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mo-mode · 4 months

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Back on my Screenwriter soap box while watching PJO: They should have bought a bunch of oil diffusers.

(Edit: This post was made before someone pointed out to me that I missed a key line of dialogue, but my points and theories still stand for the same reasons backing up my original post so I’m not changing anything. The dialogue I missed lets us know that Hermes told Percy the lotus was being pumped into the air off-screen. It’s also implies (? I’m still on the fence about this one?) that Hermes told him what day it is, but I missed these during my first three watches because of how quick and vague it was. Which actually kind of supports my point on why visual indicators are so important. Without these, it’s easy to miss key information. And remember, it’s a kid’s show. ANYWAY my conclusions haven’t changed, and I still believe these edits would work better than the quick line of dialogue so just keep this in mind. Thanks.)

(I’m not being nit-picky. I swear. Just hear me out.) So the weirdest thing to me in episode six was how Percy just…learned everything so quickly without any visual indicators? Like they know time passed because it’s dark outside, but how did he know it was Thursday? They know they were affected by the lotus flowers, but how does he know it was pumped into the air? This irked me because even if he’s smart enough to figure some of this out himself (which he is) we as the audience should still be able to follow his thought process instead of learning after the fact.

What if there were oil diffusers?

So imagine the trio walks into the Lotus, figures out this is like the Odyssey, and decides not to eat anything. They waltz in super confident that they cracked the code, but they were wrong. How do we know? Because the moment they enter the crowd, we get an establishing shot of a lotus-branded oil diffuser letting out steam.

Immediately, we as the audience realize their mistake, making it just that more tantalizing to watch. As the episode continues, we realize they’re everywhere. There’s a diffuser in the plants, on the counter, between the game tables, always right out of the corner of our eyes. They just keep churning out lotus-scented oil into the air, which we can infer because we’re smart. (Remember that.)

Now when Percy realizes what’s going on, we know HOW they’re doing it and HOW Percy knows without being told!! Because they were there the whole time.

Onto Thursday.

Consider: A watch.

What if Hermes has the only watch in the casino until the trio walks in with their own?

Let’s give Annabeth one of those cheap, funky watches that gives the time, day, month, year, etc. Something you get from a kids toy catalogue. It’s waterproof, glows in the dark, has an alarm or whatever. I feel like Annabeth would have one of those. (And honestly, she might already. I forgot.) The most important feature for us, though, is the day. It clearly tells us the day of the week.

It’s pretty easy to establish that Annabeth has the watch. Just do it the same way they establish the date: Percabeth arguing over it in the truck. Annabeth shows him the watch. Establishing shot of the watch’s face. That’s it. No bells or whistles necessary. Then when they get to the casino, Annabeth checks it one more time (without an establishing shot, she just does it casually) and they walk in.

(It’s so easy. I promise.)

While Grover is walking around alone, he tries to check the time and realizes there’s no clocks. (Which ngl is super common in casinos already, but it’s creepy nonetheless.) Yada yada, he gets sucked in by Augustus and that’s how he gets got.

Meanwhile, Percy and Annabeth keep meaning to check the time, but every time they do, someone tries to hand them an appetizer or a drink, which makes them forget OR Annabeth’s hubris keeps her from checking. (Percy: Time check? Annabeth: Its only been five minutes. We’re fine. We need to focus.)

And that brings us to Hermes. After their chat, yada yada, Annabeth “leaves” and Hermes gets all cryptic, then he makes a BIG show of checking his watch, and THAT’S when Percy realizes something’s wrong because oh no they haven’t checked the time. So he finds Annabeth, they see it’s dark outside, they check her watch, and it’s Thursday.

“But we didn’t eat anything!” Annabeth says. Percy looks at the diffusers by the entrance. It dawns on him. “They’re pumping it into the air.”

That’s how you VISUALLY SHOW US THINGS instead of Percy just figuring everything out off-camera and telling us!!!!

