereaux actually chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Savage. Many have tried and failed on that regard.”

“Judge,” Amelia tried, but Devereaux waved her off. Sam took in that small victory without giving anything away outwardly. The fact that John was on the docket as a “victim” was easily Sam’s biggest challenge in this arraignment, but he just couldn’t hand this off to another prosecutor.

“And what’re these last charges about?” the judge asked.

“Mr. Savage attempted to sexually assault one of his employees at a company Christmas party in the defendant’s home, your Honor,” Sam replied. His gaze once again cut over to Nick, who glared back at him with a sneer.

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Nick shouted.

Amelia grabbed his arm and tried to shut him up, but Nick jerked out of her grasp.

“Put a gag on your client or I will, Miss Richardson,” Devereaux warned with a deepening frown.

“Hey,” Amelia hissed a whisper, grabbing the sleeve of Nick’s suit jacket this time. “Get it together and shut your mouth. Remember where you are.”

He ignored her to try and speak to the judge himself.

“That bitch tased me. Did she tell you that?” Nick levied Sam a look, before he turned back to Devereaux. “Yeah, she assaulted me, Judge. So that charge is fucking bogus.”

“I’ve heard quite enough!” Devereaux snapped. He raised his gavel and slammed it down loud enough for Nick to flinch. “The defendant is remanded to custody, without bail.”

It was more satisfying than John would admit.

While the development wasn’t exactly what he had expected, having Daniel Savage’s son dragged out of his new prison home to sit in another musty holding cell was the highlight of the new year.

This was the poor excuse for a man who’d given him such a headache these past few months. This was the little shit that nearly got his son killed, and who’d been terrorizing you for months, if not years.

But he would be a means to an end.

“I’ll tell ya what, Nick. You don’t look like a man that could organize a handful of murders and arsons, but here we are,” John said.

He scratched the back of his head and sat on the corner of the desk. Sam was seated across from Nick, and Cas was hanging back within the cell, watching the exchange (and watching Nick’s reactions for any tells).

On the other side sat Nick himself, dressed down in his gray prison garb. It was a far cry from the $5,000 suit he wore in the arraignment. Next to him was his lawyer, Amelia Richardson.

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” she asked. She shot Sam a glance.

They had dated in law school for a few months. It had ended abruptly when her husband returned from Afghanistan. It had been a shock to both of them, since the man had been presumed dead.

Clearly, Sam had moved on since then. He was happier with Eileen than he ever was, but he could tell that Amelia had never quite recovered from the “what could’ve been” of their relationship.

Still, Sam had set all that aside the moment he stepped into this room. He watched his father work.

“Why did you set fire to your own building?” John asked.

He’d expected Nick to be more explosive with his denials, but the man was quietly simmering, like he just wanted the questioning to be over. It reminded John of when his sons were teenagers. Maybe he hadn’t been the perfect father, but intuition was telling him something…

“You didn’t do it, did you?” John mused. “At least, not that fire.”

It was interesting, however, that Alastair had pinned the Savage & Co. fire on the son—that Nick had started it himself, along with the other arsons. Alastair had just been the muscle, committing the murders and the brandings on the victims.

John wasn’t so sure he believed that. He leaned in a bit and gave Nick a wry smile.

“Did Daddy do that one for ya?” he asked.

At that, Nick held firm. “My father has nothing to do with this.”

Hmm, a bit of familial loyalty? Maybe trying to prove himself, John detected. How far is he willing to go to protect his dad?

“So you did do it, along with the other arsons,” John said.

“Are you trying to get him to confess without a plea deal?” Amelia snarked.

“I’m trying to figure out how badly this kid wants to stay out of jail for the rest of his life,” John said.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Nick grumbled.

“If you have something for us on Daniel Savage, then we’re willing to listen,” Sam added. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in jail?”

Nick crossed his arms, clearly uncooperative.

Sam narrowed his gaze. “This is your last chance, Nick.”

“You don’t have anything on me except for the word of a murdering felon,” Nick retorted. “I’ll beat this trial in a few months and I’ll be out free…but if you really want to know, I’ll let you in on a little something.”

He leaned in, meeting John’s eyes.

“Dad retaliates,” said Nick. “I think you know that best of all, Detective. This time, I think it’s one son for another. And you’ve got two to pick from.”

“Nick,” Amelia warned, but he ignored her.

He glanced at a carefully stoic Sam before he smirked in John’s face, which had become devoid of all humor and revealed the stoniness underneath.

“If I were a betting guy, I’d put my money on the one that had a fucking building fall on him.”

After leaving the county jail, John drove Sam and Cas back to his sons’ apartment. They couldn’t treat Nick’s warning as an idle threat.

Sam was the prosecutor on the case. He wasn’t willing to step down, so the best they could do for him was give him a police security detail that would have to be with him at all times. However, all three men agreed that you, Dean, and Eileen needed to be put in protective custody during the trial.

“Damn it, Dean,” Sam muttered. His brother wasn’t answering his cell.

“Try him again,” said John.

“Is Eileen still at work?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, but she’s talking to the principal now about a temporary replacement for her classes,” Sam replied. He was worried about her safety, but he was also worried about you and Dean. Neither of you were answering your cell phones.

He later let John and Cas into his apartment, where all looked normal and clean.

“Dean!” Sam called out. He was just about to search the apartment when the man came out of his room, looking freshly showered.

“Hey, what’s up?” said Dean. “The gang’s all here, huh?”

“I’ve been calling you for an hour. Where’ve you been?” Sam asked in annoyance, though it was edged with a hint of more that tipped off Dean.

He sensed the tension in the room between his brother, his father, and his friend. He frowned.

“I had a doctor’s appointment. Why?”

John explained the latest round of questioning with Nick Savage, and his most recent threat. John asked where you were right now, if not in the apartment. Dean’s expression shifted to one of worry as he went to find his cell phone.

“She had a job interview,” he admitted, scrolling through his phone to find your name. “She couldn’t reschedule it, else she would’ve gone with me.”

He’d been uneasy about you going to the interview by yourself, but you hadn’t wanted him to change his appointment, and you had assured him it was only a few minutes away…

Dean held the phone to his ear and waited what felt like an eternity as it rang.

