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ectafoole · 3 months

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Sweet Scarring

The following is a fanfiction of a fanfiction, an imagined conversation between a character from @autumnbrambleagain's Proselytize serial story and an NPC from the game. It's not canon or even fanfic-canon but contains spoilers both for Autumn's fic and also Caves of Qud.

"Hold, Child of Man."

Annaface felt her heart lurch, most likely visibly, upon hearing the words and accent. The soft lilt of Oudin's aristocratic mein degraded with distance from the heart of the Putus, but this speaker learned to speak somewhere not far from that shriveled heart. That voice radiated an authority installed in her from birth that chilled her putatively-pure blood.

She turned to see who it was, and that just made her heart lurch worse.

It had been a long time since she saw a Murmur, and the sharp edge of the memory had not been dulled with time. Of the places she might have expected to find a remnant of her past, why here in—what had Tiyu-Yutep called it? An anarchist collective?

The costume was recognizable at once. Where the Murmurs of her past wore a coat of rags and garbage, this one draped themself in pieces of metal and synthetic fabric. They wore a mask made not of bone and leather, but of broken scraps of gentling mask. Even stranger, they were armed to the teeth: her optical scanners picked up the hidden outline of an ontological anchor, a crysteel sword, a pair of hand rails. Penetrating radar glowing where eyes should be in a partially-collapsed head.

So Templar, but so not.

The stranger noticed Annaface's hesitation. For a moment they stopped turning the crank of their instrument, cutting off a drone that she hadn't quite realized she'd been hearing. They reached down to the fullerite shield that leaned against a palladium strut and turned it so she could see the front, its conspicuous lack of the dread Holy Rhombus.

"We are of a kind," they said, still in that deceptively soft aristocratic accent. Or was it deceptive? Could that be actual gentleness in the kind of voice that never carried it? "Come sit, if you have the moment to spare a fellow Pariah. I shall play you a tune."

"I've never seen an instrument like that," she said, gradually convincing her body to divert its course toward this avatar of bad memories.

"The hurdy-gurdy," said the murmur, turning the crank on the instrument once again. "It originated in the far North eons ago. I used to carry an oud, but I didn't care for the memories it evoked."

"Yet you wear the Murmur's kit," Annaface said, screaming internally at her own candidness.

"Trenchant." The stranger paused for a moment, though the rich molasses groaning of their instrument continued. "I didn't wish to… reclaim the oud."

"You're. You're Une, aren't you? I've heard of you."

"I am Une," replied Une, "though I am given to understand that the Sons and Daughters do not refer to me as such."

"The squires know your name. We would call you The Wretch in front of our superiors, but there were stories. I'm not sure I believed you really dressed yourself as a Murmur. I… lost a friend to that festival."

The drone stopped for a moment, and Une turned to look at her dead-on with those blue-glowing eyes. It occurred to her that this stranger could probably see almost as well as she could. They could probably count her implants. They could probably count her TEETH.

"So it's true," said Une softly. "There are outposts that execute their murmurs. I still have work to do, clearly."

Annaface shivered. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Une resumed turning the wheel-fiddle's crank.

"Kinslaying," she said. "You sound so confident, so certain. Is it so easy for you as it sounds?"

"You fear becoming a monster," they surmised.

Sighing, Annaface turned her eyes away from the lumpy slope of Une's deformed skull. "You make it sound easy."

"For me, it was," replied Une, keying out a mournful tune over the steady drone of a continuous note. "But I was born a wretch. When you are born a wretch, becoming a monster is not so daunting. I'm not afraid to be a monster, I am afraid to be the 'human' my family revered. Ere I slew them."

She shuddered. "You make it sound like a privilege."

"It is," they said. "I do not envy you the task of learning to destroy the tyrants of your past. My path to monstrousness was prescribed for me, but you must find your own alone."

"Well," Annaface said softly, "not… alone."

She nodded, and the voice of Une's instrument rose over the din of her thoughts.

"Let your tired heart rest, Annaface Probelle," said Une, "and I will play you a tune of sweet scarring. A tune for who we are today. Would this please you?"

#caves of qud #fanfic fanfic #autumnbramble

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cobbssecondbelt · 5 months

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Dincember 2023 - Day 3: Gloves

The ship was quiet. Long travels through hyperspace always had their downtimes, and most of that time, it was a challenge to keep Grogu occupied enough so he didn’t wander where he shouldn’t in quest of his own definition of enriching activities. They didn’t have credits to spare for real toys, and the kid could only take so many lessons on weaponry and intergalactic routes.

He was calm at the moment, seated on Din’s lap and watching him work with mild boredom. Din was sitting at the makeshift table and stools he arranged with a few crates he’d found laying around the cargo area, fiddling with the bundle of fabric and needle in his hands. He bit down a curse when the needle slipped through and stung his middle finger through the worn out leather of his glove. He sighed and took off said gloves, tossing them on the crate-table. Hopefully, he would find more dexterity within bare hands. The fabric was thick and the needle too small, and Din was out of practice.

A soft coo caught his attention. The Mandalorian looked down to see Grogu reach out tentatively. Three small claws brushed against his skin. A shiver shot through Din’s hand, all the way to his spine. He pushed the urge to yank his hand away, and instead offered it to the child. Let him turn his fingers over and poke at his palm in wonder. The touches burned at first, then fizzled, and barely tickled, until it felt like nothing but a breeze. The kid’s claws weren’t warm, rather cool with the recycled air of the ship, but he was careful.

‘’I need them to get this done, kid.’’ Din said gently.

Grogu cooed again, a little disappointed, but sat back down to watch the man return to his work. Sewing was a repetitive, oddly soothing task, and Din found back his fluency in the motions quickly. Pinch the fabric, poke the needle through, repeat and repeat.

‘’Can you hand me those?’’

Grogu climbed on the crate to grab the two buttons the man was pointing at. He handed the small objects carefully, full of pride as he didn’t drop any.

‘’Thanks, kid.’’ Din smiled under the helmet, accepting the buttons in his palm. Sewing them to the fabric was more intricate work, the left one not quite aligning with the right, and he gave up after the third try to make them even. It would do well enough.

‘’Alright, all done.’’ Din set the needle and scrap fabric and examined his work with a satisfied hum. ‘’What do you think?’’

The plush wasn’t a work of art by any means. One leg was significantly shorter than the others and the excuse for stuffing he used gave the body an odd shape, but it reassembled a bantha well enough.

The kid grinned and squealed, his tiny arms reaching excitedly for the toy. He held it tightly against his small chest, the plush almost as big as himself.

Din chuckled under his breath. Mission accomplished, it seemed.

He grabbed his gloves on the crate to put them back on, before a finger on the edge of his wrist stopped him. Grogu looked up at him expectantly, one hand clutching at his new toy and the other digging into the meat between Din’s thumb and index finger. He cooed again, and Din's resolve melted away.

‘’Okay.’’ He sighed, and put the gloves back on the crate.

They spent the rest of the hour sitting on the metal floor of the ship, inventing games with Grogu’s beloved silver ball and newly adopted bantha. The gloves were left abandoned on the makeshift table, until they were used as wings for the bantha, before being tossed elsewhere again. Sometimes, Grogu paused the game just to toy at Din’s fingers for a minute, still full of curiosity, and Din let him. He could worry later, about getting too close, about going too soft, about holding on too tight. But not now.

#Had to revive the Razor Crest for this one #dincember 2023 #My first day late :D #din djarin #grogu #din grogu #my works

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hoardlikegoldenirises · 8 months

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blurple time.

finally finished this~ months after he appeared 😅

you can tell there's a bit of a punk/industrial vibe infusing the whole design. i also drew from various details in the comics, and other random things like bulletproof leather jackets.

closeups, ramblings, (and a version with a cape) under the cut:

i was originally not planning to add a cape cause i wasn't sure if i could make it work and tbh. still not sure. i like the way the purple cape looks from behind but the inside is like. idk. if it's purple then it looks weird, but the black feels off to me too... I don't think any of the other colors would work.

oh also i decided this glows in the dark (predictable as always)

Helmet's been through some sketches and stuff, spent a while figuring out the mechanisms and so on and settled on this design in the end.

Obviously you can see here the top is leather, it's based on a combo of a motorcycle cowl (with an angled zip you can just see there, and then the shoulders from an armored motorcycle jacket i was looking at. then the blue is meant to be a (heavily) modified like, boilersuit or whatever those are. mechanic's jumpsuit.

Plus all the spikes. Obviously there's no spider-punk in this setting but I like the aesthetics, and I like giving Hobie like a little thing of his own in terms of hobbies/interests so I thought adding that punk aspect would be fun, esp as it ties into his whole thing with being unsure of himself and being a little different and so on.

the lenses are one piece each, just with different colors of film on them, like you see on a variety of custom motorcycle visors. used chrome silver for the white "eyes," which i think would look cool and matches the metal hardware. very reflective. hobie prob won't be the only design with chrome/mirrored lenses for reflective purposes (thinking about the hobgoblin) (well. technically peter will also have aluminized lenses at one point but that's a spare mask for fires, not a main look)

earlier concept which i drew on my phone actually lol. some of this i obv jus copy-pasted cause it was fine as is, other stuff got tweaked, like i ended up changing the lens shape to look a little more like the comics and i did end up scrapping that shape for the faceplate/chin.

and you can see there i edited a pic from the comics playing with what colors i wanted to use. i liked the steel blue that showed up in some of the older painted art from the Prowler's earliest appearances, and I felt like I wanted to give him a color other than purple and green, though I didn't wanna ditch the purple either, so I ended up with this kind of neon blurple + navy combo that I liked a lot. And the silver too.

back of the jacket and helmet. Didn't originally plan on adding all those spikes but then I was sketching this out and I was like, oh... that would look cool... so i committed!! i like how it looks.

Originally I also had no logo/symbol on the front of the chest so I decided to put one on the back. Then I ended up adding that flat panel to the chest and added the symbol there too, and decided to keep the back one as well. i can def see a 19 year old being like, hell yeah... sick... people will definitely take me seriously now. and you know what. he's right.

i will admit i ended up a little dissatisfied with the story i told involving the Prowler in the linked fic, but... I also probably shouldn't have tried to wedge it between like five warring subplots. But it was like, the spot that made the most sense. If this was a cartoon I think it would be a like... 1-2 issue special focused more on him. And also peter would jump out the window. (The real tragedy that I didn't include cause it's hilarious, poor Hobie XD)

Anywho. Is this mechanism needlessly complex? Perhaps. I tried to simplify it at one point but then the more I thought about it the less the simplified version worked so I stuck with the OG idea here. I mean, i guess I could have ditched the locking mechanism entirely but i thought it would be fun if the helmet was self-locking! I also wanted a way for it to rotate/go visor up even with the spikes, thus it being a pretty large rotating faceplate with the spikes on it instead of elsewhere. not that he ever puts it up in the fic. peter just takes hobie's helmet off there 😂

He's also wearing a balaclava under there which I didn't bother really drawing, mostly to protect his hair (which I put in twists for related reasons of helmet-wearing) (I briefly had been considering braids but then, well, ATSV and Miles G. happened and I said, well now I cannot do that XD) (I mean I COULD have but I wanted to do something else here lol) Anyway. The idea here is that it's a kind of slide lock with a spring-loaded peg that slots into the holes, and the square hole with the square peg locks the faceplate in place and prevents it from rotating, but when the square peg is in the round hole, the faceplate can rotate freely. The only wrinkle here would be that Hobie has to pull on both locks simultaneously or as close to it as possible or he'd risk cracking the helmet (i assume? stress and pressure etc.)