Now, you may be thinking “Oh but do they have the budget for that??” Do you know how cheap these props are? Just bulk buy like six oil diffusers, slap a homemade sticker of a lotus flower on them, and keep moving them into every shot. And they’re quiet!! They wouldn’t interfere with the sound, the steam is visible enough to be caught on camera without messing with the lighting, they actually look really cool in some lighting, and they fit the atmosphere of a hotel/casino!! Then the watch is like $15, fits with Annabeth’s character, and totally matches her outfit.

It’s CHEAP! It’s EASY! It DOESN’T CUT INTO THE RUN TIME! It’s AESTHETICALLY PLEASING! ANNABETH GETS A SICK WATCH!! NO DOWNSIDES!!!!

The biggest problem with this show isn’t how accurate it is to the book or how much money they have or that they’re “Disney-fying” it. The problem is they are TELLING US things instead of SHOWING us. And not to beat a dead horse because everyone’s heard of “Show Don’t Tell” but like??? This is exactly why everyone is taught this over and over again in school?? Because people still do it anyway all the time???

There’s also something else I learned (or really just picked up) when I got my B.A. in Creative Writing: Good shows are predictable.

Whether it’s a case of the audience learning what’s going to happen before it happens or them watching the show again and realizing how obvious the answer was the whole time, audiences always want to feel smart. They want to interact with the material. If you don’t give them the opportunity to pick apart the mystery themselves by setting down clues, they’ll give up on interacting with the show and lose interest. That’s why you SHOW them things. There are several moments where this show is completely unpredictable, not because it’s complex but because it doesn’t let you predict it. That doesn’t make it bad—the comedy and character development is doing a great job of carrying the show’s weight so far. But it definitely doesn’t make the show good.

It’s like Rube Goldberg machines. Or dominoes! We don’t watch those crazy 1000+ domino videos so we can watch the last one fall. We watch it to see HOW they fall. Take one domino out, and it’s unsatisfactory. It doesn’t work anymore.

But some oil diffusers and a watch??? Little clues that make the realization that more visually appealing??? THAT’S SATISFYING

Anyway, these are just two things that could have been done, but weren’t. Most of the show is stellar. I think it just needs a little bit of editing here and there. I studied this for like years, and I needed to get this off my chest. That’s it.

Rick Riordan, if you ever see this, I am available for hire :) I would love to be a script doctor please please please please

#THIS IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME YOU DONT UNDERSTAND #I swear I can be so helpful Rick #hire me #i’m a screenwriter i promise i’m legit #btw this is NOT an opportunity to say you hate the show in the notes I will find you #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #pjo spoilers #percy jackson the lightning thief #pjo series #screenwriting #grover underwood #annabeth chase #hermes

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sunhoures · 9 months

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And It Was All Yellow

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (fem.)

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, photographer!wonwoo, artist!reader (+ journalist!mingyu)

word count: ~5.7k

synopsis: wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he finds himself falling for you a lot sooner than he thought possible

inspired by: the text post pictured above ^^ & the song “yellow” by coldplay 💛

posted: august 21, 2023

The weather in Seoul was dull—gray clouds and scattered, drizzling rain suspended over the city since dawn had broken. Most people hated such weather, but Jeon Wonwoo was not one of those people. In fact, he found comfort in the gloominess. He enjoyed the idea of having an excuse to stay in. And if he did need to go outside, he liked that there was a lack of the usual crowd of people that would be around if the weather was more ideal. Traffic was less compacted. Lines of any kind were short (or non-existent). The city was quiet, just as he liked it.

On days like today, he preferred to spend his time inside with a book or playing video games. But work had been scarce for him these past few weeks, so when his best friend, Mingyu, had informed him of a job offer he had no choice but to accept it. That’s how he ended up at a local art museum downtown at 9:45 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Despite the doors not opening for another fifteen minutes, a worker had let him in through the front door when he got her attention and pointed to his camera bag. She realized he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and so she quickly let him in. Luckily he had a raincoat over his outfit and a hat to protect his hair, so the most he had to deal with was a little rain on the back of his neck. He thanked the worker, staying close to the door to get any glimpse of Mingyu arriving.

