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madamealtruist · 4 months

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The cast for my Mortal Kombat high school AU, Mortal Kombat: Skool Days! The artwork for this series will be handled by my amazing friend @laismoura-art, so thank you so much! This project has been a long time coming, so I hope you all enjoy!

STUDENTS FROM EARTHREALM (1ST YEAR)

Xiuying Oniro/Frost, younger cousin of the Oniro Brothers and novice cryomancer (ice). Would never admit it, but she has a huge crush on Cassie.

Cassie Cage, younger sister of Johnny Cage and huge smartass. Social media addict.

Jacqui Briggs, younger sister of Jax and tough as nails techie. Has a dorky crush on Takeda.

Takeda Takahashi, strained younger half-brother of Kenshi and Hanzo’s best friend. Is completely oblivious of Jacqui’s crush on him.

Hanzo Hasashi, “apprentice” of Kuai Liang and unpredictable umbramancer (shadows). For reasons he doesn’t want to explain, he doesn’t trust Bi-Han.

Kung Jin, younger cousin of Kung Lao and talented archer. Openly gay, but doesn’t let the haters drag him down.

STUDENTS FROM EARTHREALM (2ND YEAR)

Tomas Oniro/Smoke, adopted brother of Bi-Han and Kuai Liang and incredibly sneaky typhomancer (smoke, mist and vapors). HUGE dork.

Raiden Watanabe, humble optimist and focused electromancer (lightning). Liu Kang’s teaching assistant.

Fujin Watanabe, Raiden’s twin sister and unpredictable aeromancer (wind). Easily embarrassed by Kung Lao, who she has a dorky crush on.

Kung Lao, eagle-eyed dreamer and owner of a razor-rimmed hat. Too cocky for his own good.

Kurtis Stryker, son of an Earthrealm police chief and loyal friend. Hopes to one day join the police force.

Jaime Kabal, former Black Dragon lackey and speedy smartass. Has a specialized mask and apparatus as an asthma inhaler (he thinks it’s cool).

Erron Black, mysterious loner and owner of the “Big Boot” fighting style. Held back at least twice.

STUDENTS FROM EARTHREALM (3RD YEAR)

Kuai Liang Oniro/Scorpion, second son of the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster and skilled pyromancer (fire). Has ways of making you get over here.

Bi-Han Oniro/Sub-Zero, first son of the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster and master cryomancer (ice). Bit too ambitious.

Harumi Shirai, Earthrealm’s first Umgadi student and owner of a supernatural garden. Part of a polycule with Hanzo and Kuai Liang.

Johnny Cage, former child actor and social media star. Ladies man waiting for the perfect girl to fall for him.

Sonya Blade, daughter of a Special Forces commander and Johnny’s crush. Has a strong hatred for Kano and ALWAYS suspects he’s onto something.

Jax Briggs, Sonya’s best friend and moral support. Incredibly defensive and loyal.

Kenshi Takahashi, rebellious son of a Yakuza leader and a blind swordsman. Owner of a magic sword that helps him see.

Sullivan Kano, leader of the Black Dragon and Sonya’s number one target. Particularly repulsive.

Sektor Zheng/Nine-Tee-Nine, son of the Lin Kuei’s Master Armorer and owner of an incredibly strong robotic suit. Hopes to take over the Lin Kuei.

Cyrax Braam/Four-Dee-Four, daughter of a Lin Kuei enforcer and owner of an incredibly fast robotic suit. Weary of her best friend’s actions.

STUDENTS FROM OTHER REALMS (1ST YEAR)

Reiko, adopted son of Shao and newcomer to the sports team, the Wu Shi Tigers. Massive superiority complex.

Aylkra/Skarlet, adopted daughter of Shao and horrific gothic blood mage. Has been known to terrify most newcomers with a single glance.

Dairou/Havik, Seidan cleric and known anarchy fueled troublemaker. Despite his appearance, he’s not completely evil.

STUDENTS FROM OTHER REALMS (2ND YEAR)

Zeffeero/Rain, Mileena and Kitana’s cousin (on Sindel’s side) and talented hydromancer (water). Gifted mage and will not let ANYONE forget it.

Nitara, Vaeternian femme fatale and has a particularly loud shriek. Beyond bitchy.

Ashrah, older sister of Sareena and repentant demon. In a loving relationship with Syzoth.

Sareena, younger sister of Ashrah and a demon attempting to repent. Has an obsessive crush on Bi-Han.

STUDENTS FROM OTHER REALMS (3RD YEAR)

Mileena, older twin of Kitana and heir to Outworld’s throne. Has to take medicine to control her Stage One Tarkat, or risk going feral.

Kitana, younger twin of Mileena and heir to Outworld’s army. Is aware of Raiden’s crush on her, but is waiting for him to act.

Syzoth/Reptile, Zaterran loner and excellent observer. Uses invisibility to avoid bullies.

Goro, Shokan prince and captain of the Wu Shi Tigers. The kind of jock you want to be friends with.

Jade, Umgadi student and best friend of Kitana. Hides her depression behind cheerful optimism.

Tanya, Umgadi student and lover of Mileena. Carries some of Mileena’s Tarkat meds with her at all times, just in case.

Baraka, Daybreaker student and has Stage Two Tarkat. Loyal till the end to those he trusts.

FACULTY

Sindel, current Empress of Outworld and caring to all those under her care. Headmistress.

Liu Kang, fire demigod and infectiously optimistic. New history teacher.

Shao Kahn, general of Outworld’s armies and plays favorites. Gym teacher.

Shang Tsung, pretty shady alchemist and skilled sorcerer. Science teacher.

Quan Chi, mysterious former mortician and Eldritch sorcerer. Science teacher.

Li Mei, Sun Do’s guardian and former leader of the Imperial Police. School resource officer.

Sheeva, Shokan queen and proud soldier. Gym teacher.

Madame Bo, kind old soul with a feisty attitude. Owns the Teahouse on campus.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 (2023)#mortal kombat skool days #high school au #fanfiction #why am i so fucking weird #on second thought don't answer that #subscorprumi

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tiredassmage · 3 months

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back at it again at the krispy kreme. I, unsurprisingly, caught "miss my boy [the fictional guy that lives in my head 24/7]" disease again, so I went back to [we've lost count of which playthru I'm on] and I think. Tyr and Kaliyo are just kinda neat. So I'm gonna subject everyone to chewing on it on main, lol.

There's elements of them that maybe shouldn't work out, but in the end, I find them so damn interesting because despite appearances on the surface, something about them works out for one another. They have their differences, but in the long-run, they find some kind of... understanding, I suppose I'd call it?

And neither of them will usually really say it directly - Tyr is used to having to veil his feelings between the lines and Kaliyo would at least feign some repulsed feelings about getting too damn sappy, in turn - but that's... really valuable to them, especially later on.

Now, I think it'd be fair to say that there's a part of him that isn't exactly thrilled Keeper suggests her as an asset on Hutta, and he's not particularly convinced she's worth the risk long-term, but his respect for Keeper trumps his personal hesitations. He sees what Keeper's getting at: she has some sort of potential value, and Intelligence isn't in the business of being wasteful of potential resources.

They very quickly establish some sort of quick impressions that aren't the most flattering. She says she's bound to learn something about him at Fa'athra's palace (and, to be frank, she does - and she's not even wrong) and Kaliyo does leave herself open to Tyr's tactical assessment after they leave Hutta that does leave him bluntly telling her he thinks she's the type to get herself killed if the job doesn't do it first.

So they're by no means fast friends. But they see use for each other. I don't think there's ever a time where he's convinced or entirely oblivious to the likelihood of Kaliyo using her new relationship with Imperial Intelligence to make herself funds or what have you on the side, as comes up later in her companion quests. But I'll also say he does discourage Lokin from meddling too deeply with the crew's affairs. Which I suppose sort of jumps around on the idea of there being any trust between these two, but if you can stick with me, I'm... trying to paint a broad picture. Hopefully.

I think... what Tyr finds is that, at face value, she's "unpredictable." It's easy to write her off as such. Easy to write her off as arrogant and self-interested. There are times where she is these things, but... there's something to be said for the fact that Kaliyo... never tries (successfully, at any rate) to sell him on the idea that she's anything but that. She tries a game a time or two, sure, but Tyr never plays into it as far as her exes. I think what happens is more that they realize the other's sort of... core values. And it's not about convincing the other that they should change, so... he entertains her big talks about taking the galaxy by storm at times. And slips in the bites that keep them honest: when is he going to be on her list of ex-partners that have too much baggage?

And I think what it is is that... out of that... weird flavor of honesty about who they are in their working relationship comes something that can be labeled trust, between them. Tyr's not afraid to tell her when he disagrees with her, but at the end of the day, they'd show up for each other because it's, generally, mutually beneficial. And I think, by the end of the class story, they'd do it even if it didn't exactly net them clear benefits.

Tyr certainly would because Tyr ends up trusting her, in their weird kind of roundabout way. It's not a trust like he has with Vector, or Shara, or later Theron. It's not trust in the warm, we trade our hearts openly and freely between us sort of sense. But it's trust in the sense that I know what to expect when I deal with you. In what I suppose you could really only call ironic, her "unpredictability" is what makes her predictable and reliable to him.

And I think... it is very telling, what she learns of him at Fa'athra's: that he isn't reckless. He has a conscious that will affect his decisions on the job in the kind of work that generally isn't too forgiving to that kind of disposition. Something that generally makes her inclined to scoff at him a bit for being soft. And then he proves consistent throughout their time working together in the fact that Tyr shows up for the people he brings into his circle.

Kaliyo is one of those people, despite the areas where they disagree. And sometimes they clash. Tyr's a brand of loyal that maybe isn't surface-level compatible with her. She's thought him foolish for his loyalty to the Empire, and maybe even more of a fool when I think she figured out his loyalty wasn't, exactly, to the Empire as a whole, but to his masters, to Imperial Intelligence. That his sense of ideals and morals is stronger than a paper-level patriotism he claims brought him to enlisting with Intelligence.

It's foolish. It's soft. It's gonna get him killed one day. They bark about what goes down when they return to Hutta. He means it when he says he can't tolerate her working against what he's given his life to. He doesn't directly say they're talking about Imperial Intelligence's reputation, specifically, but she knows enough about him by then, I think, to know that's what he's really bothered about. He's not some young, bootlicking spaceport officer fishing for a promotion. As fuckin' foolish as it is, he's got his heart and soul behind what he does.