Sliding the lock forward also slides the whole plate forward, which lets me (in theory) have a flush, smooth silhouette while still allowing it to come forward enough to push up. It's not vacuum sealed or anything though. But it does have like... air filters and a voice modulator and some other things. MOST of the suit is super low tech and doesn't require electricity but the helmet probably has batteries or something. (peter's new webshooters at this point are also battery powered lol)

Helmet is pretty typical fiberglass construction with foam pads inside. Idea there is that Hobie made a lot of this stuff using campus workshop resources like autobody or machining shop on campus, for stuff like getting fiberglass, having a space to work in, making polycarbonate lenses etc. Though it's totally possible to do fiberglass work at home too. (peter also uses campus resources for his lenses specifically btw)

Gauntlets!!! Uhhhh ngl very difficult. Trying to design armored gauntlets that don't look like knightly armor is very hard for me cause I always just google reference pics of knightly armor. LOL. I think these came out alright. There's a hint of motocross influence there too (though really even in modern days armor is armor so there end up being shared traits) The gloves ended up being mostly leather with some armored parts, though there is probably some inner armor which is not visible. The claws I left bare since you would not be able to sharpen claws coated in plasti dip—

oh yeah the purple color on all the hard parts is plasti dip, which is basically rubber paint.

The wrist gauntlets are very very very loosely based on a guy's grappling rope web-shooter thing which you can see in this youtube video: link. though i didn't wanna just rip him off so i mostly just said, alright, tubes and a harness—which the prowler already has in the comics anyway, albeit smaller. so really it's pretty much like the comics anyway.

Right wrist has the green laser dazzler, both have grapples, left wrist has EMP (not pictured) which Hobie uses in the scene I have him and Peter fight except then I realized recently I didn't actually explain what that was or how it was working 😂 I probably should have done that scene from Hobie's POV in retrospect. It's an EMP though and it scrambles Peter's spidey sense via interference/signal noise.

(electromagnetic signals being responsible for several cases of irl "hauntings" —> spider-man's haunted)

waist utility belt... I like the way the silver belt on the old art looks! So I decided to make these hard silver hinged cases instead of soft pouches (originally were soft but I changed my mind while coloring) — IDK if these really are metal or if they're just fiberglass with chrome paint lol but either way, shiny chromey, hinged to open, the insides are probably padded... buckle is actually metal though.

Boots—modified snow boots. These are loosely based off of a real thing btw: link to blog post

The silver things are the magnets. Gauntlets are probably also magnetic but those are not visible like the boot ones. I also read some comments saying certain kinds of electromagnets would be preferable for something like boots but ultimately, IDK how to draw that, so I just drew it like they look in jen foxbot's prototype.

There was some other stuff I initially planned on including that didn't make the cut, aside from the cape. I was toying with stuff like a jetpack (or really, a jump jet), gliding/wingsuit, etc. but... I didn't use any of those. Kept it simple and streamlined for the most part. so no gliding for this Prowler, but hey, he's got magnet boots.

maybe in the future if Hobie ends up with an Iron Man-esque collapsible suit, perhaps he'll be able to fly, but for now, he's a college student making a supervillain persona so he can keep himself from getting evicted...

And his face!!! cutie :3 loosely inspired by Greg Eagles' face (the voice actor for grimm from billy and mandy) Not that ATSV had no impact on this design but that was the main thing. Twists to keep his hair protected in the helmet under the balaclava etc. and something he can do himself, and then a twist out afterward.

plus you can see the nose rings I mention in Creep here.

#yes i did use the Peter base for this—they are supposed to be the same height and similar build #nadiart #fanadiart #arghdesign #hobie brown #the prowler #came in through the window last night #shiny art

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trenchcoatimpala · 7 months

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Loneliness is a blanket that I wear to keep warm

Dean knew loneliness well. It had curled up in the shadows of his bones long ago. On that fateful night, when his mother had burned and his father had changed into someone unrecognizable, he had felt loneliness creep in, draping itself over him like a blanket, tucking him in to protect him from the harsh realities of the world.

His father was hardly there. Dean hated him for that. Chasing monsters in the dark while his sons struggled not to starve in a motel room that barely had a solid foundation. It was hard to watch his Dad walk away to every hunt, knowing it was possible he might not come back and the tiny scrap of company he had would disappear forever.

Dean could barely remember a time when he didn’t feel lonely. He watched Sam make friends everywhere they went, charming people with his wide eyes and floppy hair. Dean envied him. It looked so easy for Sam, like he was walking on air while Dean was pulled under suffocating waves, weights dragging him down to swim with the bottomfeeders.

Sam wanted to play with his friends after school. Dean didn’t see the point in friends when they weren’t going to be staying for long anyway. Why would he let people into his life that he would have to let go again? Or that could get hurt if he said the wrong thing. It wasn’t worth it to have people who weren’t going to stay.

Sam stayed.

Until he didn’t.

Dean wanted his brother to get out of the life; to succeed. He wanted that so badly for him, but it stung just the same, watching him shout at their father about how he couldn’t keep him locked up, about how if he was a normal father, a good father, it wouldn’t look like he was walking out on the job; the family. Because kids are supposed to grow up, and go to college, and get a working class job, and settle down with a family and a dog. So, Dean was glad Sam got out. But then he was alone, truly alone. There was nothing but the peeling walls of motel rooms; the tire tracks washed out by the rain, rubble skating towards the street drain; the imprints in his ring from where he’d popped too many beer caps it had left an indentation; the old leather jacket he wore like a shell because it smelled like home and felt like comfort and whispered of everything else in between.

Loneliness sat with him, dark eyes peering out from the corners of a room that ached with how empty it was, shivering as it struggled to breathe. Dean glanced to his left, which should’ve held the sleeping form of his brother in the adjacent bed, but the sheets would stay cold and no amount of staring would warm them. He didn’t even know why he’d asked for two beds – habit, probably. Dean tried not to think about how he had no one apart from his family, and yet they’d left him too.

Things changed, just a little, when he stepped out of his motel room to find her sitting there, gleaming in the sun. He instantly looked around for his Dad, but the empty parking lot yielded no results, and then he noticed the note stuck behind the windshield wipers: Treat her right. Joy sparked, quick and warm in his chest. Dean couldn’t even feel disappointed that his father had been here and not bothered to say hello, the gift was too great. He dragged a hand lightly over her paint, marveling at the car in front of him, and how she was now his.

The keys waited for him under the front left tire, where his father would always stash a spare before a hunt in case they got separated. Seated in the drivers’ seat, Dean took off down the road, and maybe, just for a second, loneliness stopped riding shotgun and was booted to the backseat where it could be revisited at a later time. And it would be, it always would be, because Dean knew that this kind of life wasn’t one where you made friends, where you got to have that sweet apple pie ending. Still… he couldn’t help wishing that maybe someday he would be proved wrong.

tag list, ask to be added or removed

@undeadcas @tearsofgrace @hellerstiel @casgetoutofmyass0907 @wantstoflyafraidtofall @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @thepixelagora@thelahatiel @im-sam-fucking-winchester@piebook67 @bestiarum@theedeangirl@november5th@bixlasagna@ancient-fangirl@famouspsychicpizzabandit@you-cant-spell-subtext-without@bumbledumble1@cascigarette@addicted2demons @our-stars-graveside @fivefeetfangirl

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #my writing #trenchcoatimpala writes

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minachan95-written-works-on-ao3 · 5 years

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Title: Vampire’s Kiss (Chapter 3)

Fandom: King of Fighters

Characters: Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Shingo Yabuki, Orochi, Yashiro Nanakase, Leona Heidern, Kain R. Heinlein, Chizuru Kagura, Kusanagi, Goeniko, Chris

Pairing: Iori Yagami x Kyo Kusanagi (main one)

Genre: AU, BL, Supernatural, Fantasy, Gothic Fantasy, Adventure, Slow-Burn, Eventual Romance, Dark Themes, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Human/Vampire Relationship, Human/Demon Relationship

Summary: This vampire already has bad luck on his side, yet he decides that his next prey going to be a certain redhead vampire hunter. However, the very little he knows how this encounter will end…

AO3 Link

Orochi chuckled and gave mocking look to Kyo ‘‘What a pathetic and disgusting low-life creature are you. I told you, you are helpless in my world!’’. Now this demon aggressively slashed with his long nails through the vampire. However, this silver-haired demon’s nails only slashed the air and now he felt this vampire’s presence behind his back and how he was pushed down on his stomach. Now Kyo stepped on his back with one leg and holds this demon’s tail with his both hands.

While Kyo kept Orochi under his foot, he looked down on this incubus and now claimed victory upon him ‘‘Where are you aiming for?’’. Now he pulled tail harder, making this demon grimace in pain and, however, this vampire remained serious ‘‘Where did your big talk has gone, you pitiful demon? How about we teach a lesson by cutting your wings a bit?’’.

When one hand was still holding incubus’ tail, this vampire bended down and grabbed humerus of the wing. Later it was followed by cracking noise and something being tossed on ground. That’s right, Kyo thorn apart a wing of the demon. Where was a part where this wing was broken, there were visible torn bloody dark skin and white bone. This unfortunate creature has even bitten his own arm and folded other wing so close to him as he could. It seems that this vampire is not joking around and surely could take his life away in his own created world.

However, when this vampire grabbed his other wing’s humerus, he added ‘‘What is it ? Already admitting your defeat? Just let me return to my world and I might spare you.’’ but then Orochi tossed his opponent by spreading his wing. After Kyo managed to sit, he noticed that his chest was heavily scrapped. Soon, he notices the culprit of it - it was Orochi’s wing, which now was covered in sharp like needles spikes and dripping with this vampire’s blood.

After the silver-haired demon shakes-off blood by flapping his wing, he approached this already healed vampire, who was still sitting on knees. Now Kyo hissed at his opponent ‘‘You shitty demon, you can’t go without your dirty tricks, can you?’’ but one more step of his opponent was enough for him. It can’t be helped then, this unsuspecting of his own miserable fate fool shall pay, though Kyo. After looking so smug, this vampire was rising his arm and then it was on his chest level, he snapped his fingers, releasing a huge wave of orange flame towards the demon.

There was no way that anyone could be so fast to avoid this pillar wave of flame. So, now this vampire delightfully closes his eyes, listening how fire devours his opponent. After he stands up and opens his crimson glowing eyes, he sees that there were no traces of this demon. However, he is still in this illusion world. So, now he got alerted, because incubus might be still alive, even if there were no sign of him. Soon, the voice of this demon echoed around him ‘‘Don’t rush to your own doom, vampire.’’ now he heard a noise of flapping leather wings from above, from right, everywhere…He could hear him, but he had no idea, where this fiend hides.

After awhile, Orochi shown up in front of him, who now had a pair of black wings. This demon said in calm tone ‘‘You have defeated a mere illusion. How many times I said that you can’t defeat me.’’. However, Kyo didn’t gave up to this demon’s crushing intimidation and replied in mocking tone ‘‘Is that so? Then I have to roast you as many times until you’re dead.’’. Orochi remained silent and being so confident, just levitates in same spot. ‘‘Very well, demon. It only makes things easier for me~’’ said vampire before launching a fire ball into this silver-haired demon’s face.