Pick up. Pick up, damn it.

Finally, the line connected.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

AN: 🫣 Sorry lol.

But the next chapter will bring the final showdown...

Next Time:

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Keep Reading: PART 19

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @a-very-supernatural-christmas @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#V for Vendetta #Smoke Eater #Part 18 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #john winchester #sam winchester #Castiel #zepskies writes

377 notes · View notes

nekooru · 1 year

Text

₊ ☾⋆ tripede boys cuddle hcs ⋆⁺₊⋆

vash. wolfwood. knives.

synopsis: some cute lil cuddle hcs for the tripede boys!!

tags: trigun stampede, headcanons, cuddling, cute, fluff, short hc drabbles, knives is just a teeny tiny bit angsty

w/c: 1149

a/n: yep yep been wanting to post some tripede for a whilee

headcanon

˙⋆⁺₊⋆.

vash

☾. vash will cuddle you in every method virtually possible, most of the time adapting to whatever position you're already in. are you sitting up on a flat surface? he's on his stomach, laying between your legs and wrapping his arms around your waist as his head rests in your lap. laying down? most of the time, he wiggles against you to be the little spoon, but will be the big spoon every once in a while. in a chair? is there room beside you? if so, he'll lean against your side and drape an arm over your shoulder. no room? he picks you up, sits down, and places you in his lap. vash will always find a way to be attached to you.

☾. just out of politeness, he'll sheepishly laugh and ask if he's invading your space. he prays to whatever is out there for you to reply that he's not, and when you affirm that he's not, he gets a burst of energy and squeezes you tightly in elation. if you say that he is, in fact, too much in your space, he immediately separates and apologizes. although he tries to hide it, his disappointment is apparent as he childishly sulks for a minute before his mood improves again.

☾. while you're cuddling, he loves nothing more than to hear you talk about anything and everything. he encourages you to talk about your day, dreams for your future, and anything else that comes to mind. he moves his thumb in circles over your skin as he stares lovingly, a light smile gracing his lips. you pause every so often at his dreamy expression to make sure he's still listening, and he always is.

☾. you run your fingers through his fluffy, blond hair as he tightens his hold around your waist. you note how the fingers of his prosthetic arm feel cold through your shirt, and inversely, his real fingers feel warm against your other side. his eyes are closed, and his chest heaves with each breath; you wonder if he fell asleep. the plant patterns on his face vaguely glow in the light at his comfort, and you can't help but softly touch them with your finger tips. vash's eyes slowly half open, and you retract your hand quickly. he smiles. "hey... do you think they're weird?" you blink, considering the question. "huh? your markings? i don't know, i think they're pretty." his smile widens and he exhales, touched by your answer. "not as pretty as you, though," he replies.

wolfwood

☾. despite all his complaining about how his arm is falling asleep, wolfwood's favorite cuddle position is laying in bed on his back with you curled against his chest, nestled in the crook of his arm.

☾. he secretly loves your before-bed zoomies, when you have the sudden burst of energy to pester him. a thin grin spreads across his lips as he provokes you into initiating a wrestling match, which he entertains for several moments, before showing you just how strong nicholas the punisher was. "that's not fair," you would whine as he rubs his rough, scruffy facial hair against your cheek. "yeah, well. life isn't fair, sweetheart," he replies.

☾. wolfwood wasn't often the type for late night conversations. he finds himself dozing off as you talk about whatever you're talking about; it's not for a lack of appreciation, but moreso a deep comfort from laying with you that hypnotizes him, lulls him into sleep. as a guttural snore cuts through your words, you jostle wolfwood awake, offended. "you fell asleep while i was talking," you scold. wolfwood will endlessly insist that he did not, in fact, fall asleep.

☾. one night, after you had told wolfwood that you were staying the night at a friend's, you decided to come home anyway. you slipped into the bedroom, feeling your way to your side of the bed, only to promptly fall against metal. you groaned as the collision echoed throughout the room. "nicholas!! you were cuddling with your cross?!" wolfwood groggily raises his head up as you sandwich yourself between the headboard and cross, pushing against the latter with all your might. it didn't even budge. "it's hard to sleep without you," he mutters, grabbing the cross and effortlessly swinging it over the edge of the bed to gently place on the floor. your frustration melted away the second he turned back over and pulled you against him.

knives

☾. more often than not, you'll have to be the one to initiate cuddling with knives as he lays up in bed reading, or at the very least, ask him to cuddle you. he loves you dearly, but he forgets that physical affection is a thing that exists. when prompted to cuddle, he'll reflect for a moment to analyze whether he's been giving you enough affection lately or not. "i'm sorry. i need to initiate these things more," he says, wrapping his arm along your side and holding your chin. you smile and and run your thumb over his frown. "don't worry so much," you reply.

☾. he loves to envelop you entirely; he places his hand firmly against the back of your head as you nestle in the crook of his neck, and his other arm presses your body tightly against his. his leg rests over yours, and your hands are against his chest. sometimes, he plants a kiss against your hair. you feel safe as his larger form curls around you, and he feels at peace in your presence.

☾. knives admittedly isn't the best at relationships or knowing exactly what will make you feel happy. he often asks for feedback, what he could do better, or if there's anything new he could try. although, he hates that he has to ask these things in order to understand— knives isn't used to concepts that don't come naturally to him, and he wants to be the best he can for you right away. no matter how much you reassure him, you can tell he feels inadequate as a significant other anyway.

☾. he scowls, although not in anger, but more like intense focus. his lips part to say something, but close for several moments, and open again. "thank you..." he begins, considering his words very carefully. "thank you for being so patient with me. i know i'm— i'm... different. and still learning. thank you for letting me be with you." his face softens as his sentence finishes, and he looks at you. you smile and hold his face in your hands; the fact that knives feels safe enough to express such vulnerability warms you to your core. "nai. i don't want anything in the world other than to be with you. you make me so happy, and you treat me so well, okay? i hope you'll always remember that." he bows his head, leaning into your hold, eventually melting against you in an embrace.