And he genuinely asks her why? Why pick a side? Why'd she pick him? I don't think they get a clear answer in the conversation.

But I do think they both already know the answer. Because for whatever else they are, they've stuck with each other this long. It's not purely transactional at this point. Yes, there's... still probably something mutually beneficial about tolerating each other still going forward, but.

Look, neither of them probably exactly use the word "friend" to each other's face. At least not a lot. They bicker. But I think, at the end of the day, they're two people that have very few people that do see them for who they are, really, and have actually stuck around. For better or worse, they stick.

And he'll... defend that decision, ultimately. When she gets caught up in all that transpires as Intelligence is torn down around them, he simply tells her to look for her opening, and do what she does best. Because grand declarations of devotion don't do it for her. That's not their relationship. She's self-reliant and she'll do what she thinks is best... largely regardless of what Tyr's input is. (Except him understanding and accepting that is why he has any clout to argue with her about morality at all. This is important later in KOTXX.)

And KOTXX is... not what I ever expected to be The Clearest Show of their kind of relationship, but I did clip together that video of one run through Anarchy in Paradise because it... is a really good show of how they get along. Why they work for each other.

Kaliyo was never going to be the type to be the first one looking for him if he disappeared, or sticking through a long search. And that's... just fine. Tyr never would've expected her to. Frankly, she probably does understand that a part of him was just... waiting for that kind of day. That he ended up surviving taking a blaster to a semi-immortal planet-consuming Force-entity is... Well, no one was betting on that, yeah?

Tyr, I think, is one of the only characters I've gotten that far into KOTXX that has felt he's got any ground to argue with her on - because he has experience with her priorities, and how she thinks. Sort of... natural when you work with someone that long, right? So, he knows how she operates, he knows how to reason with her, knows what she needs to be offered to take an opportunity. And, in the end, there's that...

"Agent?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're alive."

Which... I think is where I'll wrap because I feel like I just sort of keep repeating the same point, which boils down to... they took an assessment of each other's motivations and... accepted that about each other. I'd even probably say Tyr would never expect her to defend him, to show up without at least some sort of token protest about compensation and what's it worth to her, but I also think, for all of Kaliyo's eyerolling about him, it's exactly that kind of stubborn candle-burning attitude about him that keeps her around, at times. Something... authentic in them both amidst a profession built on masks, deceit, and betrayal.

It's not even quite "someone's gotta make sure you don't get yourself killed, agent" as it is more likely she'd poke that at least being around when it happens would maybe be interesting or entertaining. It's a kind of friendship where they'd still say they'd sell each other to satan for a corn chip.

Except Tyr never would. And, sure, Kaliyo essentially tried. And it didn't work out. So it's just a lot of work for probably little payoff to try again.

So, in the end... Friends? Yeah... Sort of. She's not writing any speeches for a funeral or anything, but she'd maybe have a drink for him. Tyr's the one for remarks about deserving better, or whatever sentimental crap he fills his head with when he's waiting on sniper shots to line up. (And it just... sorta works.)

#dot talk #swtor #npc dynamics talks #kaliyo djannis #they're just a good time. okay. i care them #and whatever weird sorta not well-defined friendship they have going on #probably another side result of y'know. tyr's burning idealism he's a bit blind to tbh #to be clear they do nothing to fix each other. the point is very much that they don't change they just. cooperate.#imperial agent #ch: tyr

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missgryffin · 1 year

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So today I reached (and then surpassed) a follower milestone, and I am seriously blown away 💗 Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading and engaging with my stories. Thank you for sharing in your love for Jily with me. You guys are the best 🥹

I wanted to share something with you to celebrate, but I've been doing much more outlining than writing as of late, so I thought I'd pull back the curtain on one of the stories I'm working on right now—something that's flitted around in my head for ages and that I'm stoked to be finally writing in earnest:

As Old as Time

A Beauty and the Beast + Fairytale AU 🥀🏰🕯 (Or, what happens when you end up binging Disney movies and OUAT, which turns into googling why the Beast was a prince and not a king, and then before you know it you've been reading about Rumpelstiltskin for an hour.) The following things are known: i) Obviously Gaston = Gilderoy; ii) on that note, LeFou = Peter = LePou, which translates to head louse and is more than fitting for our brawny pig's sidekick (I dare you to go watch "Gaston" now with that in your head); iii) yes, Rumpel is Snape, and yes, his name must be edited to Rumpelsnapeskin; iv) no, Prince James cannot be an actual "beast," lest that somehow be construed as needing a bestiality tag on AO3 (*shudders*); and v) the plot of [redacted], in which [redacted] but [redacted], and then [redacted]. The following things are still unknown: i) whether this will remain a one shot or spiral even further out of control; ii) whether this will manage to be my first (only?) T-rated fic or inevitably turn steamy enough to warrant an M; and iii) whether this will be ready to post at some point "soon" or some other undetermined time "later." With all that in mind...

Prologue

Once upon a time, in the hidden heart of the realm of Gryffindor, a handsome young prince lived in a beautiful castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the spoiled prince was arrogant, selfish, and unkind. He taxed the village to fill his castle with the most beautiful objects, and his parties with the most beautiful people.

Then one night, while a bitter storm’s rain lashed at the windows and the arrogant prince danced obliviously with yet another beautiful woman, an unexpected intruder arrived at the castle.

The grand double doors burst open; the bitter storm’s gale snuffed out all of the candles with its icy breath; the music ceased; and everyone watched with bated breath as the prince approached the cloaked figure in the doorway.

The figure lowered his hood, revealing himself to be a slight man with a pointed, imp-like face and curtains of oily black hair that flapped forward as he bowed before the prince.

The imp-like man was there to collect on a deal. Not one that the prince had made, no—one that the prince’s father had made, decades before, when he feared the end of his line because his wife remained barren despite years of their efforts.

The deal was simple: a first-born son, in exchange for control of the son’s fate.

Desperate for his line to continue, even if it meant submitting to the wiles of the imp-like man, the prince’s father had accepted the bargain.

Upon learning of this, the prince was enraged, and he turned the imp-like man away, vowing never to let his life be controlled by such a snake. The imp-like man warned the prince that his father’s bargain could not be undone, though it could be supplanted by a bargain of his own.

But the prince was proud, and he refused to deal with someone he found so slimy and repulsive.

When he dismissed the intruder again, the imp-like man’s eyes turned pure black, and he snapped his fingers. At once, a red rose—as lush and beautiful as those in the rosebushes of the castle gardens—appeared in his hand. Holding the rose aloft, he cursed the prince as punishment, placing a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

Days bled into years, and the prince and his servants were forgotten by the world, for the imp-like man had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved. He had sentenced the prince to his fate after all: to be forever bound to his castle, immortalized in his body of twenty-five, yet alone and forgotten, forced to live knowing that his line and his very existence would disappear into oblivion exactly as his father had feared.

But all magic must have a loophole, and the prince’s was this: if he could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell from the rose the imp-like man had enchanted, the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain in his forgotten castle, ageless yet alone, for all time.

As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope—for even if someone could learn to love a cursed man like him, an even more impossible element remained: who could ever find him?

Unknown to the prince and his forgotten castle, the surrounding realms were increasingly subsumed by the spiteful realm of Slytherin. Rumors of dark magic flitted about in whispers, for sorcery left as ugly a stain as blood. But no one dared speak aloud the name of the one who was said to have the wicked Queen’s ear, not even when her own mother and stepfather died in a mysterious accident, thereby allowing her to ascend the throne.

Each day of her reign, the vain, cruel Queen consulted her Magic Mirror: “Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall. Who is the fairest one of all?” And each day, the Mirror answered, “You are the fairest one of all,” until one day, the Mirror replied, “Beyond Hufflepuff’s valley, across Ravenclaw’s glen, near the heart of Gryffindor’s wild moor, dwells Snow White, fairest one of all.”

Fearing that her stepsister, the baby Princess Snow White, would not only someday surpass her in beauty but would also challenge the Queen’s connived claim to the throne, the Queen had gotten rid of her years before. But in a moment of weakness, unable to kill a young child with her own hand, the Queen had dressed the little Princess in rags and sent her afloat on the Winding River with an omen of death instead.

Enraged to learn her stepsister still lived, the Queen commanded her Huntsman to find the Princess—and bring back her heart.

❦

A Small Provincial Town

Sunshine spilled over the distant hills, golden and glowing as it reflected along the Winding River and woke the quiet little village nestled there beside the Forbidden Forest.

Why it was forbidden, Lily had no idea; it had simply been that way—dark, still, seemingly untouched—for as long as she could remember.

Of course, there were those who spoke of legends about dangerous packs of wolves prowling the Forest and eating any person who dared venture too deep into the wood, and maybe they were true; from the cottage she called home on the outskirts of town, near the Forest’s edge, Lily had often heard the distant, eerie howls of wolves at night.

But the Forest was also where she’d learned how to use her bow; where she gathered herbs and flowers that didn’t grow in their own garden; where she sometimes rode, careful not to venture beyond where the trees turned dense, and she could inhale the crisp, almost stinging scent of pine in her nose.

Something about the Forest called to her; it always had.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Lily forced her gaze away from the beckoning trees and resumed her daily walk into the village.

🌲🏰🕯🥀

[cutting it off there before I copy/paste the whole damn file]

[stay tuned!]

#missgryffin writes #spoilers / sneak peek ahead!#very excited about what I'm working on at the moment #🥰#as old as time

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rex-shadao · 2 years

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I love Tragic Villains

And when I mean tragic villains, I don't mean the Mr. Freeze kind of villains, or the Prince Zuko kind of villains. I mean tragic villains that actually live up the Greek definition of tragedy.

The downfall of a powerful or great figure, brought low by their own character flaws.

They are not people who became villains because of some horrible accident happened to them. They are not characters who are horribly abused by their parental figures. Or forcibly transformed into weapons.

They are villains who made wrong choices and continue spiraling down further into villainy because their personalities cause them to double down and dig deeper. They could turn back, they could make different choices, they could admit they were wrong... and yet they don't. They wouldn't because their pride won't let them.