In the meantime, he watched the cars pass by outside, each one splashing water out of the puddle and onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to the museum. He noticed it had lightened up a bit outside, the sky turning from a darker gray to a lighter gray with wispy, white clouds. He wondered if anyone would even show up to this exhibit opening in such weather conditions.

About five minutes after he arrived, Mingyu came knocking on the door, covering his head with a magazine. The worker came back and opened the door for him, deciding to leave it unlocked. Wonwoo’s younger friend came in, complaining under his breath about forgetting his umbrella and getting wet. He shook the sopping magazine, droplets of water falling onto the concrete floor. His gray button-up was a darker gray on the shoulders and sleeves from the rain that seeped into it. Wonwoo noticed the worker glaring at his friend for dripping on the floor and tried not to let his amusement show.

“Forgot your umbrella too?” he questioned Mingyu, “Hopefully your notebook didn’t get ruined.”

His friend looked to the bag he had hanging from his shoulder. The bag didn’t have a zipper, but it did have a flap that fell over the opening to keep it “closed” in a sense. He quickly shoved his hand inside, feeling around for his notebook. When he felt the edges of the paper and confirmed they were dry, he smiled, “All good. And why so early? That’s unusual.”

“I’m never late,” Wonwoo defended.

“Yeah, but if I tell you to be somewhere at ten a.m. you usually don’t walk in until nine fifty-eight.”

The older of the two shrugged, “Got an early start today.”

The two men began their work day, Wonwoo fine-tuning the settings on his camera to his liking while Mingyu made some preliminary notes in his notebook. They set up together in the lobby, but once the artist had arrived, Mingyu excused himself to greet her. Wonwoo stayed in the lobby, taking a couple of test pictures to see if anything else needed to be adjusted. Around him several museum workers, journalists, and other photographers were gathering with the artist. Wonwoo wasn’t the biggest fan of interacting with strangers, so he kept to himself. Luckily, he busied himself with his camera which was enough to keep people from disrupting him.

Once Mingyu returned to his friend, the two joined the growing crowd waiting by the entrance to the new exhibit where a ceremonial ribbon cutting was about to take place. Wonwoo found the ribbon to be a bit superfluous. Nonetheless, he stood towards the back of the small crowd, arms crossed and camera slung around his neck by its strap. He was hired to take some pictures of the event and the art pieces for Mingyu’s article, and that was it. It was somewhat easy money for him, but it did take more time and social interaction than he liked. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait for this to be over and go home to edit.

He watched you, the artist, get behind the ribbon and make your speech thanking everyone for showing up. He snapped a couple pictures as you thanked the museum for giving your art a home temporarily. After a few minutes, you ended your speech by giving a small spiel about how art was therapeutic to you and it should be for everyone else. He found himself subconsciously nodding in agreement, because photography was a form of therapy for him as well.

The ribbon was cut after your speech, and the congregation of guests entered the exhibit for the first time. Mingyu and Wonwoo brought up the rear, but they were just as astonished as every single person ahead of them when they saw the art on display. Several paintings of various mediums hung on the walls, varying in size. The large columns in the middle of the room also held paintings on them, each piece of art accompanied by a small plaque with information about it—like the title and date. Mingyu, just like the other journalists, was already jotting down notes in his book, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his pressed lips in concentration. Wonwoo peered around the room, simply taking everything in. His hands held his camera which was still hanging from his neck.

The two friends walked around together, patiently waiting for the other guests to continue on before taking their time in front of a piece to write or take pictures. As they got to the last few paintings, Mingyu made a comment about finding the bathroom, and that he would be back shortly. Wonwoo nodded and continued to snap a few pictures of the paintings before him. He came to a stop in front of a simple painting of sunflowers; the acrylic paint forming a kind of 3D effect on the canvas. He stared at that one for a moment longer than the rest of them, not for any particular reason, he supposed. It didn’t stand out from the others or anything, but he liked it for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Do you like sunflowers?”

Your voice startled him, though he didn’t show it. He merely turned to you, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as well as a small, polite smile, “They’re fine I guess.”

