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catlady5001 · 4 months

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end of year fic recs, list #2

part one // here

same as last time: i want to share some fics i really enjoyed this year, organized by fandom! each fic will have a short summary, the word count, and a + symbol if it's a work in progress!

this list will have recs for Spider-Man and BNHA. enjoy! :)

Spider-Man

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain (@captainkirkk). while on a team mission, peter parker bites off a bit more than he can chew. 3k, hurt/comfort

In the Home by aloneintherain (@captainkirkk). The Avengers have been infected, turned violent and aggressive against their will. And Peter, the only one unaffected, is trapped inside the Tower with six feral teammates. 69k, angst and comfort

Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (@mysterycyclone). AU where peter parker gets pulled into the DCU after the events of Infinity War, and gets pulled into the both the Wayne family and the Bat Family. 213k+, angst and comfort

Spider-Verse

equifinality by Quillium (@quillium). In a world where Jefferson Davis dies instead of Spider-man, Miles Morales becomes the Prowler and somehow still gets taken under Spider-man's wing. 20k+, hurt/comfort

so lucky, so strong, so proud by ProfessorSpork. Sometimes you end up in a superhero team up where half the people in the group have your face, or your dead ex/best friend’s face, and you just have to find a way to deal with it. 7k, angst and comfort

Down the Waterspout by Mockingone. spiderverse au where spider-man lives.

let's do this one last time by imoticon. michelle jones gets sucked into the multi-verse. gwen stacy helps her. 9k, dimension travel

New Moves by WildInkling (@wildinkling). miles morales takes up ballet!! 3k, fluff

BNHA

komorebi by Calamitatum (@calamitxtum). desperate to prove himself, Hitoshi agrees to help UA find the traitor, even if he has to sacrifice himself in the process. 157k, angst

Accidentally, Tragically, Heroic by whatagoodegg. shigaraki infiltrates ua as a student, and somehow, is accidentally a great hero. 118k+, hurt/comfort

reconcile by whatagoodegg. a child's quirk traps midoriya and shigaraki in a box together until they can 'reconcile' their differences. 151k, hurt/comfort

Foresight by akcugrai (@akcugrai). Izuku's quirk is simple, it tells him exactly what he needs to do, eventually leading him to tear down All for One. 66k, hurt/comfort

Candor by OwlF45 (@owlf45). The Hero Commission passes a new code that requires all heroes to complete a mental simulation test. For Izuku, the consequences are catastrophic. 60k, hurt/comfort

linger on the doorstep (come into the warmth) series by intheeveningsunrise (@intheeveningsunrise). au where midoriya inko adopts aizawa in high school, dramatically changing his life and the life of his brother, midoriya izuku. 408k+, angst and comfort

out of the frying pan (into the ice and fire) series by intheeveningsunrise (@intheeveningsunrise). Izuku runs into his twin at the USJ - and then proceeds to run into him seemingly everywhere he goes. 305k+, angst and comfort

Words as Weapons by NearoRiver. While navigating his father’s (All for One's) high expectations, insidious emotional abuse, and overpowering quirk, Izuku fights to become a hero. 129k+

Ill-Gotten Gains by ghostmaybite. AFO!Izuku steals Aizawa's quirk to kill All for One. things only get more complicated from there. 245k+, hurt/comfort

once forgotten, twice removed by blueh (@blu-eh). number one hero Deku gets thrust into an alternate reality where he’s All for One’s Successor. 42k, hurt/comfort

awake and (un)afraid, asleep or- by driedupwishes. after shouto and eijirou start trending on twitter, shouto starts an instagram to showcase his Hero Deku merch. it spirals from there. 54k, future fic

Independent Study by pianogavin (@pianogavinwrites). After one too many repeat injuries, UA puts a policy in place to alert parents every time their child is hurt at school. This leads to Momo taking care of her own injuries. MomoJirou focused. 6k, hurt/comfort

we don't know what's dead / till it's gone by carolinaa (@officialratprince). momo's dad dies. neither she nor Kyouka know how to feel about it. 8k hurt/comfort

spit to the left, carry on (smile & say you're good) by jublis. Jirou grows into herself during a time of war. 15k, hurt/comfort

old game (new rules) by carolinaa (@officialratprince). the ULTIMATE momojirou fic. after bad experiences in middle school, kyouka is determined to keep to herself at UA, but her classmates have a way of getting under her skin.

Despite Your Good Intentions series by xylophones. yagi toshinori moves into midoriya izuku's apartment building when he is eleven. this has a ripple effect that leads to midoriya izuku becoming the youngest licensed intern that japan has seen, and spirals from there. one of my favorite series!!! 204k, hurt/comfort

Thick Blood, Sweet Water by litbynosun (@coldwind-shiningstars). aizawa shouta and midoriya inko are siblings who only reunite after midoriya izuku has started his first year at UA. 15k, family fluff

the drip of melting ice by planet_B612. Hitoshi moves into the 2A dormitory at the beginning of his second year, learns who his neighbour is, and makes the friends he had declared he isn't there to have within the space of a semester. 20k, hurt/comfort

every story is a ghost by daylightbreaks (). shinsou learns that crushes get complicated quickly when you think that your crush is possesed. shindeku. 26k, hurt/comfort

between the lines (it was there the whole time) by placesinfive. eri, class 1-A, and all the little moments in between. 12k, domestic fluff

make this feel like home by carolinaa (@officialratprince). natsuo spends his winter break at home. surprisingly, it doesn't all go to shit. 27k, hurt/comfort

when the light returns by rubiginosa. bakugou, camie and uraraka go up north to steal a tree for Todoroki. 13k, road trip fic

Leitmotif by LunaLucrea (@lunalucrea). midoriya interns with present mic, and runs into a man with a quirk that lets him hear people's "soul song". 7k, hurt/comfort

pez dispenser debris by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup (@polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup). a quirk creates a younger version of midoriya izuku, who causes headaches for himself and everyone else. this is straight-up one of my favorite fics, and this summary does NOT do it justice. go read!! 74k+, hurt/comfort

hours spent in a hospital waiting room just to lose a knife fight by SpiritusRex (@spiritusrex). izuku's friends support him when he's hospitalized for appendicitis - a disease he can only get after being born Quirkless. 3k, hurt/comfort

with just a little luck by SpiritusRex (@spiritusrex). izuku keeps getting hurt, so his classmates start to gift him good-luck charms, not realizing it puts him on edge. 7k, hurt/comfort

Small Enough to Carry by ghostwriterofthemachine (@ghostwriterofthemachine). One Thing Midoriya Izuku Starts Carrying Around for Each of the People that He Loves, and One Thing Each of Them Starts Carrying Around for Him. 12k, hurt/comfort

A Boy and his Ghost series by LowlyWriter. AU where izuku can see ghosts, and soon befriends Shirakumo Oboro, the ghost who follows his teachers around. 543k, hurt/comfort

hero’s shadow by feelingstabby. the story of how a few heroes help Midoriya Izuku become something more than a lost vigilante. one of my favorite longfics! 818k+, hurt/comfort

When Realities Collide by LowlyWriter. hero-in-training midoriya izuku gets transported to an alternate universe where he is a deadly villain. 168k, hurt/comfort

starkly marked by OwlF45 ((@owlf45). izuku is stuck in a timeloop, but the longer it goes on, the more people begin to recognize him - even if they technically haven't met. 4k, angst

but somehow i'll see it through by artfulacrostic (@artfulacrostic). izuku is the victim of an obedience quirk. 16k, hurt/comfort

idle worship by dreamtowns (@dreamvevo). shindeku social media au revolving around secret identities. one of the best social media fics I've read - dreamtowns puts HOURS of effort into their fics, and it shows. 28k, hurt/comfort

#fic recs #catlady speaks #bnha #spider-man #spider-verse

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heyiwrotesomethings · 5 months

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hiii i came across your page a few months ago, and i really love the way you write these characters!

i was thinking, maybe a part 2 of “scholarships, mary saotome x she/her reader” where it basically goes into the plot of kakegurui twin and the beginning of the canon-verse?

i could imagine the reader and mary becoming friends, though a slight slow burn romance that forms along the way.

Scholarships Prt II

Mary Saotome x She/Her Reader

A/N: PrtI It’s finally done! You’d think revisiting five chapters of manga wouldn’t be that draining, but it took quite a bit of back and forth to get the important bits. Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy : ) Word Count: 3,371

“What the hell is this?” Mary deadpanned, looking around the heavily crowded room.

From day one of getting into this school it felt like she slipped out of the frying pan and right into the fire. It took everything she had just to stay out of owing someone an insane amount of money. From gambling Kokoro, to joining the Literary Club, and now being mixed up in Student Council and Full Bloom Society affairs. It felt like they could never catch a break, and if they did, it certainly never lasted. Which was what brought them to where they were now, a speed dating, coupling party gamble.

“Coupling…?” Tsuzura placed a hand over her mouth.

“You got to be kidding me!” Yukimi gawked, “How can you go out with a guy you don’t even know?!”

“Right? Is it too late to back out?” (Y/n) asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Of course we can’t back out.” Mary groaned. “What the hell did Aoi get us into?”

“Hello.”

“Gah!”

Mary put a hand to her heart, (Y/n) put a hand on her back to help steady her.

“Mikura? What are you doing here?” Mary asked.

“Looking for a boyfriend?” (Y/n) guessed.

“Ugh, no. Gross.” Mikura shuddered, “I’m here on school business. This is Juraku-sama’s event.”

“Of course it is,” (Y/n) sighed, “Can’t escape the council for a minute.”

“Anyway,” Mikura looked down at her clipboard, “there are only four of you, correct? I’ll have to introduce you to a fifth. It looks like Chitose would be an easy addition.”

“Hi, that would be me!”

The Literary Club peered around Mikura to the new addition to their group, a girl with a pin-straight bob. She looked friendly enough at least.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted. The game will begin shortly.” Mikura took her leave and Chitose took the floor.

“Is this all your first time at this event?”

“Yeah, how does this work exactly?” Yukimi asked.

Chitose explained the premise excitedly. Basically, if they matched with a boy, they would have to pay out. If they didn’t match, the boys would have to pay out. Seemed simple enough.

“So, are you guys playing for love, or money?” Chitose asked excitedly.

“The money.” All four girls replied in near perfect unison, causing Chitose’s shoulders to slump.

“Fine…” she sighed, “Let’s get this over with.”

Chitose lead them to the group of boys they had been paired with for the game and the MC for the event a announced the start of the chat period.

Kuonji, Sera, Kochi, Musubi and Kibashira introduced themselves, soon giving the floor to the girls to do the same. Chitose really hammed up her introduction, so much so it was hard to tell if she was acting or not.

Mary decided to talk about running the Literary Club’s gambling den, a safe option, she figured.

“That’s gotta be tough,” Kibashiba acknowledged with a low whistle, “You must like quick-witted guys then, huh?”

“No, not really…”

“Oh, then what kind of guy do you like?”

“Um…” Mary was going to bullshit the boy, say something shallow, but she happened to notice (Y/n) move in her periphery, sifting her position a little, probably in an attempt to be a bit more comfortable during this awkward game. As her thoughts were drawn to (Y/n), her answer morphed.

“Maybe someone honest?” Her face warmed. Why did I tell him the truth?! She fretted internally as Musubi jumped in to ask Tsuzura questions, swooning over the girl’s ability to cook and sew.

“And what about you, (Y/n)-san?” Kochi piped in, “What do you like in a guy?”

Mary’s ears perked and she glanced at (Y/n) through her periphery.

“Well,” (Y/n) rubbed the back of her neck, “I guess I’d like someone who doesn’t leave the people that care about them behind. Someone loyal.”

Mary wasn’t completely aware of it, but her heart skipped a beat. A small, almost victorious-looking smile appeared on her face.

The chat session wrapped up soon after Yukimi’s introduction and the two groups parted ways momentarily for the group discussion period.

