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rynwritesreid · 6 months

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Sold my Soul | Spencer Reid

Summary: You’re out celebrating with your friends after a recent work accomplishment. Where you bump into Spencer Reid who is working on a case in your city. fem!reader. This is my first time writing smut outside of an overall story, so there is a plot. I hope you enjoy it:)

Content: Dom! Spencer . Sub! reader. Use of nicknames (good girl). Smut (with a plot). Overstimulation. Oral (M and F receiving) Fingering (F receiving) MDNI. 18+

words: 5.3k

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You like to have things under control, but I mean who doesn’t? You could be relaxed on the surface, all calm and collected, all your friends said you had a calming presence. But if one thing went wrong in your daily routine you would be stressed thinking your whole day had gone wrong.

But today was a big, you had an important meeting with your editor. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as you checked the time once again. You were running five minutes late, and now all you could think about is how unprofessional this would look and how unprepared you felt. You had spent countless hours working on your latest novel, and the idea of someone finding a fault in your writing was making you beyond anxious.

You rushed out of your apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. You reached the street just in time to see your uber pulling up to the curb. The driver gave you a nod and a smile as you climbed into the back seat. You smiled back politely but couldn’t find it in you to make small talk. Your mind was solely focused on your meeting ahead. You had been working on your latest novel for months, pouring your heart and soul into every word.

But as the meeting drew closer, you began to second-guess yourself. What if your editor hates your work? What if they find plot holes or inconsistencies that you have missed? The thoughts swirled around in your head like a tornado, and you couldn’t shake them off.

As the car pulled up to the publishing house, you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the street. You smoothed out your clothes and adjusted your bag, trying to regain some semblance of control. But as soon as you walked through the glass door, your anxiety escalated.

The meeting was difficult, but you felt it was successful. Your editor had a handful of constructive criticisms, but all in all, they loved your work. You let out a sigh of relief as you left the publishing house, feeling like a weight had been lifted of your shoulders.

You had decided to call your closest friends to go out and celebrate afterwards. They were always down to go drinking, for celebrations or to commiserate. As you walked towards the nearest bar in the city, your mind was still racing from the meeting. You couldn’t believe that your editor had loved your work, and you couldn’t wait to celebrate with your friends. You pushed open the door to the bar, the sound of laughter and music hitting you as you stepped inside.

Your friends were already there, waving to you from the corner of the room. You made your way over, taking a seat beside them. You could feel the nervous energy draining from your body as your ordered a round of drinks for the table.

As the night went on, the drinks kept coming. You let yourself relax completely, enjoying the company of your friends and the new sense of freedom that came with having your novel approved. The bar kept getting louder and more crowded as the night went on.

Your friends went to get some drinks, as you just wanted to sit and enjoy the atmosphere for a moment. As you were people watching, you saw a group of about five/six people all sitting together. Each one of them was more attractive than the next. But one specifically caught your eye. He was fairly tall, around 6-foot, mediumish brown curly hair, hazel brown eyes and a face sent straight from the Greek gods. You looked at him and you just couldn’t look away. As he caught you looking, he flashed you a smile that made your heart race. You quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed that you had been caught staring. But you couldn’t help but glance back, and you found that he was still looking at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

Suddenly, your friends were back at the table, loudly chatting and laughing as they set down their drinks. You tried to focus on their conversation, but you found yourself stealing glances at the handsome stranger across the room.

You turned back to your friends and as asked, “do you guys see that group of people? Do you think they are all like models or something?”

Both of your friends turned to look at the group of strangers, looking, more like judging, each one.

Lucy was the first to say something, “I think they are. Or whatever job they are in, requires them to look as beautiful as possible.”

Alice than spoke, “it almost feels like I’m dreaming. The two older guys are making me question myself.”

You chuckled at Alice’s comment. “What about the guy with the brown curly hair? He’s like the most attractive man I have ever seen.” You already knew their answers already, they would tell you how they agreed with you, but he wasn’t their type.

“He’s really hot, but the guy sitting next to him is my cup of tea.” Lucy said with a giggle.

Alice elbowed her and went “I thought you’d more go for the woman with the black hair. I’ve seen you flirt with women like her all the time.”

Lucy looked mildly offended, but in a jokey way.

You all laughed together, while still staring at the random group of strangers. You must have looked like a group of weirdos. You all returned to your drinks, and conversation about each of your days. But your attention kept drifting towards the beautiful stranger across the room, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was interested in you too.

After some time, you excused yourself from the table, making your way to the bar. You ordered a drink and leaned against the counter, trying to act cool and collected. But as you turned around, you found the handsome stranger was standing right beside you.

“Do you make it a habit of staring at strangers and then, obviously, talking about those strangers?” He jokingly asked.

“Not really. Only when they all look like models but stand around like they work for the FBI or something.” You replied with a smile, and the feeling of your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You couldn’t help but think that he was more even more attractive up close.

“Well, you guessed one of them right. We aren’t all models, but we do work for the FBI. So, were you and your friends all comparing us, seeing which one is more attractive?” He asked in a teasing tone, with a small smirk plastered across his lips.

“Woah, you work for the FBI? That’s so cool, I’ve written books about you guys. And yeah, maybe we were seeing which one of you is more attractive. But we all have different tastes, so we weren’t necessarily comparing, more saying which one we find attractive.” You replied, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist the charm of the handsome stranger.

“Well, I hope you found someone to your liking,” he said turning to look at you fully. “Because I think I might have found someone of mine.”

“You have? Who is it? Is it one of my friends, because if it is, I have disappointing news. Also, I’m Y/N. I don’t normally introduce myself to strangers, but I am kinda drunk right now.”

“It’s not one of your friends,” he said, with a chuckle. “And it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer. You’re smart for not giving out your last name, would be easy to track you down.”

“Is that a threat, Spencer? But don’t worry, I only give my last name out on like the second date with someone.” You say with some confidence.

“Not a threat, just a warning. You never know who you’ll meet in a bar,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humour. “So, Y/N, what brings you out tonight? Celebrating something?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to share the news of your novel being approved with a stranger. But something in the way Spencer was looking at you made you feel like you could trust him.

“Actually, I just got my novel approved by my editor. It’s been a long time coming, and I needed to celebrate with my friends,” you said, feeling a little proud of yourself. “What about you, Spencer? What brings you out tonight?”

“Oh, just blowing off some steam with my colleagues. We’ve been working on a tough case for a while. I think we are all missing home.” His voice seemed to have some hurt behind it.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. But you’ve come to probably one of the worst bars in the city to do that.” You were trying to lighten the mood again.

“Maybe you’re right. But this bar led me to you.” He said with a little chuckle.

Spencer’s words sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, despite knowing almost nothing about him. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you, and you found yourself smiling in response.

“Am I really that interesting, Spencer?” You asked, unable to resist teasing him a little bit.

“Of course, you are, Y/N. You’re smart, beautiful, and you’ve just had a major accomplishment. What’s not to find interesting?” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

As the night wore on, you found yourself constantly drawn back to Spencer. Your conversations flowed easily, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d known him for years.

As the bar closed, your friends began to leave, but Spencer was still standing beside you. You could tell he was hesitant to leave, but you couldn’t tell if that because of you or something else entirely.

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk? It’s a nice night out,” you suggested, hoping he would say yes.

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with interest as he replied, “Sure, I’d love to. But I just need to make a call first. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes?”

You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation. As you walked outside, the cool night air hit you, and you shivered in response. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm as you waited for Spencer.

When he finally emerged from the bar, you felt your heart skip a beat. He looked even more striking in the moonlight, and you couldn’t resist the urge to stare.

Spencer caught your gaze and smirked before walking up to you. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, still feeling a little nervous and excited at the same time. As you walked, you talked about everything and anything, from your favourite book to your childhood memories. You found yourself sharing things with Spencer that you had never told anyone before, and you couldn’t deny the connection you felt with him.

Spencer was different from anyone you had ever met. He was smart, funny, and kind, but also mysterious in a way that made you want to know more. You couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him, but also drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“Did I hear you correctly earlier, saying that you’ve written books about the FBI?”

“I have. But I’ve never gone to get them published. They are always murder mystery books. But that’s not really what I write.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with interest. “Really? What do you mean that’s not what you write?”

“I write typical romance novels. People tend to like them; I mean I’m not famous but I’m not unknown.”

Spencer looked at you with a newfound interest. “Romance novels, huh? That’s interesting. What inspired you make the switch from murder mysteries to romance?”

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess it was just a personal preference. I wanted to write about love, and the idea of giving characters happy endings was really appealing to me.”

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “I can see why that would be appealing. It’s nice to have control over what happens in your own little world, even if it’s just in your writing.”

You smiled, feeling grateful for Spencer’s understanding. “Exactly. Plus, I love the idea of creating characters that people can fall in love with. It’s kind of like bring people together in a way, even if it’s just fiction.”

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I understand that you can’t control love or your own love story in real life. It takes a lot of skill to create characters that people can connect with on that level.”

“It takes a lot of skill to work for the FBI.” You say with a giggle.

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I suppose it does. But I’m just doing my job, like anyone else.”

You shook your head, feeling a sense of admiration for Spencer. “No, what you do is amazing. You and your colleague risk your lives every day to keep people safe. That’s something truly special.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot coming from you.”

As you continued to walk, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness with Spencer that you had never felt with anyone before. It was as if he could see right through you, past all your insecurities and doubts, and still accept you for who you were.

As the night wore on, you found yourself slowing down, wanting to savour every moment with Spencer. You were afraid that once the night ended, you would never see him again.

“I’m guessing the case isn’t over yet, so you should probably get back to your hotel so you can get a rest.”

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “Yeah, we still have a lot of work to do tomorrow. But I don’t want this night to end just yet.”

You looked up at him, feeling a little shy. “Me neither.”

Spencer smiled, “Then let’s keep walking. I don’t want to say goodbye to you just yet, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards his. As you continued to walk, you felt Spencer’s gaze on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. “Is everything okay, Spencer?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Yeah, I’m just trying to figure something out.”

You looked at him, feeling a little confused. “What do you mean?”

“My friends, the people you saw at the bar, said I should try and not talk about work, and find someone who doesn’t work with us. I thought it was going to be difficult. But then I met you.” Spencer’s voice was low and intense, and you could feel his hot breath on your cheek.

You blushed, feeling a little overwhelmed by his sudden confession. “What are you trying to figure out, Spencer?”

“What this means. I mean I know what it means, kind off. But how someone so perfect, could just be sitting in a bar that I just so happened to go into. I mean I know the chances, it’s just so strange.”

You looked at Spencer, feeling the same way he did. It was as if fate had brought the two of you together, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

“I know what you mean,” you said softly. “It’s like we were meant to meet each other.”

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a mixture of awe and admiration. “I don’t want to let this chance slip away.”

You felt a surge of desire at his words, and without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. Spencer responded immediately, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

You didn’t want to be cliché, you’re a writer, you’re good with words, but this kiss was magical. It was as though the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and Spencer in your own little bubble of passion and desire. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you as he deepened the kiss.

As the kiss ended, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that this was just the beginning of something special, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would take you.

“I don’t want this night to end,” you said softly, feeling a little breathless.

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes shining with affection. “Me neither, Y/N. Let’s not end it just yet then. Also, did you know you actually share less germs with someone if you kiss them, rather than shaking their hands?”

You chuckled, feeling a sense of ease with Spencer. “I guess that makes sense. But I don’t think we need an excuse to kiss each other, do we?”

Spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “No, Y/N. We don’t need an excuse.”

“You know for been a member of the FBI and been in a place where you are having a practically rough case, you are pretty trusting.”

“Ahh. You see I work with the BAU, which is the behaviour analysis unit, so I read body language and such. I basically profile people, and you don’t seem like you’d murder or kidnap me. So, yes, I am pretty trusting when I can read someone so well.”

You smiled at Spencer, feeling a sense of jealousy and admiration for his skills. “That’s really cool. I wish I had your ability to read people like that.”

Spencer shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s just something that comes with the job, I guess. But it can be a double-edged sword sometimes. You start to see the worst in people, and it can be hard to trust anyone.”

You looked at him, feeling a sense of sadness at his words. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes softening. “It’s okay, Y/N. I have good people around me, like you, who remind me that there’s still good in the world.”

“You think I’m a good person? You’ve only known me for around 2 hours, and you think I’m a good person. Well, I’m glad I’ve made a good impression on you.”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Y/N, it doesn’t take long to recognise a good person. And you, my dear, are definitely a good person. I can tell by the way you carry yourself, the way you treat others, and the way you make me feel.”

You blushed, feeling a sense of warmth spread throughout your body. “Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot to me.”

Spencer leaned in, his lips hovering over yours. “And I want to you feel even better.”

He kissed you deeply, his hands caressing your body as he pushed you up against the wall. Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat and arousal in their wake. You gasped, feeling a sense of pleasure as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

“I’m sure someone who works with the FBI cannot get public indecency on their record. Do you want to continue this somewhere else, like your hotel room or my apartment?”

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes shining with desire. “My hotel room.”

You nodded, realising that the hotel was only two blocks down. You could feel the lust burning between the two of you, and you couldn’t wait to feel his hands on your body.

You made it to the hotel in no time at all, your hands already exploring each other’s bodies. Spencer’s lips trailed a burning trail of fire down your neck, and you could yourself shudder in his arms.

You pulled open the door to Spencer’s hotel room, turning the lights on as you walked through the doorway. Spencer followed suit; he pulled you closer to him, your hands never leaving your body.

Spencer pulled off your clothes slowly, exploring your body with his eyes. You felt a wave of desire wash over you as he looked at your body, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on you.

Spencer’s lips were basically attached to your neck, and you could feel desire coursing through your body. You could feel his heartbeat thumping against yours, echoing the same rhythm that was currently coursing through your body.

“Do you know people who want to control every aspect of their life, often seek ways to lose control, for other people to control them? A lot of CEOs and bosses will go to professional dominatrixes to help them.”

“What are you saying, Spencer? Are you saying you like to be dominated?” You said in a teasing tone.

He kind of laughed at your comment.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all here. I think you would like to lose control.”

“Is that right?”

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a devilish smirk. “I think you would like to lose control. To know that you are completely at my mercy.”

You gave a short laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right. Spencer, I don’t think you know me at all.”

“I’m good at reading people. You’re a writer, and I bet that you like to control every aspect of your life. You write the plots, you decide the endings, and you feel that you have complete control over your life.”

You laughed, “You’re right, that’s me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N. And I’m not saying you are wrong for being that way. It’s just that I wonder what you would do if you were completely at the mercy of someone else. Seeing how you like to control everything, I bet you would love for someone to take that control.”

You smirked, biting your lip as you stared at him. “Hmmm, I think you might be on to something there.”

Spencer shook his head, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “I wonder what you would do if I took control of you.”

“Try me.”

“I would love to try you, Y/N.”

Spencer’s lips claimed yours, and he pushed you down on the bed, his hands roaming over your body greedily. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his touch.

You could feel him hardening against you, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. He pulled of panties, his mouth trailing a line down your body.”

“I want you to know that I’m going to be in control of you, Y/N. And you’re going to like it.”