“This was one of my first pieces I made in art school,” you explained, and it was then he noticed it did indeed have the earliest date posted among all of the canvases in the room.

“It’s nice,” he said, “Congratulations, by the way. You’re very talented.”

Your face broke into a sweet smile despite that being the nth compliment of this morning. Each one felt like a gold star being rewarded to you, and it filled you with happiness. You gestured to his camera, “Do you work for a magazine?”

“Um, sort of,” he shrugged, “My friend does, he just has me shoot pictures for his articles.”

“Oh, I do remember seeing you with someone,” you remembered, “Um, the tall one with the gray shirt, right?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I haven’t gotten to speak with him in depth yet, do you know if he’ll be back soon?”

“He should be returning from the bathroom soon,” he replied. Usually Wonwoo was terrible at making conversation with strangers. He dreaded it. But you gave off such a comforting, welcoming energy. He found himself wanting to talk to you about, well, anything, “This weather isn’t too ideal for this occasion, isn’t it?”

“The rain?” you asked, “Yeah, it’s a bummer, but the turn out was great still. I didn’t think so many people would come.”

“Why’s that?” his brow raised slightly in curiosity.

“I didn’t think my art was special enough to warrant such an exhibit. One of my mentors from art school is friends with the head of the museum, and he asked him for a favor. He’s put a lot of time and faith in me, but I don’t think my art is worth such a grandiose gesture,” you spoke so casually, as if it was fact. Wonwoo found your confession to be a little disheartening. Sure, the art might not have the prestige to qualify for the MoMA or the Louvre, but to someone like him who casually enjoyed art, your work was impressive.

“Well, I’m glad he did. Your work is amazing,” Wonwoo was a man of few words, but he hoped the few he could give would bring you some reassurance. And for the moment it did. You smiled warmly, perking up further when Mingyu returned to the both of you.

“Hello again, would you be able to spare a few minutes with me?” he asked you, already getting his notebook and pen from his bag. You agreed, and the two of you began a conversation while Wonwoo continued to snap some photos of the last paintings. When he was done, he waited patiently for you and Mingyu to finish your conversation. Around ten minutes passed, and the crowd was fluctuating as some people left and some newcomers joined. Wonwoo watched the guests observe the art, getting some inspiration to take photos of them as well. He figured some candid pictures would look nice too. He even got one of you and Mingyu discussing the sunflower piece before he approached the two of you again.

The three of you talked for what felt like hours but in reality was only twenty minutes. At some point the conversation had veered from art to your social lives. Mingyu was a very sociable, outgoing person, so it didn’t take long for him to strike a casual conversation with you. He had learned that the three of you frequented the same coffee shop a few streets away.

“We’ll have to get coffee together some time,” you said, “Should we swap numbers?”

Mingyu happily did so, and the two of you swapped phones to add each others contacts. You made a comment about getting with some other journalists, but you promised to stay in touch before leaving the two men with a “thank you for coming!”.

The rain had cleared up by the time the two friends left the museum. They walked together to the bus stop across the street, waiting for the bus that would be passing shortly. While they waited, they talked about the notes Mingyu got and the shots Wonwoo took.

“She was really sweet,” Mingyu said with a smile, “She told me she didn’t have many friends in the city. We’ll have to take her out with our friends some time soon.”

“Sure,” was all Wonwoo responded absentmindedly, replying to a text from his brother.

“She was pretty, too,” Mingyu added in a suggestive tone.

That made Wonwoo look up from his phone with a pointed look, “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” his friend shrugged, but his expression was telling before his mouth was, “It’s just been a while since you’ve dated is all. You two seemed to be getting along well.”

The older man rolled his eyes, returning them to his phone as he opened Instagram and proceeded to scroll through his explore page, “I spoke to her for five minutes while you were in the bathroom. I’m not going to fall in love with her in five minutes.”

His friend sighed, “You’ll never fall in love if you’re not open to a potential relationship.”