˙⋆⁺₊⋆.

☾. like/reblog if you enjoyed the story !

masterlist: x

#trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas the punisher #wolfwood #millions knives #vash #tripede #trigun stampede headcanons #trigun stampede fanfic #vash fluff #trigun stampede hcs #trigun stampede x reader #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #knives x reader #i can fix knives i can fix him i can fix him i can fix

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undertale-yellow · 5 months

Text

Experimental Patch 1.1.0

First, we would like to thank everyone for the incredible reception we've got for UTY 💛 it's been surreal in the best way

We do hear your feedback though, and have worked to address what we can in a new patch for Undertale Yellow. Please be warned, we haven't been able to test everything with this patch, but we're confident it should work in a normal playthrough

Thank you once again for playing and giving feedback! We realize these are not all the issues that have been brought up, but we will continue to work toward improving the game!

You can download Undertale Yellow version 1.1.0 on Gamejolt!

**This new build will recognize any ongoing save, so just make a new folder for the zip contents or replace the old ones and you're good to go

Changelog under the cut ↓

Major Changes

Added two new accessibility options: - Easy mode: When enabled, the Hats now provide DEF values for an easier experience (can be changed mid playthrough) - Auto Rhythm: When enabled, automatically hits the notes in the rhythm fight without having to press a button, if you are in the correct lane

Reworked the final pacifist boss fight attacks to be less chaotic and unpredictable

During a chase sequence, a character was supposed to slow down every time they catch you in the chase, it now works as intended

Added an Act heal to the final No Mercy route boss (Also fixed a crash caused by this Act option being partially implemented but not working)

Crashes and Softlocks

Fixed a crash caused by using the “shoo” command twice during the dunebud duo fight

Fixed a crash caused by interacting with an object while completing the minecart puzzle

Fixed being able to backtrack on the second steam puzzle, which could lead to a crash and your save being ruined

Fixed a crash caused by pressing Z on frame 1 of the attack targetting cursor

Fixed a crash caused by a demo saved game being present on your system

Fixed a softlock caused by blocking Mo’s path as he’s leaving

Fixed a softlock caused by interacting with the crystal tree in Snowdin from the left

Fixed a softlock in the final pacifist boss fight where the selection soul would disappear from the menu

Fixed a softlock caused by sending one of the mine carts off track

Fixed an issue that caused one of Cactony’s attacks to never end

Fixed a softlock caused by mashing through the text fast in the raft room in Snowdin

Fixed a softlock caused by turning around immediately upon entering one of the rooms in the lategame

Fixed a very specific bug that caused you to get stuck on a bridge upon retrying a fight under it

Fixed a crash during the Guardener fight that could happen on her last line of dialogue

Fixed an unrelated softlock in the Guardener fight

Fixed a crash on the final No Mercy boss caused by getting hit on the same frame as you defeat the boss

Other

Fixed the tutorial buttons being swapped in the arcade minigame, also added additional information to the tutorial screen

Changed the Delta Rune Patch gold requirement from 150 to 100

Increased the item stock in the final shop of the No Mercy route (Applies on save reset)

Fixed mistakes in the credits

Fixed several line breaks, typos and mistakes in the text

Altered one of Sir Slither’s act dialogues to make the sparing condition more apparent

Added an autosave post the final pacifist boss as a temporary help with reported performance issues in this cutscene

Added the Auto-Fire toggles to the death screen of relevant fights so you don’t need to restart the game and fights in order to change it

Fixed a mood ruining issue in the final act caused by an unintended random event

Other minor fixes

#undertale yellow #uty #uty.update #uty.posting

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angel-kyo · 3 months

Text

Pay it no mind

Part XVI (kinda? Idk. Explanation in the note.)

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. I would say reader is ooc in this one, or it might feel like that. I don't know. There are also mentions of a difficult family situation (awful father, deceased mother, etc.)... Oh, and this almost makes me look anti-Gojo (I'm not, though).

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV

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

“Aomori?” you repeated in disbelief. Isn’t that like…?”

Haruki leaned forward on his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands in frustration. You watched his fingers bury themselves in his brown curls and tug them.

“It’s about a ten-hour bus ride or four hours in the train...” he said without looking at you. His eyes were on the table, and you could only see the top of his head. “That if I’m lucky… Which I am not, obviously,” he grumbled and lifted his head to look at you.

You two were at the coffee shop where he worked, or rather, used to work. He had submitted his resignation the day before.

“That’s far.” You were not sure of what else to say. The notice of his departure was coming in too sudden. Only a few days ago you had been talking about maybe meeting up on New Year’s Eve, and now he was leaving? “For… For how long?”

Ikeda looked outside and shrugged. “He’s transferring me there so I guess he means at least until the end of high school, and then…” he frowned. In fact, he was not sure of what would happen after that. “I’m sure that jerk will come up with something else.”

Haruki looked back at you and, realizing what he had said, quickly apologized for speaking like that in front of you.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he did this behind my back. I knew he could not stand seeing me, but I never thought he would plan something like this and ambush me any other Tuesday.”

He sighed, and you looked at him with sympathy. It was the most distressed you had ever seen him, and the most upset too.

Haruki, who always looked happy and unbothered when he was with you, had only ever appeared uncomfortable, and sometimes even angered, when he spoke about his father. At first, you had believed they just did not get along, but it was more than that; Haruki had told you once that his father seemed to resent him since his mother left.

“I’ve never blamed her,” he told you one day while you waited for his train, “she was sick and he was never at home, but when he was, he was horrible to her.”

He had then showed you her picture. A beautiful woman with long brown hair and bright eyes a few shades clearer than her locks, smiling and hugging an eight-year-old Haruki; he had definitely gotten the looks from her, and it was evident she had loved him dearly.

Due to her illness, Haruki’s mother had passed away just a couple years after leaving her husband, before she was able to fulfill her promise to his son to come back for him. Hence, Haruki had ended up stuck with a resentful father who was almost never at home, but when he was, he was as horrible to his son as he had been to the mother he resembled. And now, he was sending him to live with his uncle in a distant prefecture to attend a new school.