And they make for compelling characters because you can see their downfall a mile away. You know exactly what is causing it. And you know it's their own fault. And all of that... is relatable to all of us. Tragic Villains are not anti-villains. They're not villains who you always want to be redeemed. Heck, many tragic villains are outright monsters or irredeemable.

This is why you may hear from Tony Jay that Frollo is a tragic villain, despite the fact he's one of the vilest villains ever put out by Disney. And he's right. If he was just a vile villain, he wouldn't haven't gotten that much focus from the fanbase to the point he gets his dedicated character page on TV Tropes.

He's a character with his own inner conflict. His conflict of devotion to God and his primal lust for sins. He's a walking hypocrite, but not completely oblivious one. He's repulsive yet pitiful because everyone, including himself, knows exactly what's wrong with him and yet he will not change because it's not in his nature to do so. And thus, we can only wait to see his downfall by his own hand.

Other tragic villains include Ganondorf from Wind Waker. I recall many people think that WW Ganondorf is too sympathetic or that his sudden speech about the wind doesn't excuse his crimes... but that's the point. Wind Waker Ganondorf is not an anti-villain, he's a tragic villain.

He hates being in this eternal conflict with Link and Zelda over the Triforce. He remembers why he wants Hyrule so badly. He's grown wiser since his last defeat... and yet he cannot move on. He's stuck in the past, and he knows it. He knows that he could break the cycle by using his Triforce wish for a selfless purpose, but he chooses to wish for Hyrule to belong to him alone. He could have broken the cycle by simply leaving Hyrule and forge a new life on the Great Sea, but he chooses not to. He is his own worst enemy. He rants about how the gods destroyed everyone through this endless cyclical war of good and evil, and yet he will not do anything to deviate from that despite being a major player. In the end, he ends up dead and buried beneath the waves, forgotten to the sands of time, while Link and Tetra are free to make their own destiny. It's a hopeful future for Hyrule's descendants, but also a tragic, fitting finale for a great villain.

There are other villains that I want to talk in these categories, but I kinda waiting for the Owl House Season 3 to see if my prediction will come true.

#tragic villain #tragedy #ganondorf #the wind waker #claude frollo #judge frollo #tragic characters #greek tragedy #toh #belos toh

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

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Hi Raven! If it isn’t much of a bother, what is your opinion on Cheka and Najma in the character bingo? Hope you have a good day and make sure to take care of yourself!

***Standard disclaimer: These are just my personal opinions of the character(s); regardless of what I may think of them, sharing my thoughts is NOT meant to offend or to shame anyone that thinks differently.***

CHEKA WAS THE SAVING GRACE OF THE HOT MESS THAT WAS EPISODE 2 😭 He really just came out of nowhere and stole my heart like that... hey Leona if you don’t like Cheka I can adopt him off your hands for ya, just get Falena to sign off on the release forms--

I don’t think I can say enough just how cute Cheka is????????? His sunny personality and innocence just lights up the whole room, and it contrasts well with how grumpy Leona is. BUAYOFV8ADY8FAASBPI AND HE CALLS LEONA “OJITAN” 😂 (Unca in TWST EN, which is significantly less cute to me, but acceptable)???????? Bruh, that moment of levity was what we really needed to distract from the rest of episode 2 yes I will shit on episode 2 every chance that I get.

It’s so clear that Cheka truly looks up to and adores his uncle. Cheka doesn’t come off as pompous as Simba is (like, remember when Simba just brags to Scar about how he’ll be king of Pride Rock?????), but he shares that same sense of childish obliviousness to the darker things around him. I don’t know, I just find it super endearing how Cheka loves Leona so much and wants to spend time with him despite Leona’s absolute repulsion. Cheka doesn’t let that get to him! He wants Leona to visit him at home, he wants Leona to read his letters, he wants Leona to teach him how to play Magical Shift/Spelldrive! That’s a kind of enthusiasm and pure, unadulterated joy that we don’t get to see often from the main cast of boys.

It’s a shame that we don’t get to see much more of Cheka beyond episode 2 (I think he gets a cameo in the first Halloween event, though it’s just via a phone call), but I get why that’s the case. It’s not like Cheka’s a main character or anything 😔 I just hope that he makes a comeback if/when we have an event where we get to visit the Sunset Savanna.

I’d love to learn more about Cheka and his relationships with the rest of the Kingscholar family, as well as how he deals with his security detail (since Cheka mentions slipping away from them to see Leona) and royal advisors, tutors, and servants (seeing as how Simba saw people like Zazu as a nag). Like, if Leona’s people hate him as much as he says they do (according to his post-OB backstory), then I wonder if Cheka is cognizant of that and if he actively defends his uncle. How does Cheka get along with his dad???? Or maybe we’ll learn why exactly Cheka looks up to Leona so much (besides just Cheka being a wide-eyed kid). I feel like there’s a lot of interesting ground we could cover!

Hey Jamil I’m really into your looks 😎 Think you can introduce me to your sister? Ignore me, it’s a stupid MHYK joke—

Can I just start off saying that I love Najma’s fashion sense???? Her clothes are very reminiscent of the traditional style associated with Silk City (based on what I can see of the Yasmina Silk cards), but has a modern twist to it. The patterns on her hairband and cardigan are absolutely mesmerizing without being too complicated for the eye to process at a glance, and her simple jewelry and mostly solid-colored top and pants don’t distract or compete with those patterns for attention. The turquoise sash at her waist makes the tassels of her shirt look really interesting, and the white flower in her hair is striking against her dark hair. HNNNNGH I just really love how Najma looks! The one thing that kind of throws me off about her is how similar her face is to Jamil’s 😂 which makes sense, because they’re siblings, but they look SO similar (especially their neutral expressions) that it scares me sometimes.

Najma’s interactions with the rest of the cast in the Scalding Sands event were so wholesome, but not in the same way that like... Cheka would be considered wholesome. She still expresses a sense of curiosity about the NRC kids, but she’s much more reserved about it. I also just find it hilarious that she sasses Jamil (like eating his shawarma) and tells embarrassing stories about him to his classmates; it’s very in line with what real life siblings tend to do to get on each other’s nerves. (I’m legally allowed to say that as someone with siblings/j) She’s so cute but in a lowkey shit-eating way...

I love seeing fan content of her; artists get so creative with her drip, and Najma looks good in like. EVERYTHING. My favorite Najma fan content has to be short comics where Najma has heard of some Dumb Shit that Jamil’s been up to and teasing him about it. For example, Jamil was a major part of NRC’s VDC performance; he had a whole rap and dance routine in the middle of it--and I remember seeing so many cute pieces of Najma imitating Jamil’s rap and dance while wearing a smug expression and Jamil getting all annoyed and/or embarrassed about it. IT’S TECHNICALLY NOT CANON, BUT IT SOUNDS LIKE IT COULD HAPPEN, RIGHT?????

I LIVE for Najma and Jamil’s dynamic. Something about all the little things they do and say to each other feels so real and so genuine. Even before we got to meet Najma face-to-face, Jamil would sometimes make remarks like how his little sister said his cooking looks boring (because it was all the same brownish color). Jamil may not exactly care for the act of cooking itself, but he has a lot of pride in his skills, and comments like that clearly get under his skin. AND THEN WHEN NAJMA STARTS TELLING THE GROUP STORIES ABOUT THE STUPID SHIT JAMIL USED TO DO AS A KID AND HE TRIES TO BE ALL COOL AND NONCHALANT ABOUT IT???????? The way they sound kind of exasperated to see each other? The whole “why are you here”, “dad said to come get you, I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to hang out with my friends” exchange???????? That’s so real it hurts 😂

I think that Najma got just enough screen time so as to not overstay her welcome or to overshadow the NRC boys, but I personally wish we got to see more of her (or at least have her make a cameo again in the future). I’m curious about what her relationship with Kalim is like (since it seems she also knows him and played with him in their childhoods)? And I also want to know what Najma’s thoughts are on the Viper family’s history of servitude to the Asims, or if she is or isn’t expected to carry on that legacy since she’s second born. Those would be really cool topics to explore!

#Cheka Kingscholar #Najma Viper #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #ask game #notes from the writing raven #character opinion bingo

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aydaptic · 6 months

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When it comes to your fics, do you have any favourite chapters, moments or lines from them? Also once you’re finished with your web-comic, do you have any ideas for future reed900 fics?

Oh, wow. It's heartwarming that ppl are interested to know. What the phck? ;-;

I do have some favorite chapters/moments/lines, yes. These contain spoilers for those who haven't read my stories, and want to, so here's your warning...

FAVORITE CHAPTERS

(A&E) Ch. 5: Emotional Shock. Writing Carl and Leo felt very natural to me somehow as their voices came really easily.

(A&E) Ch. 15: New Year's Eve. I got to introduce my headcanon for Gav being a Magic Mike fan and great dancer. Him getting tipsy and essentially 'being his flirty self' instead of holding back bc Niner isn't deviant yet just made me so happy. I also tore my own heart out with the ending. It hurt.

(A&E) Ch. 17: Stay. My 1st Reed900 s*x scene. Despite me being ace, and s*x-repulsed, these intimate scenes are my favorite thing to write. I also love the little peck Gav gives Niner's oblivious jawline before they part ways.

FAVORITE 'A&E' MOMENTS

(Ch. 1) Niner's introduction.

(Ch. 5) Gav accidentally dropping his Bluetooth earpiece.

(Ch. 7) Niner patching Gav up.

(Ch. 8)

Tina: "All right, you two just have to fuck already. Blow off some steam." Gavin: "Last thing I need is getting my dick stuck in one of those things." Nines: "Oh, please. As if I'd ever let you top."

(Ch. 8) Niner getting hacked by CyberLife and Gav saving him.

(Ch. 10) Niner holding out a detached android arm to Gav trying to light a cigarette and asking if he needs a hand.

(Ch. 10) Niner interrogating Gav during sparring.

(Ch. 12) Gav patching Niner up and hugging him to reduce his stress levels knowing that's what Hank -- and Sumo -- did.

(Ch. 13) Niner draping his jacket over Gav's shoulders to keep him warm and letting him touch his palm's chassis.

(Ch. 16) Gav shielding Niner with his body in a burning building.