“So, about the rules…” Mary began once they were in their own little corner of the room, “A wager wasn’t mentioned, so how does that work exactly?”

“It was on the entry form, didn’t you read it?” Chitose asked.

“We got a separate invite.” Mary explained.

“Ah, well, it’s a million yen per bet.”

The group stiffened. A million yen?! For speed dating?! Aoi was throwing them out to the deep end with this gamble.

“We’ll have to use the dine out discount.” Yukimi said after doing a bit of quick mental math. “It’ll be just enough to cover the cost.”

“What if we just went straight for the sleepover?” Tsuzura asked much too casually.

“Huh?!?!”

“Tsuzura?!”

“What?!”

“It’ll help us save money, right? And if we’re all in the same room, won’t that be super fun?” She gushed, “I haven’t had a sleepover since elementary school!”

“Are you for real right now?” Mary sighed, resting her face against her open palm.

“Oh my sweet summer child…” (Y/n) said sympathetically, not really wanting to burst Tsuzura’s bubble.

Yukimi couldn’t sit by and let the poor girl live in ignorance and whispered what the wager would really mean. (Y/n) and Mary watched in real time as Tsuzura’s face morph from cheerful to frazzled embarrassment in a matter of seconds.

“She really had no idea, huh?” Mary shook her head.

“Poor girl.” (Y/n) concurred.

“Anyway…” Mary cleared her throat, “I think it’ll be in our best interest to avoid making couples in order to make the most money we can. So that means we should all pick different guys to keep the matches down to a minimum. We can do a random draw to decide who “confesses” to who, but I think it’ll be best to make sure Tsuzura doesn’t get matched with Musubi.”

“Yeah, he definitely has a thing for her.” Yukimi chuckled awkwardly while (Y/n) was still trying to calm the girl down after the whole “sleepover” misunderstanding.

“Any other ideas?” Mary asked.

Chitose eagerly rose her hand, hoping to be paired with Kuonji and getting all blush and lovestruck just thinking about the prospect.

Mary shared a look with (Y/n) who shrugged her shoulders.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” Mary jolted the note down and then turned the paper around, showing how the “confessions” should work out. “Anyone got a problem with this set-up?”

“Nope.” The rest agreed.

As they began walking back to their table, Mary pinched the fabric of (Y/n)‘s jacket to keep her back.

“(Y/n),” she spoke in a low tone, “the two of us will switch confession targets.”

“Huh, why?”

“There is one flaw with this plan, that being spreading out like this could lead to trouble if there is a mole in our group.”

“A mole?” (Y/n) repeated in a harsh whisper. “You think someone could be working with the guys?”

“Exactly.”

“Then it would clearly be Chitose, wouldn’t it? Shouldn’t we let Tsuzura and Yuikimi-senpai in on the plan too?”

Mary shook her head, “I don’t trust Yuikimi-san yet and I don’t want to stress Tsuzura out.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to exclude her. She can handle it.“ (Y/n) tried to dissuade.

“We can’t hesitate now. If we want to win, we have to consider every possibility.” Mary stuck to her guns, getting closer and resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re going to come out on top, we’re going to be the winners! We’re going to show these rich bastards what for, right?” She gave her a confident smile that made (Y/n)’s heart speed up.

“Right!” (Y/n) nodded resolutely, matching Mary’s competitive smile.

“Then let’s win this so we can rub it in Aoi’s face.”

The duo rejoined their group and all circled their agreed upon targets on the submission forms, except for Mary and (Y/n) of course who switched their targets, making Mary’s target Kibashira and (Y/n)’s Sera. After everything was squared away, they all sat across the table from the boys, each offering up a dinning out bonus to meet the betting requirements. They each confessed to their targets and there was a bit of an upset when Yuikimi and Tsuzura heard that Mary and (Y/n) switched targets, but that was nothing compared to the upset that occurred when it was the boys’ turn to reciprocate or reject… that’s when things started to get messy.

One after the other, instead of falling through, the couplings were perfect matches. Though unfortunate, it was exactly what Mary had anticipated. What she hadn’t anticipated however, was for her and (Y/n)’s targets to match them as well.

“No…” (Y/n) sunk in her chair, joining Yuikimi and Tsuzura’s anxious expressions. “It’s impossible. Everyone?”

“Congratulations.” Mikura drawled, “Five couples have been formed.”

“Bullshit!” Mary stood, slamming her palms against the table, “This is all a fraud! We couldn’t have all coupled by chance! Even if one of us was tipping the guys off, (Y/n) and I switched to avoid just this scenario!” She yelled at Miruka. “You rigged it! Wouldn’t be the first time—“

“Is there a problem, Mary?”

Juraku Sachiko sidled up to the table, compelling Mary to grind her teeth together, eyes blazing with fury.

“Of course there is! You rigged this game!”

“Such baseless accusations.” Sachiko smirked. “We aren’t rigging anything. I can guarantee you that.”

“Do you really think I’d believe that!” Mary sneered.

In a second, Sachiko was looking over her with a devilish smile.

“Oh Mary, there is a far more simpler possibility, don’t you think? Surely you aren’t that incompetent?”

Another… possibility… Mary’s mind whirred with possibilities. The student council, Aoi and the Full Bloom Society… but then her eye caught (Y/n) helping Tsuzura dry her tears and her chest tightened.

No… was (Y/n) the traitor? Couldn’t be… they were fellow scholarship students united in their second class status to the high society high rollers, more than that, they were friends. They had triumphed and lost together time after time they always had each other’s backs. They had made plans to be winners, to be respected… but had those boys offered (Y/n) something better? Something so good that she would send Mary and the others floating down the river without blinking?

Her heart physically hurt, she had pegged (Y/n) as a honest person, someone to confide in. She was the only person she had trusted with this plan so logically… it had to be her. Mary clenched her fists. (Y/n) was the mole!

Meanwhile, (Y/n) was having her own similar crisis, believing that Mary had cut her own deal. Mary had left her behind… she wasn’t loyal at all! She could feel angry and disappointed tears stung at her own eyes, but she kept them at bay and continued tending to Tsuzura.

“Round two is fast approaching ladies, what will you do?” Sachiko smirked, tapping her chin. “You already blew the money Aoi gave you. If you don’t think of something quick, you’ll all be house pets.”

Mary paled. “But 2 million yen…” They didn’t have that kind of money just laying around… suddenly they were approached by someone in the crowd who introduced herself as Kurumi.

“I don’t mind spotting you all 200,000 yen, but as for the rest… if you bet on the sleepover that should cover it.” She smirked.

“That should work just fine.” Sachiko purred.

“Mary?” Tsuzura sniffled. “What should we do?”

(Y/n) looked a Mary with an impassive expression that further irked and pained Mary. Likewise, the hot fury Mary aimed (Y/n)’s way made her feel even more numb. Though divided, they shared the exact same thought.

Who were they supposed to believe in?

“Mary?” Tsuzura pulled Mary from her thoughts with a cautious calling of her name, “We’re doing round two, right? Applications are closing soon, so we should hurry.”

“I need a minute to think.” Mary murmured distantly.

“But we’re out of money, so we’ll have to join, right? I’ll sign us both up—“

“I told you to wait!” Mary yelled, causing Tsuzura to flinch.

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that!” (Y/n) yelled back.

“As if you care about any of our feelings!” Mary hissed, striding closer to (Y/n) with a sneer, “how about you do me a favor and stop pretending that you’re on my side!”

“Oh, that’s really rich coming from you! You’re really going to keep up this charade until you believe it too? I hope your guilty conscious eats you alive!”

“Guys… what’s going on?” Tsuzura whimpered, not sure who to go to.

“I’m not joining the second round.” Mary coldly informed. “Don’t try to rely on me anymore.” She started to walk away, but (Y/n) called after her.

“That’s it? Now that we’re all in danger of being house pets, you’re going to walk away?” (Y/n) felt even more convinced of Mary’s betrayal now.

“I thought we were all going to be winners together.” Tsuzura said softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“What will happen to our gambling room?” Yukimi added.

“Figure it out yourselves.”

“I can’t believe you!” (Y/n) spoke through gritted teeth.

“The Mary I know wouldn’t give up just because she thought a friend betrayed her.” Tsuzura sniffled. “You’re strong and dedicated and never give up. You always win in the end, so please, don’t give up!”

“Don’t waste your breath, Tsuzura.” (Y/n) wrapped an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her whilst glaring at Mary. “We can figure it out on our own. It’ll be easier without her betraying us.”

Something about the dead serious delivery and the pure disgust in (Y/n)’s eyes caused Mary to have an epiphany. Another possibility… she wasn’t committed to trusting them again just yet. As far as she was concerned, the only person she could trust was herself. That didn’t mean she couldn’t manipulate them to play the roles she needed them to play.

“Fine, I’ll play.”

“Mary!” Tsuzura looked relieved until Mary stared them down.

“I won’t lose just because one of you stabbed me in the back. I’ll teach you all a lesson you’ll never forget.”

“Right back at you!” (Y/n) shot back.

Mary ended up taking the lead of the group and left (Y/n) on the outs, though it didn’t seem she was letting anyone else in on everything she was planning either. As mad as (Y/n) was at Mary however, it still hurt when she lead the group away from her to discuss turn order and confession targets.

(Y/n) motioned Yuikimi and Tsuzura to join Mary and Chitose, assuring them that she’d be fine on her own. She trusted them to find a way to tell her if something went awry. She took a deep breath, and brainstormed her own course of action.

Before long, they were all seated at the table again, each offering up the sleepover option to cover their lost wagers. (Y/n) and Mary studiously ignored each other as the set up occurred, but when the last person was seated, Mary spoke up, leaning over so she could look at (Y/n) who sat on the other side of Tsuzura and Yukimi.

“Hey,” she said gruffly, “I just want to say, I don’t care what you do. Just know that we are going to be the winners, got it?”

(Y/n) wanted to say something snarky in return, but something about the way Mary’s inflection changed slightly when she said ‘we’ gave (Y/n) pause.

“Only one way to find out.” She grumbled. “Let’s get this over with.”

Chitose confessed first, matching with Sera. Then it was (Y/n)’s turn. Really it was a one in five shot that she picked wrong. She assumed Mary still wanted everyone to stick to one target to minimize matches. So if there was a mole, she shouldn’t have to worry about multiple guys targeting her.

“Here goes nothing,” she audibly exhaled, “I’ll confess to Musubi-san.”

The boys looked disappointed, but didn’t seem too heartbroken, like they expected it wouldn’t be likely that they would have a match with her, but then it was Yukimi’s turn and when she said she would be confessing to Kibashira, it caused an uproar as if they expected a different answer. Then Tsuzura upset the boy’s expectations even further by also confessing to Musubi. Then finally, it was Mary’s turn.

“Musubi-san,” she smirked, “you’re getting rather popular, huh? That makes me a little jealous because,” she presented her paper for all to see, “I picked you too.”

“There is only one successful coupling.” Miruka observed. “Congratulations, Sera-san and Inui-san.”

(Y/n) took a breath of relief and after a moment, Mary started snickering.

“You guys are so dumb, you know that?” She asked pointedly to the boys and Chitose. “I knew you were the mole, Inui-san. Once I took the time to actually think about it, it was the only thing that made sense.”

Sh got up from her seat and walked over to (Y/n), placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I should have realized right away. (Y/n) wouldn’t betray me like that and I owe her a big apology. I was being a narrow-minded idiot.”

“Mary…” (Y/n)’s hand moved to rest atop Mary’s, “I’m sorry too. You’ve never turned your back on us before, so why start now? We were both being dumb.”

“We were… but we managed to course correct and it’s thanks to these idiots,” she sweeps her hand over to the boys and Chitose still looking angry and shocked, “that we just made a damn fortune! Thanks sooo much!” She teased.

“Enough jeering.” Miruka sighed, “The second round has concluded. All arrangements of wagers will be dealt with promptly.”

Once everything was squared away, the four friends left the event hall, exhausted but satisfied that they had won out in the end.