He paused, “Do you want me to control you?”

You looked at him, your eyes glinting with desire. “Yes.”

Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust, and you could feel yourself getting wetter just from his gaze.

“I want you to know I’m going to do whatever I want to you.” He bit you hard on the neck, and you could feel your body tense with desire.

“And you’re going to let me.”

You nodded, wanting nothing more than his hands on you. He kissed you hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You could feel him crawling up your body, his erection rubbing against your wetness.

“You’re going to let me, because you’re going to love it.”

“I will.”

“You’re going to do everything I tell you to.”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

“I am?”

“Uh huh. And I am going to make you cum over and over, until you’re begging me to stop.”

“Please, Spencer.”

You gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He pushed two of them inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out. You could feel yourself tightening around him, your hips bucking in sync with his fingers.

His lips trailing a burning trail down your body. He could tell how badly you wanted to cum, he was reading you like a book.

“Beg me.” Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust.

“Please, Spencer. I want to cum”.

“I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl, and tell me how badly you want to cum.”

“I want to come so fucking badly, please. Please, Spencer, let me cum.”

His pace fastened, you moaned at Spencer’s actions and his words. He moved his thumb towards your clit, he pressed down hard. He could feel you tightening even more around him.

You were so close to cuming, the anticipation of your orgasm was almost painful. Your pussy was dripping wet, and you could feel the juices flowing down your legs.

“I want you to cum for me.”

Your mouth dropped open, a loud and crude moan leaving your lips. Spencer’s name followed; you were almost singing it. Spencer couldn’t get enough of this. You looked so beautiful like this; this was all for him and he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to get to see you like this.

“That’s it, let it all go.”

Your orgasm hit hard. His kept nursing you through it, showering you with praises. His eyes kept looking over every inch of your body. The orgasm shook through you, your body shaking with desire. You felt him slide his fingers out of you, and you could feel your body shaking with desire.

He leaned over you, his lips brushing a kiss against your neck. He stood up, he was still fully clothed, and you felt exposed. You lay there, watching him take all his clothes off. It gave you the opportunity to look at his body, which you had already known was amazing, but you could appreciate it even more as you watched him in the dim light. He kicked his pants off and walked towards you.

“Spencer” You panted.

“I love the way you say my name.” He smirked. “Can you stand up for me?”

You gently nodded your head, even though your legs felt a little bit like jelly, you wanted to stand for him. You pushed yourself up off the bed, you stood there, looking at him, your eyebrows shot up when you saw the look on his face. He looked at you like he was going to eat you alive, and that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That was only one of many, but I feel like I deserve a reward. Don’t you?”

You nodded your head once again.

“Okay, I’m glad. Now I want you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me, is that okay?”

You nodded your head, your breath quickening.

“Good girl, now I want you to take my cock out, but don’t touch it.”

You slowly sank to your knees in front of him, watching as his eyes roamed over your body.

He felt himself get harder, the look in your eyes made him feel like the king of the world.

“Take it out.”

You heard him moan in appreciation. You slowly pulled down his boxers, watching as he carefully stepped out. You reached out your hand, wrapping your fingers around him.

“I didn’t say you could touch it just yet, did I?”

“No, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me you won’t do it again.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl.” He smirked. “Now I want you to put my dick into your mouth.”

You heard him hiss as you took him into your mouth. He kept looking down at you and you could see the lust in his eyes.

You could feel yourself getting wetter, just hearing him moan was enough to drive you wild. He fucked your mouth, and the way he moved in and out, would make anyone cum.

“That’s it baby,” he moaned. “I want you to suck my cock until I cum in your mouth.”

Your heart was racing. You could feel his dick twitching in your mouth.

You ran your tongue over the head and feeling him shudder under your touch.

“Oh yes, just like that.”

“You’re doing so good.” He panted. “I’m so fucking close.”

You tried to take him deeper into your mouth, but it was hard.

“I’m going to cum.” He moaned.

Your mouth filled with his sticky cum. He moaned out loudly, before he pulled himself out of your mouth. You looked up at him, and he smiled down at you.

“You look so beautiful like this. I’m so lucky that I will be able to relive this image over and over again.”

“I want you to lay on the bed. But do not touch yourself.”

You did as you were told. You can’t believe a man this hot was having sex with you, you could barely believe that he knew exactly what to do to you.

He climbed on the bed, his kissed you, his tongue fighting for dominance in your mouth. He started to kiss you all the way down your body, your body felt like it was on fire. His mouth finally landed on your clit, his fingers found their way back to your pussy.

“I love how wet you are.” He moaned. You could feel the vibrations from his mouth against your clit, making the pleasure even more intense.

You were moaning uncontrollably. Your hips were rocking against his face and fingers. You knew you were getting close.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You moaned.

He kept working his mouth against your clit, and his fingers against your pussy. He knew exactly what you needed.

“Come for me baby.” He moaned.

Your back arched, you moaned out his name. He moaned against you, the vibrations adding more to your orgasm. He slowed down as your orgasm slowed down. He gently blew on your clit, causing you to squirm.

He pulled himself up, kissing you passionately on the lips, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands glided down your body. You were in total bliss, everything about this man was perfect.

As you thought you were actually in heaven, you heard a phone ringing and Spencer got off the bed. He grabbed his phone and walked into his bathroom. He was in there for a few minutes. He walked out with a sombre look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, there’s been a lead in the case, I have to go. You can stay here for the night if you want to, but if you don’t, please leave your number. This can’t be the last time I see you.”

You nodded; you felt a wave of sadness wash over your body.

“I’ll give you my number, I think I’ll head home. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you either.”

You read your number out to Spencer and started to get dressed. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek and left. You felt hopeful you’d see Spencer again, but it still hurt that you wouldn’t be falling asleep in his arms today.

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willows-peak · 4 months

Text

*･ﾟ✧ Sukuna's Favorite Toy

aka sukuna having way too much stamina

tags: fem! reader, porn without plot, multiple orgasms (you and sukuna), overstim, a single spank, he calls reader a bitch once, lotus position, big dick sukuna, creampie, breeding kink near the end

MDNI

word count: 1k

a/n: happy new yearssss. this was written at like 2 in the morning and i think it's very obvious lulz.

⋆｡˚ ♡ You shook as you fell against Sukuna's hard chest, panting as he grunted. "What's the matter, you getting tired?" He said, his tone dripping with false concern. "Can't....m-move...." You nodded into his neck, earning a loud laugh from the King. "I knew it. Humans are always so fragile.." He muttered, smiling at how you tried to keep moving your hips but failing miserably at it. You were just so determined to be good for him, how could he not reward you a little bit?

With a quick movement of his hips, you were slightly repositioned so he could thrust up into you. And thrust he did, good god.

You yelped as his cock was suddenly pistoned up into your pussy, his hands coming to squeeze and slap at your ass. "That's much better, isn't it baby?" You could barely get a word out from how fast he was going, broken moans and gasps being the only thing your mouth would make now. "Ssssuk-una!-" You moaned out, Sukuna flashing a toothy grin down at you. You felt your mind start to fizzle out with how effortlessly he could move your body up and down, his sharp nails poking into the flesh of your ass as he kept thrusting.

"Fuck, this pussy is so wet... All for me, huh? Feels this good because of my cock, right?" He egged you on, grin falling when you failed to respond to him. "Aww, what, am I going too fast? Can't talk?" He spoke lowly, a particularly hard thrust making you jolt, legs trembling against Sukuna's built and toned thighs. "T-too f-aaass', ah! is' too- pleaase is' too goooodd..." You droned out, tears welling up in your pretty eyes as you felt a familiar hot coil start in your belly.

You could do nothing but continue moaning as Sukuna laughed at your state, pushing your hips back enough for his cock to hit your g-spot better. "Is that better?" He cooed, leaning forward and licking the stray tear of pleasure that rolled down your cheek.

"Yesyesyesyesyes- good good good good so good so good, ple-ase mmake me cum, w'nna cum, please please-" You stumbled out, a line of drool falling down your chin as you were quickly brought closer to your orgasm. Sukuna was relentless, your pussy as good as a fleshlight to his cock as he spreads you open further. His fingers shifted down to where you two met, pressing down on chuckling at how much you had to stretch for his cock.

"Cum on my cock, do it, show me how much you fucking love this, bitch." He groaned in your ear, his fingers moving up to your clit and rubbing hurriedly.

You cried out his name loudly as you were nearly thrown off the edge, your orgasm crashing down in wave after wave after wave of ecstasy. By some miracle, Sukuna at least slowed down his thrusting, grinding your hips back and forth on his cock while you slowly rode out your orgasm.

You flopped back against his chest, any semblance of energy in you now sapped out. Sukuna's movements didn't stop, of course, because why would they? Did you think you were done because you already came a few times? Oh you poor thing...

What you'd come to realize is that you're finished when Sukuna is finished. Where's that limit, exactly? I suppose you'll be the one finding out tonight.

----

Sukuna roughly groping your tits, grunting and panting into the crook of your neck as he snapped his hips down into you. God, how long has this been going on? You didn't bother to keep counting after the 3rd time he came inside you, and who knows how long ago that was. All you know is that you felt full, every single inch of Sukuna's disgustingly big cock filling your pussy, his cum seeping out of you and making a small puddle underneath the two of you.

Sukuna was relentless, clearly loving how fucked out you were sounding. "Fuck yes, cum again for me, all over my fucking cock, yes yes yeeessss..." he'd chant while a hand was quickly rubbing your clit. You could barely register your orgasm this time, everything swirling together in a mix of painful overstimulation and the high of your orgasm so much that you gave up on thinking.

Sukuna's cock was just so big, thick and long and able to hit spots your fingers couldn't even dream of reaching. Sometime tonight, you realized the reason Sukuna was so giddy was that he knew you couldn't replace this feeling. This full body exhaustion mixed with a never ending need for more, more, more. He was the only one who could give it to you, and he'd make sure you'd never get enough of it.

You let out a broken cry of his name when he gave a mean thrust inside you, shifting your legs around to have them pressed up against your chest. Angling your hips up like this let him reach even deeper inside you that much easier, Sukuna wasting no time to continue to ruin you in this new position.

"G'na... cum, n you're- g'na take it, ok?" He groaned out, his controlled and calm tone from the beginning of the night all but evaporating to mirror his near manic level of excitement. He watched with such intensity watching your pussy weakly clench around his cock, your scratchy voice calling out his name and your hickey bruised and bouncing tits with his name written on them-

Sukuna threw his head back and cackled as he came again, swearing and wiping the sweat starting to appear on his brow, not stopping his pace through his orgasm. "Gonna get you pregnant with my kid, gonna be my fucking baby maker-" He laughed lowly as he watched your head thrash to the side, your back arching off the mattress.

He roughly grabbed your chin and turned your head back towards him. "Don't you dare look away from me, look at me when I'm knocking you up." He growled the last part out, leaning down to your ear and breathing into it as he moved.

Aren't you just so lucky to have him?

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut

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ginnsbaker · 7 months

Text

Bulletproof (9/10)

Part Summary: Leaning in, her lips hover just inches from yours, the warmth of her breath mingling with yours. “Tell me,” she urges softly, “that I'm not the only one drowning in this.” Instead of telling her, you show her.

Chapter word count: 3.9k+ | Tags: Smut (18+ only), Resolved Sexual Tension, F*cking finally | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's Note: The plot here has gone out the window. Enjoy!

Next Part | Series Masterlist

It’s late when Wanda returns to the makeshift home you’ve shared together for the past week. The floorboards groan a bit under her feet, even though each of her steps are light and calculated. Before she even gets to the bedroom, she hears your snores. It's soft, but there's a certain comfort in knowing you're just a room away. As she stops by the door, she smiles, thinking about how these small moments mean everything to her.

At the Avengers compound, things were, well, fancy. High-tech rooms, polished floors, and everything she needed, just a button click away. But it always felt more like she was at work, clocking in and out, than actually living there. It was all so... neat. Too neat.

But this place—it's different. The mismatched chairs, the odd draft from that one window that doesn't shut quite right, and that weird stain on the living room rug they can't seem to get rid of. It's messy, but it feels real. It feels like home.

And of course, there’s the other fact that she knows you’re here, waiting for her to come home.

Wanda eases into the bedroom with a soft tread, careful not to disturb what she believes is your deep sleep. There's a tired, yet hopeful glint in her eyes. She'd been out, and she did meet with Steve like she told you, but he wasn’t expecting her eventual return this morning. He scolded her—along with her accomplice, Vision—for disappearing without a word, but he eventually understood how much Wanda cared about your safety to abandon her duty and break the protocol. While he didn't revoke her suspension, he did lengthen it. This extension, ironically, freed her from the confines of the compound, allowing her to remain by your side without any official obligations holding her back.

She has news, potentially game-changing information, and she's eager to share it with you. But seeing your slumbering form, now's not the time.

She delicately sits on the edge of the bed, taking off her shoes and preparing for rest. Gazing at you, she's taken in by your soft snoring, the slight frown that occasionally appears on your brow, and the tranquility of your face—unburdened by the recent revelations of your past. She can't help but trace the curve of your cheek with her fingers, no longer unable to control herself from touching you.

Noticing the covers that have slid down, she carefully pulls them up, ensuring they sit snugly around your shoulders. She leans in, hesitating for just a split second, before softly pressing her lips to your forehead.

“I miss you,” she murmurs. “Every moment, every day. I wish you could remember me. All of me.”

With those heartfelt pleas, Wanda sinks down beside you, hoping that perhaps, in dreams, you might find fragments of who you used to be, of what she meant to you.

…and in dreams, you do find a semblance of it.

The sound emanates from Wanda, who is deeply entrenched in another dream. It’s evident from her restless movements and the soft moans escaping her lips that it's intense, and again, not entirely innocent. The sensations she’s feeling in her dream seem to ripple out, wrapping around you too—even in sleep.

A pulsating energy begins to stir you from your own slumber. Your senses heighten, and on the brink of intense sensations, you claw your way to consciousness.

Your eyes fly open, pupils dilating rapidly in the dim light. Cold sweat dampens your forehead, and your chest rises and falls at an erratic pace. The vivid images of you and Wanda, intimate and passionate, flood your mind, refusing to fade. You swallow hard, trying to push away the remnants of the dream, the warmth it evoked, and the very real longing it has stirred within you.

Pulling the sheets tighter around your body, you try to regulate your breathing. You turn to Wanda, her cheeks stained with a deep blush, her lips slightly parted. Taking a deep breath, you gently nudge her, whispering her name. She blinks, her deep-set eyes clouded with remnants of her dream, and it takes her a moment to focus on you.

Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing uneven. “I... I'm sorry,” she mutters under her breath, recognizing what’s happening again.

“So this happens often?” you ask, deliberately choosing your words, attempting to steady your racing heart and the electric buzz between your legs.

She wavers, taking a moment to collect herself before nodding slowly. You notice her squeezing her thighs together, and you try to pull your attention away from that.

Wanda takes a deep, shaky breath. “We were supposed to talk about it, you know? About what's happening, about what we're feeling... about how much we mean to each other. But then the attack happened, and…”

The silence that follows her confession is thick, but not uncomfortable. It feels like the stillness before the dawn, an in-between moment, pregnant with possibilities.

