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robinsno1lesbian · 1 year

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oh oh oh i have an idea, imagine roommate!robin coming home and catching reader masturbating and moaning her name , could it pleeeaasssee end in smut 🫣

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐑.𝐁.

roommate!robin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2444

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content! (MDNI), masturbation, getting caught, fingering, kind of fluffy-ish in the end, that wasn't even intentional but i hope you don't mind lmao, not proofread

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you so much for all the requests!!! i can't wait to write them! anyway, i should be studying right now because i have plenty of exams coming up but i guess that can wait- also this is kind of a modern au because my silly brain added wireless headphones- anyway new au unlocked??? roommate robin...?

ever since you've moved in with your new roommate, she's been all you could think about.

things could have been easy; you could've gone to college, focus on your courses, and graduated top of the class just like you always imagined. that's what you've worked so hard for.

but then you met your new roommate and all those plans had been thrown out of the window, replaced by the sweet image of her.

of robin buckley.

she is as old as you are, but therefore much taller.

her height immediately had you thinking about what it might be like to kiss her. if she would lean down or if you'd have to get on the tip of your toes to do so.

if her strong arms would hold you and, if so, what that might be like.

a hundred different thoughts all at once, just from the first sight of her.

it obviously doesn't get better the more you get to know her.

she's the kind of roommate who puts effort into really knowing you, that much you can tell.

she waits for you to finish breakfast, helps you with the cooking, and plans movie nights for the two of you.

you appreciate that she is as caring but, god, that woman is driving you crazy.

the way her arm finds its way around your shoulder while you're sitting on the couch, her body, and the way it looks when she's cleaning up the apartment in nothing but a pair of shorts and a sports bra...

when she's around it's almost like you're a whole new version of yourself, almost like a teenager who is falling in love all over again.

except that that can't be, right?

but even when she isn't, her presence somehow has a hold on you and it lingers long after she has left your side.

it gets even worse when finals are right around the corner. a time when you have to focus and really can not afford to get distracted.

but it's not like your emotions seem to care much about that; even when you're seated behind your desk with a massive pile of notes spread out before you, your mind keeps wandering.

you can't help yourself but imagine her behind you, with both hands on your shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly.

you exhale shakily at that image your mind is creating.

it's almost like you can actually hear her voice, whispering into your ear:

"oh you've worked so hard already, haven't you? you're all tensed...here let me help..."

you groan and slam your palm onto the tabletop frustrated, an attempt to get the imaginary robin away from you.

"shit, shit, shit"

you press the heel of your hands over your eyes and shake your head energetically.

what's the point of this anyway? the imaginary robin has been right about one thing: your whole body is tensed and your mind is exhausted from taking in all the information.

circumstances under which studying is impossible.

and besides, a wicked idea has crept its way into your mind that might help you with stress relief.

you let your gaze wander over the notes one last time before you shake your head and get up, peeling off clothing pieces as you walk toward the bed.

when you drop yourself onto the covers, you're in nothing but your underwear.

you don't even bother to lock the door. robin has gone on a run and you know she won't be back so soon, giving you the perfect opportunity.

your eyes flutter shut when you let your fingertips run down your body, over the curve of your breasts, all the way down to your hipbone.

you exhale loudly, feeling your muscles relax against your touch.

when your hand reaches the hemline of your panties, you take one look back at your chair, thinking back to robin.

what would have happened if that little scenario had been real, you wonder.

would she help you relax? would she kiss down your spine the way you want her to, her lips soft against your skin?

would she spread her thighs apart with her palms before bringing her lips to where you need her the most?

it's almost like you can feel her hands on you, fingers trailing down your hips until all the way to your pussy.

a whimper falls from your lips when your hand cups you through your panties, a wet spot already leaking through the thin fabric.

you push yourself further into the bed, with one hand still between your thighs while the other is massaging your breasts softly.

even though you could probably tease yourself for hours, you know this is not the time -considering all the work that's left to do.

you bring your fingers down to your entrance and your eyes immediately roll back when you feel them starting to penetrate you.

⋆

robin is still wearing her headphones, music blasting into her ears when she enters the apartment.

it has started raining outside and -to avoid a cold- she has chosen to return back to your shared apartment.

she knows her roommate is studying, so she closes the door as quietly as possible.

she puts away the keys and kicks her shoes off before walking into the living room.

while she walks, she pushes the headphones off her ears.

but when her feet carry her further into the apartment and past the hallway that leads to both of your rooms, she is caught completely off guard.

the noise that just came from your door most definitely doesn't sound like studying.

she stops in her tracks and turns her head slowly as if to make sure that she did not just imagine that.

she hasn't.

a breathy moan echoes through the apartment. the apartment, from which you seem to think that it's empty, robin concludes.

she inhales slowly, her eyes widened at the noise.

robin has always wondered what you might sound like.

she knows that this is so wrong. that she should do something -anything- to let you know that you're no longer alone.

maybe close the door with more force again or clear her throat.

but she doesn't. she wants to, she really does, but she physically can not turn away.

she walks towards your door slowly, somehow hungry to hear more.

hearing your pretty moan has sent a wave of heat right to her center and robin is dying to know where this might go.

your door isn't fully closed, leaving a small gap that allows her not just to listen but also to see what is going on behind it.

and what she sees takes her breath away.

⋆

you're spread out on your bed. you have chosen to ditch your panties as well, giving yourself even better access to your throbbing cunt.

your head is thrown back and pleasure rushes through your veins with every curl of your fingers.

with both eyes still closed, you can't help yourself but imagine robin's pretty face lingering above yours.

the moans leave your lips almost automatically at this point and you don't even bother to try to hold them back.

the squelching sounds from your center echo through the room and you can quite literally feel just how wet you are -how wet the thought of robin manages to get you.

"oh yes-" you exhale. "fuck yes- robin"

her name feels so good on your lips. almost like you can taste the shape of each letter on your tongue.

you can feel your orgasm approaching now, the hot coil tightening more and more with every stroke of your hand.

you roll your hips against yourself, chasing the height in desperate need for your release.

but just when you think it's about to wash over you, you hear the noise of a creaking door and it vanishes into nothingness.

your eyes fly open, only to find that your door has been pushed open.

and behind it stands robin herself, her eyes wide in shock, but also something entirely different.

instinctively, you close your legs and remove your hand from your panties. it is almost painful, this close to your orgasm.

"oh- god" you choke out. "robin i- fuck"

she must have heard. there is no way that she didn't.

"y/n" robin whispers. "holy shit"

it takes a second for you to understand but when it hits you, you're just as surprised as you are turned on; that is most definitely arousal in her voice.

you bite your lower lip and she watches you for a second of complete silence.

when she finally speaks, you are delighted by her words.

"look you can tell me if I'm mistaken and i swear I'll leave but-"

she crosses her arms ad leans against the doorframe, a gesture that has you clenching around nothing.

"was that my name you were calling just now pretty girl?"

your jaw drops at her bluntness but your head is already nodding before your mind can even catch up on what is happening.

"want me to join you?"

"please"

you don't even have time to fully register it; one second she's leaning against the doorframe and the next she's crawling towards your very much exposed body.

you sit up when she reaches you, gladly welcoming her soft hands on your neck.

"can i kiss you?" robin whispers. the rasp in her voice is even more prominent when she gets like this.

you nod and add a little "yes", and then her lips meet yours.

this is everything you've ever dreamed of in those months of liking her from afar.

but now, with her lips on yours and her hands on you, it is better than in any of your little secret fantasies.

you are far too gone to care when you part your lips, practically begging for her tongue.

robin gets the hint and the kiss grows more passionate as her tongue begins roaming your mouth.

the sinful moan that erupts from your throat is music to her ears and she presses against you suggestively, signalizing for you to lay back again.

your eyes go a little wider but you as you're told.

"t-touch me please"

robin just chuckles in response. "oh don't you worry about that"

her lips meet the skin right below your ear before they wander lower at a fast pace, leaving kisses and light bites wherever they go.

"but i need to see you first" she breathes. "that okay?"

you don't answer. instead, you reach out yourself and unclasp your bra, only to throw it across the room.

robin just stares, her lips parted and her eyes full of lust.

"like what you see?" you manage, the heat between your legs growing even further at the way she's gaping at you.

her head nods slowly and she leans in, kissing the valley between your breasts.

"fuck robin" you cry when her lips wrap around your nipple and suck.

the sensation is nothing compared to what your own fingers can do and you pray that this won't be the only time she'll do this for you.

your fingers curl in her hair and you push her closer to your chest.

"f-fuck me please"

you can feel her stupid little smirk against your skin and roll your eyes in mock annoyance.

"are you sure?" she whispers gently and looks up at you, her chin resting on your breasts.

you lick your lips and nod at her. "i- i want this robin. please-"

"okay, okay. don't worry. i promise I'll make you feel really good okay?"

and you fucking whimper without her even touching you.

that is about to change though, her fingers slowly running down your body all while she never breaks the eye contact.

your lips part and you let out a soft "oh" when her digits reach your needy cunt.

robin's eyes flicker when she feels your wetness against her skin.

"all that for me?"

you rock your hips upwards and nod. the strength to keep your eyes open as left you and all you care about is for robin to finally, finally fuck you.

in any other case, she might have teased some more, to listen to your desperate begging. but now, with your arousal dripping down her wrist robin can't stop herself.

"god, fuck, y/n you're so wet" she moans, your whole body tensing up at the sweet way her voice sounds when she's moaning like that.

finally, she slips a single finger into you, meeting no resistance at all.

you immediately start fucking yourself on her long, delicate fingers, but a hand on your hip steadies you.

"shhh" robin mumbles. "don't worry babe, let me take care of you okay?"

you are already painfully aware that you won't last long like this, but when she thrusts into you for the first time, adding a second finger as she does so, you nearly lose it.

"fuck" you cry out. "oh god, fuck, yes-"

robin chuckles against your skin, her breath hot on you, before pumping into you at a steady but rather slow pace.

this won't do it yet.

she curls her fingers and your legs shake violently. that's much more like it already.

"you're so fucking pretty like this" robin mumbles. "i imagined how you might look like, but god, this is so much better"

you pull her closer, wanting to feel her on you when she makes you cum.

all you can do is mumble a little "hmh" in return.

"and you wanted this too, didn't you?" her fingers pick up their pace. "you wanted to get fucked by me huh? that's why you were calling my name out like that...fuck, y/n...you should've just asked"

you spread your legs a little wider when robin begins rubbing tight circles around your clit.

you can feel your walls flutter around her, sucking her deeper into you.

"robin- gonna cum- please"

"it's okay" she whispers gently. "cum for me baby"

your toes curl and your back arches into her. all you can really control is the way your fist tightens in her hair and pulls her impossibly closer to you.

that tingly feeling that's been building up for way too long explodes and takes over you entirely.

you clench your thighs around her hand while she fucks you through your orgasm.

"robin, robin, robin..." the name keeps falling from your lips softly.

"I'm here...I've got you"

she gently pulls her fingers out of you when you have come down from your thighs and crawls up your body again.

your lips meet hers in a searing kiss.