“Hey guys…” Mary stopped walking, making the other three turn around, “I just wanted to apologize for how I acted today. I suspected you all in one way or another even though you guys have never given me a reason to doubt you in the past.” She bowed at the waist, “I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I probably would have though the same thing.” Yukimi said.

“Mary!” Tsuzura hugged her, “I was so afraid! I thought you had given up on us!”

“It was pretty rough, but I think we’re a much stronger team now.” (Y/n) simpered.

“I promise I’ll never doubt you guys again.”

“Alright, give me some room, Tsuzura. I want in on this too.” (Y/n) worked her way into the hug, making Mary blush.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“You never give out hugs. Have to take advantage when I can!” (Y/n) teased, hugging Mary tighter and enjoying every second of it. “Right, Tsuzura?”

“Mhm! Yukimi, come join!”

“Alright!” Yukimi joined in on the hug, making Mary more exasperated.

“Hey! You guys! Come on!” Mary flustered, “You guys?!”

***

The only sound was the clatter and clink of silverware.

Though they had won when it mattered most, they still owed the boys a dinner date. No one was particularly excited, but free food was free food to Mary and (Y/n).

“Alright, well, I’m full.” Mary stood once she finished her plate.

“Me too, thanks for the meal.” (Y/n) stood as well, followed shortly by Yukimi and Tsuzura.

Tired from the intense gamble the day before, it was pretty much a given that they would all go to their respective homes to rest and enjoy the rest of their weekend without any other obligations. (Y/n) and Mary waved goodbye to the others as their bus pulled away from the curb.

“Hey,” Mary spoke once the bus started rolling down the street, “want to see a movie or something?”

(Y/n) felt her heart flutter a bit. “Sounds fun. We should have asked Yukimi-senpai and Tsuzura if they wanted to come.”

“They can tag along another time. We don’t have to do everything together all the time.” She rolled her eyes and looked out the window. “So, what movie do you want to see?” She mumbled.

(Y/n) leaned her shoulder against Mary’s. “I don’t know,” she smiled, “we’ll have to see what’s playing when we get there.”

#kakegurui oneshots #kakegurui x reader #mary saotome x reader #maeri saotome x reader #requests #anonymous

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finn-m-corvex · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 25: Storm

Day 25 and it's another movie-verse fic! This one is a bit of a different vibe to the other ones but you know what? It's 3 am as I am scheduling these and I do not care. You will either enjoy it or you can wait another hour.

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2k

Jay used to love storms.

Every time he would hear the crack of thunder across the sky, he would beg his ma and pa to let him go outside. After promising to stay away from all of the junk piles (which were struck quite frequently), they would bundle him up in a rain jacket three sizes too big for him because it was one of Pa’s that shrunk in the dryer before finally letting him loose.

He would always run until he was out of sight of the trailer, waiting for the rain to be directly overhead before shedding the rain jacket and letting the water fall on his bare skin. The lightning zigzagging across the sky felt like an old friend, and Jay remembered reaching up and trying to grab it out of the clouds. He only did this more after his old school had a mythology unit, and they learned about the gods and their domains and their powers.

People forget that Zeus was the ruler of the gods for a reason.

Maybe it was foolish to try and compare himself to Zeus, of all people. Maybe it was fate. All Jay knew was that if Zeus ever had to deal with the bullshit that came with using electricity with a straight face, then he was a stronger soldier then Jay ever could be.

He felt ridiculous in his current position, but some things just had to be done.

“Jay,” Zane called, standing at the open door to the garage, “is there a reason why you are standing out in the rain holding a frying pan?”

“Because elemental powers suck and I just need it to strike me already,” Jay answered, raising his pan even higher and continuing to walk in a circle. Walking gave him the illusion that the pouring rain wasn’t hitting him as much as it actually was.

“You are trying to get struck by lightning?”

“Yes, Zane. I am trying to get struck by lightning.”

“That does not seem very wise—”

“Well then it’s a good thing that wisdom is not my wheelhouse,” and Jay knew how stupid he looked, walking around with a pot on his head and a pan in his hand. He probably looked like some circus clown. “Look, can you just leave me alone to suffer in peace, please?”

Zane sighed, but abided by Jay’s wishes and went back into the warehouse. Jay kept walking around and around and around, waving his pan like a crazy person. The lightning was crawling under his skin, writhing and waiting to get out, but the problem was that Jay didn’t know how to let it out, exactly.

These elemental powers were for the birds.

He never saw Kai sticking a tong into a campfire to try and channel his element, or Nya constantly throwing herself under the shower. Cole wasn’t rolling in the dirt and mud like a wild horse, and Zane was only caught in the freezer once, but that was before any of them had their elements. Jay didn’t even know how Lloyd would begin to channel his element of green into an actual physical thing.

So yeah. Elemental powers sucked.

With every storm that thundered overhead Jay could feel his element spring to life, twisting and snapping like a wild animal waiting to be released from its cell. Jay did everything that he could think of to try and release it: he tried to force it through a car battery, he tried to channel it into some wires, he even stuck a fork into an electrical socket just to see if that would do anything. He still had the small burns on his hands from the last stunt.

Maybe there was some secret way to let loose that the others weren’t telling him, but Jay was too scared to ask. Besides, if they really knew something, then they would’ve told him by now, right?

There was a small clanging sound behind him, and Jay turned to see Nya standing at the mouth of the warehouse rather than Zane. Feeling his heart start to pound in his chest, Jay flushed when he truly realized how ridiculous he must look, and it took every bit of self-restraint to not fling the pan away.

“You okay, Sparky?” Nya chuckled, holding an umbrella to keep the rain from landing on her. Jay thought that she would’ve just been able to control the rain, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

Sighing, Jay brought his pan down to his side. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to get struck by lightning, you know, the usual. Even a little jolt would do at this point.”

The rain seemed to stutter, starting and stopping in place before resuming its normal rhythm. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Nya asked, leaning against the wall.

“No,” Jay admitted, “but it’s the best one I’ve got.”

“I’m pretty sure someone as smart as you would have better ideas than to stand outside in a thunderstorm wearing pots and pans to try and attract one of the deadliest things to humans in the world,” Nya deadpanned.

And was Jay just now realizing how foolish his plan was, with his long-time crush looking over at him with a fond but exasperated expression? Yes, yes he was. “It isn’t what it looks like!”

Now what on earth would’ve possessed him to say that? He was so stupid, he was so so so stupid—

In hindsight, he really should’ve been paying more attention to his surroundings.

The bright flash was what reached him first. It burned what felt like permanent holes into his retinas and Jay saw stars swim across his vision, dark against the white light of the lightning bolt. And then the pain hit.

It was all-consuming, running through his nerves with the force and speed of a freight train, and Jay barely had the breath to scream as the air was knocked out of his lungs with a baseball bat. It felt like every single one of his limbs was being blown off. He started violently twitching, panicking, but the true fear set in when he instinctively felt the lightning bolt try and jump Nya. The bolt was desperate to ground itself, and Nya was the next closest host.

With a strength that Jay didn’t even know he possessed, he grabbed the lightning bolt and tossed it the other way into the raging sea. It fizzled out without a fight, but Jay was crashing to the ground before he could see it fully disappear.

Someone called his name but he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. His head smashed against the concrete on the docks, and Jay just laid there, stunned. There was no feeling in his outer extremities, and he only had a view of the hand that he threw the lightning with; it was blackened, definitely burned but at least all of his fingers were still there. Was he paralyzed?

Gentle hands grabbed either side of his face, and Jay was blinking the rain out of his eyes to glance up at Nya’s worried face. Actually, worry was too weak of a word; Nya looked terrified, eyes raking him up and down as Jay tried to kick his brain back into gear. She was saying something, and Jay’s lip-reading skills left a lot to be desired but he could’ve sworn that she was calling him an idiot, which was totally fair in this situation.

“Nya?” he slurred, his tongue tasting like ashes. Finally he was able to wiggle his toes, but he still couldnt move the majority of his leg.

“Yeah, Jay,” she sounded somewhat relieved, “it’s me, I’m here.”

“I’m okay,” he tried to assure, but she suddenly looked angry. Jay shut his mouth instead.

“Walker, you are literally smoking,” Nya growled, but her hands stayed gentle as they cupped his cheeks and rubbed the tears away from his eyes. When did those get there? “I better not hear you say that you’re okay again or I will kick your ass.”

“That’s not very nice,” Jay commented, before his back arched suddenly and his mouth opened in a silent scream. All of the pain was rushing back into his body at once, and his hands scrabbled for something to grab onto as he was overwhelmed with sensations, feeling the lightning race around under his skin faster than it ever had before. Nya was holding him down by the shoulders, still saying something, but Jay only grabbed at her arms in a desperate bid to ground himself.

It wouldn’t stop. It just wouldn’t stop. Jay was sure that he was gripping hard enough to draw blood, but Nya only held him tighter when he started convulsing, the world going dark as Jay seized. Pain like nothing he ever felt before was blossoming across his skin, and the storm only whipped itself up into a frenzy around them, the lightning glowing brighter in its streaks across the sky and the rain smashing down with a vengeance. The wind whistled in his ears, and Jay didn’t know where his pan was, but at this point he needed Nya to grab him and knock him the fuck out.

The lightning was attracted to Nya, and it took every ounce of Jay’s willpower to keep it contained inside, but it still smashed and raged against his skin like something possessed and Jay didn’t know how much longer he could keep it together—

A warm hand landed on his back, and Jay felt the lightning break through his self-control and go through the hand. But the hand didn’t pull away, instead gripping Jay’s hoodie tighter and drawing both him and Nya into a warm chest. Jay would recognize the scent of the person anywhere: Cole.

“I need both of you to calm down,” said his best friend, his voice ringing out loud and clear despite the chaos swirling around them. “You’re making the storm worse.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?!” Nya asked angrily, “Jay just got struck by lightning!”

“Yeah, I know,” Cole grunted, “and that was pretty stupid, but you do realize that the whole water ninja thing means you’re controlling the rain, right? I need you to get a handle on it before you drown the entire east side of Ninjago City.”

But Nya was scared, and Jay knew that. He hid his face in the crook of her neck, ignoring the wispy smoke still curling off of his palms as he hugged her. “Nya,” he said softly, “I’m okay. Lightning ninja, remember? It won’t kill me. Can you try to calm down, please? For me?”

He was still very much in pain, and he doubted that was changing any time soon, but he would rather not be wet and in pain. Nya returned his hug, her breathing ragged, and Jay pushed down his own panic so he could focus on her. “I’m trying,” she whispered, and Jay felt the guilt pour into his chest at his past thoughts about how in control all of his friends were of their elements. It was a stupid assumption on his part, if this rain was anything to go off of.

Finally, after a few minutes of careful breathing, the rain started to let up and the dark clouds overhead began to dissipate. Cole sighed in relief, his hold around the other two still as solid as a rock. Jay realized that Cole must’ve been using his earth powers to help channel his lightning and give him an outlet, but Jay jumped as Nya slumped onto him. She was exhausted, and he was more than happy to be her pillow for a little while.

Cole kissed the back of Jay’s head. “You burned your hand pretty bad, bluebell.”

Oh yeah, he did manage to do that, and his hand was hurting very badly now that Jay was thinking about it. “I know,” Jay whispered .”I threw a lightning bolt, isn’t that cool? I thought it was pretty cool.”

“I’m sure it was, but you know what would be cooler? If you two never did this again, and I never have to see you do the chicken dance with a pot on your head in a thunderstorm for the rest of my life."

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago nya #ninjago cole #whumptober day 25 #whumptober 2023

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brave-and-gentle · 12 days

Text

Poetic: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 3

Welcome to my unexpected fluff mini series! If this is your first time here, please check out Part 1 and Part 2. I expected Part 4 to be the last piece in this series.

If you like this mini series, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here

Pairings: femme reader x Jean

Summary: You and Jean start warming up together (figuratively and literally, Trost is still cold as fuck), but there's something in between you two.