“How do you feel about me?” you finally ask. Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can make out her silhouette and the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she attempts to steady her breathing.

Gathering her courage, she finally looks up at you, her eyes a storm of emotions. “I like you. No, it's deeper than that. I yearn for you. But it feels... inappropriate, wrong even, to act on those feelings when you don't remember any of it. It feels like I'm taking advantage of you.

“You're not you. I mean, you're you, but... it doesn't feel right to be close to you, knowing that to you, I'm just a stranger.”

Instinctively, you move closer to her, lifting her chin gently with your fingers, urging her eyes to meet yours.

“You're no stranger to me,” you whisper to her.

It’s true. You may not remember the minor details about Wanda, but you do remember the essentials. You know she cares for you, that she’s spent months protecting you and watching over you. You know she would have let you live a simple, ordinary life if not for the resurgence of your powers and the looming threats accompanying them. You know she’d put your best interests before her own; she's proven that in the short time since you two were reintroduced.

You attempt to pull your fingers away but Wanda ensnares them, guiding you to cradle her cheek. Your breath hitches as you sense the goosebumps forming along the slope of her neck. Almost magnetically, your fingers drift over her skin, feeling her erratic pulse.

Wanda's eyes, a deep pool of want, lock onto yours. “Do you feel that?” she murmurs, her voice tinged with both trepidation and longing.

Without waiting for your reply, she closes the distance, her fingers lightly grazing your jawline. Her touch sends shivers down your spine. Leaning in, her lips hover just inches from yours, the warmth of her breath mingling with yours.

“Tell me,” she urges softly, “That I'm not the only one drowning in this.”

Instead of telling her, you show her.

With the lightest of touches, you draw her closer, letting your lips brush against hers in a whisper-soft kiss. Your hands find their way to her waist, pulling her close, while her fingers curl into the hair at the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss. Wanda releases a breath against your lips, and you seize the opportunity, letting your tongue probe past her luscious lips. Her soft moan vibrates against your mouth, urging you to pull her closer, your hand pressing gently yet insistently against her cheek.

Wanda's fingers begin to dance down your collarbone, her lips momentarily leaving yours to trail featherlight kisses along the column of your neck. Each kiss sends rousing jolts down your spine, your skin burning wherever her lips touch.

When Wanda's hands reach the hem of your sleep shirt, she breaks away from your neck, her eyes seeking permission in yours. “Can I...?” she asks, her fingers playing tentatively with the edge of the fabric.

You nod, suddenly breathless. “Yes.”

With that affirmation, she carefully lifts the shirt over your head, her eyes darkening to a point that there’s no longer any green in them.

It’s just pure, concentrated desire that pools there.

Her gaze flits across every inch of your now-exposed upper body, taking in every detail as though it's the first time she's seen you this way. She herself hesitates for only a moment before she slips out of her own shirt, revealing her own sculpted figure. There's a vulnerability in the way she bares herself, as if trusting you with a part of her she doesn't show many.

Your eyes skim over every detail that you can study, the heat in your groin intensifying at each discovery that they find. And then Wanda’s hands travel lower, reaching the waistband of your shorts. She hesitates for a moment, her fingers fumbling slightly with the material. The blush on her cheeks deepens, realizing she's almost crossed another boundary without asking.

“Is this...?” she trails off, glancing up at you in embarrassment.

Your heart warms to her thoughtfulness, but your mounting impatience soon overshadows your gratitude for it. “Wanda,” you murmur, leaning in to capture her earlobe gently between your teeth before whispering, “You can take off anything... or everything, if you wish.”

Wanda doesn’t waste any time after that.

Her fingers are nimble yet tremble slightly, their expedition deliberate and slow, as they trace along the waistband of your shorts, then dip beneath it, teasing the edge of your underwear. Her cool fingertips hit your skin, sending shivers down your spine as she slowly pulls the last piece of your clothing down your hips. Wanda's gaze is fixated, pupils impossibly dilating more when she notes the evidence of your want, a damp trail that marks the fabric. It clings momentarily before she manages to pull it free, the sight making her bite her lower lip. Her fingers trace the curve of your hips, the softness of your inner thighs.

“Y/N...” She looks up from where she's crouched by your feet, her eyes searching yours for permission, for guidance, for a map of where to go next.

Your entire body tingles with anticipation; every single touch, every single glance from her, sends a shock wave straight to your core.

“Wanda,” you find yourself begging, “Please... touch me.”

She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Touch you? Like this?” The pads of her thumb trace patterns over your thighs, never reaching the place you ache for most, but close enough to make you squirm with desperation.

Your frustration mounts, a whimper escaping your lips, “No, deeper... there.” The confession makes your cheeks burn, but your pride is swallowed by the overwhelming need for her.

Wanda chuckles darkly, her hot breath fanning over your sensitized skin. “Say it,” she murmurs, fingers hovering, tantalizingly close but not quite there. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You gasp, arching towards her, trying to close the distance, but she's swift, holding you just out of reach. “Wanda, please... I… I need your mouth. Please, please.”

There’s a pause, a moment where the world seems to stand still, and then her lips descend. The touch is light at first, teasing, testing, but then it deepens, becoming more insistent. The sensation of her mouth on you is unlike anything else—it's exhilarating, all-consuming. Your fingers tangle in her hair, guiding her, urging her on.

Wanda relishes in the power she holds, drawing out every moan, every shiver, and every gasp. She's just as lost in the moment, just as consumed by the fire that rages between you two. She can’t help but berate herself for delaying this, for going so long without having you this way, for being so stupid thinking for the longest time that you don’t want her the way she wants you.

You taste better than any dream she’s had of you. She’s growing addicted with every swipe of her tongue; she wants more. She wants everything. And if possible she wants it all the time.

The feeling of her mouth against you, combined with her own need evident in the way she's grinding down on the bed, makes your head spin. “Wanda…” you gasp, voice thick with want, “Fuck, you're so good at this.” The crass words roll off your tongue, unfiltered, raw, and honest. Every pull, every tease, has you on edge, gasping, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life.

For a fleeting second, you wonder how many others have known her touch before you. Jealousy flares within, but it's quickly consumed by a wave of throbbing want as she intensifies her ministrations.

Her muffled groan against you sends another jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and the movement of her hips against the bed is testament to her own growing need. But she doesn’t let up, even when you try to pull away, worried about how powerful the building pressure inside you is becoming.

Wanda only pulls back for a moment, to look up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Give it to me,” she breathes, voice dripping with want. “I want to taste you. Every drop. I want you to mark me, to make me yours.”

That’s all it takes. A final lap of her tongue pushes you over the edge. And as you come undone under her touch, under her mouth, you call out her name, a broken chant of pleasure and surrender. Wanda drinks you in, savoring the taste, the feel of you, the very essence of your pleasure. Her own arousal remains unattended, but she doesn't seem to mind, lost as she is in the act of giving, in the heady satisfaction of having brought you to such heights.

“Come here,” you murmur. Your fingers brush through her hair, guiding her back up to your eye level. There's a stunned pause as you take in the vision before you. Your aftermath paints her lips and chin, making her look sinfully debauched, a marked contrast to the innocent glint still residing in her eyes.

Without a second thought, you pull her into a searing kiss. It's a gentle, tender exploration, which is surprising considering how explicit their previous actions were. You trace your tongue over her chin, cleaning the remnants of your release. The combined taste of yourself on her skin elicits another soft moan from your lips, a sound echoed by Wanda.

Pulling back slightly, Wanda's eyes meet yours. They hold a depth of emotion, gratitude, reverence, and an untamed desire. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice sweet and ironically innocent, her eyelashes casting feathery shadows against her flushed cheeks.

Your cheeks warm at her words, a blush spreading down to your heaving chest. “Wanda,” you laugh faintly, “It's me who should be thanking you.”

But she merely offers a soft, radiant smile, laying her head in the crook of your neck. She nestles her face under your chin, her breath tickling your skin. The beat of your heart thuds loudly in your chest, a rhythm that lulls her into quietude.

You allow her to rest for a few minutes, simply content at holding her like this. But soon, you feel her wetness dripping against your thighs, sparking a fervor within you, and you're consumed with the urge to give her the same heady pleasure she'd gifted you with, to mark her as irrevocably as she's marked you.

Shifting subtly, you maneuver yourself from beneath Wanda, reversing your positions. With a gentle but determined push, she's beneath you, her hair splayed out against the pillow, eyes shimmering with anticipation. You lean in, allowing the heat of your breath to tease the shell of her ear. “My turn now,” you whisper.

Wanda's hands, previously resting idly by her sides, now grip the sheets, awaiting your next move.

Your hands roam over her body, tracing every crease, every inch of skin that you've longed to touch. Wanda arches into your exploration, her moans growing louder with each teasing caress. You lean down, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, allowing your tongue to dip back into her mouth, tasting remnants of yourself.

Moving from her lips, you leave a trail of soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and to the swell of her breasts. Your hands deftly unclasp her bra, releasing her to your hungry gaze. You take a moment to admire her, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin, her dusky, hardened nipples. Leaning down, you take one of them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, earning a sharp gasp from her.

As you lavish attention on her breasts, one hand slides down her body, ghosting across the subtle swell of her stomach and then slipping between her thighs. The slickness that meets your fingers stirs your own desires again, and you can't help but murmur, “God, Wanda, you're so fucking wet. All for me?”

Her face flushes, but her voice is husky when she responds, “Only for you. Always for you.”

It’s all the confirmation you need.

You hurriedly hook your fingers under the edge of her soaked underwear, tugging it down and discarding it to the side. Her hips buck into your touch, seeking more, and you give it to her, slipping two fingers inside her. The sensation of her tightness, her warmth, makes you groan aloud. “So fucking tight,” you whisper in her ear, feeling her clench around you as you thrust in and out.

Her breath hitches, eyes glazed with lust as she moans, “Don't stop, Y/N. Please. I need more. I need you.”

Your fingers skillfully dance across her sensitive skin, exploring every inch and fold. Using a gentle circling motion, you focus on her most responsive spot, feeling her reactions and adjusting accordingly. You set a steady tempo, plunging deeper while keeping a rhythmic pace. All the while, your lips remain locked with hers, drowning out her escalating moans. As the pressure builds, her voice rises with each stroke, “Right there! Oh, fuck!”

You can feel her nearing her peak, her body coiling with tension. “Come for me, Wanda,” you utter the command in a low voice. You capture her lips once again, muffling her cries as she tumbles over the edge, her climax washing over her. You ride her through it, prolonging her pleasure until she's left a trembling, sated mess beneath you.

But you're not finished. Not by a long shot.

Wanda's eyes flutter open, slightly glazed from her recent orgasm, assuming that you'd simply come up to cuddle. But she's taken by surprise as you begin your descent, tracing your fingertips lightly over the soft skin of her abdomen, drawing goosebumps in their wake.

She takes in a sharp breath as you gently spread her legs wider, baring her entirely to your gaze. The sight before you is tantalizing—her glistening arousal, her puffed up lips, her clit beckoning, and the trimmed patch of hair that adds to her allure. She’s so beautiful. You can't resist; your mouth practically aches to taste her.

“Y/N,” Wanda breathes.

You glance up at her, locking eyes as you lower your mouth to her, the tip of your tongue barely brushing against her. The taste that greets you is both citrusy and slightly salty, and it has you instantly craving for more. Each lap makes you realize just how addicting she is, her unique flavor imprinted on your tongue, driving you to explore further, deeper. Wanda’s hips jerk reflexively, chasing more contact. Teasingly, you draw slow circles around her clit, drinking in every whimper and moan that spills from her lips.

You spread her open further, revealing every part of her to your ravenous gaze. The darker, tighter entrance catches your attention, and without hesitation, you press a gentle kiss there, relishing the gasp it elicits from her. With a smirk, you drag your tongue from that entrance all the way up to her clenching pussy, letting it flutter against her entrance and then up to the underside of her engorged clit.

“Fuck, Y/N!” she groans, her hands flying to clutch at the sheets, her body undulating with pleasure.

You can't help but chuckle at her response, but the sound is muffled by her wetness, by the intoxicating taste of her arousal. You're consumed by it, by her, and the sounds she's making. “You taste so fucking good,” you murmur wetly against her.

Her thighs tremble around your head, her breathing ragged. “Please,” she whines, dragging the word out, “Don't stop. I need... I need to come.”

You revel in the music of her pleas, the increasingly incoherent babble as you push her closer and closer to the edge. As you slide three fingers inside her, you can feel just how wet she is, how ready. The rhythmic squelch of your fingers moving within her is mesmerizing, and her body responds in kind, tightening impossibly around them, begging for more.

Looking up, you're met with the tantalizing view of Wanda, head thrown back, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. That sight alone could bring you to your knees if you weren’t there already.

“I’m so, so close, please, Y/N…”

You wrap your lips around her clit, sucking gently, the vibrations from your moans against her causing her to buck her hips. Each movement, each stroke of your fingers and flick of your tongue, is designed to bring her closer to the precipice.

“Wanda,” you hum against her, sending vibrations straight through her, “Let go. Come for me.”

And then, she breaks.

With a guttural cry, her body convulses, pleasure rolling through her in waves. You don’t stop, not until she’s gently pushing at your head, her body too sensitive to take any more. You start to pull your fingers away, but Wanda catches them, drawing them into her mouth and cleaning them with her tongue. After a moment, you slide closer, capturing her lips in a lingering, tender kiss.

“That was...” she starts, but words seem to fail her.

You simply smile, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I know,” you whisper, pulling the covers over both of you, trapping the heat between your bodies.

“Are you okay?” you ask. As the afterglow starts to fade, you remember the purple bruises you’ve left all over her breasts. “Was I too rough? I can... I can try to heal those marks if you want.”

Wanda shifts to look at them, her fingers ghosting over each one. “They'll be reminders,” she says with a small smirk, not sounding too bothered.

“I just want you to be comfortable, that's all.”

“And I am,” she assures, snuggling closer to you, letting her eyes drift shut. “Very much so.”

A few minutes pass with only just the faint, slow sound of breathing. You try to shake off a sudden insecurity that edges into your thoughts, but before you know it, her name escapes your lips.

“Wanda?”

She lets out a sleepy, “Hmm?”

“Was this... Was I... everything you expected?” you ask.

There's a brief pause, and then she shifts slightly, looking up at you, her eyes a little clearer despite her drowsiness. A smile forms on her lips, full of warmth and adoration. “Yes,” she whispers back, “And so much more.”

It's uncertain if you'll ever get your memories back. But this new one and the ones you'll make with Wanda make it less daunting to face a future without a past.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #captain america civil war #the avengers

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aspoonofsugar · 2 months

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Hello, I think I already asked someone else about this but I wanted to hear your thoughts as well. What do you think are the parallels/foils of Adam and Yang (not including Blake's romantic interest and the Beauty and the Beast dynamics between the three). I just want to see if there's anything else connecting Yang and Adam without Blake. Thanks.

Hi!