"i really should have asked" you mumble, voice still shaky. "i really like you robin"

she smiles. "i really like you too y/n"

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley smut #robin buckley imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader

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heyiwrotesomethings · 1 year

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HELLO HOPE UR HAVING A NICE DAY! i would like to request a shinobu x fem!reader(she/her) :) ok so, this is when shinobu is in her past personality and kanae is still alive, reader has a crush on the grumpy shinobu and tries to court her but, shinobu denies all of the reader’s confessions because shes scared to be in a relationship considering the world theyre in. (obv reader doesnt give up but i wouldnt either) fast travel to kanaes death and reader tries to cheer shinobu up but suddenly shinobu just snaps at the reader (due to stress and overwhelmness) and tells reader to leave her alone for good and reader does just that. reader stops with trying to court shinobu and shinobu will lowkey miss the readers shenanigans and shinobu deeply regrets yelling at reader, so shinobu goes to reader and apologizes and they live happily ever after! I HOPE THAT WASNT TOO COMPLICATED! I TRIED TO MAKE IT SIMPLE BUT MY BRAIN IS IMAGINING SO MUCH AND I HAD RO GET THIS ONE OUT 😍 I LOVE ALL OF YOUR FICS AND YOUVE BEEN MY FAV SHINOBU WRITER IN TUMBLR! HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT -⭐️

A Trade of Equal Value

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I had a pretty good time writing this one (even if I was still working on it at 2am last night lol)! The timeline is also kinda scuffed because I didn’t want to write in the four years between Kanae’s death and where Shinobu is mentally by the time Tanjirou and Co come around, but I still imagine her at the same age she is when the boys are introduced. I also got pretty angsty with Kanae’s death and Shinobu lashing out, but as usual, it turns out alright in the end.I feel like I should also note that Shinobu has a panic attack which I have bracketed with ‘~~~’. Shinobu even gets a little Gomez Addams-y at the end which I think is pretty nice if I do say so myself. Thanks for the request, I hope you like the result! Word Count: 4,906

“Shinobu, wait up!”

Shinobu exhaled audibly and Kanae giggled beside her, hooking her arm with Shinobu’s so that she couldn’t escape the other demon slayer quickly catching up to them.

“Be nice,” Kanae advised her.

“I’m plenty nice.” Shinobu whispered defensively. She enjoyed (Y/n)’s company more than most of the other people she had to deal with on a daily basis, but she was just getting back from a mission that lasted all night and she was too tired to cater to whatever scheme (Y/n) was cooking up this time.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) caught up to the sisters and hugged Shinobu from behind, “And hello to you too, Kanae-san!”

“Hello, (Y/n)-chan, how was your night?” Kanae asked, nearly smirking as her rosy-cheeked sister attempted to free herself from (Y/n)’s embrace. (Y/n) showed Shinobu mercy by letting her go and walking at her side instead.

“Pretty quiet. Everything went alright on your end?”

“Just fine.” Kanae confirmed.

“Good! So, um, Shinobu,”

Oh gods, here she goes again… Shinobu braced herself.

“There is a street festival going on in downtown Tokyo tomorrow. Want to go check it out with me? As a date? Or not… whatever you are more comfortable with.”

“What a fun idea!” Kanae spoke on Shinobu’s behalf, “She’ll be happy to go with you!”

“Neesan!” Shinobu objected.

“Am I wrong?” Kanae pouted, “would you not like to spend time with (Y/n)? Should I maybe go with her instead? I wouldn’t mind getting out for the day.”

Shinobu turned her head so (Y/n) couldn’t see her face and scowled at Kanae. Never let it be said that Kanae couldn’t be as conniving as she was kind.

Shinobu had met (Y/n) during Final Selection. They had spent most of that hellish week together, quickly forming a rapport that continued even after they made it out of the wisteria forest. They went on missions together often and spent a lot of off time together too.

They grew very close, close enough that Shinobu’s mood would sour when (Y/n) wasn’t around. Close enough that Kanae felt the need to tease her about how close they walked together in the halls. Close enough that (Y/n) had confessed to Shinobu a few weeks ago and was now trying yet another courting attempt.

Shinobu enjoyed spending time with (Y/n), but if they became any closer than they already were and (Y/n) went out for a mission and never came back, Shinobu was afraid of where that would leave her. It was hard enough to lose people she had met in passing, friends, family… she didn’t want to know what it was like to lose a romantic partner too. She had already witnessed such a thing a few months back.

There was a fiancée of one slayer Shinobu had known in passing since she was a Kakushi. She had been sent to clean up a location before another demon was discovered in the area. Woefully ill-equipped to deal with the situation, she had lost her life.

When the slayer who was her betrothed had received the news, he deteriorated over the next three weeks before finally passing away in his bed at the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu had fumed over the loss.

“There was nothing wrong with him!” She had exclaimed heatedly, angry at the situation. She had been unable to find anything physically wrong with the young man in all the tests she had done.

Kanae smiled sympathetically and put her hands on Shinobu’s shoulders as they watched the Kakushi remove the covered body from the infirmary.

“Sometimes there is just no curing a broken heart,” She had replied.

“I’ll go.” Shinobu gave Kanae a warning glare when her lips split into a larger smile, then she turned back to (Y/n), making the girl jump at the intensity of her stare, “But it is not a date.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes briefly and exhaled softly through her nose before giving Shinobu a small shrug and a relaxed smile, “Understood.”

That’s how it always went. (Y/n) sweetly telling Shinobu she loved her with little gifts and proposed outings with intentions clear. It became as normal a part of their relationship as anything else they did together.

Time and time again, Shinobu would deny her, but always kept her close. She would never admit it, never give herself a moment to reflect on it, but every time (Y/n) expressed her interest in courting her, although Shinobu denied her at every turn, she always felt a sense of relief that (Y/n) was still interested in her.

There had been a few occasions where (Y/n) had gotten friendly with other people and put Shinobu on edge. These instances made her feel jealous and more irritable than what was common for the younger of the Kochou sisters, but (Y/n) always came back to her in the end, even if Shinobu had to do a little prodding behind the scenes.

Kanae had noticed one such occasion and gently scolded Shinobu for it.

“If you are not intending to pursue a courtship with (Y/n), you really mustn’t sabotage the potential for her to find someone who wants to do what you will not. That wouldn’t be fair. Don’t keep her heart if you are not going to share yours in return. Regardless of what you decide, you must treat (Y/n) well. Friend or lover. Do you understand, Shinobu?”

To be lectured by Kanae was truly humbling and even embarrassing to an extent. If Kanae actually scolded someone, one would assume they must have really deserved it. Which is why Shinobu grunted a quick, “yes”, with her eyes cast shamefully to the floor before all but stomping away.

So maybe she had gone a bit overboard interfering with (Y/n)’s sparring partner’s recovery training schedule, but in her defense, (Y/n) was her partner first. Even if she had been okay with back to back sessions, Shinobu didn’t want anything less than (Y/n)’s best when they sparred so that meant nameless-sparkly-eyed-touchy-slayer had to find something else to occupy their time.

Turning the corner after exiting Kanae’s room, she found (Y/n) waiting for her. Leaning against the wall with a couple of wooden swords in her hands, she offered one to Shinobu with a inquisitive look.

“Want to let off some steam?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Shinobu managed a small grin at the offer, taking the sword and ignoring the tingles that traveled through her body when their hands touched.

This was what she wanted, the same steadfast compatibility they had when they met in the forest. Nothing scary, just them in their most pure and uncomplicated form. Was that so wrong? Kanae shouldn’t judge Shinobu for wanting this… the only opinions that mattered in this instance were her own and (Y/n)’s, and perhaps that was true to an extent, but Kanae’s wisdom about treating (Y/n)’s heart with care should not have been so easily pushed to the back of Shinobu’s mind… because it would be the last time such advice left Kanae’s lips.

The preparations for Kanae’s funeral had simultaneously happened agonizingly slow and all too fast. The most time Shinobu had to process her sister’s death was probably in those moments holding her beaten and bloodied body waiting for the Kakushi to collect her from the battlefield. She had held her long enough to notice how her skin had gone cold as the sunrise broke over the hills much too late to save the Hashira from her unforgiving fate. The emptiness she felt when the Kakushi finally arrived and gently took Kanae’s weight off of her almost felt worse than the initial death.

But there was no time to dwell on that. There was work to do. Cremation, service, paperwork, becoming the head of the mansion and taking on all of the duties that entailed. Meetings with Oyakata-sama himself and his condolences and hopes for her moving forward. She had already been close to becoming eligible for a Hashira position herself, but she hadn’t thought she would soon be replacing her sister instead of sitting beside her.

~~~

When she could finally be alone, Shinobu collapsed onto the tatami floor of her bedroom and wept, Kanae’s haori tightly wound within her grasp. What would she do? What would she do without her? Her sister, who loved and understood her more than any other, gone with one last, rattling breath that even now echoed within Shinobu’s ears. Her own breathing now was too shallow, her eyes stung and she couldn’t see. Her stomach felt cold and heart twisted so viscously in her chest that she felt physically ill.

Hands suddenly wrapped around her biceps and she tried to pull away, still struggling to breathe. The hands left for but a moment before they returned, fingers touching more cautiously than before. Slowly running up and down her arms to her hands and then back up to shoulders and the back of her neck, continuing the motion repeatedly.

Over time, the static in her ears dissipated and she was able to hear a soft voice, urging her to breath. She suddenly felt so exhausted that she couldn’t keep herself upright and fell forward, but instead of the floor, forehead fell against something more solid, but not hard. The arms wrapped around her and the voice continued to coax her to breathe, now gently swaying her from side to side.

~~~

Shinobu had no idea how much time had passed when she finally had the strength to pull away, seeing (Y/n) looking over her with worry. It made her feel so small and powerless and… and angry.

“Why,” Shinobu rasped sharply, “are you here?”

(Y/n) flinched backward at Shinobu’s tone, swallowing a lump in the back of her throat before answering.

“With everything that happened, I was worried about you. I could hear you from the hall, you scared me.”

“So?” Shinobu spat, trying to get up, but her legs weren’t cooperating. (Y/n) reached forward to help her, “Don’t.” Shinobu quickly rebuffed.

(Y/n)’s hands returned to her lap, tightly clasped. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen you like this before. Please, tell me how I can help.”

“I don’t want your help.” Shinobu growled. “Why, why can’t you just leave me alone? You just can’t take no for an answer, can you?” Shinobu wasn’t yelling, but the harshness of her tone was just as sharp in (Y/n)’s ears. “Help me,” She scoffed, though it sounded more like a whimper in her ears, making her more angry, “unless you can bring the dead back to life, stay the hell away from me.”

“Shinobu, please—“

Shinobu was so full of rage and anguish, her misdirected anger only became more pointed. The lack of control was eating at her, she felt like she was lost on treacherous seas, trying to stay afloat by dragging (Y/n) under the churning black water so that she could maybe get just one full breath without swallowing the salty brine. It would be so easy. The one thing that she could control.