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: ~4.7K (it keeps getting longer because I have no chill about Jean)

When you wake up, your stomach is twisted in a knot. Your mouth feels like someone shoved a wad of cotton inside of it. You roll over and find a tall glass of water with ice – someone must have put it there recently. Sasha? Footsteps and clanging of pots and pans echo in the kitchen. She must be making breakfast.

You grab the glass of water and recount the night as you take careful sips. Connie was just as wild as Jean said he'd be. As soon as you two walked into the apartment that Connie, Eren and Armin shared, Connie handed you both tequila shots. Reiner did not cry, but he did sulk as the TV in the living room replayed parts of the game. At one point, Annie got so fed up with Connie's bragging about the game that she punched him in the face, after which Armin took her home. Sasha squealed in delight that you came, emphasizing that it was always more fun with more girls around. She regaled you with the most interesting parts of the game, while Mikasa whispered bits of explanations to you. While you were grateful for Mikasa's interpreting, it became difficult to understand as Connie brought you some sort of tequila drink. Eren, itching for a fit, egged on Bertholt, who finally gave in and put Eren in a headlock, but that didn't seem to damper Eren's spirit as ultimately, his team had won the basketball game. Marco periodically handed glasses of water to everyone. And Jean? He stayed with you all night. You two didn't speak much, but his presence comforted you during the chaos. You're pretty sure he and Marco walked you, Sasha and Connie home. Definitely Connie too, his snores are almost as loud as Sasha bumping around in the kitchen.

Before you know it, your glass is empty and your cracked lips cry for more water. You swing your legs out of bed and ugh – dull pain pokes your legs. You throw on an old sweatshirt and take small steps to the kitchen.

You suck in a breath of air because it's not Sasha in the kitchen.

It's Jean.

“How'd you get in here?” you blurt. Jean turns his head and smirks, then returns his attention back to the frying pan.

“Good morning, sunshine. Sasha let me in and fell right back asleep,” he explains while tossing vegetables into the pan. They sizzle the second they hit the pan. Unlike Jean and Marco, you and Sasha live in a duplex with a separate entrance from your neighbors. “Omelet'll be ready in a couple minutes if you want.”

“Ugh,” you groan and take a seat at your four-person kitchen table. “I don't think I feel like eating for a while.”

“Your stomach probably hurts because you didn't eat anything last night.”

You huff in disagreement. “I didn't, but still – I feel gross.”

“Like you're going to vom?” Jean jerks his head over at you like he's ready to run for the trash can.

“No, I don't think so. Just. . . gross.”

Jean tosses the vegetables in the pan and nods. “Favorite hangover food?”

You rub your stomach, willing it to stop wrenching in a tight knot. “Ah, don't know because I haven't had a hangover before,” you confess.

“Wait, NEVER?” Jean looks over with disbelief in his widening hazel eyes.

“Historia and I didn't drink much,” you shrug. “Though we nursed Ymir back to health plenty of times.”

“Ha, sounds about right.” Jean grabs a plate of toast and sets it in front of you. “Here, maybe some toast will settle your stomach before anything more substantial.”

You take a piece and nibble on the crust. “You seem well versed in hangover recovery,” you say before taking a bigger bite.

“Had to be – Marco and I lived next to that gremlin our first year.” Jean points over to a snoring Connie on the couch.

“He's a menace to society,” you give a soft laugh. Jean flips the omelet onto a plate and sets it in front of you.

“For you, if you like. Otherwise Sasha will inhale it the second she wakes up.”

You thank him and take a careful bite. Sweet and savory swirls in your mouth – it's cheesy, sweetened with tomatoes and a hint of spice.

“Jean! This is soooo good,” you moan. The tension in your stomach eases with every bite.

“Pays off to be a mama's boy.” He flips a dish towel over his shoulder, sits down next to you and digs into the omelet he made for himself. “So how's the first hangover treating you?” He asks between mouthfuls.

“Not so bad with you here,” you admit. Before he can respond, Connie rolls over and awakens.

“Jean boy???” He yawns and rubs his eyes. “You makin' us breakfast?”

Jean replies that he made you breakfast.

“What about me??” Connie complains.

“Shhh,” you stop him. “Jean is doing the lord's work, let him rest.” You close your eyes and savor another bite. Sasha's door opens and she emerges with her comforter wrapped around her. Her mouth is wide open mid-yawn.

“Jeaaaaaan,” she yawns, “do I get sooooome?” She plops down on a chair next to you and combs her fingers through her tangled ponytail.

Jean narrows his eyes at her. “The first time I get to see your new place and you're already asking me to make you food?”

“Did you expect anything less?” You chuckle and grab another piece of toast. “You did, however, make food the minute you got in here. You did this to yourself.”

“Ugh, fine fine fine,” he groans and gets up to make omelets for Sasha and Connie. While he cooks in the kitchen, the three of you relieve the chaos of last night. Though you were far from blacking out, some memories are a little fuzzy.

“I still can't believe we went through that whole bottle of tequila,” you shake your head.

“Easy to do when you have a good group of friends,” Connie grins from the couch. Sasha throws her arm around your shoulder.

“Next time,” she tells you, “we'll keep Connie away from you. He's got a reputation for filling up people's drinks when they're only a few sips in.”

“No kidding,” Jean mutters and places two more plated omelets on the table. Connie dashes over and shovels the omelet in his mouth at a pace that almost rivals Sasha. “Yuck, you two are disgusting,” Jean glares at them.

You laugh so hard you clutch your stomach. You never imagined this amount of chaos and love at your kitchen table. Jean's face softens as he watches you laugh.

“Hey, do I have you on Insta?” He asks you.

You shake your head, unable to talk because you're still giggling. He unlocks his phone, but the background photo isn't the usual one of himself, Connie and Marco on the soccer field. It's a pale ass cheek. He clicks his phone shut and slams his hands on the table.

“CONNIE!!! What is wrong with you??”

This sends you and Sasha into another giggle fit.

“Hey man,” Connie holds his hands up and grins, “you left your phone unlocked and I was three tequila shots in. That's on you.”

“Why are you even here?” Jean jabs a fork at his friend.

“So I don't have to listen to Eren and Mikasa fuck like bunnies all night – again,” he emphasizes. Jean twitches next to you. You notice a shadow pass over his face. Or is it your imagination? He buries his face in his phone to change the background photo. “I much prefer when Annie stays over. Those two fuck like mice.”

“Ew, Connie!” You giggle. “We did not need the visual. Please spare us.”

“Here,” Jean mutters to you and hands you his phone, which has the Instagram app open. You type in your handle and request to follow. Your heart beats a little faster. You're no fool – you know that all social media is fake and filtered, but still, Jean's Instagram will give you a hint about how he sees himself, or at least, how he wants to be seen. “I gotta head out,” he says and shoves his phone in his pocket. “I'll see you degenerates later.”

“Thanks so much for breakfast, Jean!” Sasha beams and waves as Jean gathers up the leftover ingredients and heads out.

“Ditto,” you chime in. “Say hi to Marco for us.”

“Will do,” he nods and shuts the front door behind him.

You turn back to Sasha and Connie, who are munching on the last few pieces of toast. There's one left, which you and Sasha eye at the same time – but you're faster.

“Ha!” You proclaim victory and take a small bite. “That was really sweet of Jean. Is that a regular occurrence?”

“No,” Connie frowns and runs his hand over his buzz cut. “I was just thinking that it's really weird that he came over. He stopped taking care of my hangovers by the end of freshman year.”

“Probably because it was a weekly tradition,” Sasha teases. “Cleaning up your vomit isn't exactly fun the fourth time in a row. Anyways,” she turns to you. “He must really like you.”

“Wait, that's why he came over??” Connie's eyes widen. Everyone knew that you and Jean had gone to see the ice sculptures together, and that you frequently met up at the coffee shop, but only Sasha and Connie knew about the kiss. To their credit, they could actually keep a secret pretty well. Although Connie could only keep secrets because he usually forgot them.

“You are so dense sometimes,” Sasha shook her head.

“I dunno,” you pick up your place and head to the sink to wash it. “He was probably just being nice.”

“Jean is nice,” Sasha agrees, “but he doesn't come over and make breakfast for just anyone.”

“Mmmm,” you murmur, refraining from reading too much into it. It was definitely a boyfriend move. But just last night, he said you were friends. Friends. You rinse the plate and scrub off the omelet remains.

“Any developments? Anything at all?” Sasha presses. Your stomach tightens a little. You don't think you should mention the art fundraiser – it seems too personal.

“Well, we hung out together at a brewery instead of going to the basketball game. And we're going to hang out again sometime this week,” you admit and put the plate away.

“WHAT!” Sasha stands up and slams her hands on the table. Connie flinches away from her. “That is crucial information you left out!”

You hold up your hands in defense and lean your back against the kitchen counter. “It only just happened last night! I don't even know when or where we're hanging out next.”

“Don't worry, I'll make sure Jean boy gets the hint,” Connie smirks and purses his lips to make sloppy kissing noises.

“UGH!” You and Sasha groan at the same time and rush Connie to stop his slobbering.

“I'm never telling you anything again,” you mutter playfully and go back to your room to inspect Jean's Instagram. You flop on your bed and open up your phone. Your background photo is you, Historia and Ymir on graduation day, wearing the mandatory black robes despite the oppressive heat at the time. It was a stark contrast to Trost's current frigid spell.

Jean's Instagram profile picture is a shot of him kicking a goal at one of his last college games. You scroll through the rest of his photos. It's a wide range – photos of him, Marco, Connie and Sasha at various college activities, soccer games, Jean and his mom and stepdad, random poetry quotes, and of course, gym photos with Reiner, which you snort at.

Your phone buzzes and Jean's name appears at the top. You tap to open his text.

Hey, forgot to ask earlier – are you still free Wednesday nights? I know we usually meet at the coffee shop, but I thought we could do something different.

The corners of your mouth tilt up uncontrollably.

Are you suggesting we forgo our creative endeavors?? :o who are you??

Typing bubbles cross the bottom of your phone screen.

I would never! Consider this a creative field trip. I promise it'll make sense.

Your smile widens as you wonder what Jean could have planned for you two – that also has something to do with your creative dates.

Hmm. Alright. Sounds sus, but I'm trusting you.

You won't regret it. ;)

You can't help but giggle. You turn over and clutch your phone to your chest. You haven't felt this way for a while. Not since your sophomore year of college.

You had fallen hard and fast for a guy that lived just down the hall from you and Historia. You flirted back and forth for months, joking about you and Historia being the crazy, noisy roommates even though you two were usually studying in the library or watching movies together. Though you weren't one for parties, you always went when he asked if you were going, just for a chance to see him, maybe distant eye contact or a touch on the shoulder. You started dating and he made your heart sing – when he felt like gracing your with his presence. You weren't stupid. You knew he was stringing you along. You knew he was bored with you once the chase was over. But you held onto him for an entire year. An entire year of your life you now considered wasted.

The butterflies in your stomach twisted. This wouldn't be the same thing, right? Jean wasn't stringing you along, right?

~ ~ ~

Waiting for Wednesday night is agonizing. Work at the clinic is boring as per usual – check in families for their primary care appointments, make sure they had the correct insurance and scheduling them for their follow-ups. You try writing the story you've been working on every night, but your mind keeps wandering back to Jean, making any progress impossible.

As soon as you get out of work on Wednesday, you whip out your phone to text Jean.

We still on for tonight? What's the dress code?

You hop onto the train heading home and check his instant response.

Of course, your knight in shining armor wouldn't dare let you down. Dress code is anything you'd normally wear to the coffee shop – casual and cute. Shouldn't be too difficult for you.

You smirk and tuck your stray hairs behind your ear. And yet, the pit of your stomach turns a notch. He's being forward, too forward for just recently affirming that you were friends, nothing more.