Wonwoo got quiet then, and the conversation didn’t pick up again until shortly before the bus arrived. On the ride he thought about what Mingyu said. It was true, he hadn’t dated in a very long time, since college actually. Now that he was twenty-seven, it was getting harder and harder for him to find himself in a situation to meet someone. He rarely left his house. He spent his free time doing things alone, and when he did go out with his friends he stuck to them pretty closely. On top of all of that, he wasn’t the most approachable person. He wasn’t a cold person, or at least he didn’t consider himself one. But his looks gave the impression that he was, his sharp eyes and straight-drawn lips making him seem standoffish.

And unlike his friends, he didn’t believe in “love at first sight”. The idea of meeting someone for the first time and instantly being head over heels for them just didn’t connect with him. He didn’t understand how others felt that. When he dated in the past, it took weeks, even months to fall for the person he had a crush on. And he wasn’t necessarily upset with the way he lived; he didn’t mind being alone. Since he was a kid, he always felt more comfortable doing things by himself. But lately he realized his day-to-day did feel a little lonely, especially since most of his friends were settling down with their partners or moving away to pursue careers. Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he did need some kind of change.

The first time you hung out with the two men after meeting them at the museum, Mingyu had invited you to join them for lunch. The three of you ate Korean barbecue, learning a bit about each other over a few bottles of soju. Wonwoo didn’t do much talking that time, mostly speaking only when spoken to. You and Mingyu carried the conversations, not that either of you minded. You felt like Wonwoo would need time to open up to you, so you gave him that. Luckily, the two agreed to hang out with you again later in the week. Mingyu had to get some editing done, so he invited you and Wonwoo to keep him company at his apartment.

You were shocked when Wonwoo was the one to engage in conversation with you first, greeting you at the door and welcoming you in. He and Mingyu were preparing a simple dinner, so you sat at the kitchen island watching them cook. You noticed Wonwoo seemed more comfortable talking this time around. Maybe it was because you had hung out already, or maybe it was because he was in a familiar environment. Either way you liked seeing a little crack in the shell that kept his true personality shielded away from you.

Over a couple months the three of you became really close, and you had even met some of their other friends. Mingyu’s office wasn’t far from the art supply store you visited every week, so you made it a habit to visit him every Thursday on your supply runs. The two of you would get lunch or just sit in his office and talk during his break before you returned to your art studio. You really liked the friendship blossoming between you and the two men, but then one day something changed.

Wonwoo texted you out of the blue one Saturday mid-morning asking if you wanted to get some coffee with him. You found it odd that he texted you because he had never done that before. It was usually Mingyu who texted you, or they texted you in a group chat that you had together. Nonetheless, you responded with “of course!” and got dressed.

When you showed up to the café you were confused to see Wonwoo sitting at a two-seater table by himself. You noticed he looked like he put more effort into his appearance today. Normally when you hung out he was in lounging clothes—a simple shirt with sweatpants or maybe loose jeans. The only time you remembered seeing him dressed this nicely was the day you met, and he was working then. But he didn’t mention working today? So what could be the occasion for him to wear off-white pants, a mustard yellow sweater, and what looked like new shoes?

He was reading something on his phone when you approached him, the light from the screen reflecting on his thin-rimmed glasses. When you set your purse down, he looked up at you and gave you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hi, is Mingyu not joining?” you asked curiously as you sat across from him. You didn’t notice when the corners of his mouth wavered for a second.

“No, he’s working. You’re stuck with just me today,” he joked.

You chuckled softly, “Don’t make it sound so bad. Was there a reason you wanted to hang out today though? I have to say I was a little shocked when you texted me.”

It was Mingyu’s idea, but Wonwoo didn’t want to admit that. His friend had pointed it out that the two of you had never hung out alone. He figured it might help Wonwoo warm up to you more if you spent some time together one-on-one. And even though he didn’t say it out loud, Wonwoo knew Mingyu secretly wanted the two of you to work out romantically—for whatever reason, he wasn’t sure. Wonwoo wasn’t completely closed off to the idea; you were gorgeous and friendly. But he knew it wasn’t going to be an overnight thing. It took weeks for him to feel comfortable with you as a friend, he could only imagine the time it would take to start a romantic relationship.