However, just the moment of impact, Orochi reflected the flame by using power shield and sending the ball of bright orange flame to his owner. While this vampire was laying on ground, Orochi lifted him into the air until their eyes were at same level. Kyo was still groaning in pain after tasting his own flame yet refused to give up to the demon. Orochi asked him in calm tone ‘‘Stop fooling around. You don’t know when to quit, do you?’’ now this demon closes his eyes and after opening them continues ‘‘You left me no other choice, vampire.’’

Orochi devilishly smiles as he pushes his hand inside Kyo’s chest, but this vampire replied through groaning ‘‘Do think that will kill me, idiot? I can still heal and kick your ass…’’. This demon delightfully observed this vampire and remained calm ‘‘Of course, not. But this, it would serve as the lesson for you.’’. While the silver-haired incubus’ hand was exploring inside Kyo’s chest, this demon added ‘‘Such a fools can’t be killed so easily. Oh-’’ it seems that his hand stopped somewhere in the heart area ‘‘Found it~ Don’t worry, I won’t remove that huge and disgusting red muscle.’’. Before with-drawing his hand, Orochi casts a silent spell and his hand and it unmaterializes and becomes barely visible. Just now he slowly removes it.

Meanwhile, this vampire’s eyes now wide open, yet his eye color slowly dims and they started to slowly close. His fangs disappeared, skin and hair color return to his formal one. This brunette looked like returning to his human form just to die. No, he looked too exhausted even for that. However, now with another hand, Orochi supports his back until he removed his hand from the chest. The place, where this demon inserted hand, now healed yet there was a visible trace of interfacing. Now he letted this brunette fall like a rag-doll on ground. While his hand materializes, he bends down toward this vampire and gently slaps his cheek ‘‘Hey, you can’t just die yet…Look.’’

After this vampire opened his eyes and while he was half sitting, he notices that Orochi has clenched one of his hands into a fist like he was holding something inside. Orochi unclenched his fist. There was a small and lively small orange flame inside of it, Orochi continued his sweet yet menacing talk ‘‘Do you know what it is? No, it’s not your soul. A creatures like you does not deserve or need to have it…It’s your life force!~’’. This demon let’s this small flame dance on his palm ‘‘But you don’t need to worry, loosing this small part won’t kill you…However, you can never use your powers or that ugly vampire form ever again.’’

Now Kyo frowned and in best way he could demanded ‘‘…return…to…me. You…sick…bastard..Return, or else-’’. Orochi only chuckled ‘‘Why do you need it, if you can’t use it properly, you stupid vampire?’’ he scratched his chin ‘‘Hmm, but what should I do with it~ I can’t consume it…It’s still raw and even so, I don’t want your pity power. But I can’t return to you either~’’. However, now this demon sadistically smiled and kept his palm as straight as he could. He wanted to make sure that vampire would clearly see him ‘‘Look~’’ and while this flame innocently danced on this incubus palm - it was suddenly crushed!

This vampire’s eyes were opened wide and now his face slowly twisted in pain. He still tried reached Orochi’s hand, which had his powers, even if he knew it was useless. However, before returning this brunette to human world, this incubus whispered into Kyo’s ear ‘‘Fufufu~ Now you are as powerful as a mere human~’’. These words left him frozen in shock and feeling useless.

Both returned to the same church where they left before the fight. Shingo was still asleep and looked like could sleep like this until the morning. As for this vampire, he was still stunned and refusing to believe what happened, only the cold voice of Orochi helped him to return to senses ‘‘I suggest you to leave while this boy is still sleeping or you prefer to killed? Get out and never show here ever again, vampire. There won’t any second chance.’’. When this vampire stands up, he quickly fixes his clothes and before slamming the door of church just curses and leaves without looking back. Heck, how could he been defeated by incubus? He was not sure, but didn’t cared either. Right now, he needs to restore energy and only then think what to do further.

Meanwhile, on the same church. Shingo’s head rested on Orochi’s knees. This silver-head couldn’t leave him resting just like that, this human could get cold. It seems that this vampire didn’t harmed him, at least that was a huge relief. However, this brunette began to slowly shake his head in sleep and eventually wakes up. Now he hears a gentle and caring voice of incubus ‘‘Oh, you’re awake? Should I get you into your bed?’’, but this brunette asked while he was still too sleepy ‘‘Orochi-sama…what happened? Where is that vampire?’’.

While looking concerned, Shingo continued ‘‘Please, don’t tell me that you killed anyone…again…’’ now Orochi comforted him while brushing this brunette’s hair ‘‘Shingo, it’s okay. I just asked this vampire to leave peacefully before he harmed anyone else. But he didn’t listened, so, I had to explain once again until he left on his own.’’. Shingo only sighed ‘‘Fine. You can follow me, if you want, but- ’’ now he looked up at this demon, who now looked so innocently and continued ‘‘But promise you don’t try anything funny. So, you can stay, but you can only observe from a far.’’. Orochi only chuckled at such an answer and innocently said ‘‘Shingo, did I ever done anything wrong? I’m just making sure that no one disturbs your sleep~ That’s all~’’. This brunette already knew it was useless to argue and silently prompted Orochi to follow him.

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Chapter 1 Link

Chapter 2 Link

Chapter 4 Link

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asassydork · 2 months

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Chapter 2: Rumor Has It

Story: High Water

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Rumors are already spreading about the new one-eyed wonder that arrived into the compound. Things like this never go well.

TW: MDNI, 18+, we’re getting there, adult themes and language, whump content

He didn't follow after me but I felt his gaze on my back. He was already plotting his next move. He went with the other newcomers to the Quarantine Bay of the infirmary where he’ll likely spend the next week under close supervision. They have to be tested to prove they’re not biological warfare bombs being dropped upon us. The captives will also be in Quarantine but in isolation away from the others. Nothing more than dogs on leashes from this day forward. Bastian’s father, Gabriel, wasn’t going to kill them. They weren’t going to be spared that easily. The One-Eyed Captain should be joining them but I knew he wouldn’t. Not unless one of them chose to speak and by then, death would come for them. That’s how their culture works. It isn't rocket science by any means. They were simpler, more demonic creatures than the rest of us with a worse sense of community. Violence was all they’ve known. It was all they’d ever know.

So, I carried boxes into the warehouse and helped sort through what they managed to bring back. It was still odd to me having systems in place like this that work so smoothly. It didn’t require much work for this complex brain of mine to pull it all together. I was still just surprised that anybody agreed with me when I started doing it this way. It makes unloading accurate and quick. Everything has a container and a shelf. I also got first dibs on finding things. It gave me a little dopamine release. It also reminded me that I was no longer shopping for just myself. I had a prisoner to start accounting for and that involved making trades with the inventory that I often tried not to spend too much time thinking about.

Today’s take-aways were a wool blanket, some scrap wire (aka pieces under a foot long), an empty paint bucket, and an old plastic and burlap sack from the mostly untouched pile. It was a series of items that nobody was going to miss and half of which would easily be returned when I was done using them. If I’m ever done using them. The plan was simple and easy and discreet. Nobody who didn’t have to know would ever notice. It was foolproof and fed into my desire to make an example of him.

So, when we were done putting things away and went about the rest of our day, I went back to my shack in the woods, isolated from everyone else. I didn’t live within the compound walls for clear reason. I follow along with their rules but I find the woods a safer place. It was where I was originally placed when they didn’t know what to do with me. My rundown little shack was a staple of this place, making me look like the witch of the crew. I didn’t hate it but I didn’t love it. I just wanted to be left alone, which was in part where the gremlins in their magnitude came from. All of the forgotten children. The troublemakers. The little shits who didn’t take punishment or authority very well. They all seemed to find their way to me. It usually seems to happen when they’re preteens, around age 11. The social dynamics of this place require a lot of growth and they lay a lot of expectations on you. It’s the reason I do things differently. My little hideaway has become something of a communal ground for them to gather and take leadership from me. I give them life skills and they make sure nobody comes near my place. Bastian had to learn that one the hard way, especially when I boosted security. He’s started trading in weapons from time to time with the older kids who aren’t really kids anymore to be allowed around me. He also trades in luxury items that the rest of us can’t easily get our hands on like leather, milk and sweets. Privilege only gets him so far, though. He’s part of the problem and he doesn’t even want to admit it. It’s the reason I trade the kids more resourceful items once in a while for the things he gives them. Including turning a strip of leather meant to be a belt into a collar and decorating it myself. It was about to find a forever owner and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. It’s a whole system of respect, though. The kids come to me for the things their parents couldn’t give them and I’m not here to judge or punish them. Although, there are times when I’m forced to act and intervene.

But when you respect them as individuals and you guide their mischief, there’s growth to be found. Including handing off a bucket to a bunch of twelve year olds asking them to fill it with leeches from the creek. I have the girls a wicker basket and a few mason jars and had them go collect some tree sap and kindling materials like moss and thin grasses. I had the older boys help me put together a sound system to notify me when others were coming in compromise of finally helping them establish a place of their own within my small domain. A promise I’ve procrastinated on because of the amount of work truly required and the lack of privacy I know I’ll have at the end of the project. But it’s enough time that I’ll have my captive and some sense of dignity back. They set old rusty cans and some bottles in the trees connected to lines that would move if someone stepped on them and spread them out through the woods. By the time the boys came back with the leeches, the girls were back with plenty of sap to complete the most important part of my mission and everything seemed in place for what was coming. The boys had gone as far as to find a bucket of their own which they filled with frogs, poked holes in the lid and left on my back porch as an additive to my mission.

But duty calls once again as the sun began to set. I’m expected to help the others cook dinner and set it up for communal consumption, even when I haven’t eaten in front of others in a long time. We have our own community dinners out here, determined by whatever we’re feeling at the time. Sometimes it’s pasta dinners. Sometimes, it’s venison we caught ourselves. Sometimes, its fish the boys caught, deboned and skinned. Sometimes it’s soup made out of leftovers. Sometimes the girls make pies we can eat as a meal. Sometimes it’s just fruits and vegetables we harvest ourselves from the forest. It all depends on the contribution and the cooking involved. I’m a big fan of cutting out extra steps, which works both for them and for us because everyone having a specific role and contributing what they can is important to accountability and responsibility. They like feeling involved and contributing to the community and getting compliments on their skills being used appropriately. Skills the community doesn’t always see or know how to work with. It’s the reason we’ve managed to make this arrangement work.

Inside the compound, I’m just another familiar face at the distribution table. I’m on display for each of them to see and it’s been this way since I got here. It was also something they sort of forced me back into when I got out of captivity. The only benefit from any of it was that I don’t have to smile anymore. I don’t have to dress according to this idea that I’m ripe for the taking. I also don’t have to dress like a girl in any circumstance. I’m off the market as far as Bastian’s father, Gabriel is concerned. Whether or not I devote my life to motherhood or leave Bastian on a loose leash, I’m still expected to be his wife. If I don’t take the oath, I’m still accountable for Bastian. I’m the one he wants and that’s got nothing to do with my rejections of his proposals. I have no intentions of being bound to someone who doesn’t see me for what I am. But that doesn’t justify the One-Eyed Captain’s actions here today. It didn’t give him a leg up. It didn’t put him on my map. He was simply a means to an end and he wouldn’t survive the summer. He wouldn’t. He might not survive the month, in all honesty.