Sorry for the late reply :D

So, I think taking Blake out of Adam and Yang's foiling depowers it. Foiling between two characters is used in stories to highlight other elements, like character arcs, themes and plot.

Now, Blake and Yang are important parts of each other's arcs and Adam is a character put in the narrative for the sake of Blake's story. In short, Blake kind of connects Yang and Adam thematically and plot-wise (like Yang connects Blake and Raven). I have discussed about these three foiling here and here.

That said, you can talk about Yang and Adam without mentioning Blake, if you want to. Still, it means you are just gonna stay on the surface without addressing why those similarities are even there to begin with. In any case, I think a good way to go at it is to juxtapose their semblances and their eye motif.

Burn and Moonslice are similar abilities. Both semblances let Yang and Adam take the damage done to them and change it into energy. Yang and Adam are similar by how they do not give up in the face of pain, but are fueled by it and find motivation in it. This is good, but if a person never truly faces their trauma, they are bound to be slowly devoured by it. Well, Yang understands it, while Adam doesn't.

Yang's semblance has her feel the pain in order to channel it into power. Adam's semblance instead lets him deflect it by using his sword. Similarly, Yang is able to face the root of her vulnerability and pain (Raven) and realizes her trauma does not define her. Adam instead refuses to feel and never truly solves the deeper issues behind his trauma. He lets himself be defined by the violence and hate he endured. Yang is able not to let herself be consumed by hate and embraces love. Adam can only take the hate given to it and use it to fuel himself, until this very hate turns into something cheaper and self-entitled, like spite. Yang loses her arm, but she is still herself. She can still fight and her semblance still works. Adam loses his sword and he loses the fight. He puts all of himself in his weapon to avoid vulnerability, but in this way he objectifies and loses himself.

Yang and Adam show how feelings like anger can empower you, but how you should never let yourself be consumed by them. You should become able to manage your emotions and to show empathy to others. This is what their eye motif conveys.

Yang sees red when her semblance activates:

Adam is literally blinded by hate:

Yang's development in volume 5 is to become able to see people as complex:

Raven: The truth is that "truth" is hard to come by. A story of victory for one person is a story of defeat for someone else.

In other words, she learns empathy:

Weiss: You're right though. I don't know loneliness like you do. I have my own version. And, I'll bet Blake has her own version too.

This is why she is able to see through Raven and to forgive Blake.

Adam on the other hand is unable to clearly see anyone. Not the Faunus. Not Blake. Not himself:

Adam: What does she even see in you?!!

It is not what Blake sees in Yang. It is that Yang is able to see Blake as a person and not an extension of herself or of her own trauma (Blake is not Raven; she leaves Yang, but she also comes back).

Symbolically, Yang defeats Adam because of two reasons:

She doesn't let her emotions control her (healthy management of trauma)

She never loses sight of Blake and sets things up, so that her partner can ambush and kill Adam in the end (she sees Blake as a person with agency and is empathetic towards her)

Hope this helped! As you see, Blake popped up in the end :''') this is just how key she is to their foiling.

Thank you for the ask!

#rwby #adam taurus #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #anonymous #asksfullofsugar

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jut-and-dae-enthusiast · 1 year

Text

Hype Boy // s.c.b

Genre: fluffiest of fluffs

Warnings: Changbin is a huge simp, very wholesome

Word Count: ~1K

A/n: Once this idea arrived in my head I couldn’t get it out. So uh here it is. Hope you like it.

The apartment was silent apart from the tapping of your keyboard as you sat at your desk with no light other than the glow of your laptop. Your goal was to write a thousand words today, but coming up with a plot felt like running your brain against a cheese grater. Closing your eyes, you reached for your water bottle and found it was empty.

“Maybe it’s time for a snack run…” You muttered, grabbing your phone to check for messages.

You chuckled and shook my head as you locked your phone and slipped your crocs on. As you make your way down to the convenience store on the corner, you catch a glimpse of your favorite part-timer. She was a high school student who worked there most nights and she was kind enough to not judge your regular snack/energy drink trips.

“Welcome in! Good to see you again.” She smiled familiarly, glancing up from her study materials.

“Are you studying for your entrance exams?” You asked her in response, mindlessly grabbing your usual bags of snacks.

“Yeah, they're coming up here in a month or two.” She nodded and then went back to studying as you loaded your arms with snacks and drinks. The second you removed your card from the reader you felt your phone start to buzz. You pulled it out from your pocket and smiled fondly at the face on your screen.

“What’s up baby?” Your smile grew wider as you pushed the convenience store door open and met the cool night/early morning air.

“We’re taking a little break, so I just wanted to hear your voice honey.” He cooed through the phone. You rolled your eyes, chuckling.

“I’m bringing you guys some snacks, so wait to start until after I get there. Prepare yourself for a smooch.” You teased, joy flushing your chest at his giggle.

“I’m always ready for smooches.” He countered, trying to come across as charming as ever despite the fact that he was definitely kicking his feet and twirling his hair.

“I’m getting in the taxi right now, love, so I’ll text you when I get there yeah?” You flagged down one of the many vehicles with green signs, snacks securely hanging from your arm.

“Okayyyy. Be safe baby. I’ll see you soon.” He kissed into the microphone and it took everything in you not to laugh at him.

“I will. Love you Bin.” You let him say it back before hanging up and instructing the cab driver.

“You must be one lucky lady,” the cab driver commented as he pulled up to drop you off in front of the JYP building. “The traffic is usually building up right now.” You nodded, well experienced in such traffic from your many late-night trips to visit your boyfriend.

When you made it up to Channies recording room, you overheard familiar voices coming from the cracked door.

“No, seriously. I hope she tells you guys about it. It’s so cool. She just like came up with it?? Out of her head?? Like she even drew a map of the world she CREATED!”

“Who could you possibly be talking about?” You teased as you eased the door open. Changbin’s eyes lit up at the sight of you, rising from his seat.

“He was just telling us how good of a writer you are- again.” Channie teased, chuckling. You playfully swat your boyfriends arm.

“Quit hyping me up so much to them. They’ll be disappointed when they find out it’s not that good.”

“But you ARE good! Amazing even! And I can’t help it! I’m your hype boy!” He smiled widely at his clever joke.

When your book was finally published, you felt some semblance of relief on your shoulders. For now, you could take a break from writing into the early hours of the morning almost every night. Perhaps cut back on coffee and energy drinks and listen to Changbin’s nagging.

You returned to the apartment from a PR meeting for the book and found a large package on the step. It was so heavy you had to slide it into the entry way with your foot, your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Binnie?” You called out, knowing he was somewhere in the home.

“Yeah baby?” He called out from the kitchen.

“Did you order some dumbbells or something?” You asked, slipping your shoes off while still looking at the box.

“Huh? No… Is there a package for me- oh right! It’s finally here!” He excitedly ran over and lifted the box, trying to quickly remove it from your sight. He forgot to cover up the large publishing company logo on the side in his hurry.

“Stop right there you beautiful man.” You commanded and he froze in his tracks. “What did you order from my publishing company?”

“Um… dumbbells? Books about working out?” He shrugged sheepishly before setting the box down with a sigh. “Fine, I’ve been caught. I’ll show you what I got.” He quickly opens the box and reveals many copies of… your book?

“Seo Changbin what is this?” You ask softly, your eyes glued to the illustrated covers.

“I bought 15 copies of your book.” He said simply, as if he was talking about buying clothes or a smoothie.

“What could you possibly do with 15 copies?” You looked up at him

“I’m gonna give them out. 7 of them for the guys, one copy for my parents, one for my sister, a few more for my friends, and of course one for me. I was gonna ask you to sign them.” His cheeks were pink but his eyes widened at the tiny tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “Oh no, did I do something wrong?” He asked, unsure if you were angry or not.

“I love you a lot, you know that?” You finally spoke, tears now sliding down your cheek. He came over and swept you into a big hug, holding you tight and kissing your head.

Later, you snuck out of bed to sign the first copy of the 15 he had bought. You left a red lipstick kiss and signed it,

To my hype boy, I’ll love you forever and ever.

Thanks for reading!! Pls feel free to reblog/leave a comment/send to ur bestie.

#skz changbin x reader #skz fluff #stray kids #skz texts #changbin fluff #stray kids fluff #kdrama #Seo changbin #changbin drabbles #skz drabbles #skz #skz fics #KPOP #hype boy #Spotify

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the12thnightproject · 4 months

Text

Chapter 37: Schrodinger’s Kat: Too many things might not be what they seem. Or they… might.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

CW: Battlefield scene

Mitsuhide did indeed let me grab my fur cloak (ok, my borrowed Imagawa cloak) and went so far to make sure that my feet were well covered. Then, he urged me outside, into the garden, where it was once again snowing and the sun had already set. In the glow of the lanterns, I could see that the snowflakes collected on top of his head, turning that salt and pepper wig into a semblance of his normally silver hair.

We came to a halt just past the ice covered koi pond. I didn’t check whether or not the fish were still in there somewhere. I didn’t want to see if they had frozen to death. Schrodinger’s fish. “I was going to send you a message.”

“Were you indeed? Where would you have sent it from? Here? Or would you have waited until you settled in Kasugayama with the Imagawa?” Before I could respond to that odd line of questioning, Mitsuhide pulled us into the shadow of the wall, rendering us less visible from above.

Kasugayama? What was he talking about? Not willing to spend the mental energy trying to read his expression, I shrugged and continued my original explanation. “From here. I planned to flag down that spy who followed us from Sakai. To let you know what Yoshiaki was doing… that Kennyo is still alive. But I guess since you’ve been here all week, then you’re already aware. And if Nobunaga is not aware, he will be soon…?”

He acknowledged that with a brief nod. “I’m also aware that it’s an open secret that Yoshimoto has taken his page as a lover. His vassals are –“

“Idiots.” And causing Yoshimoto more trouble than he could handle.

“That is not the point. I’ve witnessed your relationship for myself. Watching as he takes your hands and touches your face.” Mitsuhide brushed his hand over my face, much the same way Yoshimoto was wont to do. Unlike Yoshimoto’s touch, Mitsuhide’s burned, even though, as always, his fingers were cool.

Unable to stand that internal heat, I stepped back. “That’s just Yoshimoto… he’s a touchy-feely person. It means nothing. But even if it meant something, that’s no longer your business.” You let me go.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, when he finally spoke, it was a return to that teasing tone. “You are correct, Brat. No business of mine, save for my ego. It was simply meant as a warning. The ex-shogun is a vengeful man. One full of petty jealousies and complex plots.”

“Yoshiaki has no idea that I even exist.” I was sure of that. “Servants are simply part of the scenery to him.”

“As I was saying before you interrupted-.” Mitsuhide put his finger on my lips to ensure no additional interruption. “Imagawa’s vassals haven’t ceased complaining about how their lord is obsessed with his new page. How he fondles you in public, and holes up in his room with you for hours.” He shot another glance up toward the castle walls and pulled me further into the gloom. I suddenly realized that the person who had been watching me for the past few days was Mitsuhide himself. “If Yoshiaki hasn’t already heard of this, he will soon.”

“Why would Yoshiaki care?” And then the recollection of that first day here returned. Of that possessive, slighted tone in the ex-shogun’s voice when he spoke to Yoshimoto. “Oh. He’s the one with the obsession.”

“Indeed. He is the one with the obsession.” Mitsuhide took a step back, as if he were evaluating the nature of the word obsession. “I find it somewhat… ironic… that in my attempt to get you out of the line of fire – for Yoshiaki would also be happy if a woman important to … to the Oda were to fall into his hand – you jumped right back into it.”

There was a lot to that statement, and I wished I had the time to parse it out, to discover what those odd pauses in Mitsuhide’s speech meant, but as it was, all I could say was, “I’m not important to the Oda.”

He merely looked at me. His face was shadowed in the dark, but for a moment, he half turned and his eyes gleamed in the lantern light.

Am I important to him?

Did he truly push me away to keep me safe?

There were a hundred questions I could have asked at that moment.

I said nothing.

It was not the time.

It was certainly not the place.

He reached out, took both my hands in his, carried them to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. The gesture was oddly reminiscent of Yoshimoto’s and I wondered if he was doing so to place a claim of possession on them… to erase any memory I might have had of Yoshimoto’s touch.

My silence was enough of a response. He pulled me closer, pressing me into the wall, and kissed my forehead – almost a benediction. That gesture of peace became one of passion, as he melted into my side, nipping at my neck, biting my ear –

I groaned… I would always be weak to that… to him, my need for his touch rushing through my veins. Until he spoke. “Goro – my spy – is waiting on the other side of the wall. Leave. Leave now. I will explain it to Yoshimoto.”

Stung by reality, I yanked myself out of his embrace. Had all that been just to distract me? Even now was he still trying to force me to his bidding? Was this another feint, another character, another act? I imagined that my very existence here, in proximity to Motonari, who knew of the Kaya identity, was interfering with his own mission for Nobunaga. The mission that brought him here to begin with.

Of course… it had never been about me.

“No.” I scooted further away. “Iekane knows where Aki is. I’m sure of it. Don’t worry. I will keep far away from your investigation. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You’re impossible to ignore. I couldn’-“

“Just. Don’t.”

Before he could grab me again, I hurried out of the garden. He wouldn’t be able to follow me without giving himself – or me – away. I didn’t look back this time either, and stopped only to steal the bucket from beside the well. The well water was already frozen – no one would miss it. I filled the bucket with snow, knowing that if anyone questioned me on my way back inside, I would have a built in excuse for my absence.

Then I casually walked back into the castle as if I had every reason to be there. I even nodded at one guard at the main door. He returned my nod, then returned to his business.

Good. I hurried up the stairs toward Yoshimoto’s quarters but, just a few meters away from being home free, I nearly barreled right into Motonari. Shit. I bowed low, keeping my face turned away from his. “My apologies Lord Motonari.”

He grunted in response, and hurried past… then he stopped. I sensed him whirling back toward me. “How did you know my name?”

My face stayed averted. I was good servant, not allowed to gaze at one of a higher caste. “Lord Imagawa requires I be able to identify all the daimyos and warlords and not offer any insult or impropriety.”

“Humph.” After another excruciating pause, he continued on his way.

Had he recognized me? I… couldn’t be certain that he hadn’t.

Without taking time to sigh in relief, I hurried into Yoshimoto’s room, where Yoshimoto was kneeling on his futon, his eyes closed.

As soon as I entered, he opened his eyes and looked at me. "Katsu, that seemed longer than it ought to have taken to-"

"Get you your water? My apologies Lord Yoshimoto." I handed him the bucket full of rapidly melting snow. "Your drink."

Yoshimoto blinked. "Snow?" He kept his voice low.

“You did say you wanted to taste the pristine moonlight touched flakes." I winked at him. "This is the coldest freshest water in the area."

A slight smile touched his lips. "That does... sound like something I would say." He drank from the bucket. "You are frighteningly good at that." He dropped his voice lower, below the threshold of what someone listening in the next room or the corridor would be able to hear. "And your search?"