“I, um, just realized we never got a chance to hang out alone. We don’t really know much about each other outside of our hang outs with Mingyu,” he said. In that moment he also realized how tense he felt. His legs were stiff and knees were drawn in close together under the table. His fingers toyed with the wrapper of his straw from his iced americano. His shoulders were drawn in the slightest bit, and he could feel his posture was kind of terrible. He tried to relax without making it look obvious that he was tense in the first place.

“Yeah, I guess I figured you just didn’t like to socialize as much as Mingyu did.”

“I don’t, but I’m trying to be better about that,” he admitted, and you felt like you might actually be getting somewhere with him, “He teases me a lot about being a hermit.”

You laughed softly, and he smiled with you, “Well, it’s nice to see you coming out of your shell.”

After an appreciative look from him, you excused yourself to order a drink. Wonwoo immediately opened his phone and texted Mingyu.

wonu 🐈‍⬛: ok i’m here, now what do we talk about?

gyu 🐶: well first, don’t be on your phone smh. second, just ask her questions about herself. seem interested. try not to look bored like you always do

Wonwoo sighed in annoyance, ignoring the last part of his message as he turned his phone over on the table. You returned shortly after, also with an iced americano. He decided to give his friend’s advice a try, “Do you always order iced americanos?”

“Only sometimes. My go-to is usually a hot latte, but it’s a bit warm for that today,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. He nodded in understanding, but he was unsure of what else to say. It was so much easier to converse with people you’ve been friends with for several years.

Luckily you had no issue with it, and you broke the awkward silence up for him, “How long have you been doing photography?”

“I’ve done it as a hobby since I was in high school, but after I graduated I started doing freelance work. So, almost ten years.”

“I’d love to see your work some time,” you spoke fondly, remembering the first time you met, “Your shots of my exhibit were amazing, so I can imagine the rest of your work is too.“

“My stuff doesn’t compare to the art you make,” he said it without even thinking. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a self-deprecating remark or flattery.

Your lips quipped into a thoughtful line before you derailed, “Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions?” Wonwoo joked, sitting back in his chair and sipping on his drink. The sunlight beamed directly across his right eye and onto his cheek. His eye was a deep chocolate brown color as opposed to the dark, cold, almost-black color it usually was. You wondered if his eyes were always that soft.

“Yeah, I’ve just decided. Your turn,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table, subtly leaning in as a sign of giving him all your attention. He fought the smile wanting to live on his lips, opting to look deep in thought. The two of you went back and forth for nearly half an hour, just asking each other questions. Some answers warranted tangents and story times before you went back to the questions, but you enjoyed it to the fullest. And truthfully, Wonwoo was too. He didn’t think he could get so much enjoyment from a game he used to play with his friends in grade school, yet here he was. On the verge of laughter as you told an embarrassing story from high school in which you were running late to school and didn’t realize until your second class that your underwear was stuck to the back of your shirt.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Wonwoo laughed softly, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose, “I would’ve dropped out of school.”

“I thought about it,” you joked, a bashful smile on your lips as you remembered the story like it happened yesterday, “But yeah, if you’re going to get your clothes from the dryer, double check that your under garments aren’t stuck to them first.”

“Noted,” Wonwoo looked over and noticed that a new couple was sitting at the table behind you. That was the second time new people sat right there. He wondered how long you two had been sitting, but he didn’t want to check his phone in case you got the impression that he was in a rush to leave. Which he definitely wasn’t, “Okay, I think it’s your turn again.”

“Okay, um . . . “ your eyes searched the room for a question prompt, but you were grasping for straws- Wait, that’s it. Straws. The cups of plastic-covered straws on the counter were organized by color, one cup for each color they offered—pink, blue, and yellow, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hm, why don’t you guess?” Wonwoo replied.