He had given Haruki little less than a week to, and the boy quoted, “wrap up any business in Tokyo.”

Apparently, that included you, who did your best to comfort him, even if there was not much you could say or do.

“I will miss you,” Ikeda said after you assured him it would be alright and that two or three years would sure fly by, and then he would not need to listen to what his father or his uncle said. It seemed his mood had improved a little at that.

“I will miss you too,” you told him, still wrapping your head around the idea of not seeing him anymore.

If only you could see curses, maybe there would be another way out for you, maybe we could have more time.

You pushed that thought away. That was selfish thinking, was it not? Of course, you would not want Haruki to live in gore and pain as a sorcerer. There had to be better, more peaceful options for him somewhere.

“I like you a lot.” His words pulled you out of your head, and when your eyes focused on him, you noticed his face was flushed, but he was looking right at you. “I think I could have loved you. Not that I don’t now,” he smiled softly, “but in the way I wanted to love you.”

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice, but your heart was beating faster as he spoke. Did that mean you wanted to love him too?

“I…” you started, but he shook his head and smiled.

“It’s fine. I thought we had more time, so I did not tell you sooner, but now, I just realized I wanted to let you know in person.”

Haruki had not planned to confess that day. He was only going to tell you he was leaving and ask you to stay in touch but realizing that it might be the last time he was going to see you in, perhaps, a long time, he felt he needed to tell you. He had wanted to tell you since the first time you had accepted going out with him that summer, but he then thought it was better not to rush and just let your friendship take its course.

At the end of the day, people should honor their feelings.

That he believed whole-heartedly. That is why Gojo’s attitude had annoyed him, acting as a jealous boyfriend around you if he was nearby but still claiming to be just your friend. If he wanted more, he should admit it instead of doing whatever he thought he was doing that day he accompanied him to the station.

“Haruki, I like you too,” you said sincerely.

But do you like me as I like you? the boy wondered.

He would not ask you that as he would not ask for more at this point. What could he ask, that you waited for him? He was not that arrogant to believe you had to do it nor that idealistic to make promises he knew time could swallow. Knowing that you had cared about him was enough.

He gave you a closed-eye smile. “I’m so glad.”

***

But saying it had not changed anything. You and Haruki had agreed to staying in touch and he had hugged you tightly before letting you go.

Maybe he knew we would drift apart.

You had kept texting and calling each other after that. Once he was with his uncle, he had given you his address, so you could exchange letters; he even sent you a few postcards with some pretty views around his new city. For a little while, you thought you could remain friends and just live on it, but his absence became increasingly painful, and when you both got busy with school again, and he was barely replying to your messages and his letters felt distant, the realization that maybe you had truly loved and lost was devastating.

It happened slowly but not painlessly. There was just never a good time for a quick call anymore, the messages were fewer and shorter, and you probably did not reply to the last one because there was nothing to say, and finally, the letters. Oh, the letters... Once funny and vibrant as your friend had been, they became nothing but curt and disappointing. It was hard to believe that two people who once had so much to talk about could barely bring themselves to write more than a few lines for each other.

I guess people can enter your life seamlessly, but they can hardly leave like that.

Your friends comforted you to their best, and Satoru made it his mission to ensure you would not feel lonely doing the things you liked anymore. Despite your protests, he attached himself to your hip as he had done it when you were kids, even on the days when you did not want to leave your room.

And when, months after Haruki’s departure, you sat down in front of the training fields, tired of waiting for a letter that would not come, Satoru held your hand firmly as you accepted your loss and stayed by your side unfaltering, the same way you would do for him when Suguru left you all later down the road.

That was how, as the seasons changed, you quietly let go of your friend who had been a child of the spring himself.

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

Note: I almost did not want to include this part? I mean, I felt like the other guy needed some explaining, and as much as I enjoyed it, I would say this is almost a filler, so I'm sorry of it's bad. Anyways, if the next part is not the last one, it will sure bring us quite closer. I've not forgotten where I left Satoru, promise!

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #jjk drabbles #gojo x y/n #reader x character #gojo fanfic #fluff #jujutsu kaisen #pay it no mind #i might delete this later #or maybe not #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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esamastation · 7 months

Text

Part thirty-five of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four

Well, Sephiroth seems to be in a better mood than yesterday. Maybe he was just coming down from his… whatever it was that happened in the training room. Angeal still isn't entirely sure. Though the Turks had debriefed him and even showed him a video, it didn't make that much sense. Especially with the blood vomiting. Which Angeal still isn't entirely over, either.

But Sephiroth seems, while still not quite himself, at least cheered up. He'd relaxed in increments during their walk into the woods, and the change of environment - or most likely, leaving the camp and its staring occupants behind - made him a little less closed off.

"This place is so alive," Sephiroth comments, peering up at the leaf canopy above then. "The air is so fresh."

"Mmhmm," Angeal smiles. "A welcome change from Midgar, huh?"

From the way he's looking around them, carefully taking in everything, Sephiroth can't remember much of anything about Wutai either - it's all new to him. Seeing his fascination kind of makes Angeal want to see his take on Mideel. Or, hell, Gongaga. Sephiroth would be very entertained by the local wildlife there, going by his reactions now.

"What is this thing?" Sephiroth asks, holding up what looks like a fistful of long grass. It wiggles in his hold, little legs kicking at the air.

"Razor Weed - I think the locals call it Leg-Cutting Grass," Angeal says, leaning in to watch the spiky beast wiggling in Sephiroth's grip. "They're pretty common and can deflate truck tires."

Sephiroth turns the little monster this way and that while it makes angry noises at him. "I bet. It's it a plant or an animal?"

"Uh. I don't actually know?" Angeal offers and gives him a look. "Someone back at the camp might. All I know is that they're annoying to fight."

Sephiroth hums, considering the weed, testing the blades sticking out of its head. He seems to struggle with something before sighing. "I can't kill it, it's too cute." He sounds almost disappointed.

"... It's just a monster?" Angeal says, giving him a weird look. "I've seen men almost lose their legs, stepping into these things."

"Sounds like their own fault," Sephiroth says and crouches down to let the angry weed go. "Off you go, little buddy."