“This isn’t something you can fix! This isn’t a fairy tale where you get the girl by saying a few sappy half-baked sentiments. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you?”

The words struck (Y/n) deeply, but she tried to power through, “That’s not why I’m here, Shinobu. I swear I’m not expecting anything to change. You’re hurting, and as your friend I—“

“You aren’t my friend!” Shinobu shouted. “Time and time again you ask to court me. Time and time again I refuse you. Your narcissism knows no bounds... The kindness you are attempting to show me is a forgery! A means to the end you keep badgering me for! You are reprehensible, a thorn wedged in my side, I can’t stand you, can’t you see that?! Leave!”

Shinobu’s heavy breathing was deafening in the quiet left behind by her words. Glaring down at (Y/n), she felt no lighter. No weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. In fact, as the sound of silence grew, the air around them only seemed to become thicker.

After stewing in the silence, (Y/n) attempted to speak. Her voice cracked on the first word and with it, Shinobu’s heart. She slowly got to her feet as if she had been physically beaten, avoiding Shinobu’s eyes as she turned away to wipe at her own.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through a hitched sob that made Shinobu’s blood chill, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt like that.”

Tell her you don’t. Take it all back, hurry. Try to make it better. Don’t let her slip away too. A hurried whisper within Shinobu’s mind pleaded, but she found herself mute, still and rigid as a statue. Her mind was fuzzy, yet somehow working in overdrive, but she appeared to not have the means to do anything about it.

“I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable. It was hard enough asking the first time, I wouldn’t have asked again if Kanae-san,” another choked sob, “if she hadn’t encourage me to keep trying, if she hadn’t sounded so sure that you felt the same, I wouldn’t have bothered you after that...

Even so, I should have noticed how you really felt. I didn’t pay close enough attention, yet I still claimed to love you. I really am the worst, huh?”

Shinobu could see the terrible false smile (Y/n) wore as she slowly slid the door open and shuffled into the hall. The voice in Shinobu’s head screamed at her to move, to speak, to stop (Y/n) from slipping out of the room completely, but she still stood stubbornly frozen.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

The door closed, furthering the chasm between them and casting Shinobu’s room in darkness once more. She could hear (Y/n)’s footsteps fading, but instead of following, she slid back down to the floor in a strange state between wakefulness and unconsciousness. Not quite grasping the gravity of this event until much later when the other girls finally had her eating and sleeping properly again and she had some time to reflect.

(Y/n) had made good on her promise to leave Shinobu alone. When Shinobu had worked up the courage to find her and apologize for all the awful things she said nearly a month ago, the room that was all but officially (Y/n)’s was uniform with the other empty rooms spread across the mansion.

Kiyo had found her standing in the doorway and timidly approached.

“(Y/n)-san told us that she was going to ask the Stone Hashira if he was willing to take on another Tsuguko. Her crow sent us a letter a couple days later. She was accepted. The Kakushi helped relocate her belongings.”

“Oh.” Shinobu softly exclaimed, because what else could she say? It was either that or sink to the floor like a slug and Shinobu wasn’t quite ready to go that route yet.

“But now that you know, you could go talk to her. If you wanted to.” Kiyo cautiously added. She and the other girls may or may not have caught wind of what had happened, but were too nervous to try to interfere before now.

“Thank you, Kiyo. I think I will do just that.”

***

“Himejima-san, please.”

Shinobu couldn’t believe that Gyomei of all people was getting in her way of speaking to (Y/n). The man who had saved her and introduced her to a cultivator had been a father figure to her for years now and to have him standing in her way like he was now stung.

“It is not my decision to make,” Gyomei shook his head, still standing firm, “She does not wish to see you. Why that is, I do not know, but it is the decision she has made and one that I must honor.”

“I need to see her, it’s urgent.” She insisted.

“Is her health failing?”

“No.”

“Does she have a mission?”

“…No.”

“Then I see no reason to yield, young Kochou.” Gyomei shook his head woefully, “But I can tell this is important to you, if you have a message for her, I shall relay it for you if you are comfortable.”

Shinobu stared past Gyomei, looking longingly at the towering fence that enclosed his estate. She honed in on the sound of slayers training beyond the walls, hoping to hear (Y/n)’s voice among the shouts and grunts and clacking practice swords, but heard no such sound in the commotion.

“Can I write it out myself?” She asked Gyomei. He nodded.

“I will allow it… Again, I don’t know what this is about, but take time and care in writing what you want to say. You can send En by when you’ve completed your letter or hand it off to myself.”

“Very well. I shall do that.” With one last look at the tall fence, Shinobu turned to leave and Gyomei spoke up once more.

“Do not get disheartened if you do not get the results you hope for right away. Find a happy medium between patience and persistence and perhaps she will come around.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.”

As soon as Shinobu got home, she locked herself in her office for hours and every attempted draft of apology could not even begin to touch on all she regretted. Her waste bin was overflowing by the time she had something that didn’t immediately make her want to rip the offending paper in two. Before she could change her mind, she sent En off with the letter and waited anxiously for a reply. Hoping beyond hope they could go back to where they were before. Shinobu needed that familiarity and stability. She craved it. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait terribly long for a reply, but unfortunately it read,

I’m relieved to hear you are in a better place, but just as you have had time to reflect on that night, I have as well.

Your words that night hurt me in a way that I’ve never been hurt before, made worse by the fact that it was you who had said them to me.

Part of me wanted to be furious with you, I thought that I should be, but I wasn’t. I was empathetic to your loss and the new responsibilities that were thrust upon you. But even though I tried to convince myself that you lashed out because of the pressure, I believe there was some truth in what you had said.

If I could go back in time, I would have just kept my feelings to myself to spare us all the trouble. Despite this, I am happy that you hope to patch things up between us.

However, in my reflection, I came to the conclusion that even after all of this, I am still hopelessly in love with you despite everything. In the interest of preserving my heart, and saving you from the discomfort of my affections, I do not think it wise for us to reconnect. At least, not until I manage to get over you. I don’t know how long that will take, but given that not a waking hour passes that I don’t think about you, it probably won’t be any time soon.

I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable to read this, I’m just trying to be honest. Tell the girls I said hi, and please take care of yourself.

Wishing you the best,

(Y/n)

“Wishing you the best?” Shinobu hissed under her breath, the paper crinkling between the harsh pinching of her fingertips. “There is no best of me without you, idiot.”

Shinobu allowed herself time to cry, but not a lot. Gyomei’s words were still on her mind. If she wanted (Y/n) back, she wasn’t going to get her by crying, but now she needed to make a very important choice.

Continue to push for friendship, or confront the romantic feelings that she had fought like hell to keep hidden. Was accepting those feelings and the vulnerability the would bring worse than not having (Y/n) in her life at all?

“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Shinobu softly pondered the old proverb. Kanae had been a fan of the saying and Shinobu had never really understood the sentiment until now.

Though she was going to fight like hell to be worthy of the love she had lost and reclaim it once more.

***

“Another letter? En, that’s three just today. You don’t have to bend to her every whim.” (Y/n) fussed over the bird, setting her up with fresh water and seed.

“It is important to Shinobu, so it is important to me.” The loyal crow proudly stated, though she was very grateful for (Y/n)’s continued hospitality.

“Just try not to over do it.” (Y/n) sighed and unfurled the letter, quickly catching the pressed flowers within and quietly cursing as bits of the brittle plants flaked off and fell to the floor. She carefully paced the dried flowers on her desk and scanned over the letter, finding it to be another poem. “What is she trying to achieve here? Why is she doing this?”

“To win back your trust, your heart,” En cocked her head left and then right, “Is it not obvious? Should I suggest being more direct?”

“Why does she want my heart so badly all of the sudden?” A bit of irritation slipping into her tone, “Is it something she wants to seal up in a jar? Bet she’d enjoying having it up on a shelf in the lab. Maybe a paper weight on her desk.”

“You humans vex me,” En’s feathers ruffled, “just give each other something shiny and make up.”

“If only it were that simple.” (Y/n) murmured, finishing her curt response to Shinobu’s poem, denying her a visit once again. She then placed the letter beside En. “You can take your time heading back, and if she tries to insist on a fourth delivery today, turn her down for the good of your health.”

En released a low caw that could only be interpreted as a scoff. Promptly scooping up the letter and taking her leave, passing Gyomei in the hallway.

“(Y/n), is all well? You are late for training.”

(Y/n) winced, “I’m so sorry Master. I got distracted.”

“Kochou-san again?”

“Yes…”

“And you still will not see her?” (Y/n)’s silence was answer enough. “Why?”

“I guess when it comes right down to it, I’m scared. Whether it’s me putting my own heart out there, or her actively trying to obtain it, I feel like it will inevitably end the same and I don’t think I could go through that again.”

Gyomei hummed thoughtfully, “I think I understand your concerns. Matters of the heart are certainly not easy. Especially when it has already been hurt before. I’m sure you will make your peace with her soon, but I pray that peace and satisfaction will find you sooner.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Can I expect you to join the rest of your peers for training now?”

“Of course!”

“Wonderful. I expect you to have two boulders beaten down to gravel by nightfall.”

(Y/n)’s shoulders slumped and she suppressed a groan.

“Yes, sir.”

This would be a long day…

***

Shinobu halfheartedly paged through the new medicinal tome that had arrived the day prior. She had been eagerly anticipating its arrival for months, but now with En’s latest return proving she had failed to entice (Y/n) once again, she hardly had the motivation.

She was surprised when Gyomei’s crow, Zekka, came to perch at her window some hours later. She took the letter from his beak and he quickly flew off. He was not expecting a reply, she supposed. She unfurled the textured paper and scanned the punched message which simply read,

The best way to receive what it is you are looking for, is to give something of equal value in return.

Himejima Gyomei

“Really, Himejima-san, is this supposed to be a riddle?” Shinobu shook her head, but a determined spark lit up her eyes and she got to work.

***

(Y/n) slumped to the ground, uncaring that she was resting in a pile of rubble. She had destroyed the boulders just as the sun had sank behind the mountains, but at what cost? Himejima seemed nice, but his training was beyond brutal. If the secret of Stone Breathing was to make one’s arms as heavy and stiff as stone, (Y/n) was surely going to be a Master in no time. Her eyes drooped shut. It wouldn’t be the first time she took a dirt nap after training, but an insistent voice was preventing that.

“Hello, hello, please don’t fall asleep out here, (Y/n). I could probably name ten different reasons why it would be a horrible decision.”

Cold hands prodded at her face and sore arms, making her groan in protest and try to shimmy away.

“If you don’t massage and stretch now, you are going to be completely immobile tomorrow. Which may be helpful actually, at least then you won’t be able to run away from me.”

(Y/n) heard her arm crack and pop, which would have have alarming except it felt like a relief. She cracked opened her eyes, soon blown wide open when she realized who was busy cracking and rotating her aching wrist. If her heart had ever raced when she saw Shinobu (which it did) it was sprinting now. Damn traitorous organ never learned.

“What are you doing here? How are you here?” She whispered, not even because she was pretty sure she was dehydrated, but because it just felt appropriate to whisper.