You give him a thumbs up emoji and shove your phone in your pocket and watch the world whiz by as the train takes off. Just friends, you remind yourself. Jean's just flirty, that's all.

An hour later, you're almost ready to go. Sasha sits on the your bed and watches as you pick out your favorite high-waist black jeans and a blush pink sweater.

“You sure you don't want to wear this?” She asks and pulls out a tight fitting royal blue shirt. The sleeves and chest are mesh, just until it reaches your cleavage.

“Sash, it's way too cold for that!” You pull the sweater over your head.

“All I'm saying is Jean should be drooling over you,” she smirks and places the shirt back in your closet.

“Then he can drool over me in a sweater,” you roll your eyes and check your make-up in the mirror.

Knock knock

“I'll get it!” Sasha rushes to the front door before you have a chance to protest. “Hellooooo, Jean boy. She's ready for you.”

You grab your purse and rush out to meet Jean and playfully push Sasha away like a disgruntled teenager. You look up at the six-foot two man. He's also wearing a sweater – an amber brown that brings out his earthy hazel eyes.

“Hey,” you breath and grab your parka. Trost has warmed to an almost pleasant 15 degrees Fahrenheit.

“You two have fun,” Sasha waves her fingers and pushes you both out the door.

“Damn, she's looking to get rid of you. Is Nicolo coming over tonight?” Jean raises an eyebrow as you start walking.

“I don't think so. I think she's just happy to see me get out and do something – wait, where are we going, by the way?” You tense up as the wind picks up and scratches your face like a knife. Somehow, it didn't feel that much warmer than the cold spell a few weeks ago.

“Can't divulge that yet,” Jean sings and bounces in his step. You take longer strides to keep up with him. “We'll catch the train in a couple blocks.”

“Brrr,” you hum and attempt to shrink deeper in your parka like a turtle hiding in its shell. You two are silent for the next couple minutes, fast walking to the train to get out of the bitter cold. Luckily, the train pulls up as soon as you do. You find two seats together and take a moment to bask in the stale, but warm train car air.

“Sounds like living with Sasha has been good for you,” Jean circles back to your earlier comment. He takes off his knit hat, runs his hands through his hair, and gazes at you.

“Yeah, I really lucked out. Once Historia told me she was leaving I really thought that was it for me.” You play with your parka zipper, pulling it up and down.

“How so?” He tilts his head.

“I thought I'd be a recluse, friendless loser for the rest of my life,” you snort. “But really – how do you even make friends after college? That's what I was worried about. So many of mine moved away and we're already starting to lose contact.”

“Yeah, I hear you. What do you miss about them?”

“Their company more than anything. Someone to hang out with on random night. ” You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “But if I'm being honest. . . I don't know if I miss them.” Jean's eyebrows rise. “Don't get me wrong, I really miss Historia and Ymir,” you correct, not wanting him to think you're totally heartless. “But some others, I'm not sure why we were friends, now that I think about it.”

“I think I get it,” Jean nods and stretches his arm across the back of your train seat. “Friends by proximity?”

“Right,” you confirm. “And there's nothing necessarily wrong with that, but having friends with similar interests and values hits different.”

“And do you feel like you have that now?” He leans in closer to you. You can smell his cologne – fresh pine.

“I think I'm getting there. . .” you trail off, “though I suppose it might depend on what you have in store for us tonight.” The train slows to a halt. Jean perks up.

“This is our stop.” He hops off his seat and holds out a hand to you. “Milady?”

You laugh and take his hand as you stand up and walk outside with Jean. He holds on to your hand and guides you as you both fast walk to get to whatever your destination is as soon as possible. With his long strides, it's almost like he's dragging you.

He pauses at a nondescript corner that most people would walk by and not notice anything. Except for you. Jean opens a small iron gate, which creaks, and he motions you forward.

“For real?” You grin as you walk through the gate and down the concrete steps that lead into a basement entrance. “How'd you know?”

Jean shrugs. “Lucky guess.”

You glare at him – because this isn't a spot just anyone could guess at. He hops in front of you to open the door. “Alright,” he confesses, “during the after party, I overheard you telling Armin that you and Historia used to come here and that you missed it.”

You give a soft smile and enter into the warm basement. The yellow lights are dim and glow along the stone walls. To your left is a small bar, serving mostly just beer and wine. In front of you are rows of brown wooden chairs and benches. At the very front of the room is a lone microphone.

“I have missed it,” you sigh and unzip your parka. “It felt weird to come here alone.”

“Welp, now you have me,” Jean grins. He points to the bar. “Can I grab you something to drink?”

“Any kind of white wine,” you shrug.

Jean eyes widen and he clutches his hands to his chest. “White wine? In the dead of winter??” He mocks. “That's monstrous!”

“It's what I prefer, okay?” You laugh and wave. “I'll go find us some seats.” You walk to the third row, close enough to see, but not so close to feel awkward. You drape your parka on the back of a chair and sit down.

You took your first creative writing class your sophomore year of college. When your professor mentioned a poetry slam at a local venue, you were immediately intrigued – and terrified. It was an unknown, something you'd heard of but never seen. The idea of sitting alone petrified you, so it was a relief when Historia said she would go with you. That first time, the poets had mesmerized you. They bared their souls to total strangers and spoke of unrequited love, white-hot passion, heart wrenching devastation, numb depression, child-like glee, and unbridled hope.

“One white wine for one uncultured woman,” Jean interrupts your flashback and hands you a glass of chilled chardonnay. He sits beside you and holds a mug with steaming contents.

“Says the one who's never been to a poetry slam,” you throw back and take a sip of the chilled wine. Jean smirks into his mug. “And what did you get?”

“Mulled wine. Much more appropriate for this time of year. You want a sip?”

You nod and exchange drinks. The cinnamon, cloves, and orange spices take over your senses and warm your body from head to toe. You don't realize you're groaning until Jean gives you a gentle kick. “Regretting your drink choice?”

“No,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Sometimes I like having drinks out of season. It reminds me of a different time.”

“And what does chilled white wine on a winter's night remind you of?” Jean leans in closer to you. He takes a sip of your drink in the exact same place your mouth was. He doesn't break eye contact.

“It reminds me of . . .” you trail off, struggling to think with his earthy hazel eyes warming you from the inside out. “It reminds me of sitting by the river with my friends on an early summer night. We'd talk and laugh all night. Someone would bring a guitar. We'd watch the sun go down and the fireflies come out.”

“Sounds mesmerizing -”

“Alright everyone, thank you for coming to our weekly poetry slam,” a woman in dark jeans and a black turtle neck takes the floor and interrupts your conversation. You and Jean re-exchange drinks. “Our first poet has been a regular here for nearly a decade. . .”

~ ~ ~

After the poetry slam, Jean treats you to his favorite wine bar in Trost. He orders two flights without even looking at the menu.

“I'm taking it upon myself to educate you on better winter wine options,” he says and pushes the first flight toward you. “Though I have to say, you did make white wine in winter almost sound poetic.”

“I'm insulted,” you roll your eyes and swirl the first glass of red wine. “Am I doing this right by the way?” You raise your pinky finger. “Do I look pretentious enough?”

“You look pretentious and poetic,” he laughs and raises his glass. You both say “cheers” and take a sip. “Speaking of,” he sets his wine glass down. “Have you ever performed there?”

“No, I've never performed at all,” you confess.

“Really? I thought that'd be right up your alley.” He leans back in his chair and gazes at you.

“Yeah, I've thought about it,” you tug on the ends of your hair. “But I never worked up the courage to. It's so different than submitting writing to a journal. It really is an entirely different art form.”

“Do you want to?” Jean asks. You've never met anyone who holds your gaze as steady as he does. His earthy hazel eyes haven't left you since sat down.

“Um,” you chew on your bottom lip. “Maybe. I'm not sure. I feel like I haven't written anything worth sharing in months.” You take a sip. “You know, you're lucky in that respect.”

“How so?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You get to create for your job. It's worked into your schedule. Maybe if I were doing something like that, I'd have something worth sharing. I feel like every day I come home exhausted from just existing and I don't want to write.”

“I dunno,” he sighs. “The grass is greener. I get to create, but I'm creating with a bunch of middle school kids who are constantly flirting or kicking each other off their chairs. Or both,” he chuckles. “Sometimes I feel like I'm burning myself out with creating simply for the sake of creating. On the bright side,” he pauses and gestures to you, “you get to be more intentional about your writing.”

“I suppose there's that,” you concede.

“Plus,” Jean adds, “I bet you do in fact have writing worth sharing. You can always use something from the past as inspiration.”

“Hmmm,” you hum into your wine glass. The alcohol is coursing through veins. You're not sure if the heat in your face is from the wine or Jean as he leans in closer to you. “Alright, enough creative talk for now. Tell me your weirdest stories about the middle school menaces.”

Jean laughs and launches into a story about a kid who thought it would be funny to staple his tongue.

Your stomach aches with laughter as Jean tells you story after story about the kids he teaches. You finish the wine flights and hop back on the train.

It's late for you on a Wednesday night. Despite the bright lights of the train, your eyelids are heavy and your head nods until you rest on Jean's chest. You feel his gentle fingertips brush your hair behind your ear. The train jolts to a stop.

“Hey,” he whispers in your ear and squeezes your shoulder. “We're home.” You pry your eyelids open and follow Jean out the train door. The wind whips your hair around and you groan that it's freezing. Jean grabs your hand.

“C'mon, the quicker we get you home, the quicker we're warm,” he says and pulls you along.

“I can't keep up with your spider legs!” You laugh and run to keep up with his strides.

“Spider legs??” He exclaims. You can't see his facial expression since he's wrapped up in homemade scarf. “That's a new one.”

You're both giggling as you approach your duplex and fiddle to find the right key with your frozen fingers.

“Ahhh,” you sigh and burst into the heated living room. Sasha's no where to be found – either up to some shenanigans with Connie or fast asleep in bed.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” Jean grins. “I hope it makes up for the uh, painting incident.” He scratches the back of his neck.

Even though it absolutely does, you want to tell him that it doesn't. You search your mind for any reason to stay in his company longer.

“I think it's a good start,” you tease. “Thanks for the surprise.”

“Ha,” he huffs, “how many more times do I have to take you out?” He takes a step closer to you. You have to crane your neck up to keep eye contact.

“Mmm, I'll let you know. It might take a few weeks. . . or months.”

“You are a demanding woman,” he laughs and shakes his head. You can smell the spice of red wine on him. He leans down a little and – you swear you see a shadow cross over his face. “So I'll see you for trivia tomorrow night?”

“Oh – uh, sure.” You fumble.

“Great.” Jean winks at you and steps out the door.

You close the door behind him and wonder what is haunting Jean Kirstein.

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tokiro07 · 3 months

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Thinking about Epithet Erased and One Piece, so here's Inscribed Straw Hats

Luffy, Seaside Race, Rubberhose - heard the word "Rubber" as a child and felt a strong enough connection to it that he mistook it for his Epiphany, which was only further cemented by his sudden ability to stretch his limbs. It was only during his fight with Kaido, who said he "[looked] like a rubberhose cartoon," that he had his real Epiphany and realized he was using his Epithet wrong the whole time. However, he had mastered the "rubber" aspect of cartoon physics so well by that point that he had already long since become Class 2 and could come up with creative "cartoon" powers on the fly

Zoro, Ocean/Seaside Race, Mundie - gained incredible Proficiency with swords so that no magic sword users could ever hope to match him

Nami, Taiga Race, Forecast - Nami's Proficiency and understanding of meteorology grants her extremely powerful weather-based abilities, though her low Stamina requires that she finish fights quickly lest her own attacks knock her out

Usopp, Deepwood Race, Utility - with his deep capacity for Creativity, Usopp's pouch acts as a utility belt that provides him with the perfect tools for a job, so long as they actually exist; if Usopp needs a tool that doesn't exist, he can construct it from objects that do (ex: his "5-ton hammer" is constructed from a balloon, a stick and frying pans)

Sanji, Taiga/Seaside Race, Wolfram - originally believed himself to be a Mundie and increased his Proficiency for cooking, which he believed to be the source of his apparently fireproof body. He had heard the word "tungsten" working with Zeff, and while he liked the word, he correctly guessed that he had not had his Epiphany, but for the wrong reasons: he thought he was too normal to have an Epithet, unlike his siblings, and dismissed the possibility. It was only when fighting Queen, who was pretentious enough to use the word "wolfram" instead of "tungsten," that Sanji had his Epiphany and learned that he was not only capable of being fireproof, but of turning his body into metal

Chopper, Taiga Race, Abominable - called an "abomination" at a young age for his blue nose, Chopper had his Epiphany almost as soon as he could hear; living in the northernmost region of Taiga Country, he quickly came to learn about the Abominable Snowman and ended up associating the concept with the local caribou, giving him the ability to shapeshift in a range between a large hulking man, his usual small frame, and a reindeer, or any combination therein

Robin, Deepwood Race, Polymelia - being so well-read, Robin discovered the word in a medical journal in the Library of Ohara, granting her the ability to grow extra body parts (typically arms) wherever she pleased. As the only Inscribed in her Deepwood hometown, Robin was ostracized and eventually joined a branch of Bliss Ocean before meeting Luffy and co.