It wasn’t lost on me at dinner that Bastian knew what happened. Word spreads like wildfire around here and drama spreads even faster. The fact that someone had finally made a move on his claim was something he couldn’t think about. It was something we never really discussed because it never happened before. But he’s been seeing a whole slew of women in the compound and the neighboring town, seeking to plant his seed in any willing woman because whether it was my body or not didn’t totally matter to him. He wanted me for my spirit, for my wild nature. I was something to be tamed. It was the reason his father tolerated me as much as he did. But their dirty looks and dismissive grumblings as they gathered their dinner first as the royalty around here wasn’t something I could just ignore. I was never going to be one of them, even if Bastian managed to get me to take the oath. He’d probably end up with six wives if his father had anything to do with it. Polyamory was something people didn’t like talking about around here. Harems were more common than true relationships. It was all about babies, claims to supplies and land.

Bastian’s family gets their pick of the food. Then it’s the men of rank, since it’s obviously patriarchal. Then comes any women who’ve given birth, are pregnant and the children under age ten. This was how they were ranked. As if motherhood was the only way to earn a place at their table. After them were the rest of us, which were the single women who haven’t had children yet, any men who haven’t ranked yet, and the kids over ten. It’s more of a free for all by the time it gets to us. That’s why I stopped trying to fight for food. I don’t have time to eat what’s left because I deserve nice things. I could easily eat first with Bastian but I’d have to sacrifice almost all of my beliefs in order to do that and I’m just not there yet. I haven’t lost that much hope.

So, when everyone’s had their first servings, we begin cleaning up and combining what’s left so they can come around for seconds with everything in one place and nothing burning. It’s a way for those of us who cook and contribute to be able to eat in peace. But I usually just clean up my station and go home. I don’t eat with the others because I don’t put myself in uncomfortable situations where gossip can find me. I knew Bastian and I had things to work out considering everything that’s happened today but a kiss is a kiss, no matter the implications. But the stories weren’t going to be in my favor. It was likely spun to make me the villain. It was going to be used as a way to try to convince Bastian to find someone better. As if I haven’t already warned him about that a long time ago. Bastian was far from the love of my life but he was a warm body that didn’t ask very much of me in the ways of relationships because he knew better. If we were better suited for each other, things would be a lot different. But we’ll never be like that. His claim to me was what mostly got in the way of my autonomy and my sense of freedom.

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azenite · 10 months

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Fuck it. I’m tired of making some small progress only to fail to make it go where I want, hate everything I write, and then start the whole thing over before I can even reach what I can consider a first draft. So maybe just putting something out, even if I’m scrapping almost all of it, will make me feel better.

"That the last one?" A short-haired man used the sleeve of his (standard-issue) leather armor to help wipe the sand-wolf's guts off his shortsword (also standard-issue), as he looked around the pit that formed the sandbeast den.

"Yeah, looks like. It just me, or were those tougher than normal?" The responder was the taller of the two women of the trio, who wore a customized variant of the normal armor - a privilege to denote the commander of adventurer groups - that was dyed a darker shade of brown, and tailored to help emphasize her figure more than the normal set. Without waiting for a response, she started to drag the four wolves' corpses together.

"That's... That wasn't normal? Oh thank Sol." The final - and newest - member of the group was finally able to catch her breath as she stopped gripping her shortsword's handle like it was a cliffside branch. Just before she could collapse from exhaustion, though, she noticed their leader finishing arranging the sandbeast corpses, and was suddenly aware of her stomach turning when she thought of having to help skin and butcher the beasts.

"Petra: You're helping me with skinning. Alyssa: You're on den-clearing."

""Got it!"" They were in complete unison with the desire to avoid the other's assignment.

With her adrenaline gone, Alyssa took advantage of the isolation inside the den to empty her stomach against the far wall. Afterwards, she went through the pack she had thrown down by the entrance, and set the explosive kit and a glowstone lantern down in the middle of the den. It took only a few minutes to finish putting it together - the only trouble being the casing being stubborn to lock. Wanting to avoid getting roped into skinning duty, she set the finished explosive down gently and took a look around. The den looked normal, compared to the diagrams she saw during initiation. The main part of the den was egg-shaped, with smaller outlets around the sides for sleeping, and one long ramp leading to the desert outside. With the initiation information as a reference point, nothing in this den seemed to suggest that the fierce beasts they fought should be any stronger than normal.

Alyssa noticed a glint in one of the sleeping holes. She picked up a small, smooth, triangular rock that shone like a gemstone against the light. When she felt enough time had passed that she wouldn't have to start skinning, she pocketed her find, started the detonation timer, and left the den. She seemed to have misjudged the time she needed to kill, as the skinning was long-finished, and the hides and meat already stored in the groups' spare packs. The bones and whatever meat couldn't fit were left out, as there wasn't much to do with them besides acting as bait for the flying types of sandbeast.

"Trouble with the casing? See, I knew it wasn't just me."

"Uh...yeah. It was just this one den for today, miss Alia?" In a bit of coincidental timing, the den's collapse acted as punctuation, which caused the leader to let out a quiet chuckle.

It only took a couple of hours for the group to make the return south to the great step-pyramid that formed the empire's capitol city of Carcos. On reaching the first layer, the group split up: Alia, as the leader, would sell off their haul of hides and meat to form the group's bonus pay, while Alyssa and Petra were relieved for the day. While Petra went off to do his own thing, Alyssa went straight for their assigned barracks to sleep.

The next morning, Alyssa managed to be the first to wake. She just finished changing into a clean uniform when her leader woke up.

"Hm, yer up? That's...yeah, just - just wait in the mess hall or something. I'll get...*yawn* Petra up."

Half an hour later, the two finally joined Alyssa, who had just finished off a plate of spicy fried eggs. Petra started on his own breakfast while their leader went over their day's assignment. "So, we've been picked at random to help some angels escort some envoy who's coming back home." Hearing this, Alyssa perked up a bit. Barely a week into her service, and she was already able to visit home - at least, she assumed that, as Port Hali was the only port in the desert heart of the empire.

After packing for a night's stay at the port town, the three went to hire a wagon for the trip. It was being pulled by a docile, lizard-type sandbeast, and Alyssa felt uneasy around the creature, as it was technically the same species she had just helped exterminate the day before. Luckily for her, she got to ride in the back with Petra while Alia took the reigns.

#azen #azenite writes

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luveline · 3 years

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you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina, to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

#listened to boyfriend by big time rush while writing hahaha #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #fred weasly x reader #sad reader #reader insert #artist reader #fred weasley fluff #sorry for the big blocks of text tumblr has a 250 paragraph limit #why woukd they do that

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elias-code · 3 years

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The Swine’s Scribe

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!reader, an appearance by Philza

Background: You're in Techno's cabin after getting the rest of his wolves from L’Manburg after the second war. You were originally rescued by Techno from a blizzard after running from the first L'Manburg explosion (your house was among those destroyed.)

Summary: When Techno gets back from the second L'Manburg war, he lets go of a lot of emotions by ranting to you. You, being concerned about his mental wellbeing, ask if you can do anything for him, and eventually, he kisses you, which leads to some close-calls with Phil and a whole lot of smut and fluff.

Wordcount: 3291 (according to google docs lmao)

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, blood/wounds, biting, getting caught

I REPEAT NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-------------------------------- Enjoy :) ----------------------------------

Ever since Techno brought you in from the cold months ago, you've been doing little chores for him in a way to repay his kindness. Even though he was the one who summoned the withers after the initial explosions, you felt safe around him. It had been hard to get used to at first, but now you felt comforted by his presence.

For the past week, you've been writing his journal for him after he broke his hand sparring with Phil. His hand has since healed, but you insisted that you do it for him, and he put up little protest.

"It was stressful, seeing your friends leave like that, in the blink of an eye. I don't trust anyone anymore, not after Tommy betrayed me. I gave him a roof over his head, hid him from Dream, one of the most powerful people on the server, AND I trusted him with my Axe of Peace." Technoblade's tone was strained and he let out a huff.

"Techno," you empathised, "are you sure you're okay after today?"

"I'm fine, please keep writing." He only ever said please when he was really serious, clearly, he was not interested in talking.

"Now, I refuse to bow to the voices. They want blood and I won't let them. Too many allies have died for me or have disappeared onto the other side, only to reemerge when they need ME, never when I need THEM."

Again, you piped in, "Techno, you're clearly not ok," his pale skin was flushed red and his eyebrows knit together into a grimace, "If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

He went silent.

"You don't have to talk about it if it's really getting to you... Or you could let it out. Either way, I'm here to help," You said.

"I'll think about it. For now, keep writing,"

For another half hour, he ranted about the destruction of L'Manburg and his dramatic reenactment was accented by occasional yelling and hand gestures. Suddenly, he stops speaking and gets a puzzled look on his face, "Um, what- what's the correct phrasing for - I guess - 'horny for violence'?" The tips of his ears were bright red, matching the blush now forming on his cheeks.

You chuckle, "I think it's hungry for violence..."

"Ah, that's it," Techno states, and then he completed his recounting of events. There's a bubble of silence in the air and he bursts it by asking, "Do you have any thoughts?"

"You know my thoughts, Techno..."

"I think I know, but give me words, I can't read minds."

"You're not healthy, you need help. You need better friends and a proper support system. Right now you really only have Phil, and I guess me if I even count."

"You count."

Now it was your turn to blush, but you continue, "Either way, that's not enough! You deserve more than you're getting. I can tell that even without the things you've had me write down. You're carrying so much weight, Tech."

"I didn't know you cared," he seems touched by your words, "I suppose I don't know a whole lot about you."

"And yet, you trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets, Technoblade."

"One thing I can trust you to do is help me with my armour."

He was still wearing the enchanted netherite chestplate and pants, both of which you started fumbling with. The leather straps were clasped tightly, as to not come off in battle, but you managed to manoeuvre them enough to get them to let go.

As the chestplate was lifted off of him, he hissed and then grunted. You look at the spot his hand flew to on his back, where his shirt had torn to reveal a big gash in his shoulder. It ran from his shoulder blade to his left pec, one of the only places where he was unarmoured.

"Holy shit Tech, why didn't you tell me this was here?!"

"I didn't want to worry you," He chuckled and then hissed again, "I guess that plan failed."

You did not find it funny. You immediately went to get the supplies Phil kept in his house, knowing that Techno didn't keep anything but healing potions in his chests. Phil was eager to help and he handed some bandages and rubbing alcohol to you so you could clean the wound. You also grabbed a spare scrap of leather for him to bite down on.

When you returned, Techno had moved to sit on his bed where he had already removed the greaves and discarded them beside him. You came to his side, putting down the alcohol, rag, and bandage.

"This is probably going to hurt, so I need you to bite down on this," you said, handing him the leather scrap.

"Ok," he said, watching you grab the alcohol and rag from the floor, "Just- just tell me when,"

"Alright," He put the leather in between his teeth, biting lightly, "you ready?"

He nodded, you put the alcohol rag onto the blood-crusted gash. He let out a sharp, low hiss, tightening his jaw on the leather to release some of the pain. You cleaned up quickly to minimise the pain and then wrapped it in the bandage, leaving some so you could clean and replace it later.

"All done, you ok?" You looked at him, one of his eyes was watering.

"Yeah, the pain's much worse when you're not pumped full of adrenaline."

"You better not be hiding any more gashes under all of those clothes,"

"Wanna find out?" He flashed you a smirk, amused by his own confidence.

"I'll take your word for it, but you're going to need to change that shirt, it's covered in blood."

"At least it's not my blood," you shivered a bit at that remark and helped him take his shirt off, careful not to remove the fresh bandages along with it.

For the first time, you saw him without a shirt off. He seemed surprisingly slender for being as strong as he is. There were numerous scars that etched every battle and lesson learned into his skin. Lots of them looked older than you expected and you suddenly realised that he must have been fighting for a long time before coming to the server.