The Razor Weed answers by trying to attack him with its grass blades, all but lunging at him. Sephiroth just snorts and flicks it into the forest with his finger. "Cute," he concludes.

Angeal scratches at the back of his head. Though low-level mobs aren't really that big of a deal, still… "We're supposed to be, ah, weeding the monster population here, you know. That includes Razor Weeds."

"It's just a little grass thing," Sephiroth says. "It barely reaches your knee!"

"They're a menace and can cast spells," Angeal points out. "Your usual Infantry troopers can barely -"

"They cast spells?" Sephiroth asks, fascinated, and stands up, looking around interestedly. "I want to see that! Let's go find another."

Oh, boy. Running a hand through his hair, Angeal hurries after him. Well, it's… a novel experience, seeing Sephiroth of all people so excited about something. And of course it would be monsters. Usually Sephiroth is more interested in fighting monsters rather than just observing them, though, but it's still a definite improvement to his mood from yesterday. Even if it's because of weeds.

That changes when they get surrounded by about half a dozen of the little monsters.

"Still cute?" Angeal asks, fending two of them off with the flat of the Buster Sword's blade.

Apparently, yes, going by the glow in Sephiroth's eyes. "Don't kill them yet, I want to see some spells!" The man - the maniac - says, using still sheathed Masamune to push the monsters back.

"You know, as much as I appreciate your scientific curiosity, these things can actually do some damage in bigger groups, you know!" Angeal calls to him.

"Yeah, yeah," Sephiroth answers, flippantly. "So what do we need to do to make them cast spells?"

One of the Razor Weeds answers for him - by casting a Magic Hammer on Sephiroth. Which, Angeal is pretty sure, Sephiroth just lets it happen! Thankfully it's not a physical attack - Magic Hammer hits you in the MP - though, looking at Sephiroth's reaction…

"Oh, you little Qi-stealing bastard," Sephiroth says, and that's that for the Razor Weeds.

"... Uh," Angeal says, while the Razor Weeds fall over, mowed down like so much grass, and Sephiroth stands over them looking very hurt and disappointed. Angeal clears his throat, trying to bite back a smile. "So. What did we learn?"

Sephiroth rubs at his stomach, and gives him a flat look. "Yeah, haha, rub it in," he mutters and then, "Oh, hey, they left the remains behind!"

"... Most things do when you kill them, yes," Angeal agrees and looks at him interestedly. "So, you remember Mako monsters?"

Sephiroth is crouching again, examining the dead Razor Weeds. "Mm?"

"Monsters that converge around Mako concentrations," Angeal explains, hoisting Buster Sword back to his back. "You… don't remember?"

"Uh. I remember that some things just sort of… disperse instead of leaving anything physical?" Sephiroth asks, sounding rather hopeful. "Is that a thing, or…?"

"It's a thing - Mako monsters. They're attracted to Mako, they are common around reactors and natural Mako pools - so people call them Mako monsters," Angeal explains. "The slums under Midgar are full of them. They're kind of like more physical ghosts, I think."

"... Huh," Sephiroth hums, and pokes at the dead Razor Weeds. "So monsters around here…?"

"Mostly physical," Angeal agrees. "I think there are some natural Mako springs around here, so there might be Mako monsters too… but I haven't seen any personally."

"Hmmm," Sephiroth hums and stands up. "That is fascinating."

"It sure is," Angeal laughs, because it really isn't, not to him, but Sephiroth has always been a bit weird. "Shall we continue? There's many more monsters to see."

"Yes, let's."

"... And get hit by," Angeal adds and looks at Sephiroth. "Actually, are you going to let all of them get a hit in? Because if you are, I'd like to know ahead of time, just in case I need to have a Remedy in hand."

"I'm not going to let myself get hit again," Sephiroth says, primly. "I wouldn't have, if I realised what it was going to do."

"... Okay. Good." Angeal nods. "There are better ways to figure out your opponents' skillsets, anyway. Or you can just let them do their thing but get out of the way before it hits."

"Right, of course, that's something you can do," Sephiroth says, sheepish, and clears his throat. "I knew that."

Angeal gets a Remedy out, just in case.

SY, thinking FF7: ... Oh right, turn based combat isn't actually a thing.

#Fanfiction #ff7 #ffvii #svsss #angeal hewley #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 9 months

Text

This is a meta on Our Flag Means Death episode 5: The Best Revenge Is Dressing Well, Sir Godfrey Thornrose, The scene where he calls Ed a donkey, and so called "race science."

It has come to my attention that some of you apparently do not know what a phrenologist is.

*a note: I'm going to for the purposes of this assume that the guy played by Jeff Lorch is sir Godfrey Thornrose, I do not know this for certain but in my opinion even if he is not Thornrose the same principles still apply to him for reasons I will discuss in this meta.

So lets recap the scenes I want to touch on. At the beginning of episode 5 Stede is teaching Ed how to identify rich people cutlery like they're Barney Thompson and Vivian Ward in pretty woman. Stede bitches at Thornrose for not having enough spoons for Stede's liking. Thornrose responds "My apologies, I hadn't imagined we'd be hosting your kind."

Ed responds "My kind, what kind"

to which Godfrey responds "A rich donkey is still a donkey."

Ed then proceeds to scream at him and then orders Fang to skin him with a snail fork before throwing him overboard. To which Fang presumably responds by either skinning him with a normal skinning implement or forgoing the skinning step and just throwing him overboard, because who tf has time to skin a man with a snail fork.

I've seen some dogshit takes on this scene. I've seen it treated as evidence that Ed is exceptionally violent or abusive or has mood swings or anger issues or whatever bullshit. And I... Do Not Agree. You'll see why.

The next scene I want us to have in our back pocket is the first couple scenes with Gabriel and Antionette. When Gabriel and Antionette introduce themselves to Ed and Stede they reveal that Sir Godfrey Thornrose is a quote "Master Phrenologist." Stede is then expected to study Antionette's head. When he does he introduces his fake craft as "Phrenology, which is the study of the human head." He then takes a wild guess as to Antionette's heritage based on her skull lumps.