(Ch. 19) Niner deviating for the final time, grabbing Gav by the throat, pushing him into a wall, and kissing him.

FAVORITE 'LIBEROSIS' MOMENTS

(Ch. 1) Gav nearly breaking his arm punching a guy.

(Ch. 1)

OC - Iris: "I wonder what he's doing here." Nines: *nudging the unconscious person she's referring to with his foot* "Honestly, not much."

(Ch. 3) Niner throwing a crumpled napkin piece at Gav and the latter in his dramatic glory accusing the former of trying to kill him.

(Ch. 6) Gav getting territorial as Niner has taken a honeypot approach on the case, successfully egging him on to get him in bed, and making it very clear that he's 'his' in the process.

(Ch. 8) Gav platonically bonding with his ex OC - Craig again.

(Ch. 10) Niner wrecking Gav with kisses alone by being more dominant.

FAVORITE 'A&E' LINES

(Ch. 2) Fowler: *to Gav's outburst after hearing Niner is assigned to him* "I've still got a headache from Hank's outburst back when Connor was new to the precinct and I don't need you giving me a migraine!"

(Ch. 2) Gavin: "What the fuck is this? They sent you back to the Ken-doll fabric and give you an upgrade?"

(Ch. 4) Gavin: "I doubt it's your encrypted p*rn collection, so speak up."

(Ch. 4) "Was he [Niner] human, Gavin would've already had him pinned to the mattress."

(Ch. 4) Nines: "Deviants are like infants. Give an infant a gun and it wouldn’t know what to do with it."

(Ch. 13) Nines: "When you're done being dramatic, please get back inside the car."

(Ch. 15) Gavin: "If you're expecting a fucking waltz, I'm sorry to disappoint you... but every guy who's good in bed knows how to use his hips."

(Ch. 15) "He was terrified to want him, and yet, there he was... wanting him anyway."

(Ch. 17)

Nines: "I fail to see how sleeping with you would benefit your current state." Gavin: "I'd pass out quicker." Nines: "A hit to the back of the head would be immediate."

(Ch. 19) Nines: "You keep pulling me back."

(Ch. 19) Gavin: "Stay."

Context: The line itself isn't much to write home about, but it's the way he says it in my mind. Best example I can give is the 0.04-0.05 second mark of this beautiful Reed900 edit: Reed900 | RK900 X Gavin Reed { Colors }. It's literally just the "Stay out of my way" line from the game, but the music makes it sound soft AF, and nearly completely quiets the "out of my way" part. So it just sounds like a whispered "stay." It's also a very profound thing of Gav to finally ask as he's earlier told Niner to get out of his life.

FAVORITE 'LIBEROSIS' LINES

(Ch. 6) Nines: "User 'Gavin Reed' not found."

(Ch. 7) Gavin: "We're meeting with Dick Perkins and the Powerpuff Girls down the road."

(Ch. 10) Nines: *after Gav asks what last name he wants to use* "I'm holding out for 'Reed'."

FUTURE FICS

As for future fics, also yes, I do have some plans! Said plans are both for the 'Alive' ficverse -- A&E and Liberosis are part of it -- as well as standalone Slow Burn works.

(The 'Alive' Ficverse) WebComic adaption of Liberosis.

(The 'Alive' Ficverse) Gav's bachelor party.

(The 'Alive' Ficverse) A parallel story where every 2nd chapter skips between two instances in Gav's life. One of them, he's at a stakeout with Niner whilst pining for him, and the other is Gav reminiscing about his past with his recent ex. Reminding himself of 'what went wrong' and why he shouldn't 'try again' to have a romantic relationship. I want to share the complicated Gav/Craig story as it has so many layers to it, but most ppl simply wouldn't be interested as it's not Reed900... thus I was sneaky and put in a parallel Reed900 story that ties into it, lol. Ppl are ofc easily allowed to skip the Gav/Craig parts in their entirety.

(The 'Alive' Ficverse) WebComic adaption of that parallel story.

(Slow Burn) Gav and Niner are at a stakeout where the former poses as a stripper while the latter poses as a bartender.

(AU - Slow Burn) Niner is a s*x android, accidentally gets involved with a case bc of a client, and works as an informant for Gav.

Somewhat unrelated, but I also plan to animate my own Reed900 GMVs :)

#dbh #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900 #900gavin #gavin900 #900reed #g9 #detroit: become human #long post #Q&A #anonymous #*aydaptic

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idrisofficial · 8 months

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i don’t think you’ve posted enough about the fucked up love square between adrian brinne kori and zuri. also kori and zuri deserve to hold hands and blush

ohh this is true. i will now begin to explain it to my audience of probably one (1) who already knows everything about it.

heartbreaking: mentally ill star crossed noble lovers are betrothed to absolute cinnamon rolls who don’t understand why their fiancés don’t love them.

in all seriousness it is pretty messed up. brinne and adrian went through an abundance of childhood trauma together and latched onto each other like the codependent traumabonded almost-gays that they are. despite being the children of the most respected people in the entire country, all of the other nobles hated them during childhood, and honestly still do, so they’re all each other has ever had. after brinne started distancing herself from adrian following artemis’s massacre, she practically lost her mind from the sheer isolation without him. even when she warms up to adrian again, it takes time for her to be able to genuinely open up to him like she did as a teenager. they both just kind of vaguely angst and then fuck nasty about it in the castle’s chapel.

and then right in the middle of her healing kori enters. and it gets So Much Worse. brinne adopted naturally hostile responses to most people even before the trauma of the massacre, so you can imagine that her reactions to new people are not so welcoming. yes she was somewhat prepared to meet the person she’s been betrothed to since childhood, but she was not expecting him to be seventeen. she was not expecting him to be a golden retriever boy who everyone fawns over. she was not expecting him to fall head over heels in love with her two seconds after seeing her. he’s the perfect guy, and she’s pissed. she has no trouble making sure kori knows that the sight of him repulses her. kori isn’t entirely oblivious (brinne is blunt as hell), but he stays optimistic through all of this. he’s definitely upset that his fiancée doesn’t love him, but wants to do his best to make her at least like him, so he keeps shooting his shot. he does not have the mind for politics, and while most of the nobles love him, none of them care about him enough to really get to know him. he’s extremely lonely and misses home. he just kind of wanders around confused most of the time, making it look like he’s happy and well-adjusted. kori also knows nothing about brinne’s affair with adrian, even though the entire noble court knows. none of them have the heart to tell him.

zuri is adrian’s fiancée. she’s a little different. she’s reserved and sweet and disciplined, and has tried to foster a good relationship with adrian for years. they just…don’t click. they’re too similar in too many ways for their relationship to truly be comfortable. zuri was also extremely shy as a child, and adrian was usually busy, so the two never developed a relationship early on. she knows about brinne and adrian’s affair, and has been aware of it since only a little while after it started. brinne and adrian were by no means subtle, and the nobles’ whispers about it became much louder over time. everyone pities her deeply, but no one wants to actually say anything about it. zuri tries to ignore it. she seeks adrian out and does nice things for him and tries to make herself attractive to him in all different ways. girl has tried everything at this point. it’s not working, and adrian feels awful about it. unlike brinne, he has a real connection to his obligations, and he also just values zuri deeply as a person. he can see how hard she’s trying and he wants to like her so, so bad. his demisexuality gets in the way of a lot of it, too (not that he knows what that is). zuri has no comfort, no real friends, and no support. she is putting everything into a relationship she knows is doomed to fail. adrian and zuri are a tragic couple and if they were given time and a little more anger inside, they would probably end up something like the alpha couple from tmg’s tallahassee album.

see, brinne and adrian are deeply in love and ultimately have no romantic interest in their fiancés. and kori and zuri are both the sweetest people ever and are distraught that their fiancés don’t love them back. in addition to this, kori and zuri’s personalities would match completely and they would likely give way to a relationship that helps them grow as people. the age gap between them is also smaller (still not great but it’s a fantasy story what do you want from me) and their life ideals match so much better together. i should just pair them up and let them be happy together, right? right? that would solve all the problems? or at least a lot of them? right?

well. i refuse to let anyone be happy. hope this helps :)

#they are all hopeless!!!#i love thinking about their hypothetical relationship but it gives me so much joy to make them suffer #sorry kori and zuri. today’s emotional torture is over you don’t have to worry #anyways thank you for the ask this took a long time to write it was good for procrastination :)#oc: brinne alistair #oc: adrian kaldaver #oc: zurielle tessing #oc: koriandarius twyvek

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c6h12o6pack · 7 months

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I had always thought that if I got pretty and girly people would treat me better because looking good=everyone gives you respect. Wrong. I have changed my look so many times. I had tried SO hard to look good and to constantly improve how I looked. I went with nerdy, beautiful, sexy, etc. I've dyed my hair every colour along with different lengths and styles. I hated myself through every look. I was never satisfied and I'd still get mistreated, disrespected. There will always be shit people. I tried to focus on being happy and nice to others. I'm still insecure. I'm scared of people. I'm scared of eye contact. I fear people and their intentions.

I've noticed that I've grown to divide myself from white people as a defense mechanism. The more I tried to get their approval, the worst it got. They are still mean to me no matter how hard I try. People who always happen to be white are always so mean or treat me like a dog and say or ask the most repulsive things. Oh but you think you're the exception? You're not racist? You don't understand why I'm "skeptical" with white people? But what do your parents say about me? What do you and your friends laugh about? People will be so oblivious despite being part of the audience. I don't hate white people but my goodness can they be ignorant.

Being poor, the impact of both my own background and my parent(s?), and growing up being different looking from other's around me was hard. Making friends is hard. Good friends. I am optimistic yet miserable.

I have a group of friends who just happen to all be Asian, like me. We get together on rare occasions but it's always the best. We all met in high school, plus two recent additions to the group. I never thought I'd fit in with people. Despite not seeing them often, they are some of the kindest and smartest people. They like the same food I like, that other people would say "that- looks gross" to. They understand what it's like to have immigrant parents, ending up here because their home country wasn't an option for them. I don't have to be hot or pretty for them. I just have to be human. Funny and goofy. Meeting nice people keep me from going insane and gives me hope that I will be okay. Thanksgiving is coming up and I am thankful for having my wonderful friends.