Franky, Taiga Race, Mundie - originally of weak constitution, Franky raised his Proficiency in engineering and created an invincible body that didn't need to worry about Stamina consumption so long as he had cola to power it

Brook, Deepwood Race, Soul - as a Deepwood musician, Brook mostly associates the word "soul" with "soul music," using his musical abilities to "touch people's souls" rather than manifesting spirits or communicating with the dead. However, he does occasionally use it to astrally project his own soul and manifest ice- and cold- attacks, as he associates ghosts with "bone-chilling horror"

Jinbe, Desert/Ocean Race, Whaleshark - as a partial Desert Race, Jinbe is well-versed in martial arts. Using his Epithet, Jinbe is able to incorporate water manipulation into his techniques

Vivi, Desert Race, Mundie - to compensate for her lack of an Epithet, Vivi gained Proficiency in various methods of combat, such as duckback riding, hypnotic dancing, and wire-based weaponry, though her focus on variety prevented her from mastering any of them in particular

#one piece #straw hats #epithet erased #fandom inscribed #can you tell i'm particularly proud of rubberhouse and wolfram?#i'm open to suggestions for pretty much everyone else though

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tiredassmage · 10 months

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Okay, I love my shitpost introductions to actually serious thoughts, headcanons, 'verses, what have you, but also... big, pretty post with (some semblance of) context (primarily in one spot instead of scattered in asks). That might be cool.

Okay! So! I made a shitpost about Tyr and his... growing list of aus and other shit I've made him do. So now because there's a lot of lore in my goldfish bowl of a brain about it sometimes and so hopefully anyone who is like, "Dot, what the Fuck are you smoking?" can find some semblance of an answer to that, I have made a slightly less shitpost (maybe...), more written guide to The Bullshit I Am On.

This brought to you by uh... there are several of you that are enablers. You know who you are. Blows you a kiss through the screen.

The rest of you? Welcome to my shitposting. I am only partially sorry. But get comfortable because I'm not about to stop. : D

Imperial Agent, moniker: "Cipher Nine"

The man, the myth, the legend, the og. Tyr Deckard, formerly Cipher Nine of Imperial Intelligence, double agent for the Republic Strategic Information Service answering to code name Legate.

Eventually turns Commander of the Eternal Alliance.

Primarily, if I'm talking about this bad bitch, it's as his og agent self. This is the foundation upon which all of my following nonsense came off of, which is why "ch: tyr" still talks about mostly this bad bitch, and all these other bad bitches that are and aren't him at the exact same time have other weird tags I have banged into existence with, like, a frying pan.

I love him and he needs to retire.

His character page is about this. I promise.

related tags; ch: tyr

Actually he has a pinterest board i haven't been obnoxious about in public yet either. merry crisis!

Smuggler; known alias: "Oliver Daxton"

A companion au as much as a Tyr in the smuggler campaign in general-au. Reimagines Tyr as an ex-Imperial agent that defected out of Imperial Intelligence to the SIS, former Cipher Ten turned SIS Agent Oliver Daxton.

Started as an ask from @captainderyn that I just decided to be a little insane about, I guess.

Joins the titular Smuggler on Hoth as their contact point for the White Maw job and can potentially act as their right-hand. For fic writing purposes, I pair him with one of my other smugglers, Cee, and I primarily discuss Oli in that lens.

If Risha is Cee's right hand woman, Oliver is her left-hand man. In the smoke and dust after Corellia, Oliver and Master Sumalee pull a few strings with the SIS and have him reassigned with the new Voidhound more long-term, to protect the Republic's latest investment in underworld logistics.

In a potential edition of KOTXX events, when Cee goes missing in the wake of Marr's destroyed fleet, Oliver takes over her contact network and assumes her moniker as Voidhound, attempting to run supplies through Eternal Empire blockades initially in tandem with SIS efforts, before the straining relations between the Republic, Sith Empire, and the Eternal Empire of Zakuul break Oliver's overall faith in the Republic's true goals, and he takes the Voidhound's fleet to act independently until he is later contacted by Theron Shan to come home to the Alliance and reunite with Cee.

related tags; vs: king and lionheart [smuggler!tyr]

Oli does not have a pinterest board. Yet. Sorry to set a trend and expectations and then immediately throw a wrench in it.

Bounty Hunter; known alias: "Kyranthe Rayne"

Shared au verse with @hyrohkaah; primarily focused in on the five year gap preceding KOTFE and following. A "Valkorian hot potato" role swap to shared verse events with Tyr & their Jedi Knight, Hyroh Kaah.

Involves a bit of timeline fuckery because timelines are a playground and this is already an au.

The short & sweet; Tyr adopts the alias "Kyranthe Rayne" and becomes a bounty hunter and assassin primarily for-hire following Hyroh's disappearance with Marr's fleet. Struck hard by the loss of a best friend, confidant, and lover, as Ky, he has already cut ties with Sith Intelligence earlier following the events on Ziost and now employs his former skills as a Cipher agent for his benefit first. And also to seek a little vengeance on the corrupt systems and parties that put him through hell as Cipher Nine.

Runs into Mako on the course of one of his hunts and basically adopts her. They are friends and partners now. They, in turn, also eventually adopt a stray former Jedi padawan named Ezekiel (also @hyrohkaah).

Ezekiel and Tyr got that sad, neglected, bonded, do not separate shelter dog rizz together. Eze essentially becomes his daughter. Bc it turns out Eze was also once a Sith Acolyte, so they share Imperial Abandonment Trauma (TM) and probably much to the stress of both of his now-adopted daughters, Tyr will kill people for them without so much as blinking.

In short, a Tyr who very nearly managed to get out and have a life beyond being an agent with Hyroh, lost that in the Wild Space expedition, spent approximately five years beaten down by the galaxy's assumption Hyroh had been killed, and who thus became a bit harder and a lot more stubborn about his boundaries in the aftermath of it all.

Eventually turns covert operative for the Eternal Alliance and is Hyroh's very fiercely protective guard dog of a boyfriend and personal advisor as Hyroh is thrust to become Commander of the Alliance.

relevant tags; vs: my mind is a place i can't escape your ghost [bh!tyr]

woe! pinterest board be upon ye!

Sith Warrior; known alias: "Tyr Kyrane"

I'm blaming this one mostly on @hyrohkaah because this is a take I said I'd never do for Tyr and now look what we're doing.

Full, actual, proper hot potato between Hyroh and Tyr, aka actual role swap where Tyr's the Force-sensitive one and Hyroh is the Imperial Agent. Crunchy Sith and Imperial power dynamics. Just as much devotion in blood. Just as much stupid displays of affection (eventually).

Partially reimagines Tyr's origin, of course, as adopted into the Sith Kyrane family following his parents' reported deaths (I'll neither confirm nor deny if this incarnation is still related to Keeper. Let's all suffer with the uncertainty. >:3), but not shown to be Force-sensitive until his early teens.

Thus struggles with alternating pressures of never being good enough for the family because he wasn't Sith, then because he wasn't of their own blood, and then especially because he's not of their blood, so any failures will be his own weakness, but could absolutely disgrace the house. Rigorous dance training eventually translates into dual training in dance and the demand to master the art of wielding a dual-bladed saber.

Connections with Overseer Tremel through the family bring him to Korriban slightly ahead of schedule, but Tremel takes over his training personally and paces it... far more evenly than his family. So you can imagine what Baras's later request for him to strike against the one man who perhaps gave half a damn about his well-being is like.

But, long story short, will attempt to use his eventual position as Wrath to curb some of the Dark Council's infighting and will take a particular interest in the remains of the Empire's Intelligence operations, thus adopted former Cipher Nine Hyroh Kaah as a personal agent in weeding out the remaining security risks of Baras's network of intelligence assets and informants.

Power couple shit, to be honest.

The babies of the aus because Joel and I had to make me bargain with myself to fucking finish his bounty hunter playthrough first and also maybe my Consular I've been neglecting on Satele Shan for fucking months, good god someone stop me.

relevant tags; vs: no stranger would it be [sith!tyr]

and bc i'm insane, perceive my madness about them: pinterest

Republic Trooper, Commanding Officer - Havoc Squad

An edition of Tyr that grew up in Republic space under the care of his single mother. They bounced around a fair bit between her work, sometimes moving planets entirely.

In his mid-teens, Tyr picked up work at a mechanic's shop - the latest in a series of odd jobs to help his mother make ends meet. As a side to that, he also got into racing swoopbikes. And accidentally ended up sort of in the middle of an SIS op that ultimately concluded in a staged accident in one of his races when he was sixteen. Tyr still has the scars on his chin and left shoulder.

Officially recruited into the Republic Strategic Information Service at 18, when he promptly moved out. His relationship with his mother had always been a bit strained and a touch distanced, so Tyr rarely saw much of her after the move. He did, however, continue to send her parts of his paychecks back to help her stay above board.

Ends up in SpecForce as an SIS plant with the goal of investigating rumored SpecForce unrest, desertions, and other unusual activity. Was never meant to stay assigned to Havoc Squad, but then... the whole squad turned to the Imps in front of him and... the rest is kinda history.

Has a tight, but somewhat up and down relationship with fellow Havoc recruit turned pilot in Hyroh. In short, Tyr isn't always the greatest fit as Havoc's CO, nor do him and Hyroh always see eye to eye based on differences in experiences with Republic loyalty.

Ultimately, however, Hyroh, Aric Jorgan, Elara Dorne, and Tyr are pretty ride or die. Despite the rocky lows and through the highs, they are consistently the people left around, the ones looking after each other. Tyr learns a lot about what he values and what truly matters: the people right beside you.

relevant tags: vs: kiss with a fist / self-control in locker room showers [trooper!tyr]

also has an edition where I made him suffer as the Outlander in KOTXX, which. exacerbates his issues developed as a Republic soldier in the thick of the war. that gets its own tag: vs: all their words for glory / they all sound so empty [outlander trooper!tyr]

pinterest!

#dot talk #ch: tyr #vs: king and lionheart [smuggler!tyr]#vs: my mind is a place i can't escape your ghost [bh!tyr]#vs: no stranger would it be [sith!tyr]#dare i tag this...#across the tyrverse #??? i think i do

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justanoutlawfic · 2 years

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The Boy Who Cried Wolf: Charming Twins fic

A prequel to “Out of the Frying Pan”: “The Boy Who Cried Wolf”.

James finds out David has a problem.