“Jumped over the fence.” Shinobu answered casually, taking her time cracking (Y/n)’s knuckles and massaging her palm now, “Though I’m sure Himejima-san is well aware of my presence and wouldn’t have minded me using the front gate this time around. And for your first question, I’m here for you.”

“Shinobu, I told you that I—“

“—I have something I want to give you formally. What you decide to do from there is completely your choice. I know I have always asked a lot of you, but please allow me this once more.”

“…Okay.” Even after nearly four months of separation, (Y/n) found herself still unable to deny her. In her mind, this did not bode well for what little progress she thought she had made.

“Thank you.”

Shinobu stoked her thumbs over the palm of (Y/n)’s hand before bringing it to her chest, placing it over her heart and holding it there with both hands.

“Wh-what are you doing?” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to inch her palm higher, somehere above Shinobu’s clavicle and not quite so close to the swell of her chest, but Shinobu held firm.

“Do you feel that?” She asked.

“What am I supposed to be feeling?!”

“My heartbeat, of course. Can’t you feel it? It’s beating rather hard right now.”

It was hard to pay attention to anything other than her own racing heart if she was honest. Besides, a hand to someone’s chest wasn’t the best way to find a pulse. Shinobu of all people should know that.

“Maybe this will help.”

(Y/n) let Shinobu shift their positions around, mostly because she was still stiff and her body was refusing to cooperate with her own wishes. After a bit of maneuvering, she found her cheek resting on Shinobu’s chest instead, a speedy and strong drumbeat pressed against her ear.

“Is that better?” Shinobu asked.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To show you that you are not alone, that this is the power you have over me. My heart is yours, it always has been, but I’m giving it to you formally now.”

“Shinobu, I can’t—“

“I don’t expect you to give yours in return, I know I don’t deserve it yet, but I hope to one day. Will you allow me the honor of courting you. You owe me nothing, but I beg of you to allow me the chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Because losing out on the moments we could have while living together is more frightening to me than death itself. I don’t know how much time either of us has, but I want to spend it all with you.”

(Y/n)’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to water. A quiet sob shook her shoulders and she felt Shinobu’s arms tighten around her. She was so doomed. Try as she might, her heart was very clear. It belonged to Shinobu, no matter what she decided to do. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make her really work for it though.

“Alright, I accept,” (Y/n) sniffed, “you may court me.”

Shinobu gasped softly then took (Y/n)’s hand from her lap, kissing the back of it while locking eyes with her. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s spine.

“I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity. The same one I had denied you of several times in the past. The goddess my heart is devoted to is a merciful one. How unworthy I am of your blessing.”

“I think you have been reading too much poetry.” (Y/n) spoke in a strained whisper, flustered by Shinobu’s intensity. She had never imagined she could be like this.

“Oh this is only the beginning,” Shinobu declared, a purple flame burning in her eyes more vibrantly than any chemical reaction could produce, “You best prepare yourself.”

#demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #requests #anonymous

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wispscribbles · 1 month

Note

hi i just discovered your beautiful art so i obviously needed to scroll down your whole blog to catch up on everything you posted haha

i just wanted to say that i got way too emotional after reading that post of yours regarding mw3 and your mental health… on one hand i’m so sorry that you felt that way, but on the other i feel it with my whole heart

ghoap content especially for me helped me these past few months with my mental health in ways i would never have expected, it was my solace and inspiration, i started working out too and got back into drawing, got a lot better at it as well!

but unfortunately i get way too fixated on fictional stuff and there comes a time that my brain switches up and connects the things i liked and comforted me with things that make me extremely uncomfortable and stressed out, especially if i fall down a fandom rabbit hole that i would never have searched up, beacuse i know myself, i know my limits and triggers but i feel like i’m not a part of the fandom if i don’t like and interact with every single headcanon, art and ship

these past days i was really down because of that, and the things i read (why did i do that???) and now when i think of ghoap i think of that stuff and im scared that i alienated myself from the one thing that made me happy

but discovering your art and with that your post reminded me that im not alone in these feelings, even if it’s not the same exactly, and i wanted to thank you, for sharing your thoughts that time i guess haha <33

((sorry for rambling))

Long reply under 'keep reading' !! CW: talk of triggers and MCD

Always feel free to ramble my way!!! How nice you could find some comfort in my art and ghoap stuff. Especially in my mw3 post. I've been considering deleting it a few times, but hearing it maybe helped to read in some way makes me happy I left it up.

I get where you're coming from - I very much use these fictional characters as a safe space, but ppl view them very differently. There's room for it all, "don't like, don't interact" is very much a policy I agree with. It's important to mute words and be aware of your own triggers as you browse stuff in this fandom, because there's such a wide variety of stuff out there. You do NOT have to interact and agree with every thought people have on this ship, that's impossible and super stressful. There's plenty of stuff and headcanons I don't vibe with. There are no 'requirements' that you have to meet in order to enjoy fiction.

It's part of why I enjoy ghoap - that their dynamic resonates and has sparked so much creativity and outlets for so many - but it also means there's gonna be a lot of stuff u don't necessarily agree with or feel comfortable with. For example, a lot of folks use the MCD in mw3 as a way to explore grief, which I think is really cool, but on a bad day that could potentially get my brain in a bad headspace, so I only check out that art and those fics when I feel okay. There's also a bunch of stuff I'd never want to interact with, and that’s fine !!

I'm personally quite vanilla and a sucker for exploring the softer, more domestic aspects of these characters. It's what brings me joy. I know there are parts of this fandom who don’t vibe with what I make at all, and would call it untrue to the characters. Some creators enjoy exploring the more violent or toxic sides to the source material. That's just how it is, we all need different things from fiction. As long as we're capable of chilling in our respective sandboxes, then all's good.

But if you're like me, and enjoy the softer things, then definitely be aware and careful while exploring this ship and fandom. I've seen takes on these characters that are so far removed from how I view them, that they're basically the complete opposite, and it can leave a very bad taste, especially if you're the type to hinge your safe space on fiction.

Just... be mindful of yourself and your potential triggers, be respectful and don't interact with things that make you uncomfortable to the point of feeling unsafe. Shape your own online experience to your best ability.

Hope you're doing okay and still find joy in ghoap <3

#ask #anon ask #long post #mcd #mcd mention #major character death #mw3 spoilers #ish #few extra thoughts in tags:#sry it took a while to respond. i wanted to give a proper answer #hope this makes sense or helps somehow #and if interacting with this fandom continues to have a negative impact on your mental health then take a break #i understand using fiction as an outlet or safe space (i do it) but if the bad starts outweighing the good then try to distance yourself #don't dive into those rabbit holes that u know will make u feel bad #i understand the urge but its so important to protect yourself online #I’m far from an expert on this stuff so this is just my two cents #stay safe!!

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reds-writings · 1 month

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since you were begging for it and I've been DYING for 2012 Rust content

may I ask for 46. of the fluff prompts? (taking care of them when it's hard for them to do it themselves)

maybe taking place after your last fluff prompt, after fleeing the hospital? or however you wish, I'm sure you will come up with something brilliant:)

thank you darling!

i begged, you asked, and i (hopefully) delivered. hope you enjoy, darlin'! <3

It almost felt like Rust wanted to give you a fatal heart attack once and for all these days. That arduous hospital visit had been enough stress to last you a lifetime but it seemed like he wanted to keep at it with sending you into an early grave due to constant worry. His stubbornness only seemed to have multiplied tenfold after all these years which only meant you’d be earning more pesky greys no thanks to him.

Given that his mobility was still greatly hindered by his run-in with Childress you insisted time and time again that if he needed something he was to strictly ask you so there’d be no chances of over-exertion or further injury. You even gave him a silly little bell to ring so that you could hear it no matter where you were in the house.

If only he were actually to put it to some damned use.

It was nearing 3 am when you heard a crash and a loud curse downstairs, followed by a series of pained groans. You had almost broken your neck at the near lightspeed in which you sprang from the bed and bounded down the steps to see what the hell was going on. To no surprise, there lay Rust on the floor a few mere feet from the open fridge with one of the racks dismantled from the inside. He looked like he was about to bust a vein while his greying temples began to bead with sweat as he lay frozen in what you had to guess was profound pain. It wasn’t the first time but you were about to make sure it was the last.

Trying not to trip over the mess from the fridge, you willed sleep to thaw from your brain as you frantically checked over him for any injuries. Head: okay. Bandages: clean. Appendages: all in one piece. Bruising: you’d probably see by tomorrow if any. He just seemed winded from the sudden movement that agitated his wound in light of his blunder.

“Reckon you’re wishin’ you used that bell now, hm?” You couldn’t help but snipe as your shaking hands brushed coarse hairs from his face. Rust didn’t –more like couldn’t– reply has he focused on trying to regain his momentum of breathing. The fire in his abdomen had him paralyzed, one move and he was sure to vomit from the sheer pain. Once you figured it had subsided with his body beginning to lose its rigid tension you scooted behind his head to help prop him up.

“Up you go, hon. C’mon. That’s it-” You gently moved with him, pausing at any signs of discomfort before fully getting him upright. When he made no move of toppling over again you moved back into his line of sight. He purposefully withheld eye contact, the warm light from the fridge painting stark shadows against the harrowed lines of his face.

“How many times do we have to do this?” You tried after bated silence. Nothing.

“I know how you are, Rustin. If you’ve got some hang-up rooted in self-pity you need to cut it out. You’re here because I want you here. Not because I feel sorry for you or anythin’ else along those lines-”

“You shouldn’t want me here.” The graviliness of his voice broke out in lame protest. So it was gonna be one of those nights.

“I’d like to think that’s for me to decide. Y’know, what I don’t want is your guts all over my damned floor once you’ve finally busted them stitches open because you’re too prideful to just let me in. Look at me-” Your hand gravitated towards his stubbled jaw to direct his attention to you. Gentle but firm. Those eyes of his were getting increasingly emptier than you’d ever seen them in all the time you’d known him. It was starting to scare you.

“All the shit that happened is over and done with. We’ve been over it plenty but I don’t mind tellin’ you until it sticks in your thick skull. That was then. We’re here now. I don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow, or the next day, or within the next however many years but you’re back. I want you back. Understand that and stop doubtin’ me on it, alright?” The conviction in which you spoke struck him hard. Your eyes burned into his as if willing the words into his broken soul. He knew you meant it but he still couldn’t fathom how his worthless ass could ever be given a chance like this again to begin with. Maybe he hadn’t woken up from that coma just yet and this was some pathetic dream his mind conjured up in an effort to self-soothe. He didn’t know if it could ever feel real. He didn't know if he could have the nerve to truly accept it as if he'd ever deserve it.

“Ring the fuckin’ bell next time. Or I can haul your ass into my bed so that I can keep a more watchful eye, mister.” You flicked his chin before bringing a second hand to his jaw so that you could press a careful kiss to his hairline.

Mister. It made his heart stumble. He hadn’t heard it in so long.

“It woulda been stupid to wake you up for a beer.” Rust cleared his throat. He was tired of feeling so emotional lately. Everything that had transpired had ripped him open deep down to his core. Baring everything he’d worked so hard to maintain and hide for what felt like ages. In true fashion, though, none of it had made you budge an inch.