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dancerin-thedarkness · 2 years

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notes on haunting: what haunts academia?

much of this class places a focus on what haunts us, as artists and as people. I've been thinking about this a lot as it relates to artists functioning in academic settings; both art and academia have histories rife with repulsive amounts of misogyny, racism, etc, and the way that these histories intersect can be interesting. something I find interesting about academia, however, is the degree to which it claims to be aware of its own biases, specifically aforementioned misogyny, racism, homo- and transphobia, etc, and there is plenty of effort all around (sort of-- that would be an entirely different post.) to escape those ghosts. Something I have noticed as a poor artist, from a poor area, however, is the degree to which academia is haunted by its own classism, by its assumptions about what resources are available to whom, and by its response to individuals who are without access to those resources-- and the degree to which it is totally oblivious, or wishes to be, to that specific ghost.

This is particularly prevalent in art school, where I am expected to acquire lots and lots of materials in order to make, make, make! Those materials, of course, are expected to be of the highest quality, and sometimes to cling to particular standards. (Hand-making your canvases is better than buying some wooden panels at the home depot to paint on, despite the fact that I don't think one is objectively, measurably better than the other.)

Interestingly, artists who are not poor have a little more freedom-- if you use those "lower quality" materials out of choice, to make a statement, that's OK. If you use them because they're what you can afford, that's a whole 'nother can of worms, and you had better grab a roll of linen and hop to fixing it.

There's an obvious author's note here, that as a person who is able to attend grad school at all, I am experiencing a huge degree of privilege and becoming a part of a system I complain about. My ghosts, so to speak, are waking up, and boy are they mad.

#HauntologyNotes #please ignore me classmates I am BITTER and POOR

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sheetsonfire · 2 years

Text

2 Minute Fiancé

Fandom: Chicago Med

Pairing: Will Halstead x Reader

Genre: humour, fluff

Warnings: Harassment

Word Count: 2270

Requested By Anon: i have another request if you got some free time: reader is a doctor at chicago med and is hit on by one of the patients, but connor rhodes or will halstead gets her out of an uncomfortable situation by pretending to have dinner plans with her already. basically going for ✨protective male coworker✨

A/N: Initially listed to be titled as 'Protected', changed to '2 Minute Fiancé' for a reference within the fic. Happy reading!

You were used to male attention, and you meant that in the most unconceited way. The kind of “attention” someone might like to receive was not, unsurprisingly, the attention you got from the average male patient. And today was proving to be no exception.

Mr Turnquest is in his late 30s, visiting from Long Island and ironically is already on a quest for a dinner date with you the second you pull back his curtain with Monique in tow.

“Mr Turnquest, I’m Dr Y/L/N, and this is Monique. What seems to be the problem today?” Monique offers a sweet smile as she starts taking vitals and observing for further instruction.

“I tell ya one thing, darlin’, if more doctors looked like you, we would be feeling better in no time at all.”

You go to make a sarcastic quip but then think better of it, you were only five hours into your sixteen hour shift, you weren’t ready for this clown to soak up your time, nor did you want to create any kind of negative tension. You smile tightly, glancing at Monique who raises her eyebrows. Your patient is totally oblivious to your reactions beyond the shroud of bravado surrounding him.

“So, Mr Turnquest, it says here that you’ve been experiencing some stomach pain? When did that start?”

“What, I can’t give you a compliment, huh? I just think you oughta come out with me, sweetheart. I’d show you a really good time. These Chicago boys don’t know nothin’”

You sigh, you just wanted to get past this first hurdle. He was sweating, clearly in pain, and yet he’d rather grimace and huff in discomfort as he attempts to flirt with you. You thought about asking Maggie to let a male coworker field this one, but the ED was slammed and you didn’t want to let this guy win or provoke him in any way by “rejecting” him.

“Sir, you wouldn’t be able to take me anywhere if this stomach pain got any worse and became more dangerous. So it really is in your best interests to let me help you.”

“Fine, darlin’, you wanna play hard to get? We can. I was at a bar, drinkin’, some wackadoo decided to send their fist into my stomach, nobody helped me up or nothin’, so much for a Chicago welcome. You’re the best thing I’ve seen here so far.”

You listen to his story with as much attention as you can force out, begging your eyes to stay put and not roll back in exasperation. You had a feeling that the “wackadoo” who punched him probably had good reason, and the reason nobody helped him was because of the former.

You can only muster a short acknowledgment of his tale, trying to stay purely on a medical track. “That sounds like quite a night… I’m gonna feel your stomach now, is that alright? I’m going to check for any abnormalities, and then we’ll do an ultrasound to get an in-depth view.”

“Sure go ahead, sweetheart. It’ll give you a preview for after dinner tonight.” The man thinks he’s so suave that he winks, he actually winks at you. And you can see out of the corner of your eye Monique is positively repulsed, incredulous that this guy was so brazen, with her in the room no less.

You can feel this man is approaching your threshold for sleazy men who don’t know when to shut up. It was not uncommon to have awkward or uncomfortable interactions with strangers in the ED, and you had to pick and choose your battles. But despite your oath and wealth of patience, you were starting to feel like you wanted to add to this guy’s stomach issues with a punch of your own.

In the 10 seconds you consider snapping back at him, the curtain to the cubicle opens and you can feel your body almost sag in relief at the sight of Will standing there.

“Oh I’m sorry, Dr Y/L/N, wrong cubicle.” Will is smiling politely, but between Mr Turnquest's scowl at the intrusion, and your less-than-pleased face, he stays put a little longer. He glances at Monique, and she makes a face that screams, “Help us, this one’s too much.”

“Everything alright here?” Will moves a little closer. His smile is tight like yours had been, but still in place. He puts himself between the patient, you, and Monique.

“Oh just fine, ‘Doc, just fine. The lovely Doctor here was just checking my stomach, got attacked last night y’know, rough stuff.” Turnquest's face has softened, almost adding an elderly demeanour to his behaviour. But of course, he fails to recognise that Will knows you better than most, he can tell the whole charade is bullshit.

“Do you mind if I observe, Dr Y/L/N?”

“Not at all, Dr. Halstead.”

“Actually, ‘Doc. I’d rather just Dr Y/L/N stays. And the lovely nurse, of course.” He makes himself sound innocent enough, but the more this guy protests, the less Will is inclined to move.

“Ah, I understand Mr…”

“Turnquest.” You offer briefly.

“Right, Mr Turnquest. As a resident of this ED, I am obliged to check in on my fellow doctors from time to time. So I’ll stay for the initial exam and the ultrasound, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Will provides his most effusive smile, and you can see that your no.1 fan is simmering with resentment on the inside, it makes you childishly want to high-five Will for shutting this moron down.

Turnquest opens his mouth one more time but shuts it again, nodding curtly as if to say “Get on with it then.”

And so Will does stay, watching the guy’s hands like a hawk as you palpate the patient's stomach. He knows you wouldn’t intentionally apply more pressure than was required to perform the exam, but he too feels a little surge of glee as the pest on the bed lets out a few strained groans of discomfort.

“Okay, time for the ultrasound. The gel will feel a little cold, but it’ll help us see any internal damage there might be.”

“Right, go ahead ‘Doc… say, what’s your first name? It feels a bit too formal calling you Doctor all the time.”

Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing, this guy really was pushing his goddamn luck in front of him. You feel your brows go up, no matter how hard you try to conceal your anger. You feel like a classic cartoon with steam coming out of your ears. Will stands arms folded and jaw set, the guy acts as if he’s not even there. Anything else and Will was ready to shut him right down.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate to share, Mr Turnquest. Right, I’m going to apply the gel now.”

“Peter.” He smiles.

You exhale, “Peter, I’m going to apply the gel now.”

As you assess the images on the screen, another person arrives at the cubicle, it’s Maggie.

“Dr Halstead, I need you for a moment.”

You whip your head around, wanting somebody else to stay as Monique had already been called away to assist in an emergency in Baghdad.

Will speaks in a hushed tone, “Maggie, can I-”

You sigh, “Will, it’s alright. You’re needed. Go.”

He looks at you, giving you a chance to change your mind,

“I’ve got it here.” You reassure him, feeling you have to be “brave”, Will was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t keep him for your own comfort.

“I’ll check back in a few minutes.” Maggie offers, seeing that clearly there was a problem that was going unsaid.

Will relaxes slightly at that. “Alright, I’ll check in later.” Leaving you alone with your patient as he follows Maggie to where he's required.

You turn back round and you can feel your stomach roll nauseatingly at the sight of Peter’s satisfied smile, you really felt something predatory about him now.

“Where were we, Doctor?” He gives a pathetic eyebrow waggle, and you huff more air out of your nose. Letting him at least know that he was not putting you in a good mood.

You finish up the exam, determining there could be potential damage to his abdominal wall. You call for a gastroenterologist to come and see Mr Turnquest at their earliest convenience, and make a merciful escape from the cubicle for a moment.

Everybody seemed to be preoccupied with their own challenges for the day, even Maggie had disappeared off the planet. So you park yourself at a safe distance at one of the computers, inputting notes on your patient’s file. Hoping the gastroenterologist would give you some time away from that stifling room.

Dr Pope confirms that your patient did in fact have a tear, and that Peter would be kept in the ED until an OR opened up for the repair. You thanked them for their assessment and sadly made your way back to Peter’s cubicle to check that he understood what was happening.

His face lit up at the sight of you, and it took everything to not just turn right back around and beg Maggie to give this guy someone like Sam Abrams, despite him being a neurologist, who could use his wonderfully deadpan and cold attitude to stop Peter flat in his escapades.

He actually reaches to hold your hand and you step back, but he doesn’t stop.

“Ah, she’s back. Couldn’t stay away, huh? Listen darlin’, I’m not doing so good. Gotta have some surgery or somethin’. I’m gonna need some care after, you wanna swing by my room for dinner later?”

You bite your lip, your face illuminating with anger that fizzes through you like electricity, you’re just about to open your mouth and chew his head off when Will returns from his own emergency.

He stands right by your side, an arm protectively looping around your shoulder.

“Listen, pal. She’s my fiance, and if you don’t stop making these gross and sleazy comments to not just her but to anybody else, we’re gonna have a really big problem. Now, she’s been a good doctor to you, and you’re gonna be taken care of here, but what you’re not gonna do is harass staff here anymore, got it? Don’t talk to her, don't even look at her anymore, she’s not having dinner with you, and she’s not your little pin up girl. Am I clear?”