"Like what you see?" he asked, and you rushed to put the shirt down and find an excuse.

"Um, I- I was just looking at your scars, I'll bring this downstairs,"

You rushed away, turning bright red, embarrassed that he had noticed your stares. You absent-mindedly tossed the shirt into the 'wash pile' and then you remembered, in your rush, you had forgotten his greaves. With a huff, you climbed the ladder back to his room.

Techno sat in front of the fireplace, now roaring with renewed vigour from the log he'd tossed in. His pink hair had been undone from the messy braid he had put in that morning. It was almost dyed red and black by the blood and soot in it. He was playing with it, picking out debris and running his fingers through the more knotted bits.

“Tech?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you, still fiddling with the hair in his hands.

You sat down next to him and he relaxed into a cross-legged position, with one knee tucked under his chin. His free hand is right next to yours and he doesn’t look at you. His face is red, probably from the fire.

“You looked like you were in a trance? Are you ok?”

Silence filled the room again,"

“You don’t have to tell me but just know I’m here if you need to talk. Obviously, I haven’t tattled about anything yet or Tommy and the Butchers would be knocking your door down by now.”

“The voices are quieter than normal. I can hear myself think.”

You try to be encouraging “So? What are you thinking about?”

He looks you in the eyes, they’re deep, his pupils adjusting makes you feel like he’s looking into your soul.

“Um, I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

You frown and protest since you’re now more curious than ever but still a bit freaked out. "C'mon now you've got me curious,"

Techno looked away, solemnly gazing at the fire “I meant what I said about you being a trusted friend. I don't get many of those so, thanks. As for why this is coming up now, well, I guess I’m lonely.”

You hesitated, “Me too, Tech. You're kind of the only one I trust, and I guess Phil, too, but I'd trust you with my life.”

He blushes, looks away, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before turning back to you and putting his hand on yours.

You immediately flush and you see a grin seep onto his face.

"I'm not really talking about friends anymore. I want... someone..." he almost whispers

"You mean?" he nods, "I guess I've never had anyone before. I think it'd be nice to see what it'd be like."

“I think we can kill two birds with one stone here, don’t you?”

Now you're both bright red, nervous, schoolkids who gingerly lean into each other's faces, gaze fixed on the other's lips. Your hearts beat hard while your brains rush to make sure you feel insecure, the voices in Techno's mind screaming excitedly.

“You good up there Techno? Your light is still on, it's far past midnight, mate!” Phil shouts from the bottom of the ladder.

“I’m fine, just," He pulls away from you, "reading. Goodnight Phil,”

Techno's ears perk up to listen to the receding footsteps. You’re both standing now, he's standing over the trapdoor, making sure Phil had gone. Once he was sure, he comes over and kisses you hard.

“Tech-"

“Is this ok? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?”

You think He’s clearly never done this before, as you respond "Yeah, I like it..." you continue, stumbling towards his bed where you’re initially just kissing like two teenagers as if it were your first time, desperate, but awkward.

Your hand was pressing against his chest as you laid next to him, tasting each other's spit, learning the ropes since neither of you had ever done this before.

The light from the fire made your shadows dance across the wall, arms moving to hold each other closer, legs wrapping around Techno's, bodies shifting so he's on top of you. Only the roar and crackle of the fire and the occasional grunt or gasp from you or Techno could be heard.

--- Smut begins here ---

As you both part to take a breath, he pulls your shirt over his head. When he leans into the crook of your neck, you notice the tent in his pants pressing against your inner thigh. In between your own legs, there was a pool of slick forming.

You moan, loud, fully knowing that would send Techno wild. He pushes further towards you and holds your arms above your head so he could press his mouth against your neck, leaving red, hot, sticky marks leading from your collarbone to your abdomen.

You're both panting as he lets go of your arms and you wrap them around his neck, pulling his head in for a long, deep kiss. His hot breath warms your cheeks as he repositions himself.

"Hey, is this still ok?" He asks between breaths.

"Abso-fucking-lutely,"

He fully loses himself, taking his hand from your cheek and moving it to your pants, never losing eye contact. You nod and he pushes his hand into the spot between your legs which was now drenched in slick. He found his way to your hole and pushed his index finger into it, creating a sensation you'd never felt before.

Instinctually, you gasp and then moan, harder than before. You rock your hips to his rhythm while he continues to press bruises into your torso. Eventually, he brings his face back to yours and kisses you. You let out another moan into his mouth. He grunts and then chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling his finger out and then going back in with two.

Now, you're whining, pulling on his long, pink hair. You notice everything in those moments, his rhythmic breaths into your neck and pumping of his finger in and out of your sex, his other hand holding your waist, pushing upwards to caress you, his soft hair in your hand.

"Is it my turn now?" He gruffs.

You hum in affirmation as he pulls away and you kick off your pants as he undoes his own. You immediately notice his size. Compared to his fingers, which were pretty long and thick, to begin with, due to his big hands, his member was a giant. His hand that had previously been half inside of you was now working his dick, its head coated in pre-cum.

While you had seen other penises before, mostly in study, you had never seen one up close, and you'd only seen ones on humans. The hybrid piglin-shapeshifter was sporting a human-like head and shaft, 9 inches (at least) all the way down to a knot... he had a knot...

He notices you gaping at his dick and grins, leaning into you again. "Wanna help me with this, or... should I help m'self?"

Eager to please, you lightly push him forward so you're both sitting up while your hand inspects the new acquaintance. You look up at Techno for guidance. He nods and pushes your hand down with his own. He guides your hand up and down the shaft until he’s no longer guiding you and you’re doing it all yourself.

He does the same with you. The space between your legs was now, simply put, slippery. He did his best to please you, eventually managing three fingers easily.

The pants and gasps were syncing, the knot in your stomach growing stronger while you danced your mouth on the head of his member. He lets out a particularly loud grunt and removes his fingers from your sex. You suddenly feel empty, and he pushes you over onto your stomach.

He puts himself under you, his dick under your mouth. You lick the ever-present pre-cum off of the head of his dick once again and then begin to bob your head up and down, managing to fit him halfway before choking on him. His groans were now louder than yours, becoming more frequent.

"Ughh- fuck," he moans.

Now he holds your head and gently begins to fuck your mouth. Your bobbing was no longer enough, he wanted more. He thrust his hips into you, managing to get a third of the way into you and then it turns into deepthroating after every thrust.

You gag, unable to take him all the way, and so he decides enough is enough and you both rush to get him inside of you. He gets up, moving to position himself above you. You continue to stay in the position he left you in, on your hands and knees.

"Turn around," Techno says.

And so you do, you lay on your back, full of anticipation and covered in juices. He puts his hand on your stomach, leaning in to kiss you lightly, pressing more red marks into your sides, slowly turning you so you face the wall.

He pulls away and holds your leg away from the other, practically putting you into the splits.

"Techno..." You whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Is this gonna hurt?"

"Dunno, darlin'," He leans in again, "let me know if it gets too hard, ok? I'll stop if you say so."

You nod and kiss for confirmation, reaching to hold your own leg up to give him full access.

He inserts the head and you can already feel the stretch, slightly painful but you push on, your fingers grasping the sheets to keep yourself grounded. He’s pushing into you slowly, making sure you're not getting in over your head. You hold the sheet tighter, groaning from the stretch.

He pulls out slightly and the pressure releases. You moan hard, making sure Techno knows that you like what you feel. He pushes in again and begins to thrust into you. Techno is getting further and further with every thrust, and you moan between every breath. He's three-fifths of the way in and he's only getting harder.

Techno's hand replaces yours, keeping your leg raised as you move your hand to work yourself along with him. Your heart beats faster and he picks up the pace. He can get all the way to the knot before pulling out and thrusting in again.

"Tech... Fuck, it's so gooood..."

Now he's becoming sparattic and his face goes into your neck, biting softly, barely enough for blood to form. The knot in your stomach tightens and you scream into the pillow as he pushes all the way in, his skin hitting yours as his knot slips into you.

He moans and thrusts lightly into you, coming inside of you. You feel the pressure inside of you release as you come with him. You're being filled with his sperm, eventually spilling out along with your own come onto the sheet.

He continues to work you with his hand, breathing heavily into your neck. Your heartbeats are in sync and his juices continue to spill out of you, soaking everything below you. You try to look him in the eye as he shakes slightly, somehow still coming.

"Tech? You're still..." you gasp. "I know, sorry... it might be a while..." He grunts out.

Techno's ears perk up and he shoves you under the blanket, still stuck inside of you with the knot.

"What-"

He puts a hand over your mouth as you quiver underneath him, overstimulated by the pressure and his hand which still rested in between your thighs. What the hell is he doing?! The non-stop cum is weird enough, what-

Soon enough, your questions were answered when you heard the footsteps downstairs.

“Do you have my hat?” Phil's voice yells from the base of the ladder.

“Can't you-" he breathes, "you get it in the morning?”

“No, I'm going out super early tomorrow to scout out and make sure we haven’t been followed back.”

“Uh," fuck "it’s on the chair next to my desk up here? I’m in bed…”

Phil comes up the ladder and opens the hatch, eventually finding his hat while techno covers your mouth and lays belly to belly with you, he’s still dribbling a bit, so are you. You’re whimpering slightly.

Phil stops at the trapdoor. “Did you mean to leave the fire on mate?”

“Uh, yeah I was gonna let it burn… I was cold”

“Where’s your friend, loverboy?”

You feel Techno blush above you, his warmth suddenly radiating out from him.

“Um. They went to trade with some piglins since we’re almost out of spectral arrows.”

“Alright let me know when they get back, I just want to make sure they’re ok. Ever since you found them in the snow you’ve been doing better, it seems. Almost like you two are a... thing?”

The question lingered momentarily and you could almost hear Phil's eyebrow raise before Techno answered.

“Hmm, thank you, Phil. Close the trapdoor when you leave, I don’t want the warmth to leave.”

“Alright.”

Finally, the footsteps were gone. He pulls the blanket off of them and he takes his hand off of your mouth. You gasp for dramatic effect, laughing quietly to yourselves at the close call.

"Can I tell you something?" Techno whispers into your ear.

"Yes, you're literally deep inside of me, I'm guaranteed to be interested in what you have to say,"

"I love you"

"I love you, too..."

#technoblade #dsmp x reader #techno x reader #mcyt smut #dreamsmp #c!technoblade x reader #c!techno #first fic sorry lmao #c!techno x reader #eli scribe #Elias original

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wastelesscrafts · 3 years

Note

The zipper pull broke on my son's hoodie and I want to replace it with something fun, or at least something safe for a small child. The zipper and slider are fine, it's just the pull that needs to be replaced. Do you have any ideas?

Zipper pull replacements

If the zipper were to break in its entirety, Velcro's considered a safe and easy to use alternative.

As for the pull, you've got a lot of options! You can hang pretty much anything on a zipper slider, as long as it fits through the slider's hole. Make sure to attach it properly so it doesn't come loose because small items can be a choking hazard to young children (and other people who enjoy chewing on zipper pulls).

Some DIY ideas:

Inspiration Made Simple made felt zipper pulls that feel soft and are easy to grab onto.

(Image source) [ID: close-up of a round purple felt zipper pull with white spiral stitching, attached to a black zipper with a piece of white ribbon. Text: "EASY DIY Zipper Pulls by seven thirty three".]

If you're handy with paracord, you could also try making paracord zipper pulls.