“More stupid than makin’ a mess of my fridge and bustin’ your ass again in the proccess? Sure.” You snorted before putting everything back in its place and shutting the door. After helping him up you grabbed him a glass of water as a sad replacement to what he craved.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you oughta not drink while your intestines are in the middle of getting back in shape. Sorry, champ.” You shrugged in poorly hidden mirth and he had no room to argue. Having you get close to move under his arm and support him as you went back to his room made up for it enough. Especially when you wordlessly made space for yourself snug by his side once he got back into bed.

It was all done to keep a more watchful eye of course.

#reds-writings #rust cohle #true detective #true detective season 1 #rust cohle x reader #anon ask #writer blog #rust cohle imagine #true detective imagine #request #blurb #drabble #RAAAAAH #send in more i love old man rust #i love requests !

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mangostarjam · 2 months

Text

terms of address — kaiju no. 8, fluff, "sweetheart" as a pet name, hoshina soshiro x female reader, 1.6k words — part two, part three

"What's wrong, my dear? You look kinda… stressed."

"Stressed? Stressed?" you repeat, turning your disbelieving gaze upon the Third Division's Vice Captain. Hoshina Soshiro is frowning slightly, a faint downward tick to his mouth that others probably wouldn't even notice, but you — you've been his operations manager for a few years now, and you've had plenty of time to learn his quirks.

"Yeesh, I was just askin'," Soshiro says, "what're you doin' up, anyway? Ain't it past your bedtime?"

"I could say the same to you," you point out. You watch as he slides his practice blades home, pretending not to notice the flex of his arms in his stupidly fitted training uniform. Sometimes you wonder if he got his clothes a size smaller with the way they seem molded to every ridge and curve of his muscles, and then you mentally smack yourself because you should not be paying attention to him like that. He's your Vice Captain and that's it. That has to be it.

"You just got discharged from the hospital. Rest is important!"

"I'm alright," Soshiro waves you off, but takes the towel you wordlessly hold out for him to wipe at the sweat dripping down his face. The training room is quiet except for the buzz of fluorescents above you and the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest. Your Vice Captain seems content to stand close as he wipes himself down, emanating heat as you try to shrink into your borrowed Defense Force jacket.

This was a mistake. You should've just walked past the door and ignored the light on underneath — but the distinct sound of blades slicing through air at high speeds made your ears perk up, and before you could tell yourself not to do something stupid — well, you're here now.

"I couldn't sleep."

Soshiro raises an eyebrow at your confession and hangs the towel around his neck. He's still standing way too close, but it's… comforting. Confusing. Another little piece of the mystery that is Hoshina Soshiro, who always has a grin on his face except for when he's taking down kaiju. Your Vice Captain, who's started standing closer to you than normal, and asking you about the books stacked in your dormitory, and brushing his hand along the back of your chair as you sit in it.

"Because of the stress?"

"Yeah," you frown, tilting your head up to look him in the eye. Sweat has dampened his purple hair into a darker shade, a deep pretty color that nearly seems black except for where the light glints off the strands. Man, you really must have it bad if you're starting to find his sweaty hair attractive. "So you should be good and quit stressing me out."

Soshiro grins abruptly, light and lopsided as he tilts his own head to look at you appraisingly. "You were stressin' about me?"

"Obviously," you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a subtle step back. He mirrors your step seemingly subconsciously, ducking his head to hide the pleased curl of his mouth before he arranges his features into something more familiar to you when he meets your eye again. "You're my Vice Captain, after all. And you know I hate when you land in the hospital. I hate… seeing you get hurt."

Too much — too close to a confession. But the night air is still and your little bubble feels warm and comfortable and secret.

"That's why I've gotta get stronger, my dear," Soshiro says pleasantly. You take another step backwards and your heel hits the wall a second before your back meets the cold metal. Soshiro leans forward, bracing a strong arm against the wall by your head. "Next time I'll wipe the damn floor with that kaiju."

"Of course you will," you flush in spite of yourself. He's standing really close, practically pinning you to the wall, and this is so not normal Vice-Captain-and-Operations-Manager behavior that your lightning fast brain feels like it's short circuiting.

He smells good. Like… cypress. Something woodsy and fresh. You take a deep breath.

The column of his throat works and you watch, mesmerized by the strong cut of his jaw and totally distracted.

"So didja want some help?"

"H-help? With what?" You risk a glance back up just in time to see his gaze drag down to your lips.

No. There's no way —

"I could tell ya bedtime stories."

The ends of his towel swing forward and rest against the zipper of your borrowed jacket and the swell of your chest. You can feel his breaths against your face, but he makes no move to get any closer. "I doubt you know any good ones."

Soshiro laughs. His forehead presses against your own for a moment as he chuckles, and when he pulls back a little the grin on his face makes you beam up at him, delight swooping through your stomach at making him laugh.

"I could tell you training stories, then," he suggests. "Like the time Okonogi thought —"

"Nothing with Okonogi," you interrupt, flushing again when he pauses to regard you. "I just — she —"

"What's the matter? I thought you two got along…?"

This is so embarrassing. You should've just kept your mouth shut, but now Soshiro is looking at you intently and you don't want to give him the wrong idea about your relationship with your superior but if you admit the truth… it's embarrassing.

"You…"

"Me?" Soshiro moves to pull away and you reach up to grip the end of his towel before he can get too far, dropping it immediately when he freezes in place. Fuck, you shouldn't have done that.

"Tell me," he says quietly. "What is it, my dear?"

Your heart clenches in your chest. "You call her that, too. Do you use that for all the female operations managers?"

His eyebrows draw together for a second in apparent confusion before his entire expression brightens and he laughs. "Just you two," he admits, reaching up with his free hand to grip the loose ends of your hair lightly. "Okonogi and I have worked together for a while. I respect her. And you. But… I can call you somethin' else, if you'd like. If I'm allowed."

Your face feels like it's on fire. You curl your fingers around the ends of your too-long sleeves. "You… you're the only one who's allowed. You know that."

Soshiro says your name. Watches your reaction with a focus usually reserved for fighting kaiju. Twirls the strands of your hair gently around his fingers. "Too soon? Let's get you to bed, then. It's gettin' late."

"B-bed? Hoshina-san, Vice Captain sir, that's not — we can't —"

"Aw, don't worry, ya dope. I'm just escortin' you. These halls ain't safe for a cutie like you this late at night," Soshiro says easily, finally moving away and taking all of his warmth with him. You squeak in surprise at his words and he tosses you a grin over his shoulder.

"Sir —"

"Play fair, sweetheart," Soshiro says. Cutie?? Sweetheart?? Those are new ones. You become suddenly aware of how your heart is beating rabbit-fast.

He grabs one of your hands and tugs you forward, his smile growing lopsided when you squeak again and stumble after him. "What're you gonna call me from now on, huh? Everyone calls me Vice Captain or sir. You'd better come up with somethin' special."

Your Vice Captain leads you out of the training room before your brain can catch up, his hand firm around yours. Rough callouses scratch at your skin, but you squeeze his hand the instant he starts to loosen his grip. Soshiro glances back at you with a smile that makes your heart do something concerning in your chest.

"Hoshina…kun," you test the honorific in your mouth, glancing up in time to catch the way his ears redden beneath his hair. "Can I call you Hoshina-kun?"

Soshiro clears his throat and keeps walking. "'Course, sweetheart. But maybe just when we're alone."

"Huh?"

"Can't have ya makin' me shy in front of the officers," Soshiro says, facing resolutely forward. "I'd lose all my authority."

Oh. Oh…?

"Okay… Hoshina-kun."

Soshiro makes a funny little coughing noise and stops abruptly, turning to rest his free hand on your head, forcing your gaze downward. "Alrighty, then, cutie, time to sleep! I'll see ya tomorrow mornin', hm?"

You nod, eyes closed, trying your best to memorize the weight of his palm. Soshiro drags his hand downward, cupping your face for a moment and sweeping his thumb along your cheekbone before dropping it entirely to tug at the collar of your jacket.

"Okie dokie, now get inside," Soshiro says lightly. You risk a glance up and valiantly try to suppress a shiver down your spine at the expression on his face. "It ain't fair to look so good wearin' my jacket, y'know."

"I — it was on the back of my chair and I was… cold…"

Soshiro grins. "I figured you were. That's why I left it for ya."

"Thanks, Vice Cap— Hoshina-kun," you murmur, reaching for the door to your dormitory. Warmth is settling deep in your chest. You really shouldn't be doing this — letting him hold your hand, shifting your relationship in another direction, following the beats of your heart as his smile softens and you take a tiny step closer to him. This is inappropriate and dangerous, but… it's Soshiro.

"You're going to sleep now too, right?" you ask. The hallway lights flicker and buzz as he leans forward, tugging you close by the collar of your (his) jacket until he can press his forehead against yours. Your eyelashes flutter shut as his breaths puff across your lips, but he simply takes a deep breath before pulling away. His hand is warm around yours.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

#hoshina x reader #x reader #kn8 fic #kaiju no. 8 fic #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 writing #kn8 x reader #kn8 writing #kaiju no 8 x reader #idk... what other tags to use #fuji writes fic

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autismisaokay · 3 months

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I feel frustrated is the closest emotion I can bring myself to think that this is, in a rut, might be better. I'm in "lock mode" right now, where I can't do anything but be on my laptop and listening to music. I have plenty I can do in my house, such as chores, read a book, try out some yoga poses, watch a show or movie, play video games, but since I'm in lock mode I can't do jack shit.

Lock mode refers to the neurodivergent part of my brain that's too overwhelmed with all my choices. Similar to when I know I have something to do that day, so I sit and do nothing or very little until it's time to do that thing. Usually it's some sort of appointment or outing. I'm in bed stressed tf out over this and life in general. I know it has to do with my depression, and it scares the crap out of me because I haven't been this depressed in a while. Furthermore, I know I could be a lot worse off and in total shut down mode where I go non-verbal, which hasn't happened in at least a year or two. At this point maybe I need it, but I can't bring myself down into that place because I'm afraid I won't come back up again, and I'll lose everything.

#actuallyautistic #actually autistic #autism #autistic #vent #neurodivergent #adhd #depression #anxiety

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ghouljams · 4 months

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Doitdoitsoitdoitdoit especially if we're talking a trauma heeling fic the way you know him has me addicted. Nature him in the nastiest of ways. For the good of us all.

Simon "Ghost" Riley, yeah I know him.

I think being in the 141 as an omega is a new thing for him, he's always been in the military while he was flipped alpha(which is important to remember for later) so he's never had to deal with omega shit while deployed. Officially he's designated as an alpha, he's an omega that flies under the radar because as far as society is modernized people always hold onto old notions about the way endotypes look/act. Ghost doesn't look like an omega, and he's not one to let anyone close enough to smell that he's an omega. I think a lot of his hormone issues are related to stress directly, his body flipping to something reactive(alpha) when put under duress. The 141 is an incredibly stable pack and environment under Price, less stress means no flip-flopping. So the 141 is the longest he's ever gone with what I(and Ghost lowkey) would consider his true endotype: omega.