"Inconclusive." Then, in order to give him some better news, I added. “The correspondence we previously discussed is on its way to its intended target.” At least Mitsuhide had hinted as such. I ought to tell Yoshimoto about Mitsuhide being here. “Well, the second target. As it turns out-“

Yoshimoto had stopped listening. "I'll be happier when we can be on our way, too." Our way? Was that for any spies?Or was Yoshimoto assuming that we would continue travelling together? I couldn’t think that far in advance. Perhaps anticipating my thoughts Yoshimoto asked, "If it turns out your father is dead, what will you do next?"

Though I didn’t want to imagine that prospect it was a fair question. "Return to his manor and try to salvage his... interests."

"If you want or need another option, you are welcome to return to Kasugayama with me." He smiled at me, but with the resignation of someone who didn’t have any expectation of success.

"There you go again, inviting me to be a guest in someone else's home." The home of a person whose disdain for women was pretty common knowledge.

"As long as you can fight, Kenshin won't care." He took a sip from the container of now melted snow, "It is really good water."

And in about 450 years people will have to pay one hundred and fifty yen for a bottle of something this fresh.

For a long moment, he was quiet, thinking those inscrutable Yoshimoto thoughts. Finally, he sighed. “Katsuko, you must know that-”

That was as far as he got before the sound of shouting and running feet reached our ears. Before I could do more than grab my sword, the door to the room slid open and four of the Kanamori vassals rushed in. Their weapons were out, so I presumed they aren't joining us for the fresh mountain water.

Yoshimoto was already on his feet. "What is the meaning of this insult?"

"We are taking him into custody." That was apparent. They had me surrounded. “Lord Motonari’s orders.”

Dammit. I guess he had recognized me after all.

“Unacceptable. Katsu is a valued member of my household." Yoshimoto threw on his clothing faster than I thought he could move. "I refuse to part with him."

"You'll have to discuss that with Lord Iekane.” Without another word, they confiscated my sword and "escorted" me through the corridor, with Yoshimoto protesting at their heels every step of the way. The darkened stairwells and hallways were no less forbidding in reverse as we were marched out of the castle altogether.

Outside.

Outside is bad. It means they think there will be blood and they don’t want to clean it off a tatami mat. (Actually you can’t really get blood out of a tatami mat). At least I hadn't had time to take my cloak off, but Yoshimoto had to be freezing.

The vassals rushed me through the gardens, and to a stairway that led to the top of the castle wall.

Iekane and Motonari were waiting for us there, along with more of the Kanamori guards… including, I noticed, Mitsuhide. His disguise was still complete and he appeared to be regarding the scene dispassionately.

So far, Motonari hadn’t realized he was here, but if he did, especially when we were this badly outnumbered, it would be the end of both our missions.

Making sure not to look at him, not even look near him, I tried to mentally broadcast an apology to him. This… was probably exactly what he had been afraid would happen.

Before I could begin to formulate a way out of this, Yoshimoto addressed Iekane, "Master Iekane, what is the meaning of this insult?"

"This doesn't concern you, Lord Imagawa," Iekane said in that ingratiating tone that … really didn’t go along with the role he was playing as the acting daimyo of Genba. Then again, Yoshimoto was an Imagawa, and Yoshiaki revered him, so maybe that tone was real. "Motonari has a problem with a member of your household."

"I don't see how. My page has devoted his attention to me since the moment we arrived. Any insult would have come about because he was merely doing my bidding." In other words Yoshimoto was insinuating his own servants were more important than Motonari - which is not how I would have chosen to play this, but now it seems we were committed.

Motonari stepped forward and looked me over from head to foot. "Lord Imagawa, yer page is a spy who works for Mitsuhide."

With, people, with. And not any longer.

Yoshimoto whipped out his fan and semi-concealed a theatrically fake yawn. "Of course she's a spy. But she works for my cousin, not Mitsuhide."

Takeda Shingen? Wait. Yoshimoto if you're going to change the script, it would be nice if you handed me the updated sides first.

Iekane started to speak, but Motonari got there first. "Shut up."

Oooh. Someone doesn’t like Iekane. I... think I can work with that.

He turned back to me. "Yer one of the Mitsumono? Why’d ya help Mitsuhide?"

Um… I did a rapid revision to Kaya's backstory. I didn’t dare look at Mitsuhide. Did he believe I was a Takeda spy? Maybe… that would be for the best. It would be the easiest and fastest way for him to wash his hands of me and continue on his mission.

“The best way to gain his trust was to help him.” Ok, think think, what else? “And of course once he pulled us off your ship, I figured the only way I was going to get back to Kasaguyama was to work with him."

“By burning down my camp." Motonari’s words came out as a growl, but there was a different kind of light in his eyes.

"Next time tell your men not to store, the gunpowder so close to open flame.” Hoping that I had judged his character correctly, I added a purposeful careless shrug. "Hell of a fire though."

He looked startled for a moment, then his laughter rang out across the dark night. "Hell of a fire."

Behind me, Yoshimoto shifted uneasily. Yeah so I had flipped the script too... but we were going to need Motonari to defuse this Yoshiaki mess, and the only way that was going to happen would be if we eliminated Iekane’s influence. One way or another.

The Kanamori guards seemed not to know what to do with Motonari's sudden outburst. Once again Iekane stepped forward, but no, I couldn’t let him take control this narrative. His, for want of a better word, superpower, was the long con. It had to be for him to have been able to fool Aki for so long. I gestured to Iekane. "Lord Iekane knows this, because he and I were both originally trained by the same spymaster." I glanced over my shoulder at the Kanamori guard who was still poking me with a sword. "Just a suggestion, but you might want to get a food taster in for Mozumi's meals and drink."

I wasn't going to outright accuse Iekane of anything, especially since I hadn’t found any evidence that he was responsible for Mozumi's condition, but all I needed was for them to hesitate before acting.

Iekane put his hand to his heart. "Are you accusing me of harming my dear father? The man took me in, saved my life. I'm devoted to his health."

"Yes, of course you must be." Finally Yoshimoto picked up on the good cop bad cop routine. We really should have rehearsed this. "A poor orphan is always grateful to the rich man, especially if he has no other living offspring."

The Kanamori guard became less poky with the sword in my back. So that's one thin-

"Heh. This is all very interesting." Motonari's tone said it was the complete opposite of interesting. "I don’t care if Iekane is offing his Pap, it all ends up the same in the end. Imagawa ya in for destroying Nobunaga and getting this party started or not?"

Crap. Iekane was my goal, but if I could throw a bit of help toward Mitsuhide’s mission, it would be a good thing too.

"The desire of my vassals is clear." Yoshimoto snapped his fan shut. The metallic clang was like the locking of a cell door. "That said, I do not agree that Sakai is a worthwhile target."

Ok, good, he'd given me an opening. "Iekane when you caused the cart accident, was your target me... or was it Hiko?"

"Accident?" Iekane’s laugh was on the disbelieving side of sarcastic. "Kaya, you've always been clumsy. And little boys, well, they can get into so much mischief."

And… that was an unforced error to Iekane.

"Lord Motonari." I turned and directly addressed the pirate. "Has Iekane ever met Hiko?"

He frowned, either at the non-sequitur, or because he might have figured out where I was going. "No. He ain’t been to Sakai. Do you have a point, spy? Or are ya wasting time waiting for reinforcements?"

Reinforcements… well, that would have been a good idea. Too bad none of us thought of that.

"How does Iekane know Hiko is a little boy?" Before Iekane could formulate a bluff, I kept going. "Hiko is in danger, from Iekane. Before my former master disappeared, he sent me a letter, asking me to find Hiko and protect him from Iekane."

Don't ask me why. Don't ask me why.

"Why, why would I care about some street kid?" Of course Iekane asked.

"Because," Yoshimoto took up the thread of my logic and embellished it into a telenovela. "Hiko is actually Mozumi's son. His blood son."

Yoshimoto, WTF? Then… I considered. Oh…that's actually… pretty good.

Since Yoshimoto had his bard on I kept quiet and let him continue. "Hiko's mother was one of Mozumi's concubines. But Mozumi's second wife Osumi was jealous of Niwa, and arranged for an attempt on her life. Frightened for her safety and realizing she was carrying a baby, Niwa decided to fake her death, at least until the child was born. Unfortunately, during childbirth, poor Niwa’s death became a reality. This was when her sister decided to raise Hiko as her own. She already had a daughter, Sho, and the children were devoted to each other."

Yoshimoto finished his epic with a flutter of his fan, and I could tell he was holding back from actually bowing. Ok, a little over the top, but at least he had remembered to account for the existence of Sho. Mozumi's vassals might not remember all of his former concubines, but they might remember the existence of a daughter.

"And that is why Iekane plans to attack Sakai. It would be easy enough to kill one small boy in the confusion and make it look like an accident of war." In fact, that probably was why Iekane had chosen Sakai. Or at least one reason. Once again I was glad that Yoshimoto, or rather the Takeda mitsumono, had taken Hiko to Kasugayama.

"That's ridiculous." Iekane addressed Motonari, "Lord Imagawa has spent so much time on the arts that it’s rotted his brain. No true warrior would believe such a fanciful tale."

I heard a whisper from the direction of the Kanamori guards. A rather familiar voice, in fact. “Mozumi did have a concubine by name of Niwa.”

And thank you Mitsuhide for backing up Yoshimoto’s flight of fancy.

Iekane took a nervous step in that direction, trying to read the Kanamori guard’s faces.

Another voice, from one of Mozumi’s vassals. “Lady Osumi was the jealous type.”

That… had also been Mitsuhide, once again employing that ventriloquism trick he’d used back in Sakai.

“Are you really believing this nonsense?” Iekane looked around. But he was nervous. As he spoke, fumbled for something he had in his kimono. Something black and shiny. A pistol?

In that moment, I didn’t know who he planned to shoot, but only Mitsuhide would be familiar with the quicker action of a western pistol. But if he acted, it would be the end of his mission – because Iekane wasn’t his target. Iekane was mine.

I allowed myself a fast peek at him, trying to determine whether he had something in mind. He looked, for the first time in my memory, agonized. Indecisive. If this incident deterred him from his mission, I knew he would hate himself forever.

And so before Iekane could even point the thing, I jumped at him, hoping to knock it out of his hands.

Instead of pushing me away, Iekane grabbed my wrist. Only then, I could see it wasn't a Nanban pistol at all. It was dark and oblong, gleaming of some unfamiliar material.

Our action carried us backward, and then, rather than twisting, or braking, Iekane let us continue to fall backward, over the wall of the castle entirely in front of the started gazes of Yoshimoto and Motonari… and though Mitsuhide leaped forward, his hands reaching for me, he was not in time to prevent us from sailing over the edge.

Oh shit, this is going to hur-

We never hit the ground.

There was a flash of light, and I felt a bit of a jolt of electricity, and then the world was replaced by stifling grey.

Fog.

I've been here before.

“You are indeed stupid, putting me right where I wanted to be.”

It was as if I were back in that crate, as closed in and impenetrable as a coffin, yet without any physical walls that I could pound on or kick. I tried screaming but nothing came out of my mouth.

Wormhole?

Find a piece of yourself that you can hang onto through all of the roles you play. Some thing. Some goal that’s more important than who you are portraying at that moment in time. If you lose that piece, you’ll lose yourself in the game. You might never find your way out again.

The memory wasn’t of the wormhole that pulled Toshiie and I into the Sengoku. No it was of a thick endless grey. A grey where time had ceased to exist. Iekane had pushed me and I’d become trapped, alone, dissolving…

No… not me.

Someone else’s memory?

And then I felt Iekane grab onto my wrist, as I could tell he was preparing to throw me off him. Fling me somewhere. Somewhere into the grey. Again. His voice was harsh in my ear. "Give my regards to your father."

“Oh no you don’t. Not this time!”Mine or not, that vision was a warning of what could happen if I allowed him to throw me deeper into the wormhole.

I grabbed onto his arm, snatched that odd device from his hand. The wind whipped around us, pulling us in all directions, as we battled over it. Lightning crackled in the distance and Iekane yelped as if he'd been shot.

I tightened my grip on the thing, kicked out, and in the weird gravity field of the wormhole, we ricocheted away from each other. With a howl of rage, Iekane disappeared from my view, spinning, tumbling head over heels, his hand still reaching for the device.

The fog faded, pushed away by a fetid heavy breeze that carried a stench of blood and ash and decay.

As the wormhole gave way to smoke, that eerie silence was replaced by shouts. I had the sensation of falling into intense heat. It was all the warning I had before my feet touched ground. I ran three staggering steps, through the dark haze, tripped over something soft…

�� and landed on a body. Even in the heat around me, the person was limp, his clothing soaked and -

Where’s the rest of -- ?!

Oh God.

Get away from him-

They're…everywhere!

I'd seen battlefields from a distance.

There had never been a desire to get any closer than my perch from a tree in a nearby forest. Though that distance had been enough to give me an idea of how much smoke, noise, and confusion there could be, nothing could have prepared me for the smell or the heat.

Or the feel of a dead body beneath me.

@selenacosmic @lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @tele86 @akitsuneswife

#10things #10 things I hate about Mitsuhide #mitsuhide monday #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen fanfic #ao3 link #ikemen sengoku fanfic #mitsuhide akechi #Ikesen yoshimoto #ikesen motonari #oc katsuko #katsuverse

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hadesisqueer · 1 year

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emerald- oh wait that’s kinda obvious nevermind uh- blake?

Emerald, child of Hermes, obviously lmao.

Blake? That one's complicated lmao.

I'd say Hades. Maybe I'm projecting because she's my favorite character and Hades is my favorite god. Also her semblance reminds me of shadow-travelling, and she had the same “I don't belong anywhere” energy at first, due to being surrounded by humans and her past. Her past here would be complicated as well. I'd say she was with a bunch of solitaires children of minor gods and she believed she was one as well, and that they kind of resented the Olympians and their kids and that's why they didn't go to Camp Half-Blood, where they didn't even have cabins. Then she sees Adam hurting a child of an Olympian (and maybe starts becoming allies with the bad guy) and she leaves them and goes to to Camp Half-Blood and stays at the Hermes Cabin, still not knowing who her dad is. Then, she, Ruby and Yang go on a quest (in which they find Weiss and find out about Romans and stuff) and at some point they're being attacked and Blake's powers kick in and they realize who her father actually is. And more drama with Adam and shit. Yes, I have a whole plot for this lmao.

#rwby #blake belladonna

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zalrb · 2 years

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Rhaenyra doesn't feel like a main character. I don't know how to explain it but with the Starks you knew immediately they were protagonists and the show continued treating them like protagonists. I don't see that with Rhaenyra

I don't see that with anyone and it's because nothing has emphasis. That's why I've been constantly like why does Daemon need to be here? What is he doing exactly? And obviously he's doing things throughout the season, he killed his wife, he let his other wife die, he fought a war, stole a dragon's egg and promptly gave it back, publicly had sex or almost-sex with his teenage niece and none of that matters, none of that has an affect on the greater plot, which is ... what? And because there seems to be no consequences to anything that he does, he doesn’t give main character energy because he’s not affecting any movements, he’s just DOING things.