Content warning for like real old school racism ahead.

The reason Stede goes for the heritage is because Phrenology is a pseudoscience closely linked to other contemporary race science of the time. It was the idea that bumps on your head, thought to be caused by the pressure of the brain, could be used to identify your personality traits.

Phrenology gets really fucking racist, really fucking fast. Phrenology was used as proof that the white race was superior to other races, and as a justification for slavery and eugenics. Eugenics is the idea that you can improve society through breeding out "bad genes", which is almost universally popular among all types of racists, but the Nazis were big fans of it and there's a direct through line between the race scientists in the 1700s who were into phrenology and modern hate groups and neo nazis. I wanted to use an image here as an example of racist phrenology texts, but it's rough and I don't want to make a cut so I'm just going to link to the wordpress anthropology article I found the picture in, it's sourced and an alright place to start if you're into further reading.

With this information, I would like to use another example, that is relevant to the ethnicities in contention. A French physician who attracted huge crowds with his phrenology lectures, François-Joseph-Victor Broussais, once claimed that Maori people (as well as indigenous Australians) could never become civilized since he claimed they had no cerebral organ for producing great artists.

This is the context in which we need to understand the exchange between Ed and the French captain. I've seen some people claim it's about class and not about race, but Thornrose acknowledges Ed's wealth when he says a rich donkey is still a donkey. It doesn't matter to a man like Thornrose what Ed does or how rich he is or how well he can learn his fucking forks, he's still akin to an animal in this skull molesting freak's racist little mind. If a phrenologist, or even someone who's rubbing elbows with a phrenologist, calls a man of color a donkey they're clearly saying he's an uncivilized animal based on the shape of his face. That's how racists operate.

And Sir Godfrey Thornrose is not just any old racist, he's a racist spreading his ideology to other people, convincing them that people like Ed are inferior, that people like him should be subjugated by white people. He is clocking in for his shift at the racism factory creating more racists.

So basically what I'm saying is Ed should skin him, no quarter for genocidal maniacs. Basically I can tell you're either racist sympathetic or talking out of your ass if you think French captain was fucked up. It was antifascist direct action and I don't want to hear another word about it. I personally believe the only thing you can't come back from is death in terms of being a better person. I also believe that there are situations in which killing someone is more or less fine and you're never gonna catch me feeling bad for a fucking phrenologist when he compares an indigenous pirate to an animal and the pirate responds by doing what pirates do.

Killing Godfrey was based.

#ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #blackbeard #edward teach ofmd #blackbeard ofmd #sir godfrey thornrose #cw racism #cw scientific racism #cw phrenology #Episode 5: the best revenge is dressing well #ofmd meta #ed teach #Ed “babygirl” Teach punches nazis

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pastelcheckereddreams · 10 months

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"I don't want to go to the safehouse alone. Guess I'll bring a pet to keep me company."

Are you surprised? Really, are you surprised?? This won't be a full series, I just wanted to do something for the kprewatch event and set maps are what I do best 🤷‍♀️ Especially because it involves watching the same episodes again and again very, very closely and going insane, which seems appropriate for all the brainrot VegasPete have caused me. The complete design:

Silly little observations below the cut, but also have this diagram that illustrates where all the scenes take place relative to the aerial shot from episode 11:

If you'd be interested in prints, let me know! I may end up having a crack at a more substantial safehouse piece. A front elevation view would be so interesting to put together.

Reblogs are encouraged, reposts are not. This piece is now crossposted to my instagram account here. Check out my cdrama set maps and other art at the links/socials below: The Untamed (ongoing): The Jingshi | The Hanshi | Lotus Pier Word of Honor: Four Seasons Manor (in progress) instagram | kofi | inprnt

A small note on my design choices/silly little observations: 1) The room where Pete is kept appears to be smaller and squarer than it is in the aerial shot. I'm guessing it's to accommodate the mood lighting and to give the room a more claustrophobic/cage-like feel. I've attempted to depict that empty space above relative to the dimensions of the birdseye view.

2) I'm not entirely sure there actually is a bit of a bump-out for the unseen room that makes up part of the main living space, but the apparent interior corner in the far right of this shot makes me think there might be:

3) There's fresh herbs growing in a planter by the fridge and I think we should all think about Vegas planting them and watering them and cooking with them:

4) There is one single shot of the bedroom where there might (a big might) be an armchair next to the bed at one point and I ran with it for personal headcanon reasons:

5) What is in this mystery room at the back of this shot?? There seems to be a welcome mat or something put down? Is that the true entryway?? A bathroom? A utility room? I don't know nearly enough about vernacular Thai architecture to make an accurate guess:

Anddd that's it, that's about all I've got for this blorbo house! As always, thank you for your support 🙏Feel free to yell about this location in the tags, I'd love to hear your thoughts and maybe improve my design.

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thetrinketbox · 10 months

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Drunk again off another crush (Kensei x Reader)

I wrote this for Kensei’s birthday and because he looks so hot in the new anime episodes. My man needs more fics about him! Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49015216 "Congratulations!" "Yeah, who'd've thought an idiot like you would figure out bankai?" "Three cheers for lieutenant Hisagi!" The boisterous cheering filled the bar, a crowd of shinigami clustered together like a flock of crows in their black uniforms. They clinked their glasses together for the umpteenth time that night, Hisagi grinning like a schoolboy. "Thanks, guys!" he said, his cheeks somewhat redder than usual and his hair all mussed up from Ikkaku and Renji constantly ruffling it, like you would to a puppy. From your little corner of the bar, you watched all this going on, trying to look happy about it even as your mood sank lower and lower as the noise and celebrating grew louder. It seemed churlish to feel left out. This was Hisagi's moment, not yours, a celebration of a milestone that not many shinigami ever achieve. You were happy for him; you knew how hard he'd been working to master it and improve his relationship with Kazeshini. When you'd first heard that he'd finally done it, there had been no doubt in your mind that he'd always had what it took. But although you'd helped to arrange this little celebration, even hanging up some of the decorations with some people from Ninth (you weren't even part of Hisagi's division), and though he'd thanked you when you congratulated him and even given you a quick hug that made you feel all tingly, that was about all that had been said. His friends had arrived, first Kira, Renji and Kira and then later Ikkaku, Yumichika, Iba and Rangiku and he'd been swept up in a little bubble comprised of lieutenants (or near enough, in Ikkaku and Yumichika's cases) and suddenly it was like you didn't exist anymore. Like you said, it seemed childish to complain that Hisagi wasn't paying attention to you. You understood he'd obviously mostly want to spend time with his closest friends, the ones who had fought alongside him the longest and seen him in action the most. Seeing their happiness at his success truly was an amazing thing.