(Image source) [ID: eight different zipper pulls made out of green, blue, beige, red, dark gray, and orange paracord lined up next to each other. Text: "8 awesome zipper pulls".]

Another option is to simply tie a bit of cord through the slider's loop.

(Image source) [ID: a seven step diagram on how to tie the double fisherman's knot, the basic overhand knot, or the lark's head knot to achieve a zipper pull.]

A lot of people have a habit of chewing on their zipper pull, so why not just use a chewable as a pull? Make sure to use something big enough so it doesn't form a choking hazard if it gets loose. You can find chewables in reputable stimtoy shops, or you could take a teething toy apart.

Note that chewables need to be cleaned from time to time, so if you go this route make sure the tab is easy to remove and attach again.

(Image source) [ID: a blue star-shaped chewable hanging from a zipper tab. Text: "DIY chewable zipper pull. AndnextcomesL".]

You could also sew your own zipper pull out of spare fabric.

(Image source) [ID: close-up on a tied zipper pull made out of the same blue and white fabric the bag it's attached to is made. Text: "GCC. ginascraftcorner.com".]

Beaded zipper pulls are cute too, but note that these can once again form a choking hazard.

(Image source) [ID: close-up on a beaded zipper pull, consisting of six blue and pink beads.]

Some other ideas that could work are tassels, buttons, scrap leather, charms,...

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

that kind of morning, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re really bad at waking up. Big sleepyhead with foggy memory kind of bad. Your brain is on autopilot. Hm, kind of hard to pilot when everything seems out of place. And you’re mildly hungover. Ow. You just ran into a muscular chest. Who could that be?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; morning after a wild night; graphic descriptions of sexual acts and a tiny bit of smut–while on the phone (fem reader, nipple play, dry humping, hint of a handjob); non-idol!BTS; basically sleepy and slightly hungover reader trying to piece together life lmao

–

Most people make their worst decisions at night.

Not you. You make your worst decisions in the morning.

Maybe it's because you don't drink coffee.

"Ow!"

Was your bed always that high? Huh. You squinted in the sunlight filtering through the window, far too bright for your sensitive eyes. Instead, you occupied yourself with sniffing the t-shirt you were wearing. It smelled clean, like fabric softener. Also, it was white. Generally, you didn't buy white shirts since they dirtied easily. A miracle that this one wasn't stained.

You stumbled through the bedroom door – was it always that far? – and smacked your nose into a wall.

"Ow!"

"Ah!"

A moving wall. Wait, not a wall. A shirtless guy. Oh. It had been that kind of night.

You rubbed your nose. "Erm, hello. You're still here, huh?" you mumbled.

The guy blinked at you. "What do you mean? This is my apartment."

Oh. That's why everything seemed unfamiliar. Now that you looked at him, he was pretty attractive. Long dark hair, large brown eyes, dark brows, shapely pink lips with a mole underneath his lower lip. He had two more on his nose and cheek. Lightly tanned skin and a cute confused face. Huh. Nice muscles too. Good for him.

"Alright, I'll be on my way then, uh..." you trailed off awkwardly, pushing past him. The events of last night were hazy and your head hurt a little, although not so bad that you couldn't function. You were just poorly functioning because you weren't a morning person.

"Do you want coffee or something?" the guy asked, following you. He sounded a little worried.

"Nah, I don't drink coffee," you muttered, holding onto the wall as you walked down the unfamiliar narrow hallway. "Stains your teeth."

Speaking of teeth, your breath was probably awful. Hopefully that poor guy didn't breathe near you. Come to think of it, this wasn't what you were wearing last night. It was probably his shirt, considering the large size. Where were your clothes? Oh, look, a bathroom.

"I could order us some breakfast," the guy continued as you stuck your head into the bathroom and saw the sink. There was a black toothbrush and a crumpled tube of toothpaste, definitely not yours. A black cup for rinsing one's mouth, with a winking emoji printed on it. A black shirt bunched up and half-falling off the sink. Deodorant. Cologne. You picked it up and sniffed it. A clean scent. Didn't make you want to throw up. Awesome.

You flicked on the faucet and shoved your hands under it. Cold. Fuck. Whatever. You cupped some and brought your hands to your face, dripping water everywhere, and cursing under your breath before gargling some. Best you could do. You spied something red out of the corner of your eye. What was that? You squinted at the towel rack through the mirror, water trickling down your chin. There was a thin scrap of ripped lace fabric on the hanging white towels.

The guy was still talking.

"I can get you a spare toothbrush? Do you want some cleanser to wash your face?"

He had a pleasant voice, a little deep. Clear, smooth. Made you think of a cool, refreshing breeze.

Wait.

Were those your red panties on the towel rack?

You winced at the mirror. Welp. Those were done for. Didn't look like you could salvage them. You suddenly felt a chilly draft on your bare ass. Your arms were still dripping water as you leaned down and splashed your cheeks. Guess you'll just have to figure something out. You turned off the water and wiped your face off with your palm. A white hand towel appeared. You took it, seeing the guy's tattooed hand and arm. Sexy. He had an emoji tattooed onto his knuckle of a sheepish, crooked smile.

Kind of looked like you, at the moment.

You dried your face and hands.

"Thanks, but it's fine, I'll just go home so I don't bother you," you said, folding the towel and placing it on the sink before moving past him and his curious expression.

"You're not bothering me. I want to make your morning comfortable."

You noticed your red dress from last night on the ground. The thin straps were torn off and there was a distinct, dark stain down the front. Hmm. You vaguely remembered scooping your tits out and smashing them against his hard dick and dropping a stream of spit down your chest for lubrication before furiously tit-fucking him and making him cum all over your collarbones and neck.

Ah.

Well.

That dress was fucked.

"Can I borrow this shirt? I'll give it back," you said, turning around to see the guy's face bright pink, staring at your dress on the ground.

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want," he rambled, shifting awkwardly. He was wearing light gray sweatpants. You looked down. He shifted away quickly, but it was pretty hard to disguise that tent.

You scratched your head. Hm. "Say, uh..." you trailed off again.

He blinked with those big chocolatey eyes. "Oh, um, Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook."

He stuck his hand out. You shook it, fitting your hand in his, suddenly remembering when you grabbed it and put it between your legs, smearing your juices from his wrist to his forearm and grinding onto his muscle, flexing your opening on his skin as he moaned darkly into your ear.

Ah.

You let go.

You were probably past handshakes, but, oh well?

"Right, erm, Jungkook, do you know where my jacket is?" you asked sheepishly.

Jungkook whipped his head around, sending his black hair flying everywhere. "I think... it's in the living room?" You remembered running your hands through that hair, panting in his face as he shoved you against the wall, two fingers on your clit and rubbing furiously, those big chocolate eyes watching you come undone under him.

He moved past you and you flattened against the wall, not touching him. Hm. This increased clarity as you continued to wake up was starting to make this more and more, uh... less chill? Weird? Awkward? You followed him at a slight distance, lifting your head to see his back. Your eyes widened. Long red scratches up and down his defined back, caused by your fingernails as he fucked you violently into his bed, your thighs clasped around his waist and his name in your mouth, his thick cock making your pussy so tight and full that you felt like you were going to explode, so completely jammed with pleasure that you couldn't stop moaning.

Erm. Hm. You kind of needed panties with the sudden leakage happening down there.

Oh shit, did you use protection? You frowned as you screwed up your eyes to think. Yes. You did. Jungkook had grabbed them from his nightstand and spilled the whole box, thus causing you both to scramble to detach one in your and his haste.

For.

Er.

Fucking like animals.

You both got one condom and ended up using both.

"Ah, here."

You reached out and took your long-line black leather jacket from Jungkook. That's right. You'd worn that red satin dress with this jacket and black high heels. You spied them by the mat at what you assumed was the front door. Jungkook wasn't looking at you. His face was red. You slipped on the jacket. Smelled the rum still sticking to it. Right. You went to the club, got a drink, and Jungkook had knocked into you, spilling it into your jacket. It was an accident, but that was fine, because Jungkook was hot and you bribed him into talking to you by asking him to buy you another drink.

Super cute with his apologies, nervously speaking to you all night before loosening up with a few drinks and beginning to tease you, little by little, until you were in his apartment, getting your jacket slipped off your shoulders and his mouth on your newly exposed skin.

The memory made you reach up to touch your left shoulder. You winced. Peered under the jacket and shirt to see a giant purple hickey.

"Oh... er, sorry..." Jungkook sputtered sheepishly. "You seemed really into it at the time."

There was damn waterfall between your legs now.

"I was," you replied, a little too quickly. "Uh, I mean, I am. Was great."

You facepalmed. Jungkook jumped, startled that you slapped your own face.

"Sorry, I'm not a morning person. What I meant to say was last night was amazing and I had a great time," you sighed. "You were wonderful. And hot. And sexy. And I'd do it again."

Jungkook blinked at you with those big chocolatey eyes.

"O... oh."

He seemed torn on whether to believe you or not. To be fair, your voice was hoarse and you sounded half-dead. Plus, your speech was a little cliché. Sigh. You struggled to retain brain function, shaking your head roughly. It always took you a long time to wake up and it was worse when you weren't home doing your usual routine. You furrowed your brows, raising your head to frown at Jungkook.

Hold on.

"Don't you work for my dad?"

Jungkook started, eyes shifting.

"Er... yeah."

Did you just fuck one of the waiters at your dad's high-end restaurant? All night?

Huh.

What are the chances?

You were going to have to see Jungkook later that night, since you were the hostess.

"You know, Jungkook," you said, realizing why you had spoken to him last night, why it was fun and familiar banter, why he was so cute to you, and why it had been such a good chance. "Let's not tell my dad about this."

Jungkook's eyes went shifty again. "Yeeeeeeeah... let's not."

Your dad meant well. He was loud and brash by nature and scared every human being that hadn't lived under his roof for decades. Speaking of living under his roof... Maybe you shouldn't go home smelling like rum and Jungkook's cologne, wearing his t-shirt and no panties.

"You... sure you wanna go home?" Jungkook asked, chewing on his lip. You noticed he looked a bit disappointed. Sad.

"Actually," you sheepishly began. "Maybe I shouldn't. Not until Papa leaves the house." You twisted your mouth to one side and poked your index fingers together. Awkward. "Your offer for breakfast still stands?"

He brightened. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. What do you want?" He held up the phone form the coffee table. "We can order something."

Your eyes shifted to the phone. Ten missed calls.

"I would call Papa first," you muttered, walking forward and taking the phone from him. You felt his body heat, the closeness of his bare torso. He smelled nice. Jungkook made a surprised noise, only now realizing he had picked up your phone by accident. You slipped your other arm around him and pulled him to you, inhaling his scent. He made another squeak of confusion as you pressed your lips to his warm chest.

Mmm. Nice.

You phone vibrated violently and you answered it without looking, kissing Jungkook's skin softly, hearing him gasp and stifle his moan as the sharp bark of your name blasted from the phone speaker.

"Where are you?!" Your dad was yelling at the top of his lungs. Jungkook shivered under you. He probably thought your dad was pissed, but he was only worried.

"I'm fine. Slept over at a friend's since I went to the bars last night."

"Oh, fuck, sheesh," your dad grumbled, swearing repeatedly. Your lips began to travel and Jungkook was smacking your arm impatiently, shaking his head, mouthing at you, are you crazy, what the fuck are you doing, before he clenched his jaw and tipped his head back as you began to lazily lick his dark nipple, feeling it harden with your touch.

"Are you eating?" your dad barked in your ear.