On AO3/FF

#out of the frying pan verse #charming twins #prince james #david charming #king arthur #ouat #once upon a time #tw: drug addiction #tw: gaslighting

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the-lady-writes-what · 11 months

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Incubus! Enji x Fem! Witch! Reader

You're at war with a rival coven and other methods of revenge have been exhausted. Turning to the forbidden spell book bound in human flesh, you don't have a choice. It's them or your life. Summoning allies from the fiery pits is not a task to be taken lightly. Summoning a demon, no matter who, is relatively easy, getting rid of them is the hard part. An incubus or a succubus were stronger than low-level imps and goblins, but easier to bargain with than one of the Princes of Hell. All you needed was a small boost to eliminate the threats to your life and those belonging to your family, and you'd pay just about any price to have it. Including becoming an incubus' toy.

Content: blowjob, deep throat, cum swallowing, multiple rounds, overstimulation, doggy style, creampie, choking, scratching, spanking, spit, biting, breeding, mild degradation, light face slapping (it happens only once), size kink

🔞NSFW Content Below! 18+ Only! Minors DNI!🔞

You found a little pouch left on your doorstep. Anyone too mundane to not sense its malevolent intent would just think it a piece of odd-looking rubbish. You picked it up like it was a delicate thing. It was bad luck to bring something like this into your house, but you didn't have much of a choice. Bad luck be damned, a witch's curse was worse. The ill-intent emanating from the palm-sized pouch made you hold it far from your person as a possible. You took it into the kitchen where you laid it on a cutting board. A ring of salt prevented the magic's evil from seeping further.

You cut the black cords and opened the rough cloth. Its contents made you scoff. Burned and broken match sticks, ashes (likely from some verse meant to draw curses upon you and yours), bloody fingernails, chicken bones, and thirteen claws from a black cat.

"Fucking cunts," you seethed.

It was a nasty curse, and if you didn't handle it now, it was going to get worse before it got better. It took more than one witch to concoct such a devious spell. You felt the energies of several witches at work. You light three candles, one white, one yellow, and one blue. You had the candles stand on the ring of salt to form a triangle. With a pinch of incense, you smoked out the curse. Real magic could do extraordinary things. Your power forced the curse to take a physical manifestation. Some curses looked like two-headed snakes, a swarming, squirming pile of slugs, or a puff of smoke. This curse looked like a tiny horned imp. It was no bigger than your thumb, but its size was decieving. Its claws and fangs damagd everything they touched.

You drowned the imp in moon water. The water turned into an inky black sludge, which you poured on the lawn of the closest witch who helped made the curse. If you had the time or energy, you might have done something much worse than throw the curse back at them. Something had to be done. You meditated on not only revenge but a way to make the coven to back off for good. You needed reinforcements, but who? You didn't dream of bringing strangers into the magical battlefield nor did you trust your family to pull their weight. You were the strongest, which was probably why the coven came after you the most. You didn't dare make a pact with the Fae, they couldn't be trusted. You'd be out of the frying pan and into the oven. So then, who could you turn to?

An ancient family heirloom came to mind. Would it be dangerous? Absolutely, but it was better than playing defense by yourself and less dangerous than making a deal with the deceptive Fae. Only slightly less dangerous. A plan formed in your mind on the drive home.

You prepared weeks in advance for the spell. You set up wards against any outside forces from disturbing you. Close to midnight, you crept to the living room where all your hard work of the day was on display. A ring of power, thirteen red candles, vials of special oil, and glyphs and symbols drawn in pink and red chalk on your hardwood floor. You disrobed and left your clothes outside the circle. You carried the book at arm's length away. You were desperate, but you weren't willing to press a tome bound in human skin close to your naked body.

At the stroke of midnight, you lit the candles and began the chant. The air shifted around you. Heat rose from the floor as though your living room sat above an active volcano. Candle flames flickered. You stood as the summoning circle began to glow red. Your chanting grew louder as you summoned the creature from the deepest part of the Netherworld.

Outside, nature heeded the call of you raising power. There had been no storm in the weather forecast, but you faintly heard the clap of thunder and lightning and wind rattling every windowsill in your house. Inside, doors flew open as the gates of the Netherworld were flung open. The summoning circle glowed brighter, almost blinding. It burst into flames. It swirled and danced wildly as if looking around your living room with unseen eyes. Sweat glistened on your body from feet away. You set down the book and got down on your knees. The pillar of fire in your living room began to take shape as soon as you knelt on the floor. It seemed to shrink, but molded itself into a humanoid shape.

It was a massive body. Judging by its shape, you could tell it was definitely male and very muscular. You tried not to flinch or shield your eyes. That would be an insult. You let your eyes water and tears welt up and slid down your cheeks as you gazed up at the human-shaped torch. Its light deemed little by little. Once you finished the chant, the bright, almost painful glow of the hellfire puttered out. You saw flesh and corded muscle grow where there was only fire a few moments ago. You jaw hung loose.

Incubi and succubi came in all shapes and sizes. This one came extra large, thick with muscle. His skin was slightly red as if the flames which formed his body beforehand never quite left. Horns arched from his forehead to the ceiling. The incubus wore only a pair of leather trousers. How he got in and out of them was a good question, but not why you summoned him. His eyes might have looked human if not for the slit pupil that gave him a serpentine look. His short hair was dark red, which matched the drapes. You couldn't help up but let your eyes linger down the line of the incubus' body to the treasure trail that disappeared into his pants. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.

"It's not every day I get summoned by a witch so well prepared for me. Sometimes I think others like it when I rip off their ceremonial robes. It's as if they don't understand the kind of demon they're summoning," said the incubus.

He crossed the circle which summoned him to the mortal plane. The incubus stepped closer until he was towering over you. You had to crane your neck far back in order to properly look up at him. A flash of lightning in the window revealed a monstrous yet handsome face. He was cast in shadows again. The thirteen candles you set up paled in comparison to the torch your incubus had been.

"What bargain do you desire to make with me? Say it quickly before I fuck you and take my leave," said the incubus.

"A coven is seeking to destroy me. They hate that I don't want to be one of them and have been going after my family for months. Two weeks ago, they left an imp on my doorstep. They'll continue to escalate if I don't stop them. I need the help of someone far more powerful than I to put them in their place," you answer.

"Then why not summon any other demon? Why...an incubus?" He asked.

"Because my chances of surviving are slightly better with you than a demon general. Besides, it's more fun," you said.

The incubus chuckled. The sound made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

"You might not feel the same way by the time I'm done with you. After getting your revenge and ensuring the coven won't come after you and yours again, would feel the same way if you carried the spawn of an incubus?" Asked the demon.

"Bearing the child of an incubus is a small price to pay to ensure the safety of me and mine. And, getting rid of a troublesome coven who likes to band together against a solitary witch would be a boon to the community in general."

"Stand up. Let me get a look at you." The incubus ordered.

You did as he said. You gave him a little turn for him to inspect the body he was going to be using in exchange for his aid. If he liked what he saw, the incubus said nothing. Neither did he do anything that suggested approval or disapproval. You supposed to an incubus that a human body was just a body, no matter how it was shaped or if it was at all conventionally attractive to other humans. Sexual energy was their food source, so the package didn't matter all that much.

"Enji," said the incubus.

"Pardon?" You said.

"Enji. That is my name. You'll be using it quite often. I guarantee you'll be screaming it all night. I'll seal a bargain with you, witch. In exchange for feasting on your body and energy, I will help you eliminate your enemies. My power is yours...for the time being. That us seal your fate. On your knees."

You didn't question him. You knelt before him. The incubus--Enji stood so tall that your head was barely level with his hips. A large hand patted your head.

"Demon generals shake hands or have witches sign their names in blood. Do you know how some incubi seal contracts?" Asked Enji.

You shake your head, but you were beginning to understand. It didn't take a rocket scientist or an ivory tower wizard to take a lucky guess at how this incubus liked to seal the deal.

"Open," Enji ordered.

You parted your lips. One hand remained atop your head as if he expected you to turn away and book it out of the ring of power. His other untied the cords that held his leather trousers up on his hips. Just as you suspected, the incubus wore only the leather pants. Enji was hard already. How you didn't notice it before when he looked like he was poured into those pants you'll never know. His cock sprang free of its unforgiving confines. You couldn't tell if the burning sensation in your lower belly was truly yours or if Enji used his demonic powers to influence your emotions. Your mouth watered at the sight of him. Incubus cock was said to match their partner's taste. Enji's cock was long, thick, and veiny with a minimal amount of hair at the base. You licked your lips. Enji didn't need his hand on the back of your head to guide you unto his cock. You wrapped your lips around him without further instruction.

You licked the underside of his cock and began to slowly bob your head up and down the length of him. Enji sighed. You brought your hands up to caresses his thighs. You felt the immense heat of his skin through the leather. Enji increased the pressure on your head, moving you fasting.

"Faster, witch." Enji growled. "You want a contract with me, don't?"

You worked his cock faster. You let out soft moans as you sucked him off.

"Deeper." Enji ordered. He placed both hands on either side of your head and motioned your head faster up and down his cock.

You opened your throat more to him. You sucked him off faster and took him deeper. You didn't mind when you gagged on him. Enji petted your head as you sucked his cock. The heat growing in your lower belly became undeniable. Between your legs, you felt wet. Of course, the incubus could smell your arousal.

"Does sucking demon cock make you hot and bothered, little witch? I can smell you. Your slutty cunt can't wait for me to fuck you into the floor." He grunted as he started bucking his hips against your face. "You're going to let me use that mouth of yours as a cunt. You're going to take all of me down your pretty little throat, and don't you dare complain later about your jaw hurting. You're going to get very used to having your mouth used as my fuck toy."

Enji pushed his cock all the way down your throat. You sputtered and gagged violently, but you didn't resist him. His large hands held your head in place. Enji's thick cock made your jaws ache. The world was swallowed up by the scent of him. All of your senses were possessed by him. Touch, taste, sound, smell, sight. You were full of him, and he hadn't even fucked your now soaked pussy yet. You made such ungodly noises as you let the incubus fuck your mouth and throat. The demon standing above you grunted and growled. His fingers pressed into your skull. You dared a glance up towards his face. You shuddered as the harsh beauty of him stared back you. The incubus' face was screwed up in pleasure from using you as he saw fit.

"That's where you belong, witch. Kneeling, below me. Used by me. And you like it, don't you? You like being used as a demon's fuck toy?"

You would have nodded if you could. His hands kept your head still for his use. How much was the incubus' influence and how much was your own horniness talking, the world may never know. This was a small price to pay to get back at the coven of bitches.

"Mhmm," you hummed.

Enji fucked your throat faster and harder than any human could. You didn't know what else to do with your hands, so you let them fall to your sides.

"Take my...cum. Take all my cum down your throat, witch. Don't you dare waste a drop." Enji growled.

He thrust fast into your mouth. You gagged violently as he pushed your mouth, jaw, and throat to accept all of him. Did he get bigger? Your tongue lathed the thick veins on the underside of his cock. You tasted him all the way in the back of your throat. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you found yourself orgasming before Enji even touched you down there. His movements slowed and his pace became erratic. Enji shoved himself down all the way until your nose brushed the bit of crimson hair at the base of his cock.

Enji grabbed the back of your neck and squeezed. He growled and finished down your throat. Rope after rope of cum shot into your mouth. You swallowed every drop. Somehow, you managed to keep breathing through your nose. Your breath came in and out in heavy drags through your nostrils. Enji's cum tasted salty and sweet at the same time. You whined when Enji yanked himself free of your mouth. His fingers swiped the stray beads of his cum from the corner of your mouth and shoved his fingers inside.

"I told you not to waste a single drop. Do you not know how to follow directions?"

"I'm...I'm sorry, sir," you whimpered.

He gave your cheek a gentle smack. "Don't let it happen again." Enji sniffed the air and grinned. "You came too, didn't you, horny little bitch? I can smell it. I haven't even touched your greedy cunt yet and you came from me fucking your throat."

His grin was predatory. You nodded your head. You didn't need to check to see if it was true and couldn't deny it either. An incubus of Enji's prowess could smell a lie just as well as he could smell your lust on the air.

"Turn around and bend over. If you're going to act like a bitch in heat, I'm going to fuck you like one," said Enji.