But...was it unreasonable you felt left out? Envious? Wishing you could even come close to having companions that cared so much about you? You didn't think it was, so you'd turned to the nearest available source of comfort - alcohol. You were several drinks in now and even though you'd tried to look like you were enjoying yourself, you could feel yourself growing more and more distressed and isolated, sitting nursing a drink you'd stopped actually drinking a while ago, which had turned unpleasantly watery now that the ice cubes had melted, and you weren't drunk enough for that not to matter to you. You pushed it aside in faint disgust, but now you didn't even have the excuse of not wanting to spill your drink - now you were just sitting here feeling abandoned and stupid. As Kira poured Hisagi another drink, you caught something flicker in your peripheral vision and turned your head to see a captain's robe, a stark contrast to all the black uniforms. Shit, when had Muguruma gotten here? Or wait, he'd been here before, hadn't he? That's right - Mashiro had gotten her hands on a whole bottle of vodka and mistaken it for something much milder. She'd chugged damn near the whole bottle and passed out, and Kensei had been forced to take her to Fourth Division before she did anything else stupid - apparently she had a nasty habit of abruptly thrashing awake and kicking, and Kensei was one of the only people strong enough to keep her steady and not be winded by her famous legs, so he'd vanished for a good chunk of the evening. You couldn't help but wonder if he'd purposefully taken longer than he needed to, so he didn't have to listen to the racket of his subordinate and other lieutenants getting wasted - Kensei was the only person who looked like he wanted to be here less than you did, and the thought was oddly cheering. Misery loves company, and all that. A vague ghost of a smile flickered at your lips, but it died again like a blinking lightbulb. You admittedly didn't know Kensei all that well, except that Hisagi had been fanboying constantly since the official announcement that the three former captains had agreed to return to their old posts. Time had passed since then, but Hisagi still seemed rather starstruck by Kensei, which was just as well - you'd heard he was a hardass, and if you were being totally honest, he kind of scared you a bit. He was no Zaraki or Kurostsuchi, but something about his size, intimidating aura and I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude was simultaneously scary and a little alluring. You could feel where he was from anywhere in Ninth - his reaitsu was powerful and tinged with an unusual aura, probably thanks to the Hollow that lived inside him. You wondered if Kensei was like that all the time or if he relaxed a little more in his downtime. You were certain you'd never seen him smile. As if he could sense your gaze on him, Kensei suddenly looked in your direction, a scowl on his face. You quickly ducked your head to avoid his gaze, cheeks burning.