Peter is stunned, caught between embarrassment and finding some wise-ass remark to come back with. He settles for another curt nod, deciding it was safer for him to just accept Will’s commands.

You smile sarcastically at Turnquest, placing a thankful hand on Will’s back as you address the man in the bed. “Mr Turnquest, it has been a huge displeasure taking care of you today. Good luck with the surgery.”

And that was you done. In need of a lunch break where you could just scream into the ether and calm down.

Will follows you out of the cubicle and into the on-call room where you flop unceremoniously onto the couch with a strangled wail.

“Why are they like that?! Jesus christ… The most insufferable, disgusting…” You screech into the pillow on the couch, and Will comes to sit by your side, rubbing your back carefully.

“It’s reprehensible, Y/N. I’m sorry I had to leave like that-”

You lift your head from the pillow, hair mussed rather comically from the cushion, Will smiles as he carefully smoothes out the strands of hair from your ponytail.

You take in Will’s face, kind and thoughtful. Will goddamn Halstead, so gentle and always looking out for you. You snort with a laugh, the whole moment suddenly catching up with you.

“Fiance, huh? Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know, I just said words! I just needed him to get it through his skull that he needed to back off.”

“You are too funny. And a really good friend, thanks for being a solid dude.” You smile fondly, resting your head on his shoulder. He squeezes you in a side hug, face plastered in a grin at your words, eyes twinkling with his own thankfulness for you. He really did value your presence in his life.

“You make me want to keep being better, I hope you know that. And I am 100% down for punching out any guy like that who dares show up around here or anywhere again.”

“Best give me Jay’s card so we can keep bailing you out then, I got a funny feeling those types of clowns are in an abundant supply.”

He nods in agreement, “Oh don’t I know it, Y/N. Don’t I know it….” You both sigh, sitting in comfortable silence for a moment, only the hubbub of the ED as background noise.

Will nudges you. “How about some lunch?” He suggests.

You hum happily in thought, “Oh yes, that’s what I want to hear. You got it spot on, Big Red, I need to anger eat my way through the rest of this shift.”

He chuckles, “Let’s get started then, I’m thinking tacos?”

He stands and offers his arm, which you link with yours. “Lead the way, fiance.” You tease him with a wink.

Will groans, smacking his own forehead lightly, “Oh no, don’t start that, you’ll have Doris spreading the word in 5 minutes.”

Your eyebrows go up, you smirk, “5 minutes? You underestimate that woman’s powers.”

Will holds his hands out in surrender, you had a point. Doris was the wildfire to the rumour mill. “Touche.”

Fin.

#will halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago med

391 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Angelic.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo/Reader.

Word Count: 3.8k.

Synopsis: You like being an angel. You’re proud of it, of your wings, of your faith, of all you’ve done to earn your place in the Celestial Realm. Diavolo doesn't mind your current state, of course not, he loves every part of you. He just thinks some modifications may need to be made, before he can love you properly.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Touching, Blood, Possessive Mindsets, Slight Dehumanization, and Mentions of Non-Con.

Michael used to say only the bravest angels earned their wings.

It was part of the reason they were so rare, after the Celestial War, after Lucifer and his brothers took their wings and distorted them into leathery, spiked, perverted evidence of their new, tainted loyalties. You didn’t have to be the toughest angel, but you had to be devoted, you had to be dedicated beyond a shadow of a doubt, and you had to be brave enough to put that dedication on display. You were just a messenger, a servant to much more deserving candidates, but you still had a pair sprouting from your shoulder blades, just heavy enough to give you a reason to straighten your back, whenever you started to lose faith in your divinity. You’d earned them, and you were proud. You’d managed to keep them, and you had no plans to give them up.

Only the bravest angels had wings. That meant you were a brave angel.

It meant you could be brave enough to survive Diavolo, as long as you had your wings.

They were warm, too, forming a soft, white shell around your upper body, helping you to block out that unignorable chill that came hand in hand with the Devildom. It’d been a temporary discomfort in the past, something you could brush aside whenever you were asked to carry a letter to the Demon Lord’s castle or invited as a make-shift ambassador in the absence of a proper representative, but after days trapped in the domain, your shining sun replaced with layers of stone and rock, there was little you could do to escape it, and Diavolo seemed hesitant to offer his aid. His kindness had stopped at a silk gown, black and thin and just teetering on the edge of purposefully sheer, the fabric fine enough to slip through his fingers as he toyed with the hem, perched on the edge of your bed, edging closer despite your obvious attempts to melt into the headboard.

He said you’d have your own space, your own room, that he wanted you to feel comfortable enough to welcome him in willingly, when you were ready. He said he would give you time.

Obviously, he’d been lying, and you weren’t quite why you’d ever bothered to believe him.

The silence was tense. There’d been a greeting when he came in, a gesture of good will you hadn’t returned, but if Diavolo was bothered, it didn’t stop him from smiling, a simper tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced towards you, attempting to catch your eye while you glared at the sheets. That didn’t stop him from speaking, though, attempting to clear the air and only making the atmosphere more poluted, as a result. “I take it you don’t care for my hospitality.”

His tone was light, jovial. Less of an attempt to coax you into a comfortable lull and more of a genuine fondness, regardless of whether or not the object of his affection returned the sentiment. “I don’t want to…” You wanted to go home. You wanted him to undo whatever spell he’d cast on the door and the windows and all the other exits that wouldn’t open, no matter of how many times you slammed yourself against them. You wanted him to let you go, but he wouldn’t. He’d already done enough to prove that, just by coming to you so happily. “I just don’t like it here.”

He dropped your gown, humming as he let his touch drift to your thigh, instead. You only pulled your legs closer, your wings tightening around you, attempting to provide another layer of reassurance. It was a futile pursuit, but still, you could appreciate the effort. “You’re cold?” There wasn’t a point in trying to avoid conversation, so you didn’t try, just nodding as he scanned over you. His skin was warm against yours, but unpleasantly so. Like taking a step too close to an open hearth and letting the heat become searing, rather than soothing. “It gets easier, with time. Angels usually have a difficult time adapting, but you’ll get used to it. And if you don’t…” He paused, his grin growing just a bit wider. “There are plenty of ways to speed up the process.”

Right. You’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t enough for him to just have you. It wasn’t enough for him to just keep you trapped here, against your will and so far from your natural element.

He needed to make you a monster, too. Something just as demonic and just as disgusting as he was.

You were thankful your face was hidden. He wouldn’t have taken it kindly, if he caught the way you grimaced at his suggestion. “I mean, I don’t like it here, Diavolo. It’s not just the cold. I don’t like being underground. I don’t like not being able to leave.” He wasn’t an oblivious man. He knew what he’d done, he knew how you felt about it, but for whatever reason, he refused to acknowledge your rejection. You couldn’t expect him to be kind, but you could expect him to be reasonable. “I don’t want to be a demon, or a fallen angel, or whatever you plan to turn me into. I’m just… I’m not supposed to be.”

“That’s one of the wonderful parts of having power, isn’t it?” It was a chuckle, a breath of a laugh. “I can help you change. With my assistance, you could be something greater than what you are, now. You could be a ranking demon, a name known and feared in—”

“Your servant.” You didn’t bother letting him finish. He was touching you, and you wished he wasn’t. The sooner this ended, the sooner he might stop. “I'll be your servant. Just as I’m Michael’s servant, now.”

Diavolo didn’t bother trying to deny it. “You'll my lover, as well. Isn’t that worth losing a few feathers?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You didn’t want to be his lover, or his servant, or any role he had to offer. You wanted to be a messenger. You wanted to live a life you could be proud of, you wanted to feel the sunlight on your wings, and you didn’t want to give that up for the first crazed prince to take an interest in you. You didn’t want to give up your wings. Not to him, and certainly not for a prize so undesirable.

Your head lulled to the side, and for the first time since your arrival, you let yourself smile as you spoke.

“I like being an angel.”

Michael used to say only the most faithful angels earned their wings.

Only the most faithful, only the most trusting, only the least likely to be led astray by awful rumors and mortal temptations, by all the urges that’d drove so many of your brothers and sisters to abandoning the Celestial Realm entirely, trading it in for more forgiving terrains. You trusted Michael. You trusted every cherub, every seraph, every throne, every angel. Before, you’d trusted them to guide you, to correct you when you were in the wrong, and now, you trusted them to save you, to come for you, to do something to bring you home and as far from Diavolo as you could possibly be. You trusted them. You trusted them with your life, let alone your freedom.

And, you trusted that Michael had a good reason to wait so long to rescue you, too.

You were starting to lose track of how much time had passed, since you’d been abducted. It felt like two weeks, maybe three, but with Diavolo’s sporadic schedule and no sun to dim or brighten, you really didn’t have a way to be sure. His paperwork didn’t help, sprawled across his desk, all messily written notes and correspondences too personal to need dates or signatures. You looked regardless, doing what you could to search through the mess from your awkward position on his knee, your wings folded stiffly against your back. It had to be here. You knew it’d be here, you just had to—

On the corner of his desk, a letter with its envelope still sitting on top of it. A letter you didn’t remember delivering.

A letter with Michael’s insignia pressed into its torn surface. The insignia you’d dedicated your life to. The insignia you’d continue to dedicate your life to, as soon as you got away from Diavolo.

It would’ve been better to stay quiet. It would’ve been better not to say anything at all. It would’ve been smarter, but your mouth was already opening, your lips already moving, and before you could stop yourself, the question you’d been dying to ask was already spilling out. “Does he know?”

Diavolo hesitated, the constant scrawling of his quill going silent. Even then, he took a moment to answer, his tone suddenly much more patronizing than it had any right to be, for such a simple question. “Darling,” He started, his hand falling to your hip, rubbing circles idly into your side. “Michael’s a smart man. I’m sure he’s realized where you are, by now.”

“I know.” Michael had to know. You couldn’t take a step out of line without earning a lecture for your ‘disobedience’, most days. “But, you’re lying to him, aren’t you?” It was more of a hopeful thought than an accusation. Something you just wished he’d be kind enough to tell you, rather than honest enough to disregard. “He doesn’t think I’m… He doesn’t think I’m here like this, right?”