You didn't have to be told twice. Turning your back to the incubus, you bent over. Your cheek rest on the unusually warm floor. You spread your legs and arched your back for him. Enji took one step toward you before getting on his knees behind you. You heard him stroke his cock. Enji teased your soaking, aching cunt with his cock. It didn't surprise you that he was hard as steel again. The hard blunt tip teased your pussy. He slid in just the tip, pulled out, and pushed it in again.

"Please, please, sir. I want it. I need it so bad." You begged.

"Oh? What do you want so bad that you're begging an incubus to help you?" Enji asked, mocking you.

"Please...please, fuck me, sir. I need your cock inside me! Please fuck me." You begged.

Your pleading amused him. You had to crane your neck to see the grin spreading across his face. Rough, large hands grabbed your hips. At the same time, Enji pulled you to him. His cock buried to the hilt in one smooth motion. He filled every inch of your insides. You clawed at the wood floor, not to get away, but because his cock felt too damn good. Enji was thrusting inside of you. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room along with your moans of pleasure. You bit your lip trying to maintain some composure and not go mad from Enji drilling your pussy, but it earned you a sharp smack on your upper thigh by your hip.

"Did I say you could be quiet? I want to hear you scream, witch. Now, let me hear it!" Enji growled. He slapped your thigh again.

You didn't hold back this time. You let out a long moan and whimpered as his cock drove you into the floor. Enji's thrusts were relentless and merciless. You could his cock press against the pit of your stomach. His large, greedy hands groped, spanked, and pinched every inch of flesh within reach. The pounding you received only emphasized the sharp sting on your ass. Enji slapped each cheek when he withdrew, and slammed hard against you to make you cry out from the pain. He gripped your hips and dragged your body up and down his fat cock.

Enji ordered you to scream, and you did. Your brain turned to mush after the first mind-blowing, spine-tingling orgasm. Your body went limp though Enji didn't bother pulling out. He continued to plow into your body in that fast, harsh pace. His body enveloped your as he rolled you unto your side. Enji threw one of your legs on top of his waist as he lay with you on the wood floor. His thrusts were shallow, but his cock made your eyes roll back. Another wave tsunami wave of pleasure crashed into you. Enji hot breath fanned across your skin just before he sank his teeth into your shoulders.

You dug your nails into his shoulders. Your head fell back and you screamed. Enji suckled on the wound without missing a beat. He was still buried in your heat as he left your skin bruised and marked by his mark.

Sweaty, shaking, and pliable, Enji pushed you onto your back. His large hands forced your hands to take hold of your legs behind your knees. Wordlessly, he pushed your legs back until they touched your shoulders. He prodded your mouth open. You sucked and licked his thick calloused fingers. Enji pried your mouth open to spit.

"Swallow," he growled.

You did. A moment later, Enji was fucking you into the floor again. He filled every inch of you. His cock reached deep and pounded away at the last strings of insanity. Your wordless screams and drooling brought a feral grin to his face.

"You're so good at taking demon cock, witch? Would you be upset if I finished inside your stretched cunt? It belongs to me now, after all? Fill you up with incubus spawn? Make you produce me an heir?" Enji spoke through gritted teeth. His thrusts turned erratic.

"E-Enji--" You whined.

Enji shook his head. "No turning back now, witch. You knew better than making a deal with an incubus. Why don't you be a good breeding bitch for me, eh?"

"P-Please...please give it to me, Enji! Please give me your cum." You begged.

Enji's thrusts faltered for one brief second before quickly resuming. His brow quirked up at your drooling face. He tucked his hands beneath your shoulders so you had nowhere to go while trapped under his massive body. He slammed in and out of you.

"You want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, witch? You want my cum in exchange for the power to destroy your enemies? Is that what you truly want? Say it!"

"Give me your cum, Master! Cum inside me. Fuck your spawn into me. Give me your cum, give it to me!" You scream. You let go of your legs and rest them on Enji's shoulders. You reach for his face, kiss his hot lips, and hold onto his horns.

"What a good slut I've acquired," said Enji.

He didn't stop or falter again until you were his perfect rag doll, a sex toy. Enji slammed his hips against yours harder and harder to the point where you thought you could shatter. And in a manner of speaking, you did. The final orgasm of yours did make you shatter and splinter into a million pieces. Your nails ran down his back. Your body had no room to spread out as white-hot ecstasy possessed your very being. Enji gathered you in his arms. He wasn't close to finishing until he held you tight to his chest where you almost suffocated with your head pressed into his flesh. His growl of pleasure was nothing human. He didn't even sound like any animal you knew of when he exploded. Rope after rope of cum painted your insides. The closeness of your bodies prevented most of it from leaking out, and that was probably the idea.

Enji left you panting for breath, sweaty, and boneless. There wasn't even a single drop of sweat on his brow as he relaxed on his knees. His large hand uncurled your legs from his shoulders and put them on his hips. He was still buried to the hilt inside your pussy. Enji caressed your lower belly with one of his massive hands.

"And...the pact is sealed," said Enji.

A warmth filled your belly. Red light glowed from Enji's palm and caressed your skin like a mild sun burn. When he removed his hand, a magic circle and strange glyphs were tattooed into your stomach. You smiled at the pact mark even as Enji's cock grew hard again while still inside your cunt. You touched his chest as Enji rocked into you slowly. All of it was just a small price to pay

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high-pot-in-noose · 1 year

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Okay, so, here are — in no particular order — the first verses of the ballads that I've already decided for my fantasy-themed chapbook. A preview, if you would.

I'll leave the first two above the cut, and the rest below for you if I manage to pique your genuine interest.

Upon a craggy mountainside where only fools dared roam was perched a haunted castle where the undead made their home. All those who dared to venture forth soon came to join the horde, but tales of gold addled the minds of those who sought reward. — from The Song of Skallagrim

Oh, do you know? That long ago, in a kingdom near the sea, there lived a woman, good and kind, who would a mother be. — from Mother of a Changeling Child

Winnoad, the warlock, waits alone within his fort of freezing stone, and wonders in his wicked way what dreadful deeds he'll do this day. He's tall and thin with wrinkled skin, a beastly beard falls from his chin. His cheeks are gaunt, his eyes set deep; he scarcely eats, he does not sleep. — from Wicked Winnoad

In mid-quantummer, when I was wee and went a-clomphing a-jube and free with wafture to each riparian tree, I chanced upon a Freige. “What sort of thing be ‘Freige’?” no doubt thou thinkest with a squint and pout, and this confusant has put out many souls for an age. — from The Freeing of The Freige

Old Baron Jule was coarse and cruel, the harshest of his callous clan. In terms of but sheer viciousness, he stood below no other man. Old Baron Jule was fond of wine, and he with glee would drink it down, but when he dripped onto himself, he flung the fault clear 'cross the town. — from The Lady of the Frying Pan

A young huntsman to the wild woods went. Through rills, up hills, a day full he spent. Then on a breeze came a tune. He followed it to an oaken grove that stood sentry to a river cove where birds through boughs and the branches dove, with falling leaves of maroon. Those leave were bright maroon. — from The Huntsman and The Dryad

#writing #poetry #original poetry #my poetry #poetblr

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sgtcalhouns · 1 year

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The Easy Way

Even though he has a magic hammer that can fix anything, there are still some tasks that Felix enjoys doing the old-fashioned way.

hello!! have a cute little arcade-verse drabble!! I just wanted something cute for the cuties before 10 years of wrecking was over. I hope you enjoy!!

It was quiet in the apartment when Tamora stepped out of the shower.

Too quiet.

The sounds of Felix’s evening routine had become all too familiar to her--the sizzle of food in a frying pan, the chatter as he exchanged niceties with Mary when she brought over a pie, the jingle of his hammer as he made small repairs for his friends and neighbors. Not to mention the way he was constantly humming, or whistling, or singing to himself. But now, as she dressed herself in comfortable sweatpants and a T-shirt for their low-key evening, she didn’t hear a thing.

Curious, she stepped out into the living room and found Felix seated on the couch holding one of his work gloves in his hand. She watched as he reached for a nearby bottle of some sort of brown liquid, poured it onto a cloth, and carefully worked it into the leather of his glove. He was so engrossed in his task that he didn’t notice her standing in the doorway, and he jumped when he finally caught her shape moving in his peripheral vision.

“Jiminy, you scared me,” he sighed with a hand over his heart. “We’re gonna have to get you a bell if you’re gonna be so quiet all the time.”

They shared a chuckle.

“What are you doing?” she asked, glancing down at the unfinished project in his hands.

“Oh, I’m just conditioning the leather,” he explained, motioning for her to come closer. She sat beside him on the couch. “It helps keep my gloves nice and soft and stops them from drying out.”

He picked up where he had left off, using the cloth to gently wipe the excess product off of his gloves. She watched him for a moment before a thought occurred to her.

“Couldn’t you just use your hammer for that?” she asked.

“I suppose I could,” he shrugged. “But there’s just somethin’ relaxing about the process for me. It feels good to sit down and take the time to do something nice for yourself every now and again.”

“I guess that’s true,” she commented.

In truth, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had done something for her sole benefit; there was no time for such trivial things when you commanded an entire platoon day in and day out. Felix, on the other hand, always seemed to be doing something nice for someone. She was glad to see that, at least occasionally, he extended this generosity inward.

“Plus... I don’t know, this might sound silly, but...” he trailed off, looking somewhat bashful as he continued. “Even though my hammer can fix anything, it’s nice to know that I’m still capable of doing things for myself without it. That I’m not entirely useless on my own.”

His words stopped Tamora in her tracks. He had always been open with her about his feelings, and she was well aware of many of his insecurities, but she had never been let in on this piece of information. To know that Felix doubted himself when he wasn’t using his hammer shocked her--he always seemed so sure of himself, and she’d had complete confidence in his abilities since he lifted her out of the Nesquik Sand the day they met.

“It’s not silly,” she assured him, “but I hope you know you’re so much more than your hammer.”

He set his materials down and looked up at her questioningly.

"That’s not what makes you who you are. You’re always going out of your way to help others, you’re unbelievably optimistic, and you never take the easy way out,” she explained. “Your hammer doesn’t have anything to do with that. You’re far from useless without it.”

His cheeks flushed as she spoke; it wasn’t often that she praised him so openly, and he thought he might burst as a result. He had no idea she felt this way, and it filled him with pride to know that she thought so highly of him. The way she unabashedly commended his character nearly left him speechless.

“Thank you for saying that,” he said, reaching for her hand. “It really means a lot to me that you feel that way.”

Felix leaned up to kiss her cheek, and Tamora smiled down at him. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense: he truly never took the easy way out, and that fact was what had brought them together in the first place. A lesser man would have never been able to stand alongside her through thick and thin the way he had.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” she replied. “You’re a good man, Felix.”

She leaned down to capture his lips in a proper kiss that she made linger. Now he was really speechless. He was flushed up to his ears when she released him, and he looked positively giddy as he gazed up at her.

“You know,” he said, “you’re pretty incredible, too.”

“Oh yeah?” she teased.

He closed the gap between them to kiss her again.

“Mmhmm,” he murmured against her lips.

He leaned forward to claim her lips once more, but stopped short when he realized she had pulled away from him. Pouting, he looked up at her.

“Why don’t you finish that and then you can tell me all about it?” she said with a sly grin.

He was pulled out of his stupor as he looked down at his work gloves, which were still coated in leather conditioner. Before he even had the chance to reach for his hammer, Tamora’s voice stopped him.

“And no shortcuts,” she said as she stood from the couch and headed toward his bedroom.

He frowned in her direction, but faltered as soon as he heard her laughing at the sight. She had fully disappeared into the bedroom when he heard her call out to him one last time:

“Once you finish, you can come show me just how useful those hands can be.”

#hero's cuties #wir fanfiction #10 years of wrecking #fix it felix jr #sgt calhoun #my fic #i did not proofread this

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