It was time to go home, you decided. There was no point sitting here moping because senpai wouldn't notice you anymore. You knew how your moods were only amplified when you drank, and you couldn't see the night improving from here. You were stuck in a tar pit of self-loathing of your own making, and besides which, though you were friendly with one or two of the lieutenants, approaching all of them was kind of intimidating. They understood each other in a way other seated members didn't, working so closely with their captains and yet not quite being on their level. It was a weird limbo to be in, for sure. Slowly you got up from the table, and immediately nearly fell to your knees as you stood up. Fuck. The booze always hit harder this way, and it took a lot of concentration for you to skirt around the crowd of people towards the exit, weaving back and forth as you walked. Before you reached that glorious, blinding white rectangle of an exit, a hand suddenly grasped your elbow. "Where are you going?" a voice demanded. You turned around and your stomach did some kind of somersault as you found yourself staring dizzily up at Kensei himself. He was scowling down at you, as per usual, but he didn't seem particularly angry per se - he had a very severe resting bitch face, so it seemed. "Sorry?" you said, which was at least slightly better than "Whu?" which was what you'd been about to say. When you realised, he thought you'd gotten confused on your way to the bar/bathroom, you gave a little shake of your head. "Oh, I'm just - I thought I should go home." Behind Kensei came another raucous round of cheering and a facial muscle of Kensei's twitched. Clearly the celebrations were grating on his nerves as well - however fond of Hisagi he was, he was not the partying sort of guy. You didn't know Kensei that well, but you knew enough about him to know that every sound of glasses or bottles clinking and sloshing beer on the ground was no doubt grating terribly. "You're in no fit state to walk home by yourself." Kensei pronounced, but before you could get indignant over this, he sighed. "I'll walk you back to your quarters." What?! "Oh, um, that's kind of you, sir, but it's really not-" you demurred - the thought of walking home with Kensei Muguruma at your side was an alarming one. "It's not up for negotiation." Kensei overrode you bluntly, so much so that you found yourself unable to muster a second stab at refusing. His hand went to your shoulder, and he began steering you towards the door. "Come on. From here on, it's their problem if one of them passes out in a puddle of vomit." You paused and made a face at the idea. "Yessir." ~ You were right - walking with Kensei Muguruma was an intense experience. Granted, it wasn't like he was shouting at you for drinking or asking you tricky questions. Instead, he was surprisingly quiet, keeping an eye on your ungraceful gait out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise he seemed content to walk through the winding streets of the Seireitei - you'd told him where you lived, and it wasn't so far away that either of you felt the need to whip out Shunpo. Anyway, as Kensei had pointed out, the fresh air would help sober you up some. Despite that, though, the silence had a tinge of awkwardness to it. Kensei was doing you a favour, but you got the sense he was regretting having offered. Your mind was in a whirl of confusion and alcohol, and you wanted to find something to say to make the journey feel a little less of a daunting voyage. Kensei's reiatsu washed over you like a heavy wind that hints at a thunderstorm - occasionally your arm would brush his haori and the hairs stood up on your skin when it broke out in goosebumps. Kensei didn't seem to notice. "Why were you sitting by yourself?" he suddenly asked - not looking at you but keeping his eyes straight ahead. You're taken aback by the question and your answer is vague. "Oh, well...I'd said my congrats to Hisagi, so I didn't want to get in the way while he was with his friends. His other friends." you said, lamely. "It felt rude to just leave in the middle of his celebration." "Tch. His friends are spoiling him. Most people don't get a fucking parade thrown for them for achieving a bankai." Kensei muttered, and you shot a surprised glance at him. But though his words were dismissive, his facial expression wasn't disgusted or scornful. Perhaps grumbling was Kensei's idea of speaking fondly of someone. "Why did you come, then?" you asked, seized with a sudden boldness - perhaps Kensei's candidness was infectious. "You don't seem like a... party type of guy, sir." "I'm not," Kensei said, waving a hand impatiently. "But I don't begrudge the kid. I worked him hard, and he gave me the results I was hoping for. That deserves recognition." Huh. You gave a hum of agreement and turned your attention back to the path in front of you. It seemed Kensei was right - you did feel a little more sober. Walking no longer felt like a tricky task that required all conversation, though you didn't regret your decision to leave. You doubted anybody had noticed you were gone. "So that was the only reason?" Kensei pressed, startling you. "You were just too scared to talk to him around his lieutenant friends? Or were you hoping something was gonna happen?" You nearly choked on your own saliva at the blunt phrasing. Kensei really didn't pay much attention to social niceties, did he? You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You'd never examined your feelings regarding Hisagi Shuuhei in detail - you knew he liked Rangiku. Kensei knew he liked Rangiku. Everyone and their mums probably knew it. So having feelings for Hisagi had never really crossed your mind, because they were doomed before they'd even had a chance to take root. But explaining all this to Kensei made you uncomfortable, so instead you simply said: "We're just friends." "Really." Kensei drawled, and was it your imagination, or was he messing with you? It was hard to tell with his deadpan manner of speaking. "Yes, really." you said, a little huffily. "And if you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss it further." "Tch." You both fell silent again, and you could feel heat creeping up your cheeks. It occurred to you that perhaps Kensei had had some alcohol to loosen his tongue a bit himself, it was just nowhere near as obvious with him since he was so big and beefy - it would probably take enough alcohol to knock over a horse before he started to show ill effects. Though you didn't know who in their right mind would give alcohol to a horse. You knew where you were now, and you glanced at Kensei. "I can take it from here if you have somewhere to be." you said, then added belatedly. "Sir." "I don't." Kensei replied, and you snorted. "Why do you care about where I'm going or what I'm doing, anyway?" you suddenly asked him, feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something. "Thought you didn't want to talk about that anymore," Kensei said. "I'm not, I'm talking about you." you replied, bouncing onto the balls of your feet like that might help you reach Kensei better. He scoffed and glanced away, and you took a moment to admit his side profile, that firm jaw and the shape of his nose. The impressive fluff of his mohawk and were those piercings you spied in his ear? Hot. "Just noticed you around, is all." Kensei said, his throat bobbing when he covertly swallowed. "When you come by Ninth." Oh? "Oh?" you asked faintly. Kensei had noticed you? But why? There was nothing special about you and he was a captain, and a Vizard, to boot. Everyone was curious about them, even if the topic of the reason the reinstated Captains had been forced to leave was often skirted around. Was it possible you were hallucinating this and were still at that table, passed out drunk? Now Kensei turned to face you and you weren't able to pull your eyes away from him in time - specifically his bared chest, his firm abdominal muscles and that famous 69 tattoo emblazoned across his skin, the ink still bold and clear even after over a century. He caught you looking, but he didn't seem to mind it. "Yeah," he said, and his eyes slid to your lips, where a faint shimmer of lipstick still sat from when you'd gotten ready hours earlier. It was like it was choreographed. A beat of silence ticked between you, an internal debate that lasted both a moment and a lifetime. Then, before you had time to doubt, to convince yourself it was all in your head, Kensei moved, surprisingly quick for a man his size. You had no time to process before a large, gloved hand curved around the back of your neck and you were being pulled in for a hot, demanding kiss that left you breathless. You could faintly taste rum on his lips, and your back met the wall, Kensei's body shielding you from prying eyes. Your hands moved immediately to comb through his mohawk as he kissed you, and Kensei growled in response, his teeth pinching your bottom lip, enough to make you squeak. His hands roved up and down your body, one of them settling on your waist where you'd donned a brand-new sash for the occasion, his touch hot and firm and making you shiver deliciously. His reiatsu covered you, but this time you relished the staticky feeling of it, the tingling zipping across your skin. Fuck. you thought. No words were exchanged during all this. You'd both passed the need for them - your bodies did the talking plenty. When Kensei finally released you, straightening up to his full height again, you were amused to notice he had a smear of sparkly lipgloss collected on his bottom lip. You felt out of breath. "That was..." you said and broke off with a huff of breathless laughter. "Yeah," Kensei agreed, running a hand through his mohawk in a surprisingly self-conscious gesture that, at present, seemed like the most endearing thing ever. His eyes went back to your lips, but he didn't move to kiss you again. You understood - when you pushed yourself off the wall, the world wobbled a bit before righting itself. Sobering walk or no, you were still on the drunken side. You smiled awkwardly at Kensei, though pleasure squirmed in your stomach when he offered you a very slight one back. He reached out and his thumb brushed just underneath your bottom lip, wiping away some smudged gloss. You stood stock still while he did this, mesmerised by this simple movement. "Should I...?" you said, but you weren't sure how to finish that sentence. Kensei's smile turned into a smirk. "You're going to go home and sober up." he told you. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day." You licked your lips. "And after that?" you dared to ask. Kensei's smirk widened a bit, and his hand rumpled your hair. The next thing he said made your stomach clench and heat rush to your face. "And then you'll come by Ninth and we'll see if we can't find another reason to start celebrating."

#Kensei Muguruma x Reader #Kensei Muguruma #Reader Insert #Bleach #Fanfiction #Bleach x Reader

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