"Mhm, can't start the day unless you eat," was your reply, grinning around Jungkook's nipple as his face was becoming more panicked by the second.

"That's right," your dad huffed. "What are you eating?"

"Korean."

Jungkook gave you an exasperated, pained look that quickly turned to ecstasy, placing a hand over his mouth and muffling his moan as you sucked in his nipple, bringing your hips into his sweatpants, the tent returning.

"Hah, fine, would it kill you to fucking call so I don't think you're dead?" Now that you were an adult, your dad didn't bother filtering his cursing anymore.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," you replied, very apologetically and sweetly, grabbing a handful of Jungkook's ass and ramming his rock-hard cock into your crotch, clamping your thighs around it. Jungkook was flailing his one free hand and pressing the other over his mouth, trying not to make a fucking sound.

"I'll remember next time. Promise, Papa."

You heard your dad let out a puff of air. "Hmph. Fine. Don't forget you have to work tonight. I'll let you have the day after off..."

You raised your eyebrows, switching sides and slowly flicking your tongue on Jungkook's nipple, thighs sliding back and forth on Jungkook's clothed length. He was losing it above you, muting his cries and rutting against your thighs to match your pace and add more simulation.

"I thought the other hostess was on vacation for a couple more days?"

"I asked your mother to cover for you," your dad grunted. "You should have some free time while you're still young. Have some fucking fun before you die. That's why I work."

"Ah... okay, thanks Papa. I love you."

"Love you too," was your dad's reply, not so gruff anymore, but warmer and kinder.

He hung up.

You dropped the phone from your ear.

Jungkook gasped a lungful of air, throwing his hand aside now that he could finally breathe, turning into a high-pitched yelp when you yanked his pants down, shoving his cock between your thighs again, but skin on skin this time, angling him down, the head smearing pre-cum in your mid-thigh. Ah, yes, what a pleasant surprise it had been when you saw this pretty cock for the first time, looking so perfect squashed between your tits.

"B-But breakfast..." he choked out between moans.

"I'm getting it," you panted, grinning, sliding up and down his hot stiffness, feeling it twitch. "Best to have some protein in the morning."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, horny and indignant.

"Korean? Really?"

You switched to your hand, kneeling down as you stroked his stiff length hard and fast, giving him a devilish open-mouthed smirk, wet tongue sliding out.

"Hey, I didn't lie."

wondering how Jungkook feels about all this? that kind of evening.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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sambvcks · 3 years

Text

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

[ NEXT ]

Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor.

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her.

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #crawl home to her #sab writes

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chromenco · 2 years

Text

Visitor in green

“You’re headed someplace a little different this time. Don’t worry, I have an acquaintance there who you can rely on, just let them know I sent you. Good luck!”

Those where the last things Viridis heard before being roughly shoved through a star shaped tear. He supposed that the stumbling steps he took to steady himself were marginally more graceful than the last entry he had been forced to make in another world. His belongs were not quite so lucky, getting shunted across a plane of baked clay and dust several yards apart from one another.

“Ahh crap... I wish she’d warn me before doing that every time. I could at least get a good grip on my things before that happens.”

“Well at least you stuck the landing instead of tumbling on your ass like last time.” A voice teased him from the back of his mind.

Grumbling, the human scuffed up the fine soil as he gathered his belongings: A worn leather bag that had seen as much wear as the spare clothes inside it, a nondescript looking walking cane with a brass handle, a large ornate metal crest pin, and a thick tome emblazoned with a simplified version of the crest’s insignia.

“Hey, kid, hurry it up.”

“Why? You itching to get going already Ignis?”

“No, just an uncomfortable feeling that something’s approaching.”

“Wait, like what?” Viridis asked, straightening up to scan the flattened surroundings with sudden anxiety. Ignis was right, something about the situation felt off, like the prickling sensation that was creeping up his back.

“I don’t know, but I think it’d be smart to be ready for a scrap.”

@thearchmage0103

#thearchmage0103 #Chromegoggles

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood/violence and language Genre: Action with a lil bit of fluff Warnings: Lil bit of blood Notes: There's an unnamed character in here who may or may not end up as recurring in my stories. I don't really have anything in particular planned for her, she's kinda just here to fill a role/allow for some easter egg type shit in the next chapter. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1, Pt. 2

{Wounded Love 3: Bloody Valentine (No, not that Valentine)}

“Mother Miranda, I must insist, if these lycans stray any further they might start feasting on the village as well! Pray tell, who will you use for research then? We can’t just-... Forgive me… Mhmm. Yes, I understand. Of course… Have a good night, Mother Miranda,” Lady Dimitrescu said, before setting her phone down with a loud thunk. Her hands shake a little, and for a moment you worry that her vanity won’t survive the coming moments. Then you make eye contact with her reflection, giving her an encouraging smile, watching as her gaze softens. “I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do, my dear. I cannot allow Heisenberg’s negligence to go unpunished, but we will have to take care of it on our own, without Mother Miranda’s support.”

“Is that wise, love? To go behind her back like this? I can’t imagine she’ll be terribly pleased if we cause chaos for one of her favored few,” you replied, clicking your tongue as you thought things over. Again you see anger cloud Alcina’s face, though she makes sure not to direct it at you.

“We are not the ones who started this mess,” she reminded you, through clenched teeth. “But we will be the ones to end it, one way or another. I don’t care if I have to gut that wretched man-thing and bring Miranda his corpse as proof of his incompetence! He has shown his lack of loyalty hundreds of times… and now he will pay.” Gulping, you rise to your feet, wanting to comfort your girlfriend. While you had understood that your injury angered her, you hadn’t (until this moment) realized the sheer intensity of that rage. How much blood would be shed before this was over?...

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

Crimson drips down the beast’s side, across matted fur, before hitting the wooden floor. A stench as awful as you had ever found filled the air, only made tolerable by the nearby presence of scented candles. What a mess, you think, glad that you wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. Why had the girls insisted on bringing the damn thing inside? Couldn’t they have simply snatched a few teeth from its jaw as a prize? Somehow you doubted that the thought had even crossed their minds. Violence was a passion of theirs, and they preferred their trophies to be as large as the effort they put into getting it.

“How close to the path did you find it?” You asked after finishing your examination of the lycan. Next to you, the eldest daughter is rapidly taking notes in a leather-bound journal. Both of her siblings stand near the fireplace, hands held out next to the flames, needing to warm up after being outside for so long. It wasn’t even that cold of a day, with temperatures averaging around eighteen degrees celsius. All the snowfall from the prior week had now melted. While you knew of the family’s weakness, you also knew that they had bundled up before leaving, and had even taken a torch with them in the hopes of using it on a lycan. Their powers had taken somewhat of a hit, temporarily, but not nearly enough to prevent them from killing a single lycan.

“Heard it howling almost as soon as we left the castle. We couldn’t smell it until halfway to the village, though. Once we could we tried to track it, only for the stupid thing to come charging at us. Must have been eight, maybe ten, meters away by the time we collided,” Cassandra answered. There’s a bit of a shiver to her voice, and you can’t help the rush of sympathy you feel in response. Being out on the path, wearing little more than a dress and scarf, had been absolute hell for you. Even if it was warmer outside now, you imagined that being weak to the cold just about made up for the difference. “There was a little more howling once we started walking back here. Louder, if not closer. Heisenbitch isn’t even trying to keep these fucking things in check.”

“Cassandra, language!” Came a voice in the distance, making everyone present look up at once. Strutting down the stairs was a clearly miffed Alcina, eyes narrowed, body tense. “Did you three really have to bring the mutt inside? Surely you advocated against this, Bela? Or did you think I wanted new bloodstains right by the entrance, where everyone can see them?” Next to you Bela winces, but doesn’t respond, too worried about angering her mother further. “And you, my dear, what on Earth are you doing on the floor? You should be resting, in an actual chair, if not lying in bed awaiting my return. There’s enough for me to worry about without you limping around on a useless leg!”

Now it was your turn to wince.

“Please, love, I know you’re stressed, but I can still help. Given enough time I could help ascertain these things’ weaknesses. At the very least I could pass on what I learned during my fight with one,” you pleaded. Then you tried to stand up, wanting to prove yourself, only to stumble, barely avoiding a faceplant- and only doing so because of Bela’s quick reaction time. She helped you to your feet, letting you lean on her, then lead you towards a bench. Begrudgingly you sit back down. “You’re only doing this because I got hurt. Helping you in your endeavor to avenge me is the least I can do.”

“Don’t be foolish,�� Alcina snapped, now just a couple meters away from you. Even with that space between you, her presence was intimidating, and you almost felt like a child being scolded. “Were you to get hurt again, how would we avenge you? If you fall by your own hand, there will be naught I can do other than lock you away somewhere without any dangerous elements. What sort of existence would that be for you? I simply can’t allow it, no exceptions.” At this you pout, feeling rather disappointed. It’s not as if you were asking to carry a gun and shoot Heisenberg yourself! Not that you would be opposed to doing so, of course. “Try to put yourself in my place, my dear. Could you live with yourself if you failed to protect me?”

“I suppose I could not, love. Very well, I shall simply root you on from here, and kiss away any injuries you return with,” you replied, at last giving in. Then you found yourself smiling… and on the receiving end of a very soft forehead kiss. “Nothing will separate us, my love. None can tear apart that which the universe has stitched together.”

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

“Like I said, my Lady, I already want him dead. Did you really think that your family was the only one to suffer because of his machinations? I know half a dozen people who would love to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull, bare mims,” the huntress said, white teeth showing in her half-smirk. There was an odd coolness to her voice, like this whole ordeal was just another job, and you couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her. Could she really be the solution to Alcina’s problem? You couldn’t even judge her arsenal, considering she had been instructed to come unarmed. After all, she was a hunter of monsters, with a sizable history to her name. If not for her hatred of Heisenberg, you would never have felt comfortable letting her come within two hundred meters of your girlfriend.

“How can I be sure that you’ll succeed? The last thing I want is to have that wretched man-thing come crawling out of the filth he lives in, angry and coming for vengeance,” Alcina responded, scrutinizing gaze locked on the huntress.

“Didn’t Duke give you my file? Or at least read the good bits out loud? I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, with all sorts of bioweapon mutant freaks. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving any receipts behind. If he manages to survive, which is already one hell of an if, there’s no way he can prove that you asked me to do it. Considering he’s already seen my face, and knows I want him dead… yeah, he won’t bother accusing you, not when I’m in the picture, and certainly not when you’ve got such a big reputation for following Mother Miranda’s word down to the very last letter. So, you gonna make this official, or what?” The huntress asked, gesturing her arms wide. Although you’re still not convinced, Alcina nods quietly, seeming ready to make her decision. Regardless of how you feel about the stranger in front of you, you’re more than willing to support your girlfriend in whatever she planned.

“Very well, huntress. Show us just what you’re capable of.”

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

Flames licked at her heels, even as she charged forward, tickling like hot breaths against her skin. Behind her half a dozen lycans roared and screeched in unison. Smoke and ashes flew upwards, into the air, but could not poison her lungs, not when she had come prepared. Still, the mask was not as easy to breathe in as she had hoped, making her chest heave with effort at each intake of air. Good thing I’ll be gone soon, she thought, sparing a glance behind her as she ran. Dozens of trees were aflame, and countless glowing eyes watched from between the branches. They wouldn’t be there for much longer, not with what she had done.