Viserys is kind of just around being sick and him physically withering away mirroring his political headaches doesn't have the affect that it should because what exactly are his political headaches? His daughter and his brother being together -- no one is actually saying anything about this except for Alicent who is his wife. The stepstone war that didn't seem to have any impact on KL or Westeros except for like one or two people on Aegon's name day being like, so about that war tho... it just seems like Viserys feels inconvenienced by the fact that as a king, he has to make decisions, which would be fine if that led anywhere. So instead he's just ... around.

Out of everyone on the show, Alicent has the most semblance to interiority in that her qualms are the clearest, i.e. for years she did her duty and she has nothing to show for it while Rhaenyra doesn't adhere to duty and gets to be heir and her children who are born out of wedlock get to be in the line of succession, and that makes her pissy, and it's still extremely superficial and hollow because she doesn't actually have interiority, it doesn't even seem like she particularly likes much less loves her children, and it's not like she has a deep sense of familial obligation like a character like Tywin had (however narcissistic and hypocritical) or Cersei so it doesn't matter if she loves her children or not because it's all about the NAME, she was a pawn used by her father and the show didn't really explore anything else about her except for the fact that she did not want to be married to Viserys or bear his children but she did because she was told to and that's not a personality and her "change" after finding out Rhaenyra did have sex wasn't really a change because she doesn't DO anything, her father says that Rhaenyra would kill her sons but because there isn't any indication that this would happen particularly since Rhaenyra doesn't actually appear to be interested in being heir or being queen and she kind of just fucks off and mopes about how difficult it is to be heir, it lacks any tension, and again, she doesn't have main character energy because no one does. It's a show about people standing around and bitching.

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the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers · 6 months

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HI ZENOS BESTIE (not really but shh it’s ok) sometimes i wonder what goes on in your head because the more i look at you the more i think you’re either not thinking or plotting some crazy stunt to get Becca’s attention!(don’t tell me it’s not like this because i just KNOW!) But anyways i thought i would ask something since i am here: how would you ask your dearest frie… lover(?) enemy for life(???) to come and fight you? Let’s pretend you don’t want to do something too crazy that day so no “i’ll build a bigger world ending weapon than last time!”, what’s the best tactics to convince her to go look out for you and how do you not anger her to the point she needs to raise you after your sparring ended? Anyways have fun on this hellhole of a site and say hi to the twins for me~

[ -Ren]

Zenos's cerulean eyes light up as his fingers reach for the hilt of his scythe. A wide grin plays on his lips as if he were about to challenge you to a duel. Before he can speak a word, Miguel's hand plants itself on his shoulder.

The two men glare each other down before a huff of begrudging agreement escapes Zenos's lips. He then lets go of his scythe as his head plops into his now free hand.

"Ah yes, Ren... My lover's 'bestie'. I still don't grasp how a person could choose to have any sort of semblance of affection for multiple people to the point that they have to declare a preface of 'best' before friends... But if it, and therefore you, bring that glorious smile to my Rebecca's face, then I shall look into this concept of 'besties' so I can claim my rightful title!"

This proclamation earns the Garlean prince a few bewildered looks from the others. This doesn't deter him, however.

"To answer your question though," His fingers begin tapping on his lower jaw while a thoughtful smirk graces his lips. "I do not simply ask my Rebecca for a duel. There's no fun when the prey is so knowing, then the fight itself can grow stale... No, no... Most of my enjoyment comes from the hunt! Seeing her small form tense up as her brown eyes widen. Before her serene expression shifts to something primal, even Eorzea's greatest warriors cannot grant me such fulfillment."

He pauses, muttering something about Rebeca's smile and a pounding sensation in his chest. You can only watch as his eyes and hand wander amongst his chest to where his heart is. His gaze is wildly euphoric as it meets yours again.

" To be fair, I do not care if this world continues to be or ceases at any given moment. I only care that my lover is at my side as it goes on. I wanted her to show her sharpest claws and Fandaniel simply had the means of erupting that from her, my dear bleeding heart... So all I needed to do is show up when she's in her own little world and declare my intentions to get the results I crave."

"As for not upsetting her to the point of creating yet another of my passings, she has been teaching me about this 'communication' I simply state my intent and when she composes herself it's easy to see whether she is truly up for a battle. Whenever she isn't, my disappointment is immeasurable... Not at her, mind you... So I settle beside her and try to see where her thoughts lie. That usually ends up with her in my lap or her holding on to me in some way. I believe she calls this 'cuddling'? These actions seem to bring her enough enjoyment that she brings such enthralling energies to our matches...

I never thought such sedentary actions could be so intoxicating, but I find simply holding her to be just as addicting as seeing her coming at me with her weapon drawn. Perhaps this is just the effect that Rebecca, alone, possesses... But if you'll excuse me..."

Zenos then stands to his full height and walks over to where Rebecca is sitting. She's surrounded by the twins and Ryne as they all point at different things on the gaming device she holds. Zenos then nonchalantly passes on your greeting to the twins before bending down and scooping Rebecca up into his arms. The twins look like they're about to argue when they process what Zenos said.

They take a moment to look at each other as Ryne looks at them curiously. With a shake of Alphinaud's head and a pout that seems to hold fondness from Allisaie, they both respond:

"Hi Mom... Number 3 or 4?"

"Are you and Ser Hauchefant well?"

@floweringforgetfulness

#selfshipdom #selfship community #self shipping #self insert #self insert community #selfship #fo community #ship: the tale of two empires #Sibling cameo #AAAAAAAAAA #thank you so much #f/ovember

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wolfvirago · 2 years

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;; so, before I think about doing a mutual check/unfollow warning, I wanted to talk about something that has been bothering me.

I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that as a working student and adult, my mind is not nearly as versatile as it was 5 years ago. My following and interaction base number has grown significantly in the past 2-3 years, and I’m still floored to get as many drafts as I do. Ryn in high school, even freshman in college shibe Ryn would have NEVER imagined having more than 5 drafts to do each week. I’m grateful every day to be able to have this hobby and enjoy it.

I’m only bothered recently by how hard it is to interact sometimes based on the preference of PLOTTING vs FREE-WINGING-IT.

Ladies/gentlemen/other-configurations-of-being, work and school and family matters have utterly drained my brain of the same rubber band speed it once had in coming up with endless scenarios for my muse to partake in without any prior information. However, there is still hope... I can bounce off ideas on others, provided they GIVE some semblance of ideas.

I’m frustrated because lately, many people I have spoken to about plotting won’t provide any sort of ideas of their own when I have nothing. We’re left staring at one another blankly. Sometimes, we can try to wing memes and things after that. But 9 times/10 lately, those people never respond again.

So what I want people to know is that I’m frustrated that I cannot be of better use for coming up with interesting threads on the fly. I have become pickier with answering asks because sometimes these prompts leave little for me to work with. I find more success bouncing off provided starters or asks I sent in. It hurts to lose potential writing partners because they’re not willing to compromise in this way, or even offer whatever spitball ideas they have. It feels like a lack of true interest.

I’m sorry if this seems like a big ol’ sob-story vent. I just feel like I can be honest with you guys, because I’m fortunate to have lots of mutuals who will stand by me regardless of my brain energy that day. After all, this is a hobby. And I hope things can improve where I have discussed them so maybe I don’t have to softblock folks when there’s potential for something amazing.

#;your local shibe ryn (ooc)#vent /#long post /#tbd

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ufvincent · 2 years

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hello friends ( lets choose to ignore how late this is. punctuality is not one of my strong suits hahehe ) excited to be here & write ! fun facts abt me before we get started: i work fulltime & tend to knock out as soon as im home thus the lack of activity + i luv fe3h but have yet to finish a single playthru ... #badgamerthings. wiki is my best friend 4ever. here is his portfolio page & read on to find more :^)

cue rambling & hoping it makes some semblance of sense:

second born (but heir) of the duke of vessalius (a state within gleerium), thus holds the title of ‘marquess’ (which is for the first son of a duke, but he inherited at a young age from his older brother after his death)

early childhood has him loved as the family’s baby but has since been forced to adapt to a certain loneliness as per life’s circumstances

(the turning point being the aforementioned brother’s death @ the hands of a protester, a grief his parents basically never got over, and in turn is the start of his loneliness, worsens after his mother died a few years back)

anger @ the circumstances leads to many bad decisions, inclination towards self ruination, a lack of respect for both himself and the world at large. (violence Is the key)

father has him oblige to using an alternative outlet for his anger, reminds him of the good his mother represented (as a former star champion for his ppl & known for her warrior prowess, which she put on the backburner to build a family but continued supporting in more of a figurehead position)

pledges to follow in her footsteps and become a good soldier, thus begins his post-grad fixation with training

mostly devotes himself to his training simply bc he feels he no longer has any other purpose in life, there is no passion, its his competitive behavior & need to prove himself that enables him to work hard; moves up the ranks until recently, when a form of self sabotage (re: physical brawling) leaves him injured. knee takes time to recover, and by then his peers have rushed ahead and begun making names for themselves within the ranks.

re: aforementioned injury; sometimes u can see him limping around, tho he tries to mask any discomfort. while the pain is real as his injury isnt too old, it is also psychogenic (when fixated on how much hes failed, the pain flares up more)

simply existing. accepted he’s a good for nothing, but reluctant to admit he’s miserable. pretends he can accept anything that comes his way b/c he has lost the energy to care any further. adopts an ‘it is what it is’ philosophy to hide behind

(but is also moody, like the type to say ‘lol ok’ b/c he thinks theres no point arguing and then approach u again in 2 min like ‘ok but actually. wtf’.)

currently on a (forced) journey of a self discovery to 1) figure out what he Can Do before 2) hes subjected to his father’s responsibilities evermore as the role of the dutiful son requires of him. currently favors charity work / going into town to see what needs to be done in order to be helpful (also b/c it keeps him out of their home)

tense r/s with father now, as he essentially hasnt been given the time of day since he became his heir & believes hes his fathers biggest disappointment.

has no will to care for his own life, exists to date b/c he cares more for his baby sister than anything else/his own self

tl;dr he’s waiting to die

idk what else to put here im crossing fingers ive mentioned all i need to!

plot wise!

honestly open to anything, i feel there’s more room for antagonism generally considering his family’s position but also. he is slated to be a little infuriating.

specifically open to filling the younger sister slot since that would be fun! overprotective vincent + family trauma. what a fun time

pseudo siblings are so imp and so fun. found family is beautiful

in a similar vein, ppl that have known him all his life (whether it means a positive or negative r/s)

he went to lotus academy until he was 18, so possibilities for meeting there!

or someone he met during/closely trained with during the last 4 years before injury, comrades haha... heart_emoji (open possibilities, with re: training = moving around a lot so ability to meet more ppl (& with or w/o the pretense of his title))

or during his random escapades into town where he can typically get away w/o being noticed. he adopts a new name each time - u know him as like.... nick.,....... subin, ...... bobby.

besties keep u sane. vincent will be the exception 2 the rule (befriend him. its fun!)

i am the worst at jotting down plots but genuinely open to anything, lmk if smth comes to mind and we will make it work!

if u got this far. my liege ... i applaud u (bowing_person_emoji)

#uf:intro #3am. praying its coherent

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trekkiehood · 2 years

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Never Again (Part 3) - SPN Fanfic

@febuwhump : Day 28 - Presumed Dead

Title: Never Again

Part: [1], [2] 3/?

Fandom: Supernatural

Words: 2.7k

Setting: Stanford Era, Brotherhood AU, 9/11/2001

Whumpee: Dean (Mentioned)

Caretaker: Caleb, Mac

Other Characters: Samuel (OC)

Ship: None

Ao3 Link

Summary: Dean is working a job with Caleb in NYC trying to distract himself from Sam’s departure for college, when the Twin Towers are hit in a terrorist attack.

Trigger Warnings: 9/11, fire, death, building collapse, medical talk, general 9/11 trauma

Authors Note:

Dean is 22 Sam is 18 Caleb is 30

TW: 9/11, fire, death, building collapse, medical talk, general 9/11 trauma

Authors Note:

I. Am a liar.

Hello!

Not only did I *not* post this on 9/11. This also *isn't* the last chapter!

I really thought it was going to be.

I really did.

But then I saw that I was almost at 3k words and went lol I haven't even gotten to the plot yet. So here we are! Another chapter!

Luckily it fit with another Febuwhump prompt because it'd be great if I could finish it sometime this year.

I had to switch POVs half way through which I didn't want to do but it was the best way to get everything done. And surprisingly, I like it.

Anyway, normal warnings apply.

And please forgive Caleb. He's going through a lot.

Enjoy!

~TH~

Doctor Mackland Ames had seen things in his life. He had seen death. He had seen debilitating injuries. He had seen evil men get away with far too much and he had seen supernatural beings on a scale that few would believe.

But he had never seen anything like this.

Downtown New York always had an air of chaos surrounding it. Businessmen running late for work. Parents trying to keep hold of rambunctious children. Street evangelists. Local venders. Everyone all at once. It seemed almost the entire world vying for your attention as you walked down overly crowded streets.

Today was different.

This was not the chaos of life in a big city.

This was the chaos of a world at war.

Of singed ties and ash covered suits. Of children crying in confusion and parents clinging to them as if they had any power to protect them from the horrors they were seeing. Cries and prayers to God coming from the strongest atheist. People handing out bottled water and bandages, not asking for anything in return. So many people and yet so few in comparison. It seemed that any semblance of normal had been ripped away and everything familiar was forever gone.

And the sky.

It was so empty.

The loss of the tallest, most prominent buildings in New York was disorienting. How often had he looked to the World Trade Center to find his sense of direction? It was always there. It was the staple of the city. And now it was gone. What could be seen through a gray ashen haze was less than what should be there. The emptiness of the New York skyline seemed to translate into what he was feeling.

The overload of psychic sensations would have been enough to drive him to madness if he didn't continually reinforce his walls.

And he wasn't even a strong psychic.

He thought briefly of his son and, as selfish as it was, hoped the psychic fog or "hangover" would keep him down for a bit longer. While it was possible that Caleb could use his abilities to help, it was more likely he would get overwhelmed and collapse again.

Mac's own abilities were better suited for this type of search and rescue but- but he couldn't right now. Everything was so psychically distressing. Any attempt to feel outside of himself - even trying to sort through his own feelings - would keep him from being an efficient doctor. And that's what was needed right now. He couldn't do anything to help those missing. There were too many. And he couldn't waste time on searching for people who were already dead when those who survived currently needed him.

And he was trying very hard not to place Dean in one of the two categories.

He didn't have the time or energy to deal with either possibility.

"Dad, do you have any more of this gauze?"

The doctor looked up, his son had a pinched look on his face, the migraine was clearly close to bringing him down. "Caleb, I told you to go lie down. You were unconscious for nearly three minutes." Mac had been concerned that the psychic backlash of the collapse had caused actual damage to his son's brain. Eventually though, Caleb had awoken with a headache and after a few moments of confusion, had sharpened to an almost unfortunate clarity.

Macklad had tried to convince his son to remain at home while he answered St. Vincent's call for help. He should have known better. Caleb was stubborn, and worse, worried. But the "psychic hotline" as the boys sometimes referred to it, had been offline since then.