It's hell when his first "military" heat hits. He's belligerent and itching for a fight, everyone looks at him wrong, he has no nesting materials, he ends up shoved in a corner of Price's office shaking from stress because he just can't deal with it all. He needs somewhere small and safe. Price is safe, Ghost can fit that into his world when the heat hormones take over, Price is the head of their little pack, Price is safe.

Price is also fuming mad, not at Ghost, but at whatever Muppet took down his endotype wrong. There are allowances made for omegas, time off for heats, extra bedding, suppressants if they want them. Soap wanders into the office and nearly has a panic attack himself because his instincts are screaming that someone in his pack is in trouble and he isn't helping them. Ghost punches him in the mouth for attempting to corral him to the barracks when it's safe in Price's office. Gaz gets called in to take him to medical and shoots Price a look that says they'll talk about this later.

This is where I start to diverge from established omegaverse Canon and say I don't think that Ghost as an omega is interested in receiving penetrative sex. He's an incredibly dominant omega in that sense, but also not? I am cooking a little alpha!reader/omega!Ghost fic in my brain rn(Goose fic u already know). I think it's a need for control on Ghost's part, lingering alpha instincts to micromanage things, a need to know exactly what is happening even through his heat. He doesn't like being touched on a good day, why would he like it when he's at his worst?

I also think that among the various tortures the Roba would have put Ghost through humiliation would have been a big one. Tearing him down so Roba can build him back and brainwash him. What's more humiliating to an alpha than being penetrated? Especially when Ghost already has the stress of his father's prejudice in his head, the experience would have been that much worse. Yeah I don't think he wants to get fucked, even in his heats. Which is fine, he doesn't need to in order to satisfy the itch under his skin there's plenty of other ways to get the energy out. (I don't think SA is mentioned in the comics explicitly, but also if you're going to hang someone by their ribs why would you draw the line at rape? I think Ghost was tortured every way Roba could think of)

My ideas for omegaverse don't have alphas wanting to jump every omega in heat, they do want to jump their partners to a certain extent, but I think for most of them it's just a very strong desire to take care of the omega. Like if you saw someone having a panic attack in the grocery store, you'd probably want to help them and be a little anxious yourself. It's like that but cranked up to 11. Price and Soap get all out of sorts about Ghost being a freak because he will not let them fulfill their instinct to get him blankets and food. Gaz just gets what's needed without asking lol he's not fighting with Ghost on this and someone has to keep this place running.

After that first heat though I think the 141 sort of... quietly acknowledges that Ghost is an omega. Gaz and Soap slink to him with their problems and somehow they feel better when he bluntly tells them what to do about whatever emotional bullshit they're dealing with. Price brings Ghost in on more meetings with recruits because somehow having both of them in the room puts people more at ease than one or the other. Soap naps on Ghost on the couch. Gaz passed off a tee-shirt for Ghost to add to the nest he's growing in his room. No one says anything but it's there. He's given the room to be himself without judgement of prejudice and I think he takes to it like a fish to water.

Ghost to me very much embodies a slow healing process. His room at the barracks goes from spartan essentials to warm and well nested, he gets more comfortable with managing the pack, falls asleep on Price at one point and Price just lights up(happy omega, feels safe enough to be vulnerable around him, he's taking care of things right, good job, good boy Price).

I do think this au works best within the cowboy or fae universe, so I'll say that I think Ghost is on his starting to get a handle on being an omega when he retires and moves to the farm, but he has a minor panic about potentially flipping again. He hasn't had a type change in years, but he never knows. (he doesn't flip, but he worries about it for months after he moves to the farm)

#ghoul speaks #simon ghost riley #a/b/o #tw torture #tw rape #mentions of it at least #I won't be writing any noncon for this au since I don't see a reason for it #at least in my version of omegaverse #wow this got long and I wrote most of it at 2 am #so let me know if it's completely unintelligible

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thatfreshi · 7 months

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"Yeah, Besties" (Uni AU P. 11)

tw - slight mention of abuse

You and Astarion proceed to spend all your free time together, which isn't much for him, but it's nice in between the stresses of life. You go from barely being friends to almost inseparable, studying in his dorm and talking about nonsense. There's plenty of times when he has to disappear for miscellaneous modeling things, which he still doesn't really talk about, but you don't mind.

It's been about a week and a half since Astarion got back from LA, and things have been getting much better for everyone. Academics are picking up, sports are starting, and your little group of, 'friends,' has started to somewhat get along, which is a big relief. Since the seven of you are still working on that damned public speaking project, you meet up on Saturday to start discussing the presentation, but of course, you don't actually end up doing that. Besides, who goes to Starbucks and actually ends up studying?

"Ugh! Tav, I told you it was going to be far too busy here on a Saturday."

You roll your eyes at your white-haired friend.

"We're not even staying here, we're going over to the park across the street. Cool it broody."

He mocks you and you elbow him in the arm, making sure to be gentle about it in case there's some other 'scrape' he hasn't told you about.

"Can the two of you stop flirting and decide what you want please?"

Lae'zel is impatient, especially when it comes to caffeine.

"This? This is not flirting, we're like besties."

You throw Astarion a smile, and he responds, almost reluctantly.

"Yeah, besties."

You hear Gale and Shadowheart giggle to themselves somewhere in the back of the group, but you're not sure what about. Probably some bullshit they always find funny that no one else seems to understand. After some group discussion, Karlach decides to pay for everyone's drink, because oddly enough she's never been in a Starbucks.

"I don't know, I've just never gone! Drink a lot of protein smoothies, ya know? Coffee isn't really my thing."

Shadow of course is wrapped around Karlach's buff arm, and here's where someone would say that thing about sapphics and move-in vans on second dates. Eventually you all make up your minds. You get an iced coffee, something basic for your still-waking brain. The rest of the orders go as follows:

Astarion gets a caffè mocha, but asks for double the espresso, which you soon find out is six shots. You know from texting him this morning that he didn't sleep last night, and you're honestly not sure how he lives off of the amount of caffeine he drinks.

Karlach gets the dragon drink because she thinks it sounds cool.

Shadowheart orders a pink drink, blended, and proceeds to deal with intense teasing from Wyll about her edgy exterior. She yells at him about how she just like strawberries, and the aesthetic of her drink has nothing to do with how cool and mysterious she is.

Wyll then orders a chai latte, admitting he's never actually had coffee before after he was scared off of it as a kid.

Gale, like the classic man he is, goes with the caramel macchiato, but makes sure to ask three times that they're using almond milk, making a big deal about how his stomach will not handle it well if it's actual milk.

Lae'zel gets straight-up black coffee, hot. That's it. She doesn't add sugar, creamer, not even a little flavor, just hot black coffee.

So the baristas get to work on your myriad of drinks. You go to ask Astarion something, but quickly get interrupted by a stranger tapping you on the shoulder.

"Sorry, I just wanted to say, you are absolutely gorgeous. Mother Nature blessed us the day she made you."

You turn around to see a rather tall and built man. Your cheeks can't help but fill with red at the sincerity of the compliment you've just been given.

"Thank you! See, you guys really should worship my looks more."

"I know this might be strange, but I'd be honored to take you out sometime. Here's my number, you don't have to text me if you don't want to, but I just couldn't pass up this opportunity. Oh, and I'm Halsin, a pleasure to meet you."

This Halsin character soon walks off, leaving you with a receipt he's written his number on.

"Wow, and I thought I was a gentleman."

Wyll is clearly shocked by the sudden turn of events.

"Seriously, Tav you have to text him! What a heart throb."

Shadow eggs on the flirting that just occurred.

"I don't know, should I? What if he's like a weirdo."

"Oh c'mon, he seems so sweet! You'd be stupid to not at least give him a chance."

There are murmurs of support for Karlach's statement. Soon, your drinks are done, and your ragtag group starts to leave the building.

"I mean, he was maybe a little forward. And the line about 'Mother Nature?' Did he not have anything better?"

"We get it Astarion, you think you're a master flirt. Not everyone is as lusty as you are."

You don't see it, but Astarion proceeds to give Gale a solid middle finger, and Gale matches him. As much as everyone's getting better at getting along, those two still have some trouble.

"I don't know, maybe I should text him. I mean what's the harm?"

"I don't know, the possibility that he could be a serial killer freak?"

"Astarion, he's not a serial killer. There is literally no way the guy that came up to us is capable of murdering anything."

Shadowheart takes a drink of her pulverized fruity beverage in confidence.

"Alright fine, but if darling Tav gets murdered, don't blame me!"

"I mean c'mon Astarion, you hate every guy I'm interested in on the apps anyways."

It's true, because you've sat there and scrolled through Hinge with him far too many times, and everyone you've ever come across has received negative remarks from your pale friend.

"Because they're all weird! Besides, I find making a real-life connection is much more enticing."

"Says the guy who has never been in an actual relationship."

"You shut it Gale! This mystery woman is the first person you've ever been with, so you have no room to talk. Besides, I'm sure I've bed more people than you've ever laid eyes upon."

"Woah, cat fight. Calm down, you might scratch an eye out."

Wyll's comment earns a few laughs. The group eventually gets to the park across the street, finding a large shady tree to sit under. Astarion makes some off-hand comment about how his pants are too nice to be grass-stained, but he ends up joining the rest of you anyway.

"Okay Tav, so how do we craft this message to the hot nature guy? Because honestly I'd climb him like a tree if I could, you're lucky."

Shadowheart scooches next to you in order to brainstorm.

"Oh, so we're still on this? Great. I'll be over here, not thinking about the wannabe nudist."

"Come on Astarion, you have to help too! Shadow's too thirsty. I need a voice of reason."

He rolls his eyes, only obliging because you're the one asking.

"Fine. We will craft a text to this Halsin fellow."

While the others check their student email and actually do productive things, the three of you sit over your phone, wondering what to send to this hunky stranger. After Shadow and Astarion argue quite a bit, you settle on a sweet but intrigued message.

"Are you guys sure I should hit send? I don't know, what if he was kidding? Or it's like some prank?"

"Tav, if it was a prank I'll kill him."

Shadowheart agrees.

"I second Astarion, I would also kill him."

"Okay, fine! I'm doing it!"

You're a little giddy, excited that a stranger so kindly hit on you. It could've been creepy and weird, but he was so nice. With a slight tap, you've sent the message, and your phone emits a little whoosh noise. Little did you know, Gale had started texting Astarion while listening to your conversation.

~~~

gale_eats_paint: you should tell them

wannabe.vamp: tell them what ??

gale_eats_paint: that you like them. i can see you gritting your teeth all the way from here

wannabe.vamp: fuck off gale, you don't know what you're talking about

gale_eats_paint: alright, if you insist on being secretive that's fine. but i wouldn't wait around too long. also your @ is lame. what are you, a middle schooler?

wannabe.vamp: i'm literally albino AND anemic it could not make more sense

~~~

"Oh god, he responded!"