There was a pause, and his hand stopped moving.

This time, he didn’t try not to laugh.

It was an awful feeling, his chest pressing against your back, just the hint of his weight forcing you to slouch as his lips ghosted over the dip of your shoulder, warm breath fanning over your skin at every chuckle, every wistful sigh, every painful word you couldn’t beg him not to say, not without losing your dignity, too. “What do I have to lie about?” You shuddered as he kissed you, the gesture fleeting, but no less repulsive. If Diavolo noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m taking care of you. You’re housed and fed and looked after, and you could be entertained, if I trusted you to wander out of my sight. He’s aware of my feelings for you, and if he asked, I’d be happy to tell him all about my stubborn little dove and spoiled you’ve become, with me.”

‘If he asked’. You were used to the way he talked about you – like a pet, like something to be adored and cooed over and cared for, but you’d be lying if you said something didn’t crack inside of your chest at that, at the implication that Michael hadn’t asked, not yet. It could’ve been a tactic, a strategy to guide Diavolo into a false sense of security. It could’ve been part of one of the many ‘greater plans’ your superior had always been so endeared by.

That, or he just didn’t care. It wasn’t like you were the only messenger in the Celestial Realm.

Diavolo must’ve caught your worried frown, the half-hearted, distracted glare you couldn’t seem to completely suppress. His next kiss lasted longer than his first, lingering against the nape of your neck. Temptation, poorly guised under the pretense of comfort. “Angels are fickle creatures, Michael especially. You’re dear to me, you know that, but I can’t say everyone is quite as emotional.” He gave you time to respond, but you didn’t take the opportunity. You didn’t have anything to say, not when he got like this. “It might be a little less painful if you—”

“I like being an angel,” You snapped. It didn’t have anything to do with Michael, or his approval, or whether or not he cared that you were stuck in the same frozen, sunless hell he’d sent you to, trapped by the same devil he’d insisted that you see day in and day out despite your complaints, despite the lasting touches and the prolonged visits and that awful, possessive glint in Diavolo’s eye, when he looked at you. You didn’t care about Michael, not when it came to this. Not when you already knew what you were. “I’m an angel. I’ll always be an angel. I’ve never wanted to be anything else.”

It was the truth, but Diavolo only sighed, your wings straining not to lash out as he pulled you closer. Straining not to protect you, however necessary their service was beginning to seem.

“We’ll see.”

Michael used to say only the strongest angels earned their wings.

Strong in will, strong in mind, strong, whether or not you had any place on a battlefield. Out of all Michael’s compliments, it was the rarest, saved for soldiers and generals and magicians of the highest order, communicated in sparse bits of praise you felt lucky just to overhear. Maybe if you’d ever gotten your second pair, he would’ve said it to you, too. Maybe if you’d ever sought to be more than a messenger, he would’ve thought you were worthy of it. Maybe, if you escaped on your own, he’d smile and place a hand on your shoulder and celebrate your strength, your wings, your perseverance, you.

Maybe, if you escaped soon enough, you’d still want him to.

In your defense, it’d taken you a month just to get this close to the outside world, just to be able to see the Devildom beyond the walls of Diavolo’s castle, albeit still restrained to a balcony. It was brighter than you expected, the landscape below glowing with floating lanterns and glinting streetlights, ancient estates and modern stores standing side by side, a testament to the contained chaos of Diavolo’s domain. It was beautiful, even if you must’ve seen it a hundred times before. It was breathtaking, if only because it wasn’t the same stone and mortar, the same bedrooms and offices and grand ballrooms too empty not to come off as uncanny. You haven’t even asked for it, not unprompted.

It was a gift. It was a reward for your good behavior, not unlike your wings.

You pushed the thought out of your mind as soon as Diavolo’s armed wrapped around your waist. You’d wanted your wings. You’d worked for them. You’d never wanted this.

Still, you didn’t push him away. You wanted more time to take it in, another minute of feeling that humidity against your skin, another second of breathing fresh air. As long as you got that, you could ignore his unnatural body-heat, the feeling of his lips against the side of your neck, trailing towards your jaw while you bit back your usual complaints. That was his reward, for being such a considerate captor. He got to touch you, actually touch you, and for once, you had a good reason not to fight back.

Your wings had never liked to listen to logic, though. Despite your grit teeth, your white-knuckle grip on the low guard-rail, your right wing still plastered itself to your side, wrapping around you protectively while its twin hovered behind Diavolo, at your side, caught between the urge to push itself between you and a perceived threat and your commands to relax, fall back, do something that didn’t make your shoulders ache and your spine cramp every time you shifted. Fortunately, Diavolo seemed unfazed, only bothering to brush your wing away when it bumped against his back, reacting to every nip to your jaw, every brush of pointed fangs against your jugular.

He barely pulled away to speak, his voice coming out muffled. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

“I can’t really control them,” You mumbled, your grip growing impossibly tighter around the guard rail. Diavolo was pulling you closer, now, his hold not quite crushing, but still as suffocating as it’d ever been. “I… I think I’m just nervous. They start to get fidgety when I’m on-edge, y’know?”

There was a laugh, a peck the corner of your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching back. It wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d tried, it wasn’t even the most invasive, but the fact that he felt comfortable trying at all wasn’t a good sign. “Are you still scared of me, my love?” It was a question, but he didn’t give you time to answer, only tugging you towards him, his knee slipping between your legs as you were forced to face him, abandoning your railing and your only source of stability, in the process. “I think I’ve been kind, and you must see that I’m being patient. I’ve trying to be gentle with you, despite how cold you’ve been, since I took you in.”

A hand dropped to your thigh, and your vision tinged black around the edges. He must’ve been able to feel your pulse racing, but he didn’t seem disturbed by your sudden anxiety. “Only because I haven’t given you permission to be anything but gentle, yet.”

Something sparked in his eyes, a dark sort of fire. “I don’t need your permission for everything, you know.”

For once, you and your wings were in agreement.

It helped that he wasn’t expecting it. You’d always been passive when it came to action, too timid to fight back in any meaningful way, so when you lashed out, when you wedged a strong wing between his body and yours and shoved, he was caught off-guard, letting you go out of instinct alone. You didn’t bother trying to subdue him. He was a head taller than you and twice as strong, but you were faster, you were frenzied, and whatever he might’ve expected, it couldn’t have been what you did next. In the space between one second and another, you were on top of the railing, struggling to keep your balance as your wings stretched to their full length for the first time in weeks. You felt a hollow throb, a pang of discomfort, but you weren’t deterred. You needed to get out of here. You needed to fly. You couldn’t leave his kingdom, but as long as you left him, you’d be alright. You wanted to fly. You had to fly.

But, as soon as you’d jumped, a fist wrapped around your ankle, and you were thrown back onto the balcony before your wings could do so much as flap.

It hurt. More than anything, it hurt, from the new crack in your ribcage to the spot where something shattered in the arch of your left wing. You curled into yourself instinctively, a faltering whimper turning into a broken scream as Diavolo’s foot caught the bend of your fractured wing, still fluttering pathetically in an attempt to aid you. “I’m trying to be nice,” He snarled, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded disappointed, exasperated, tired of you and your refusal and how little he seemed to respect either. There was an airy, exhausted chuckle on his part, then a ragged sob on yours. “Would it really be so awful to be with me? Have I really done something monstrous enough to deserve this?”

Yes. It was, he had, yes. That’s what you wanted to say, what you meant to, but your tongue refused to form the words. “I d-don’t—” You slurred, instead, only to be cut short by your own hitched cry. “I… I like being an angel, I don’t wanna— I can’t—”

“I know.”

His heel pressed into your wing, blood seeped from matted feathers, and something hot and agonizing shot from your injury to your brain. Like lightening. Like liquid mercury. Like fire.

You didn’t even have a chance to close your eyes before the world went dark around you.

You used to say you’d rather lose your head than your wings.

It was one of those stupid, short-sighted things people liked to say when they were feeling bold, when they were safe, when they’d just gotten something new and shiny and hadn’t grown tired of showing it off. Sometimes it was an arm, some days your legs, and when you were feeling particularly brave, you’d say your heart, despite how useless your wings would probably be without something so vital. It might’ve been different if you were ever actually up against a threat that wanted to take one or the other, but it still would’ve been your choice. That was what you were stuck on, really. You thought you’d get to choose.

But, you hadn’t.

Diavolo must’ve grown tired of letting you make the wrong decision, all while he tried to be so helpful.

You felt hollow when you woke up, lying on a bed you’d never seen before. Lighter than you should’ve been, sliced open and carved out, missing something necessary and warm and filling. Your throat felt dry, your eyes stung, and when you tried to roll onto your side, when you tried to move at all, it felt like every tissue, every tendon, every cell in your body was trying to tear itself apart. The pain was all-consuming, and it only seemed to get worse as you shrunk into yourself, your arms wrapping around your sides and your wings following—

Oh.

It was kind of funny, how long it’d taken you to notice.

You didn’t have to look. You kept your eyes shut, a cracked sob slipping past your lips as you tried desperately to move your wings, to lift them, to flap them, to do something beyond digging your nails into the sheets and cursing, panting, waiting for anything. The pain dimmed, numbing into something distant, something unimportant as you tried to push yourself up, but a strong hand clamped around your shoulder before you could make any progress, not forcing you to lay down, but urging you to, not giving you another choice.

That seemed to be a trend, lately.

You tried to thrash. You tried to struggle, but Diavolo just clicked his tongue, the mild sound of disapproval serving as your only warning before he sat up, an arm soon thread underneath the small of your back and the bend of your knees, lifting you into his lap without the option to pull away. “Please, try not to move.” As always, he was gentle, hushing your weak protests before you could think to vocalize them. “Your wounds are still healing. It’d only be more painful if you tore your stitches, and the mess—”

“What—What did you do—” You were stuttering, stumbling over your words, but it didn’t matter. You were desperate, and you needed to do something. “I can’t… Why can’t I feel my wings?”

There was a slight pause, the smallest hesitation. You swear, you could feel his smile burning into you, as he started to speak. “You said you wanted to be angel, my love.” It was a crime, how soft his voice was, how tenderly he held you. A captor masquerading as a caretaker. A demon as a doting lover. “But, I couldn’t have you trying to fly away. Consider this a compromise, an alternative to keeping my little songbird locked in a cage.”