Caleb was still clinging to hope. They had no confirmation that Dean was still in the building when it went down. There was enough time for him to get out. They had talked to survivors from up to the ninety-first floor. Dean had been on the eighty-eighth. It was possible. Mac thought this stretched hope was the only thing keeping Caleb from completely falling apart. If Dean was dead-

"Dad!" The doctor snapped his eyes back to his son. "You good? You spaced out there for a minute."

"Yes, yes I'm fine, just- just tired."

Caleb gave him a disbelieving look. "Maybe you should lie down for a minute."

"No, I'm fine. There's too much to do. And they'll be bringing in more people soon." Hopefully. So far there'd been discouragingly few survivors.

There had been a few minor scrapes, but overall most of the people who had come in were suffering from either asthma or panic attacks. There should be more injured people. Because if people weren't coming in injured then that would make them… dead.

Mac looked away, trying not to let his thoughts shine through his eyes. "Get some rest if you can. I still don't like that you were down so long."

A twitch of a strained smile. "You too, it's not all on you, Dad. There are plenty of doctors."

"All the more reason for the architect to sit this one out."

Caleb rolled his eyes, "Point taken and ignored."

Mac gave his son's arm a gentle pat. "The gauze is in the cabinet by the desk."

~SPN~

Caleb had never been interested in being a doctor. He knew how to suture and was extremely well versed in first aid, but his adoptive father's life had never been for him. His dad had been an architect and his mother a painter. He'd chosen their footsteps to follow and he'd never looked back.

Days like today reminded him why.

Putting buildings together was so much easier than people.

Not that buildings were all that reliable either it seemed.

But that was part of a long list of things he was trying very hard not to think about.

Trauma wasn't new to Caleb. He'd seen his own family murdered. If that wasn't traumatic nothing was.

But this was different.

This was trauma on a whole new scale.

The patients coming in - he knew there were way less than there should have been, they all did - were more mentally traumatized than physically. There had been nothing that a little gauze and an oxygen mask couldn't fix. But it was the panic. The hysterics. The emotional turmoil and chaos that made Caleb glad his psychic powers were currently offline.

The idea of sitting at home and watching the news while other people did all of the work was overwhelming. If he thought they'd let him downtown he'd be helping on a different scale. But he wasn't an idiot. That would cross a line with his dad. And he didn't know if the first responders had created a barricade to keep people back or not.

But if Deuce was out there somewhere-

And if that wasn't at the very top of the "under no circumstances think about" list.

Dean was out there. He was. And he was fine. He was stronger than this. He was healthy and young and if these middle-aged businessmen could make it down eighty plus flights of stairs then surely a twenty-two year old hunter could.

But he wasn't going to think about it. Dean would get in touch. Or meet back at Mac's. Or waltz in helping victims before rushing out to help more.

That was Dean.

And he was fine.

If Caleb could just bury himself in work- in usefulness- then maybe everything would stop reminding him of his idiot best friends.

Like that ugly bright orange tie.

The one just like he'd shoved at Dean the night before.

The one that Dean had not wanted to wear but Caleb had made him.

The Auburn tie that Caleb had gotten at graduation but never really worn.

The one like the man in a wheelchair was clutching like his life depended on it.

Caleb quickened his step.

"Hey!" He said too loudly. "Where'd you get that tie?"

The man looked at him with surprise. He probably hadn't even realized he was no longer alone. No one seemed to be fully with it today. Caleb knew he certainly wasn't.

"I'm sorry?"

"The tie. Where'd you get it?" And Caleb didn't know how he knew. But he knew it was his tie. He knew it had been the tie that Dean had left Mac's with this morning.

The man blinked at him. "Th-this I- The man- kid really- who saved me. It must have loosened because it fell when- and I used it to cover my mouth-"

"The kid, six-two? Lighter hair, shorter cut? Green eyes?" Caleb could feel his heart pounding. This was the first time he'd heard anything remotely relating to Dean since this morning. Since before the entire world collapsed around them.

The man stuttered for a moment. "I- he was tall. Strong. He carried me from the eighty-third floor. I think his hair was short. Could-couldn't really see his hair color. But his eyes- his eyes were definitely green." He was rubbing the tie almost obsessively. Trying to gather strength.

Caleb didn't care.

"Did you get a name?!"

The man bit his lip and nodded. "Dean. His name was Dean."

Caleb didn't know what he was feeling. It was all the emotions at once. Hope and fear and joy and terror. He didn't know what exactly he was feeling but he knew that his stomach was in knots over it.

"Do you know where he's at? Did he come out with you? You said that he carried you, did he bring you here?"

He watched as the man clenched his jaw, looking away, then finally shaking it. "He-he collapsed on the thirty-second. Some firemen came and one carried me out but-" His lip wobbled and he cleared his throat. "We made it out barely a minute before the whole thing came down. There's no way- I'm so sorry."

And with those words Caleb's world collapsed as quickly as the towers.

He took a step back, now it was his turn to shake his head.

No.

It was impossible.

Deuce couldn't be dead.

He wasn't allowed.

He was a freakin' kid.

Caleb had practically forced him into this case. Trying to keep his mind off of Sam.

He couldn't be-

He couldn't be dead.

Trapped under thousands upon thousands of smoldering steel.

Dead.

"-orry, I don't- I don't know why he even stopped." Caleb's mind broke from the water it had been shoved under and his hearing returned. "I couldn't get down on my own but he stopped when no one else did and he carried me even though- even though he was bleeding. And he carried me until he collapsed himself. He could have saved himself but he stopped for me instead and I don't know-"

Caleb stopped listening, ripping the tie out of his hands. He could see it now. The blood splattering across the neck of the tie.

And he felt hate.

A hate he hadn't felt in a long time.

Reaves didn't know who this man was but he knew that his life wasn't worth that of Dean's.

He didn't care if it made him selfish.

He didn't care if it meant another family would mourn.

So long as it wasn't his, what did it matter?

So long as it wasn't Dean.

But it was.

And this man was alive while Dean wasn't.

Because he had still been in the building.

And there was no way.

No one could survive that.

He stumbled back still holding the tie. Clutching it like it was a physical lifeline between himself and his best friend. His dead best friend. Like he could tap into some of his father's ability and track Dean and prove that he was alive.

Black was beginning to encroach on his vision. He put out a hand, catching the wall in an attempt to stay upright.

"Caleb, Caleb, son, can you hear me?"

The man in question blinked away the haze. He wasn't sure how much time had passed or what had happened. Standing in front of him was a very concerned Mackland Ames.

"You back with me?"

"Dad?"

The doctor frowned. "I want to get you in for an MRI. We're not busy at the moment and it won't take long-"

"He's dead." Caleb interrupted.

Mac stopped, mouth still parted. "What?"

Caleb shoved the tie at him. "He didn't make it out in time. Stopped to help people like a freaking idiot even though he was already hurt. Last seen on the thirty-second floor only minutes before the tower fell. He didn't make it out."

The great Mackland Ames was speechless. "How do you-?"

"I'm sorry," The man was back, had he left? Or maybe he had always been there? "I'm sorry but- I was- I was the last one to see him. He- he- collapsed and a fireman stayed with him and one left with me. I never saw him again and we made it out only moments before- I'm sorry. He saved my life."

And for a brief moment all other emotion was replaced with anger. He shoved forward, dislodging his father. "This is your fault!" He snapped. "If he hadn't stopped to save you-"

"Caleb!" Mac planted himself between the two men. "This is no one's fault but the men who hit the towers."

Reaves clenched his jaw and fisted his hands. He wouldn't throw a punch at his father but only years of hard earned respect assured that.

He turned on his heels and headed through one of the doorways. Mackland was close behind him.

"Son, stop for a minute, please."

Caleb did so, turning to meet his father. "What do you want me to say? I'm not wrong! If Dean wasn't such a self sacrificing idiot then he'd still be alive!"

"And that man would be dead."

"So?! Am I really supposed to be thankful that some random guy I've never met and never will again is alive? He's not important!"

"Dean thought he was. He was doing what he was trained to do."

Freaking John Winchester and his freaking training.

That caused Caleb to pause for a moment. Fine. He'd fight fire with fire. Storming away towards the closest exit may not have been the most mature response but it was better than some of the alternatives.

"Caleb, Caleb where are you going?"

This time he didn't stop or turn. "You were right. The ones at fault are the ones who started this war."

"What's that supposed to mean?" And he could hear the panic and couldn't help the twinge of guilt.

"It means fine. I'll take the fight to them."

"Caleb-"

"Johnny always wanted me to join up. Looks like he's gonna get his freakin' wish."

Today had been a day of unpleasant surprises and they continued, as he certainly was not expecting the psychic force that slammed into him, pressing his back against the wall. Mac rarely used his telekinesis to the point that even his son often forgot it was one of his gifts.

"He will not." His father snapped. Mac's eyes were bright as he held his son in place.

"Let me go!" Caleb tried to pull away but couldn't.

"No. I will not let you do something foolish out of grief or anger. You will calm down before I let you go. I will not let you dishonor Dean by running into danger in some twisted form of vengeance. I will not let you become another John Winchester!"

Reaves closed his eyes, letting out a breath. "And what if when I calm down I still want to join up."

"Then we will discuss it and if it's truly what you want to do then a few days won't change anything." A brief pause. "I have a feeling there's going to be a lot of enlistments in the coming weeks." He finished in a low voice. More of his inner thoughts than an attempt to portray information.

Caleb let out another breath. "Ok." he said firmly. "I'm calm."

Mac gave him an appraising look before releasing him.

"Now, I want you to go into the waiting area and wait."

"Dad-"

"Help people sign in. Direct gurneys. I don't care just- just stay out of trouble until we can sort everything out."

Caleb nodded despite himself.

"Dad-" He tried again.

"Don't Caleb. I can't right now. We can- we can work it all out later."

The doctor turned back towards the main hall. Caleb's abilities still weren't fully online but he pushed out his message anyway.

Mackland stopped. He didn't turn around but his shoulders slumped slightly. "I know, son. I love you too."

~TH~

haha

I am evil

I know

I take great pride in making Line scream after reading my ending at 2AM.

Again, forgive Caleb he's not doing so hot. And this is NOT a place to get into the US response to the attacks. I don't think Caleb has much care for the politics he's just "Dean is dead must avenge" in the same way he'd go after a supernatural attacker. So while I love discussion and will gladly talk to you about the events please do not throw around political accusations. Thanks!

Now that that's out of the way. What'd you think?

I really was planning the reunion this chapter. Had it in a different Febuwhump day and everything. But I got too into and decided to cut it off here.

Would absolutely love to hear your thoughts, ideas, predictions.

Much love and God bless,

Jamie

#9/11/2001 #9/11 #TERRORIST ATTACK #TWIN TOWERS #FEBUWHUMP2022 #TRAPPED UNDER A COLLAPSED BUILDING #TW DEATH #TW DEATH CAUSED BY DISSABILITY #TW FIRE #BUILDING COLALPSE #MY FANFIC #MY FIC #MUSIC #DEAN WINCHESTER WHUMP #BROTHERHOOD AU #SPN FANFICS #febuwhump28 #presumed dead

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dcviated · 2 years

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yet another mun meme || [ open ]

@ivakir sent: 6, 11

6. is roleplaying the only writing-based hobby you have, or are there other things you like to write?

Yeah, no. It’s all roleplay related stuff around here. I used to do a lot more drabbles back in the day. Both on tumblr for my muses and even back before then either on forums or shit I think I wrote a lot of one-off stuff on deviantart too? But with how much I have to do to keep up with drafts any muse and energy I’m more than happy to funnel into doing RP. I don’t feel any regrets or feel like I’m squandering my talents.

If anything I feel like I need to spend less time writing and more time doing other things. Even if it’s just watching anime or playing video games. I need to expand my horizons and give myself more ideas to work with when it comes to plots and just consuming other media (shit what if I read a book) would help with that. I’m also trying to learn bass, and could do to put more time into that...

11. describe your ideal outcome/endgame for the muse you are currently writing. if you are a multimuse blog: do this for your current favorite muse, or the muse of the last reply you posted.

*checks what last popped out of my queue*

Right, Mizuki.

She’s an interesting muse since like a few months after I picked her up (when she was just a child) she got the sequel announced with her as the star which immediately threw out every hc I had for her. I’m not even mad, I keep bringing it up because it’s hilarious and it makes me wonder- am I not thinking off the wall enough? Do I get too domestic with my hcs and sell my muses and what they get up to short?

Regardless, I’ve got a good core and line set for her now post-AINI. Which is to say this girl is needing some kind of guidance. She’s been without proper guardian figures almost half her life, and cut something crude out of stone that makes up a semblance of the kind of person she wants to be. But now that she has that, and so many things in her lap (sans a boyfriend) she doesn’t.... know what to want? To do with it?

With all these paths in front of her she’s at a point of indecision and the ideal outcome is for her to realize that she doesn’t need other people telling her which option to go with, and she can simply live and go forward finding out things organically. Her life has so much insanity going on and her maturity was so compressed, she feels like that next step needs to come along.... now. And as someone who’s in their 30s and still hitting strides that’s such a fucking LOL.

So the ideal is for her to learn that line of maturity. And get proper guidance. I still think she’s better as a powerhouse businesswoman than she is an ABIS agent but I know AI3 will continue to laugh in my face somehow about that. Mark my words.

#ivakir #inbox :: answered ooc #thanks for these!

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wisponed · 2 months

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GRIEF IS NOT A FEELING, BUT A NEIGHBORHOOD. THIS IS WHERE I COME FROM --

WISPONED / independent sonic forces original character rp blog

character information: below the cut

inspiration from: games, idw comics, select shows + movies

written by celeste ( she/they, est, 25+, 10+ years of rp experience )

rules: i have a full-time job so i won't be here 24/7, i can be a little selective bc i like keeping my dash clean and relevant, i don't care if you reblog stuff from me go for it babes, triggering and nsfw content may be explored but nothing explicitly sexual will ever be present, i'm cool with shipping but don't be weird about it + i need to know you and your character fairly well before jumping into anything, let's have fun and not be dicks to each other!

interacting: easiest way to interact with me is through ask memes ( which i LOVE continuing as threads), i'll be going light on the formatting and might not always include icons so if that's not your style i totally get it, i LOVE talking ooc about our characters ( gives me more drive to respond to things, too ) so please ask for my discord

a study in: anger which is easier than grief which is easier than sitting with loss, scars on your palm from claws biting into flesh, lightning as illumination; lightning as power; lightning as discharge without relief, promises writ in blood, cemeteries that are the size of cities, taking the next step, the next breath, the next shot because you are not sure who you are without this mission

can also find me: @greenhillguy ( sonic the hedgehog ) + @windrule ( jet the hawk )

EVERYONE I LOVE STILL LIVES THERE.