Astarion perks up from his phone, giving Gale a look across the shaded patch of grass. The artist simply gives him a concerned, yet discreet eyebrow raise. You read out the message, which asks if you'd be free this evening for a botanical garden tour.

"Aw, that's adorable! Tell him you're free!"

Karlach is now scrunched up next to you and Shadow.

"Thanks guys, this is so exciting! And what a cute first date idea, bringing someone to a garden? Oh, and Astarion, you have to help me plan my outfit, pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Sure, since you asked so annoyingly, I will."

You go to wrap him in a grateful hug, which catches him severely off-guard.

"Thank you! You're the best Aster."

He almost questions the nickname, but decides to keep his mouth shut, because if this is the type of affection you're going to show him, he'll take it, no matter how small. Gale makes eye contact with him again though while you have him trapped in your warm embrace. While the two aren't particularly friendly, there's a sadness in Gale's eyes, knowing that Astarion won't speak up, no matter how much he wants to. Either way, he'll help you get ready for that date, even if it crushes him when you leave for the evening.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #fluff #x reader #shadowheart #karlach #wyll ravengard #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #halsin #freshiau

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en-d-d · 11 days

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So, this is my first post, so hello everyone! I don't really know how to properly navigate this platform just yet, but I'm sure I will figure it out, so please bear with me.

Having said that, unfortunately, I've come here today to rant a little on social media about things that make me borderline insane just from listening to. Most specifically, from MTXT's works. (Because if I ever see another wrong characterization for those fictional people I've became very attached to, I'm actually going to go mad.)

(This is not meant to be an attack of any sorts, I'm just a teenager on social media pulling my nerves into writing because who knows, maybe I can finally be at peace then.)

Let's start then!

Xie Lian is not owo small cutie or sum, and if I hear that one time... my man may be short, but he could fight off almost anyone, just thanos clapping people out of existence. He's also very insane and very horny about the Calamity attached to his hip. My guy is pretty smart and also just kinda gives patient auntie vibes (you know, that auntie that can see beyond everyone's bull but choses not to).

And if I already started with TGCF, may as well continue with it. Hua Cheng is a switch and you can't convince me otherwise. (If his Dianxia wanted to top, he would be as elated as he would be if Dianxia wanted to bottom. My man doesn't care.)

Luo Binge being referred as a white lotus and people not knowing what it means ("In Chinese internet novels, the term "white lotus" refers to a character who appears innocent, naive, and pure on the surface but uses this reputation to backstab, blame, or sling mud on others.") (I believe maybe people confuse this with the other meanings of the white lotus, like, actually naive or pure in character, but those are obliviously not what they mean in the chinese novels)

Shen Yuan is Kim Dokja, but chinese (or maybe KD is SY but korean)

Lan Wangji did not like Wei Wuxian despite him being 'evil', he loved him exactly because he isn't evil. I can't stress this enough. If wwx was a actually bad person, lwj would not hesitate to cut his head off and be done with the matter. Whenever I see someone saying something about him liking wwx even if he's evil, I'm slowly loosing my mind, bcz no, lwj is not such a shallow person, to be attracted to someone based purely on looks (and we do know this bcz he loves wwx in mxy's body just as much as he loved him in his original body.)

Now, we're moving into a territory I like exploring. I just want to start this off saying that I don't like Jiang Wanyin. I just don't care very much about him and I find him annoying as a person. With that being said, I'm a little miffed with fellow jc dislikers bcz they sometimes invent some things up about him or such shenanigans. Like. Man, you do not need to invent things to hate abt him, there are already plenty of them. I'm pretty unbiased when it comes to actual judgements about others. I will protect someone if the points made about them is incorrect as much as I will point out every thing they actually did bad.

And the next point is still abt jc (wow, what a surprise) just bcz, honest to god, a lot of his fans are straight up annoying. I've said it. A lot of y'all are hella annoying. (Not to say that there exist a lor of annoying fans for other characters, it's just that jc has a very high number of them) Some of the ones I don't find bad are those that like him just becouse of how bad of a person he is. I can respect that. What I can't respect is another owo he's innocent and traumatized and a tsundere and everything is wwx's fault owo jc fan. Fam, did we read the same book, or has media really rotten our colective brain that much??

(I believe I have more comments on this jc topic, but my brain is starting to hurt.)

And the last one is Wei Wuxian, probably the most controversial character in all of MTXT's novels. First of all, I have to be clear about this, but in all of this post, I'm purely referring to the characters from the books, not the other adaptations. This is important, bcz the adaptations further skewed wwx's image in the fandom.

I have saved him for least because of just how much things tick me off in this fandom when discussing wwx in special.

Disclaimer that I sincerely believe that you should enjoy and do art and fanfiction of characters however you want. If you want wwx to be, idk, a demon that terrorizes people and breaks lwj's heart and then jc comes and saves the situation from the evil patriarch and then french kisses Lan Xichen, then go ahead, idc (Unless you say he's owo, you have no excuse that would allow you to do that unless you're a child, and if you are, then you shouldn't even be here). But I draw the line when people lie about canon characterizations.

And there is just so much misconceptions on wwx's character that I would need an essay just to compose a list of them. They range from huge details that somehow miss people like how their neurons miss firing, to small details, like his handwriting (I believe the novel said it was cursive, not messy, like how almost all the fandom has apparently mutually agreed on. Do corect me if I'm wrong on this, some things are lost from translation to translation)

I will be discussing just some of them here. Maybe I will do another post where I go in more detail, we will see.

ADHD Wei Wuxian. The people that believe wwx has ADHD should probably reread the novel, bcz that characterization comes mostly from CQL. In the novel, wwx is a very chill guy that can stay in one place perfectly fine. I will not go into more details, just read the novel.

Wei Wuxian is the reason for the Jiang's collapse. Bull statement, everytime I see it, well, I go a little more insane. If you know a little politics, you would realize the Jiangs were next on the list for sure. Why, you would ask. The Lans already burnt themselves to the ground. The Nies have a fortress for a sect. The Jins are almost-not-exactly allies with the Wens. Now, guess who is the most unfavorably positioned gentry sect (lakes are not a good strategic spot), with lax protection (how did the Wens just march in like that like what) and a little too carele leader (Jiang Fenmiang really thought the Wens will give them back the swords after that whole disaster that was the indoctrination? Really??). Oh! I think I know who it is! And maybe you guessed it too. Glad we're on the same page.

Now, wwx being the reason why jc lost his core. Very many people already came to their own conclusion on why jc gave himself up. Brotherly affection, suicidal thoughts or just straight up idiocy. Whatever you believe, it's fine with me (but I do have a brother and I can assure you, wwx and jc never really seemed like brothers to me. They are a little too far to the left to be considered brothers, but this is my opinion, take it however you will). So, was it wwx's fault?

We're finally getting into the juicy stuff. The blame game. I hate it with my being, still, as long as I'm in fandoms, I must persist. My answer is yes & no. Did wwx deliberately made it so jc would be captured? Of course not. Did it still happened? Unfortunately, yes. To go deeper, we will look a little at fate. There are some things that are outside of our control. As much as we prepare, some things will still blow us over. So the definite answer is no. Jc made the decision to be seen by the Wens. It might sound callous , but the decisions you make are yours, even if you protect someone's life or not. Wwx did not ask to be protected. In conclusions, it's not his fault.

And that is a very good statement to make, seeing as we got to the core transfer. People often criticize wwx for giving non-consensualy his core to jc. I always thought it as a weird thing to hate him about, but whatever, I still shall address it. I will start with an exemple. If you loved someone very much, and they would die if they don't get, idk, a new arm (maybe think of something less inconspicuous, but you understand the ideea) they would die. You are the single person that can do it. But you're sure that if someone told your loved one that you would give it, they would refuze it. Are you still going to give your arm? Will you let your loved one die? Knowing that you can help?

And for those that say jc was not on the brink of death. He was suicidal. He would not have resisted a week with the shame of inferiority plus all the trauma that the Lotus Pier massacre was, combined. 'Regaining' his core might have actually made him feel better, like he beat the odds, like he has another chance. That's also why wwx never told him he gave him his core. Bcz he knew jc would not take it easy, finding out that all his accomplishments were thanks to wwx's sacrifice. Because jc has a big ego that's clearly evident through the story.

Anyways, let's continue.

Ghostly Cultivation. It's more popularity used the Demonic Cultivation term, but they are not the same think for Christ's sake. Modao Zushi does mean The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, however the title is for click bait. In the actual novel, I believe wwx talks abt ghostly cultivation, not demonic. It was probably lost in translations.

I don't think I need to explain how wwx needed guidao to escape the Burial Mounds, so at least half of my job is already done. Now I go into dangerous territory however, bcz guidao is not expended upon. Still, I would rather listen to wwx when it's about, you know, the path he himself created?

To explain my stance, we would need to go deeper into the novel's points. A novel can have multiple themes, ranging from obvious ones, like love, family, to obscure ones, like, the importance of standing up for oneself (not the best exemple, but I believe y'all understand what I mean).

I'm someone that loves thinking abt MDZS. It's my dearest. So, I tend to analyze it pretty often. And the themes I usually get are things like 'the danger of hearsay and mob mentality', 'the importance of standing true to your ideals', 'the inherit unpredictability of life' and so on, and so on.

Anyways, what does that have to do with guidao? Well, everything, I believe. The MDZS world has a mentality resembling that of the curent China. Or well, the China of when MXTX wrote the novel. If you know some history, I believe you can connect the similarities. What does that mean then?

Wwx is someone that does not fallow the path set by the ancestors. He creates his own. When the cultivators see that, they are revolted. Becouse everything that strays from the 'right' path must surely be evil. And so, after Wen Ruohan, the Jins paint him as the new anarchist, and the rest is history.

Now, I would actually love to continue, but I've been typing nonstop for hours now, I need to stop. I will continue my points in another post, bcz I still have a lot of them.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful day 💐

#mxtx #mdzs #tgcf #svsss #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang cheng #xie lian #hua cheng #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #can you tell that I love mdzs #my head is about to explode from a headache #and I just typed for hours on end #the power of being done with fanon gave me strength

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

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My (F, 28) friend (F, 24) has a tendency to ignore her phone when she gets overwhelmed. She's in university, so this usually happens every semester around finals. We've talked about it and I fully understand and I don't resent it in any way whatsoever.

Now, the last time it happened was back in November. After I returned from a trip I texted her to catch up and give her some souvenirs, but she did not answer. Assuming she would eventually look at her phone and get back to me, I just minded my own business.

Except she never did. Weeks passed, then months, and my invitation to go out for a drink stayed unanswered. Every now and then, when I was out shopping relatively close to where she lives, I'd text her asking her how she was doing, if she wanted to meet up. The answer was the same: nothing.

I couldn't help but feel resentful towards her, especially because she frequently posted on Instagram about stuff she was doing. But I have really bad anxiety over being 'too clingy', so I told myself it was a 'me' issue and kept hoping she'd reply.

It wasn't until last month that a mutual friend (let's call that friend Anna) asked about her that I started suspecting it might not be just my brain being mean. Anna (who isn't as close with this person as I am) straight-out called it ghosting but advised me to try to contact her on Instagram in case she had changed her phone and lost my number or something like that.