Soon enough an explosion would shake the Earth. Then, finally, both the lycans who had killed her father and the man who desecrated the remains would be dead. And if a certain countess happened to pay her for her services? All the better, really. Funerals could be expensive, especially in such a remote village. More than that… there was no guarantee that she’d be able to outrun Mother Miranda on her own. A little money would make the flight out a hell of a lot nicer.

Assuming she made it that far. There was another scream behind her, this one more human, though somewhat warped by mechanics. It wasn’t a pained cry. No, it was filled with rage. Clearly Heisenberg had come out of his lair, hearing the fireworks, finding his scrap metal and werewolf army in chaos. From the sound of things- metal against metal, electricity crackling- he was coming her way.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” She muttered, desperately trying to get to higher ground. Even if the lycans succumbed to the overwhelming fire, it wouldn’t be hard for their leader to overcome. But the huntress was still too close to her explosives to risk activating the detonator. Just a bit farther, she thought, ignoring the way her lungs ached. Rocks kicked up with every step, loud enough to be heard from a distance, and made traction harder to keep. In the end she had to scramble to get up the side of a short cliff. A few scrapes appeared on her hands, making her curse under her breath.

But with one last movement, pulling herself up with both arms, she was finally far enough to be relatively safe. In one clean second she turned around, pulled the detonator out of its pouch and clicked the trigger. Just like that, a forest blazing turns into a mushroom cloud of pure hellfire. The setting sun makes for a beautiful backdrop, and the sight almost brings a tear to the huntress’ eyes. For a few moments she just enjoys the view. Then, without hesitation or remorse, she starts to walk away, mentally congratulating herself for a job well done.

Until something shoots past her head with terrifying speed. Before she can react another sharp piece of metal flies past her, grazing her arm, and there’s a blood-curdling roar from behind her. Then she’s running, fast as she can, pulse pounding harder than it ever has. One hand goes to the rifle on her back, pulling it out as quickly as she can. The area is rocky, with plenty of outcrops, perfect to hide behind (assuming there weren’t any hidden metal deposits). Quickly she ducks behind one, crouching to keep her head out of sight. Mere milliseconds later another metal spike slams into the ground just beyond her cover.

In the distance, more screams pierce the air, and something heavy drags itself across the ground. It almost sounds like a tank rolling through the woods. The thought alone worries the huntress, but she had never been one to let her fear control her. So she double checks her rifle, adjusts the scope, and pops out of cover. Less than a second later she has her target in her sights. It’s Heisenberg, for sure, more metal than man, but dripping with red. One press of the trigger sends a bullet straight for his ugly head. Unsurprisingly, it’s not enough to pierce his cranium, instead making him mad as hell.

Which is why automatic guns were invented, probably. The huntress holds the trigger down this time, though briefly, before dashing to the next piece of cover. She repeats the process a few times, hoping to kill the man before he could climb the cliff she stood on. If he managed to get up there with her… no, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had to focus.

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

Hidden among the trees, the Dimitrescu sisters watched as plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Even though they had been aware of the huntress’ plan, they hadn’t expected this much carnage. It was certainly exciting! But they really couldn’t see much from where they were. Getting closer was probably a horrible idea, and yet Cassandra shared a meaningful look with Daniela. A split second later they were forming a swarm, rushing into the trees, leaving their elder sister to yell after them.

“Mother’s going to kill me,” Bela said, before rolling her eyes and following. Maybe she could at least keep them out of trouble?... Probably not.

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

Metal hands wrap around the huntress’ throat, squeezing hard, but do not twist or otherwise break their prey. No, Heisenberg does not intend to end this that quickly. This rodent had taken so much from him, set his plans back by decades. He was going to kill her slowly. When she still fights back, pulling a knife from her boot and trying to stab whatever she can reach, he does little else but laugh. It’s a crazed cackling that echoes through the surrounding rocky hills.

Just barely loud enough to drown out the sound of insects buzzing.

“Fuck that guy!” Someone shouted, right as a sickle descended upon the monstrous Heisenberg’s neck. The first slice isn’t enough to sever the connection, which is why it’s immediately followed by a second, from another sister, then a third, from the eldest, that finally does the job. Just like that the hands release from the huntress’ throat, and she gasps for air. Coughs leave her distracted as the sisters move to surround her. “Good thing we wanted to see the show up close and personal, eh?” Daniela asked, twirling her sickle with a little giggle.

“You idiots are just lucky I followed you,” Bela added, glaring at her sister. Internally, she was relieved that the end result was a success. Still, she worried about what her mother would think, and certainly didn’t intend to voice her satisfaction at delivering the killing blow. “Now let’s get back, before mother assumes the worst and comes to get us herself.” Sighing, she extends a hand to help the huntress up. Though their mutual enemy had been defeated, there was still much to be done. Who knew how Mother Miranda would react? Who, if anyone, would take Heisenberg’s place? There was plenty to be unsure about, and Bela let her mind wander the whole way back, hoping that things would only get better from here...

#lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #I know the reader didn't have a big part in this #but don't worry next chap will have a bigger part #partially cuz reader's leg will actually be a bit better by then #gotta give time to heal!!!

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shurelyasreverie · 3 years

Text

Sett x Reader: Love is the Best Medicine

You've been patching up Sett every since he joined the underground fight scene but you fear for the day he pushes himself too far.

Word Count: 1447

The sound of the front door opening and closing followed by sluggish footsteps woke you up from your light slumber on the couch. Stretching, you yawned as you regarded the time. It was an ungodly hour in the morning but you were used to it. Today was another day Sett was off fighting in the pits, and it was your job to make sure he survived them. Fortunately he usually knew how to look after himself.

“Y’really need to learn to lock the door,” Sett's familiar yet strained voice chided and you chuckled as you stood up, rubbing your eyes.

“Why bother? I know you're going to come-” Once you took in Sett's appearance you immediately looked away. You frantically cleared the couch and ushered his hulking form onto it. You didn't dare touch his bleeding and bruised arms, you couldn't bring yourself to look into his bloodshot eyes. His laboured breathing was painful to hear.

“(Y/N)-”

“Shush,” you scolded as you left to get your first aid kit and medication. Such wounds weren't going to kill him but every moment away from him still filled you with anxiety. You rushed back by his side and started to clean his wounds. The only sound in your home was Setts' grunts and groans as he writhed under the sting of anaesthetic.

“You've never been beaten up this bad before,” you whispered. With his wounds cleaned up, Sett looked visibly better and it helped you relax ever so slightly. You tossed the dirtied rags of blood – whose blood it was, you didn't know – to the ground.

“This didn't happen in the ring,” Sett muttered. “I must've pissed off some goons who placed bets on someone else. They jumped me when I was headin' out.”

You nodded silently as you bound his arm with bandages. You feared this day would come, where the violence Sett experienced was no longer bound to the pits. He now had a target on his back all day, every day. The underground pits weren't the concern anymore, it was now a question if he could just survive day to day life. Although you technically lived alone, having Sett – sometimes joined by his mother – frequently visit meant you almost always had company. If something happened and Sett wasn't around to visit-

“That face doesn't suit ya, y'know,” Sett grumbled and you shook your head.

“What face?”

“That sad one.” When you finished bandaging his arm, he brought it up. His large, calloused hand caressed the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I can look after myself. Don't worry.”

“You'll need to rest from these injuries,” you stated and you felt his thumb hesitate before continuing its soothing motions as if everything was okay.

“Y'know I can't do that.”

“A week's rest.”

“People placed bets on me for tomorrow.”

“You can't,” you snapped, pulling your head away from his hand. “You can't fight in this state!”

“The fight's at night, I got all day to rest,” Sett reasoned.

“Not good enough,” you scolded.

“Listen (Y/N), it's either I fight at the pit or I fight for scraps on the street. Which one do you think's better?”

“I can accommodate for you and your mum,” you responded and Sett shot you a doubtful look. Even he knew that you weren't living the life of Noxian aristocracy. “... temporarily.”

“That ain't happenin', you've already done enough.”

Sett shifted as he pulled out a small leather pouch from behind. He placed it in your palm and you heard the unmistakable chink of coins. You tilted your head at him.

“That's thanks for lookin' after me,” Sett explained, further proving a point as he lifted his freshly bandaged arms. “At the rate I'm winnin' that bag'll be doublin' in size next time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you regarded the pouch that sat comfortably in your palm that grew heavier with his words. Tears started to prick at the back of your eyes and you lowered your head, holding the bag back to him.

“I can't possibly take this.”

“Ma's got her fair share.”

“This is your money that you earned.”

“Damn right. It's my money and I choose what to do with it. I choose to give it to you.”

The fire in Sett's eyes was unmistakable. Knowing you couldn't argue with Sett when he made up his mind, you pulled your arm back and placed the pouch on the table.

“Just having you return is enough for me,” you admitted in a whisper.

“It ain't enough for me, though,” Sett replied, waiting until you turned to face him and look athim dead in the eyes. “I ain't just fightin' for money or glory. I'm fightin' for ma and I'm fightin' for you.”

“Me?” you frowned. “I'm fine-”

“I know why you live alone.”

“I told you, I just wanted to move out away from my family-”

“Your family kicked you out for bein' pals with the local 'half beast',” Sett corrected and your heart dropped. “Overheard 'em trash talkin' ya in the street a few days back. I know the truth. Don't worry, I made 'em shut up the only way I know how.”

“Sett...” you were lost for words. “I...”

“I'm sorry for makin' your life hell. Your family were doin' pretty damn well for themselves but they didn't spare shit for ya,” he growled. “All because of little ol' me.”

“I... I don't regret what happened,” you said, determined. “If they're not going to respect you then I'd rather have nothing to do with them.”

It was now Sett's turn to be lost for words, looking stunned as he blinked a couple of times. Solidifying your point, you gently wrapped your arms around his torso as not to aggravate his wounds. Pressing your head against his bare chest, you could hear his erratic heartbeat as it pounded in your ear. His arms made their way around your back, his face nuzzling into your hair. After a few moments of silence, Sett pulled his head back and so did you, but his hold on you didn't loosen.

“I'll make 'em respect me. And I'll make 'em respect you. Everyone who knows who I am will know you too. And they'll know to treat ya like royalty. I ain't havin' it any other way.”

“... thank you, Sett. I... if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

Fingers gently nudged your chin up to look at him properly. As he leaned down, noses almost touching, you could see the details in his eyes as they burned with passion.

“Never leave my side,” he whispered.

“As long as you never leave mine.”

“Y'drive a hard bargain,” he chuckled quietly. “Deal.”

Both you and Set moved forward simultaneously, lips pressing together softly. Sett's hand that rested on your chin moved back, lacing his fingers through your hair. His other arm sat comfortably around your waist as he gently pulled you closer, closing any possible gaps between you as the kiss deepened. You felt warm as you were held in his embrace. How such a rough and brutal fighter be so gentle was beyond you but you loved it nonetheless.

You loved him.

The kiss ended as you gasped for air. Pressing your forehead against his, your breaths mingled together.

“I love you,” you confessed and Sett smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips again.

“I've waited too long to hear that,” he admitted and you giggled as you noticed his flushed face. “I love you too. I, uh... is it alright if I stay here for the night?”

“You should head back to your mum, she's probably worried for you.”

“Nah, ma would understand,” Sett cleared his throat as he looked away, embarrassed. “She's been waitin' for this to happen.”

You pulled back as you burst out laughing. Setts' ears flattened as he grumbled something non-coherent. But before he could get too grumpy, you took his hand with a soft smile, guiding him to the bedroom. “Come on, you need to be well rested and healed before you get back in the ring.”

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