ABOUT

scratch the cat is an original character based around the events of sonic forces

i'll be playing scratch in her early/mid 20s, and probably won't be using any icons for her. she is a tortoiseshell cat with brown, orange, and black fur, and yellow eyes

while scratch is not the avatar that you play as in forces, she is from the same city, and was privy to the death and destruction wrought on the city by infinite and eggman

scratch's parents, older brother, and younger sister were killed in the attacks, leaving her nothing and nobody to go back to, so she throws herself into the resistance, taking on risky missions and front-line defense positions

in the beginning of the war, scratch was definitely not focused on making it out alive, instead just trying her best to make any kind of impact against infinite and eggman. as she survives and hardens over the months, so does her anger, and by the time sonic comes back she's become more focused on killing infinite and eggman than protecting the resistance or any of the people who call her their friend

when infinite disappears, it robs scratch of any semblance of closure. she can't accept that he's really gone because she hasn't seen that he's actually dead. it's a similar feeling when the resistance beats eggman, letting him get away, as if he doesn't have to pay for all the hurt, all the pain, all the death he caused

while most citizens were grateful to give back their wispons and join the restoration effort, relieved the war was finally over, scratch only became more restless. she stole her wispon, the ivory lightning wispon, and set off on her own crusade to find and kill both infinite and eggman

scratch has a close relationship with the ivory wisp that resides in her wispon, naming it blitz -- although blitz doesn't seem to condone her revenge plot, it's loyal to her and doesn't want to see her get hurt. blitz has never abandoned her, although sometimes it will choose not to attack or provide it's hyper-go-on energy if it doesn't agree with what she's doing

after the war, scratch broke into old eggman complexes and workshops, hunting for information about infinite and the phantom ruby. she's working on gathering enough intel to figure out not only what happened to infinite but also how to find him and finally take her revenge on him

in terms of plotting against eggman -- i'll probably play around with idw timelines here in regard to the whole mr. tinker and metal virus arcs

anyway.. lots to vibe with in terms of helping scratch along her revenge plot or trying to convince her of another way. she's also extremely reckless and willing to help with missions or tasks others might deem as suicidal, so if there's something stupidly dangerous your character needs to do, you can probably count scratch in to help

#sonic the hedgehog rp #sonic rp #sonic oc rp #sonic original character rp #sonic forces rp #sonic forces oc rp #sonic forces original character rp

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 2 years

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Graveyard Siblings (10)

So slight angst at the end and I made some changes to part 5 to fix a plot hole.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)-(Part 9)

------

So it took a while but when the Order finally managed to put their organisation into some semblance of order and adapting to the change to modern times.

They managed to figure out that one of them had survived and that being Wang Fu. They tried to find him only to find a grave in London, stating he had died a few years ago.

Their next task was to find the Miracle Box and the other Miraculouses that had been scattered because of the senti-monster.

The reason they manage to adapt to the modern era was due to the helping hand of the League of Assassins, formerly known as the League of Shadows and currently led by one Ra’s Al Ghul.

One of the Guardians used to be brothers-in-arms with Ra’s and Ra’s was more than willing to help out an old friend in return to have the alliance of the Order.

None of them noticed how eager he was in helping to get the scattered Miraculouses back.

Su-Han tracked it to Gotham city and some of the assassins were there as ‘escort’.

Ra’s had suspicions that the Miraculouses were in Gotham. Considering the amount of magical energy radiating from there and how often the jewelry he suspects of being a Miraculous seemed to disappear after its arrival in Gotham.

If Su-Han was under the impression that there are Bat Guardians who were power-hungry for the Miraculouses and hoarding them in Gotham. Well...a little misinformation never hurt anyone.

So Su-Han managed to knock out a sleep-deprived Tim Drake and was trying to get through the admittedly strong security of the safe that the Miraculouses were hidden in.

Fortunately for him, Ra’s also sent along some of his tech guys.

Unfortunately for him, Babs and Alfred alerted the others about the intruders in the Cave and Tim managed to hit the panic button prior to being knocked out.

Nightwing and Spoiler were first back into the Cave.

Batman was next, running a few of the assassins over with the Batmobile and joining the fight.

Su-Han watched the ‘Bats’ fight the assassins. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some brightly coloured blurs. He went into a defensive pose.

A bright blue portal appeared on top of the vault. Two figures, Red Hood and Robin, came out and took out the assassins working away at the vault.

Hellbat jumped in front of Su-Han.

“Who are you and what is your business with the Miraculouses?”

“I am Great Guardian, Su-Han,...” long-ass introduction. Yada yada yada

Maria tries to explain that she is a Guardian. However, he denies her title since Fu was never technically Guardian as he had never passed his training.

They fight. Maria tries not to harm the older Guardian and the old man wasn’t pulling his punches.

A few more fight scenes and the kwamis using their powers to help out in the fight.

Plagg was already ready to cataclysm the Guardian. Maria told him not to and the same to other kwamis who had the same idea. Su-Han was in awe that she was able to ‘command’ the kwamis without wearing any of the Miraculous.

He thinks that she uses ‘dark magic’ to get them to do her bidding.

“It’s actually called basic respect. They listen to me because I don’t treat them like slaves to do my every bidding and I respect what they can do.”

There was this entire thing where Maria kicks the Guardian out of Gotham for his treatment and views of the kwamis as dangerous creatures that should be controlled as slaves for humanity to ‘better’ the world. The Order is banned from entering Gotham.

The kwamis perform a ritual to achieve this and it extends to the League of Assassins and anyone who is still affiliated with it. So Ra’s can’t send any assassins to get the Miraculous. He is seething in his throne in Nanda Parbat over it.

Jason and Tim, sometimes Damian, would send pictures of them transformed with a Miraculous just to annoy him.

Talia once came back from her annual visit to Damian with a picture of her wearing the dragon. She is a good mom. Bruce and Talia have divorce parents arrangements for custody of Damian and Jason.

It was a long time before Maria and the more open-minded Guardians of the Order came to a compromise regarding the security and safety of the Miraculous and the treatment of the kwamis.

The Miracle Box and the ones she had collected over the years would remain under her protection. They and the Bats would collaborate on the search for the missing Miraculouses but those new ones would be under the protection of the Order. The kwamis under the Order would be treated well and be able to experience the world. Long story short, a lot of new changes were made to the old ways

Some didn’t take the new changes well and they left. (Presumably to get rid of Maria and her influence. Those attempts so far have been unsuccessful.)

Most were displeased but understood that it was for a good cause and they soon saw the improvements it made.

-------

One day, during her stay in Tibet, the older Guardians asked to speak with her. “During our search for the Miracle Box which was passed on to you from our old student, Wang Fu, we went to the city known as Paris and we discovered a man who had his wish fulfilled.”

“Gabriel Agreste. Don’t worry about him. He will face the consequences soon enough.” said Maria as she sipped her tea.

The Guardians don't say anything for a while until one of them breaks the silence, “So do you fully understand what it means to be ‘Marked’? It has been centuries since the last one. Rarely one who is apparently Tikki’s chosen.”

“I am aware of the responsibility that comes with it.” Maria replied and quietly added, “and what comes after.”

“It is unfortunate that it happened to you at such a young age.”

“I have accepted my fate and began the preparation for the next stage of my plan.”

The Guardians simply nodded and left her in peace, enjoying the snowy mountain view.

------

Gabriel came back from another long day at the company, filled with business meetings and day by day, it looks like the only option would be to declare bankruptcy but he wasn’t going down that easily.

“Emilie, I am home.”

He heard no replies. The house was empty as usual after the small number of staff had all gone home. But something didn’t feel right.

Something was missing. The lights weren’t strangely on. Perhaps his wife had turned in already for an early night.

Natalie as a raven flew down the stairs and perched herself on the lamp in the living room. She made noises and gestured frantically with her head for him to follow her.

Gabriel, fearing that the worst, that Emilie had fallen into another magical coma, followed the raven into his bedroom which was neat and tidy but no sign of his wife.

Upon opening the lights, he saw that a majority of her things were missing from the room. He opened the closet to see all of her clothes were gone. Her accessories and jewellery weren’t on the vanity table or in the drawers. He found a letter with his name written on the front in her neat penmanship.

The content inside made his stomach drop. It talked about how she knew about Hawkmoth and everything he had done. She was leaving him and taking Adrien with her. She asks him not to find her. She loves him but she cannot forgive him for what he had done.

He sat on the vanity chair, numb. Ever since Adrien was attacked in his room by Marinette, his control over the situation had gradually slipped from his fingers.

Now, Emilie, the love of his life, is gone once again. And this time she chose to do it, out of her own volition.

Doomsday, as he had begun calling the last day Marinette had promised would be his last, was approaching. Natalie’s transformation had lasted longer and longer. He had told himself as long as he still had his family. He will be able to get through this. Now, he was done for.

Natalie perched on the vanity mirror and croaked. Trying to convey comfort as best as she could in her condition. She saw something behind Gabriel that made her squawk in anger and take off towards it.

Gabriel turned around in time to see Marinette lift her hand and froze Natalie in place with magic.

She was dressed to the nines in a stunning red evening dress, her hair in an elegant up-do. Her face was covered by a beautiful mask. But it was still obvious that Ladybug had finally paid him a visit.

“YOU!” He hissed in anger.”You did this, didn’t you?” He said, pointing at the letter.

“Maybe I did. Maybe she found out all on her own. But I am not here to talk about her.” She smirked.

“Whatever it is you are going to do, it can’t be worse than this.”

“But it will be a fitting punishment for the selfish man who took my future away with his greed. I would like to show you a preview but I am late.” She said, as she opened a portal and stepped through it. Indistinct chatter could be heard.

“Oh, you might want to go watch Channel 4 in 5 minutes. That’s a surprise you cannot miss.” She said, right before the portal closed.

Gabriel did. In time to see the reveal of the person behind MT and CEO of Afterlife, who was one Maria Todd, wearing the same red dress he saw her in 5 minutes ago. She removed her mask.

“Miss MT, why did you hide your identity for so long and why reveal it now?”

“When I first started my company, I wanted my talent to speak for itself and not because I am a Wayne. The only thing Bruce helped with was giving me a loan so I can start Afterlife. I want to thank the employees at WE who knew my ‘secret identity’ and kept it a secret. The reason for revealing myself now is because, when Jason first found me, I was in a pretty bad place. Someone had made sure that I have no way of ever achieving my hopes and dreams. He essentially took my future away from me. I felt like I had died, literally. I named my company Afterlife, because it was the second chance I was given.” She looked straight into the camera, a smirk on her face.

“You know who you are and if you are watching this, I am back and the Day of Reckoning is upon you.”

The remote control slipped from his grip as he stared at the television. All this time she had been hiding and plotting with the resources of one of the most powerful families at her fingertips.

She can utterly destroy him at any time she wants and there was nowhere for him to run.

------

Marinette smiled as she leaned on Jason’s shoulder. He was always against going to Galas but for her MT reveal, he was willing to come to support her.

She looked around as her family wound down in the living room after an exhausting evening, rubbing elbows with the uptight Gotham elites.

“Whatcha thinking about, Pixie Pop?” Jason asked.

“Thinking about what his face would look like when he saw me on TV.”

“That man would probably be cowering. After all, you learned your imitation techniques from the master, me.” Damian said, smugly.

“But you got to give her some credit, Demon Spawn. She was imitating when she first came here. Speaking of which, isn’t it nearly five years since you met us?” Tim asked.

“Yeah. Wow. Time flies.” Maria stood up, grabbing everyone else’s attention.

She looked around at her enormous family, “Everyone, five years ago, I dug out of my grave, filled with so much anger at the world and you, my big brother, the one I always wished to have and have been there for me since that day, Jason Todd, kidnapped me into the family. And all of you made me realize that I don’t always have to go through everything alone. That it’s okay to ask for help when I need it.

Bruce, you have issues but despite everything, you tried to be the best dad you can be. Alfred, this family cannot function without you and the Greatest Grandfather anyone could ask for. Dick, you give the best hug and the heart and soul of our family. Babs, I am sorry for letting you up with them for so long on your own. Tim, the genius and my partner-in-crime, stayed up for 10 days straight while living off of coffee. Cass, my sister from another mother. Stephanie, the only person with the fashion sense in this house. Damian, you have grown on me and you are still a brat. Duke, you owe me ten bucks and the ‘light’ of our very dark lives. Selina, Harley, Pam and Kate, the best aunts in history and throw the best girl nights.”

“Whoa, Pixie, that almost sounds like a goodbye speech.” Jason said, “You leaving us soon?”

Even though he said it as a joke, Maria looked too serious.

“Maria?” Dick asked, “You know that you can tell us anything, right?”

“I would have to leave soon. After Gabriel gets what’s coming to him, I have to go.” she said in a soft voice.

“Go? Where do you go? Some magical temple where there are people like you?”

“I have to go back. I am not supposed to be here.”

“Wait, you are not talking about dying again, are you?”

“Is it dying if you are already dead and just living on borrowed time?”

“But- but what about the resurrection spell?”

“The spell...that part is true but some of the ingredients needed are rare or too difficult for me to obtain so I performed it with substitutes. At first, I thought that it had worked but it was only days after I came back that I found out why I was brought back. Tikki and Plagg told me that Adrien was the one who made the wish to bring his mother back. Gabriel thought that since Adrien ‘loved’ me, the wish would take me away in exchange for his mother. Only the universe didn’t like to be fooled. It had seen Gabriel and Adrien facing no repercussions for their actions in the future so I was brought back as its executioner. I carry out my revenge on them and continue living for a little while longer. The villains pay for their crimes. The universe is in balance again. It’s a win-win.”

“But you will die again.”

“I already told you I am just living on borrowed time. I know I should have been honest with you when I found out but I didn’t know you well back then as I do now. I was someone you needed to keep an eye on because I knew your identities. Then, I became part of your family. I had so much fun and so happy that I nearly forgot that this was just a temporary thing that at some point, I will have to leave. That's why I am coming clean right now.”

They didn’t take the news well. They knew death was on the cards when they signed up for the job but it was nearly always unexpected. This. This was new.

Suddenly there was a timer, ticking down until Maria, the one they had viewed as sister, friend, comrade-in-arms, partner-in-crime/ crime-fighting, daughter and grand-daughter leaves the world for good.

She had made them promise not to use the Lazarus Pits. With some reluctance from a few like Damian.

Jason argued for her to stop her revenge on Gabriel so she can continue living.

Maria argued back that the plans are already in motion, there is no stopping it and the universe brought her back here to bring suffering on Gabriel so who knows what it will do to her or to all the people she cared about if she disobeyed its commands.

Lots of heated words got exchanged and Jason left the Manor, leaving a crying Maria and dropped off the grid for a week.

He came back after going on some missions to blow off steam and talking to some people or other people talk to him or did some soul-searching about how life’s short and precious moments should be spent surrounded by loved ones or something equally poetic with moral lessons.

He appeared in front of her room in the Manor with her favourite snacks and the newly released UMS: 5 as a peace offering and the siblings made up. Both apologised for the terrible things they had said.

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(Part 11)

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Taglist: @local-witch-of-mn, @ladyqnoirr, @lolieg, @istoleyourcookies, @pale-lady-dreamer, @ichigorose, @meow-now, @demonicbusiness, @unoriginalmess

#graveyard siblings #maribat #ml x dc #platonic! jasonette #I have no explanation on how this happened #Happily ever after seemed so boring once Gabe gets wrecked #Now I know why writers enjoy doing character deaths.#mlb x dc

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