So two weeks ago I DMd her and asked if she was okay and if she was having trouble with her phone and, just in case, if I'd done something to her to be cut off. A week later she replied and explained that she'd archived the chat because of the exams but then had forgotten to un-archive it, and that she wasn't upset with me. She apologised and asked me to meet up if I wanted.

She... gave a model apology, really.

But I don't feel relieved or happy or anything positive about it. As I said, I understand that she deals with stress by ignoring people, but it's been over six months and she's clearly been hanging out with plenty of friends. I don't want to be jealous or bitter and she is truly a good person, but this makes me feel like my friendship is an afterthought to her, to the point that she probably would've never remembered about me if I hadn't thought of reaching her via Instagram. I get it, we're adults, we don't need to chat daily, but it's not the first time a similar incident happens and it's always me reaching out first; and I feel like there should be a little reciprocity for this to work.

Am I the asshole for not wanting to mend my friendship with someone who ghosted me for over six months?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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softshrimpy · 9 months

Text

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 10: Accusations and Heartache

Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

Two chapters in one day? A treat...a hurt-filled treat... BUT A TREAT. Also the icon @misssmephisto really just about wrote this chapter so pls give her all the love and thanks. She has the sexiest brain🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 9

Cross Posted on AO3 here

HTWAHP Masterlist

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Larissa had been working nonstop since the night of the Rave’n. Eugene had been admitted to the hospital shortly after Yoko had burst through the office doors. He was barely alive when they found him and had been stuck in a coma since. The doctors were able to stitch his wounds but whether he’d pull through was still unknown. You could tell she was stressed out, you honestly would’ve been way worse if you were in her situation.

You hadn’t seen her much in the last two days, she was almost always holed up in her office either on the phone, stuck in meetings or answering emails. You still brought her her morning coffee, but where before she would chat with you and give you a sweet little kiss, now she at best acknowledges you with an apologetic smile and more often was so busy she would barely notice you were there.

Her actions hurt more than you were willing to admit to yourself. You knew you weren’t the reason for her late nights and cold shoulder but a large nagging part of your brain couldn’t help but carry some guilt with your inability to help her.

But tonight would be different. After stewing in your emotions all morning, you decided on one way you could help. You left straight after your shift at the Weathervane to pick up ingredients and then rushed home to start cooking. You thought making her a nice, home-cooked dinner could help, she definitely needed a break and she probably hadn’t eaten very well in the last few days.

You managed to get everything ready in record time, packed it into a container and set off to Larissa’s. You knew she was stuck in a meeting until late tonight so you had plenty of time to get to her quarters and set everything up.

Everything was looking great. You had set up a cute little candle-lit dinner, complete with Larissa’s favourite wine and a fancy store-bought dessert. You somehow timed it so well that just as you were finishing up you heard Larissa enter her office. You check everything over once again and then peek your head through the door to her office.

She’s sitting at her desk, frowning at something on her laptop. She looks exhausted, more exhausted than you’ve ever seen her. Her shoulders are so tense they look like they may snap and the bags under her eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. She definitely needs a break.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here.” You smile, stepping into the room.

“Hm? Oh hello, darling.” She says, barely glancing away from the screen.

“So uh, I know you’re busy and all but I thought maybe we could have a quick dinner? I’ve got everything ready and-“

“I can’t darling. This work really is urgent.” She interrupts.

“I-I know. It’s just, well we haven’t spent any time together recently and I’m sure you could use something to eat-“ you try.

She sighs, and you flinch at the sound.

“I-I just think you could use a break-“

“I don’t have time for that! These monster attacks are getting worse and the sheriff is breathing down my neck because he’s convinced it’s one of my students! So, no, I cannot waste my time on a silly little dinner.” She yells.

“I-I just…” you mumble, “I just wanted to help.”

“Well, you’re not helping! You can’t fix everything and your presence sure as hell hasn’t been making anything easier around here,” she continued, rubbing her eyes.

You took a step backwards, holding your breath for a moment and counting backwards in an effort to calm yourself. A trick you’d learned growing up after your parents had expressed their distaste for your anger one too many times.

“Larissa, I don’t understand. I thought-I’ve just been trying to make things easier for you. I never meant-“ You explained, trying t figure out what it was you had done.

Slamming her laptop shut, Larissa stood. She was deathly quiet before uttering the words “First, you distract me from my duties as Headmistress leading to not one but two separate attacks on my students whilst they were under my watch-“

“Larissa what-“ you stutter, retreating back towards the main office doors as her daunting figure draws closer.

“Secondly, you play this stupid game with my emotions blinding me to the truth of your actions. And then-“ she laughs “you try and distract me from the evidence with a silly dinner! I bet you’re just looking for an opportunity to see the evidence of your involvement and destroy this school from the inside out.”

You still at her words, your heart stopping in your chest. You don’t know where this is coming from and can feel yourself getting angrier. You glared up at her, clenching your shaking fists and promptly losing your shit.

“What the fuck Larissa?! You’re not making any fucking sense. I mean- What- why would I try to ‘destroy evidence’? And in what fucking universe am I involved in the attacks? I care about the kids here, I care about you! So, I don’t understand where you get off on taking everything I’ve done for you and turning it into some fucked up, cruel joke- but this is- Why the fuck would you think that??” you yell.

A beat passed, the two of you staring intently at each other.

“Why?” She questions, her voice neutral and calm. “Because you’re the Hyde. And it’s all part of your sick little game. I don’t know who your master is or if you’re the one in control but I don’t care. The nightmares of blood and destruction, the exhaustion, your funny little ‘medication’” her voice began to rise. “All clear signs, all of them. And you thought planting them as some innocent little suggestion would make me look past them but not anymore. I will never, ever allow you back into this school, on these grounds ever again, you vile beast.” Spitting the final word with disgust, Larissa turned, her heels clicking on the wooden floor as she returned to her desk.

“I’ll take your silence as an omission. Now get out, run back to your master Hyde, the sheriff will be here any moment.” She sneers, leaning back on her desk to glare at you.

Without realising it tears were running down your face, your whole body visibly shaking as you tried and begged yourself to hold it together.

“I didn’t-“ you sniffle, trying and failing miserably at holding in your tears. “I love you.”

Her face twitches at that, you can barely see through the pools in your eyes. She lifts her head, staring directly into your eyes, nothing but hatred and a deep sadness being held in her blue orbs.

“Get out.” She murmurs.

“But Larissa please I-“

“Just go!” She yells, slamming her hand on her desk.

You flinch at the noise before running from her office. Any tiny pieces of your heart that hadn’t shattered at the beginning of her rant are now very much in tiny shards. Your chest feels tight and you honestly have no idea where you’re going. You just know she doesn’t want you there, she thinks you’re some killer monster thing. She hates you.

You’re running as fast as you can, not even vaguely aware of your surroundings. You can feel branches scratch your face and the crunch of dying leaves beneath your feet, the smell of dirt and a storm yet to come surround you. Eventually you trip, falling to your knees in the middle of the woods outside Nevermore. Your entire body shakes as you sob, burying your face in your hands as you cry and cry and cry. Everything hurts. And nothing makes sense.

You just wanted to help, you wanted to make her happy.

Everything felt numb. The forest around you seemed to have stilled in your honour, exhausted and worn out from the winds that had been battering its leaves. It was dark and cold but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, simply stuck as time moved around you and the atmosphere of the woods consumed you.

You didn’t know how long it had been, not that you cared either. You’d left your phone on Larissa’s table ready to play some smooth, warming jazz by an artist you’d found called Miss D. She had the perfect voice, deep and romantic, exactly the tone you’d wanted to set for dinner. Your eyes burn at the thought, with no tears left to cry all that was created was a stinging pain.

As your brain accepted the soreness around your eyes, you slowly become aware of the way your hands and body ache after your run through the woods. It was too dark to see the true damage but you knew you’d be feeling the result for the next few days. The weight of everything sat on your chest, grief buried in your bones making your whole body feel heavy and immobile.

How could she think that of you?

Consumed in your thoughts, knees buried in the earth below you, you failed to hear your name being called. The voice grew more desperate, louder as you slowly turned your head in the direction of the disturbance.

Marylin? What’s she doing here? She shouldn’t be out here…didn’t all of the attacks happen in the woods? You really should warn her or something…

Your body didn’t seem to give a damn, aching inside and out, as you attempted to stand and make your way over to the fuzzy image of Marylin before you. If it weren’t for her boots and hair, you don’t think your brain would have seen her in the dark of the night.

You dug your fingernails into the trunk of a nearby tree, trying to use it as leverage to pull yourself up. The moon began to emerge from the clouds above casting an eerie shadow across the clearing around you.

Wait a second…why is Marylin moving so weirdly? She seems panicked, terrified even… Why is she waving at you like that?

Her fuzzy outline becomes clearer as the moonlight strikes her frame.

She looks like she’s shouting. What is she-?

Oh.

You felt it before you saw it. If you had been a bit more aware you’d have heard the loud snapping of twigs from behind you followed by a low growl. If only you’d been more aware you would have heard the ear-piercing cry of no leave her lips.

But you didn’t.

Your head lolled down, your eyes finally focusing. Five massive claws were buried through your stomach as a burning, blinding pain consumed your senses.

Well that certainly wasn’t good

You feel your body get lifted before being thrown across the clearing you had been in, slamming against a tree. You fall into a crumpled heap at the base of it, your body twisted at an unnatural angle. Someone was screaming, it almost shocks you when you realize it’s you. You can vaguely hear angry, panicked yelling somewhere around you, but things are blurring together quite rapidly.

You’re going to die.

You realize this as you lay there. Finally, your brain is shutting down. You chuckle morbidly at the thought, the sound more akin to a gurgle as warm blood spills out of your mouth like some fucked up comedic skit. Your fingers that once clung to the cold, living dirt now gently lay upon the warm wound that was going to end you.

As the darkness of the forest consumed your vision, you thought you’d started to hear Larissa, her delicate voice whispering words you couldn’t make out. Your fingers twitch as you remembered the soft fur of your family cat, her small paws making the dough on your stomach. People of your past swept across your vision as the buzz of Larissa’s voice permeated your brain.

And then there was silence. There was just you and the night sky.

Until a muddied red thing enters your vision.

Marylin is still here, she needs to run, she’s in danger, you should warn her…

Your eyes roll towards her, her face entering your vision as she leans over you. Her features are somehow both fuzzy and clear, making you want to close your eyes and rest for a bit. Her lips were moving, but you can’t make out a single word she could be saying. Her face leaves your vision, her red boots re-entering it. The colour reminds you of Larissa’s lipstick.

You hope she knows you love her.

#larissa weems x reader #htwahp #larissa weems #principal weems #principal weems x reader

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master-sass-blast · 4 months

Text

Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies–materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…”

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says.

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

#sass writes #sevika x reader #fueled by the author's desire to be built like a mountain #but alas i am a twig #also i know jackshit about arm wrestling #don't use this as a guide on how to win at arm wrestling #smut will be coming in part two

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