You might’ve preferred a cage. A cell, a prison, a chain around your ankle, anything over the strange dissonance that came with having half of yourself ripped away and discarded. But, Diavolo hadn’t given you the choice. Michael hadn’t saved you, and now, after you’d been damaged so severely, you doubted he ever would.

You liked being an angel. You really, really liked being an angel. You’d never wanted to be anything else.

You just weren’t sure if you could be an angel, without your wings.

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jinkicake · 4 years

Text

Mouthful

You suck them off while they’re on the phone.

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Miya Osamu x Reader

Here you go Anon, I hope you like it!!! I am pushing the Oikawa, Kuroo, Bokuto bffs agenda because we were robbed of that interaction. I just know they would all be good friends like please,,,, imagine these mfs in college together as roommates.... It would be so perfect and they all have the brooding quiet type s/o heheh.... Also, I saw spoilers for bnha and um..... ummm.... UMMMMMM

SEMI-SMUTTY // NSFW

WC- 1,830

~~~

Kozume Kenma

Kenma has the best poker face, nothing is going to give away the fact that he is getting head

Except for when a tiny, tiny, appreciative sigh leaves his lips…..

Then the other person on the line, most definitely Kuroo will be like ‘Yo, what are you doing~’ Yes, Kuroo can tell when Kenma is getting head and will probably praise him for it

I think if you first try your advances Kenma would simply stare at you with disgust, making no effort to hide that same level of repulsiveness in his voice

He’d go along with it though because he is not going to try that hard to stop you, ‘why waste that energy’

His nimble fingers would card through your hair and he would instantly become relaxed like his shoulders would go limp and he’d flutter his eyes shut

Kenma would still be able to keep up with the conversation though because he doesn’t really add that much input anyway

However even though most people wouldn’t find any difference in his change of attitude….. Kuroo would notice, how can’t he? He would notice the subtle changes in his pudding hair best friend and would be like ‘are you getting head right now’

To which Kenma would go bright red and tense up really quick and try to hide it but ultimately give up and just sigh in defeat ‘yeah’

Kenma doesn’t like talking on the phone,,, you take it upon yourself to help him relax~

Kenma pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, trying hard not to let the hiss escape his lips. He doesn’t glance down at you, he knows that if he did, he would come undone. The feeling of your warm mouth sucking him in so nicely, your cheeks hollowing around his legnth, your tongue running underneath his cock, it makes his knees utterly weak.

“Yeah, I met that dude Oikawa, I don’t know why everyone hates him. He seems like a cool guy to me,” Kuroo aimlessly rambles, going on about how he met the well-known setter. “he’s going to hang out with Bokuto and I next weekend. You wanna come?”

Kenma sighs and it’s not because of your tongue. He silently thinks long and hard before speaking up again.

“No.”

You end up gagging on his length, blame on the fact that you tried laughing while sucking him off.

“Kenma, you’d really like him.” Kuroo persuades and Kenma mentally pictures the pros and cons.

“I’d rather play video games,” Kenma’s fingers rake through your hair and he makes the mistake of looking down at you. A quiet moan leaves his lips, the perfect little ‘ah’ that he doesn’t even hear himself. The line goes quiet for awhile and Kenma assumes that it is because Kuroo is trying to come up with another reason why Kenma should join them.

“Is (Y/N) giving you head right now?” Kuroo asks boldly and you gag once again, pinching your eyes shut at the humiliation. Defeat washes over Kenma.

“Yeah.” He sighs and Kuroo hums slightly.

“Finally, good for you, take it like a champ.” Kuroo praises and Kenma’s nose scrunches in disgust. “Anyway, I’ll come by at like nine on Saturday okay? Oikawa is only in Tokyo for the weekend.”

Kenma never can win, can he?

“Fine.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is suuuuch a showoff, please he will do it just to make you flustered

He will purposely roll his shoulders back, sit on the couch all arrogantly, stare straight into your eyes as he bites his lip, use his hand to push his hair back while purposely flexing his bicep, he does it all for your enjoyment as well

He is eye-candy and that bitch knows it,,,,, anything for his lovely s/o

Kuroo wouldn’t make any noises though because he doesn’t really want to get caught in the middle of a blowjob. You would refuse to finish him off and then he wouldn’t have your sweet mouth anymore…..

But,,,, if someone did catch him in the middle of a blowjob, Kuroo would not be embarrassed, please his ego would flourish I feel like he is into that kind of thing

Side bar…. Sometimes I go off with Kuroo and I think,,,, is this too occ? because I remember he is just a big science dork but then I remember no he is a scorpio and then it all makes sense, Kuroo is the best of both worlds

Kuroo wouldn’t be able to pay attention at all to the conversation at hand like Bokuto could be asking him questions about something and Kuroo is just like ‘yup, it was really hot today’ like he can’t keep up….. not when you’re so generously sucking him off

Then Kenma is like … and Akaashi is like … because they can put two and two together unlike their oblivious friend

It gets to the point where Kenma will start doing something else, like playing a video game while Bokuto tries to keep a conversation going between four people all by himself

Please, Kuroo is the ultimate tease with you but….. if he is going to get pleased then he will also try to please you as well

“And then the vice-principal got mad at me,” Bokuto groans loudly, his eye twitching as he thinks back to the incident that happened earlier in the week. “it’s not my fault he wears a wig!”

“Bokuto that was not the reason you got in trouble,” Akaashi sighs disappointedly, Kuroo doesn’t pay attention to them.

“What happened?” Kenma comments, slightly curious in the conversation at hand. Kuroo gently cups your cheek, running his thumb against your skin lovingly as he stares down you. At the sight of your teasing eyes and sinful tongue sucking on the tip of his hard cock, his thighs twitch beside you.

“… then Bokuto spiked the principals head to ‘kill the bug’ and also set his wig back to normal.” Akaashi finishes, heaving another disappointed sigh.

“See, I was helping him. He should be thanking me not scolding us for an hour.” Bokuto complains and Akaashi tries not to slap his captain through the phone.

“This is what I deal with on a daily basis, I even have a notebook to predict his next moves.” Akaashi tells Kenma, his head still numb from the scolding he had to endure earlier in the week.

“I don’t think anyone on our team is that bad, maybe Lev,” Kenma thinks and Kuroo licks his lips, his eyes darkening when he zones in on your mouth.

“Kuroo, is he even listening?” Bokuto asks curiously and Kenma narrows his eyes when he pieces together why his friend is so quiet. He knows Kuroo is either getting head or giving it.

“Ignore him, Bokuto, it’s good we don’t have to hear his voice.” Kenma tosses out and Kuroo gasps. Of course, out of everything, that is what he heard.

“Kenma!” Kuroo snaps and the setter simply hides further under his blanket on the other end of the line. “I’m just busy,”

“With what?” Bokuto eagerly pesters and Kuroo glances down at you once more.

“Stuff.”

Miya Osamu

Osamu also has a good poker face, nothing can give away that he is getting head…. There will be no slip-up from him

Unless Atsumu says something and Osamu’s competitive side jumps out for a hot second then…… then there is a slip up

‘Fuck you ‘Tsumu, I’m getting head that’s why I don’t care about your bullshit story’ cue a dramatic gasp from Atsumu and Ojiro on the other end of the line like … silence

Yeah, Osamu doesn’t do well when provoked…. Good luck with that one

Osamu wouldn’t say no to getting head like if you got onto your knees and pushed your hair back,,,, Osamu would be like ‘shit, here we go again’ he might be hesitant at first but then he will cockily accept it

He’ll carry on the conversation with disinterest, not really paying attention because all he can do is stare at you

Sometimes he will fuck your face,,,, literally….. he has no shame but when you gag too loudly then he lets you have control again

Osamu doesn’t really want to get caught…. He wants to shield you away from that

His little comments that he slides in conversations here and there will probably be noticed once he stops saying them because he is preoccupied with other things. The team can’t figure out what has him so distracted though

Osamu is usually pretty gentle,,,, until he gets angry so if you suck him off while he is having a conversation with Atsumu…. Good luck

“I have to help my grandmother around the house today, so there will be no practice. Take the day to rest.” Kita’s voice sounds throughout the multiple phones and Osamu lets out a soft hum. His eyes are staring directly at you while he holds your hair back out of your face, despite his neutral face you can still see the fondness swimming in his eyes.

“Say hi to gran for me!” Atsumu says and Ojiro glances at him, the two on the same device as they walk through the city.

“No.” Kita responds and Atsumu sighs dejectedly before going off on Ojiro when he starts to laugh at him.

Osamu continues to pay no attention to him, instead, he thrusts into your mouth while holding your head still so he can control the pace. It feels so good, he could fucking cum-

“Yo, ‘Samu what are you even doing? Reading your old man magazines?” Atsumu snickers when he notices how quiet his brother has been. Osamu closes his eyes momentarily, trying to calm himself down from snapping. He gently pulls himself off of you, allowing you to take over the pace.

“Eat shit ‘Tsumu.” Osamu snaps back, now watching the way your hands grip his strong thighs as you bob your head along his length.

“My grandmother-“ Kita starts but is quickly cut off.

“Ah, the shit that you cook ‘Samu?” Atsumu retorts, sticking his tongue out despite Osamu not being able to see it.

“Stop it, my grandmother-“ Kita tries again but Osamu interrupts him. The grip in your hair tightens as his anger grows.

“You really like that shit then since all you do is fucking eat it!” Osamu curses and Atsumu decides to tease him even more.

“I’ve never seen (Y/N) eat your cooking, that’s how you know it’s shit.” A gasp is heard right after Atsumu’s comment, Suna’s mouth falls open in shock.

“She eats all my cooking, I feed her well but right now she’s too busy sucking my dick.” Osamu spits and you immediately pull off of him, your mouth a perfect ‘o’ as you stare up at him in disbelief.

“You, right now?” Atsumu asks slowly and the line goes quiet.

“My grandmother is listening, I have the phone on speaker.” Kita finally finishes and the Miya twins start to count their final days.

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah @littleshopoflove @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin @buzzybeebee

#kozume kenma x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #miya osamu x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #osamu x reader #kenma smut #kuroo smut #osamu smut #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut

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