If he was honest, he didn’t really have a favorite color. He supposed if he considered it more he would settle for blue or purple, but he didn’t care enough either way. A good ninety-five percent of his wardrobe was black and five percent color, but he just liked black as a good neutral color to wear. He figured he would just let you guess until you decided to give up.

You thought about it for a moment, but no specific color came to mind immediately. His clothes were mostly black, but lots of people wore black clothing and had a favorite color that wasn’t black. His shirt was yellow as well as the straw for his americano, but there was no other indication that it would be his favorite color from what you could remember. Still, you figured it might be your best guess, “Yellow!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile at your prideful declaration. You said it as if you knew it for a fact.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, really?” your eyes got wide and the grin on your face grew wide. Did you really guess it correctly in one try?

Even Wonwoo was shocked by his answer. Yellow wasn’t his favorite color. He didn’t have one. But you seemed so excited and hopeful and sure of yourself that he didn’t even think twice about his answer.

“Yeah, good job,” he praised you, and he had to admit to himself you looked really cute when you clapped your hands together in a small celebration for yourself, “What’s yours?”

“Pink,” you seemed visibly brighter when you answered. It made sense to Wonwoo. Pink was such a cute, bright, outgoing color. It signified friendliness and sweetness, and all of that just screamed you. Maybe he liked pink too. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Everything I had was pink.”

“Pink suits you.”

You felt yourself flushing at the compliment, your smile turning sheepish, “I think yellow suits you, too. I’m picturing a nice pastel yellow for you. Very spring.”

He tried to picture it: him in a pastel yellow shirt. The mental image seemed foreign, since the mustard sweater he was currently wearing was the brightest color he had ever worn besides white. But he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“Alright, your turn.”

A few more questions were exchanged between you two, long after your cups were emptied. The patrons of the café that had been present when you showed up were long gone, and new faces took their places. After a while you felt a little guilty for hogging the table for so long, even though it had only been a little under two hours. Wonwoo made a comment about heading out, so you both got up and threw your trash. He walked with you to the bus station, even though he had driven to the café in his own car. You thanked him for inviting you to hang out and told him that you enjoyed it.

“We’ll have to do this again some time, but maybe not tell Mingyu. He might get jealous,” you teased your non-present friend, making Wonwoo laugh softly. He knew for a fact that Mingyu would have no problem with it; he would probably encourage it, if anything.

“I don’t think he’d mind. He’s not usually the jealous type,” Wonwoo replied, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. He tried to think of something you two could do together, and he recalled that during the twenty—more like fifty plus—questions you had said you liked video games too, “If you want, we could hang out at my apartment, play some video games. And order pizza or something?”

“That sounds like fun!” your eyes lit up at the idea. You had never actually been to his apartment before. Every time you hung out was at Mingyu’s place, your place, or somewhere in the city. You wondered what his apartment looked like. He seemed like the type to keep everything tidy and minimal, “I’ll be pretty busy this week, but maybe we can work something out for next weekend.”

“Cool,” he nodded and kept small talk until the bus arrived to pick you and a handful of other people up. He waved you off politely, and when you were out of sight, he let out a hefty sigh. It felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, but not in a bad way. He liked you, so there was this small, subconscious pressure that he felt to be more outgoing. He wanted you to like him too.

Over the next few weeks, there was a shift in the dynamic between the three of you, and it seemed to be obvious to everyone except Wonwoo. You and him had grown a lot closer as you started to hang out alone outside of your usual outings with Mingyu and their other friends. And it showed when the group was together. You always took the seat closest to Wonwoo. He laughed more at your jokes. You complimented his outfits—which were slowly but progressively becoming more colorful. He offered to walk you to your car or the bus or home whenever he could. Yet, still, when asked if anything was going on between you two, he seemed confused.

“It’s not like that,” he told Mingyu when the two were walking to a job they had booked one afternoon—a restaurant opening, “________ and I have gotten close, but not that close.”

“Hey, I know you wear glasses, but you can’t be this blind,” his friend retorted, “You two like each other.”

Wonwoo faltered a bit as he walked, but tried to play it off, “Did she say she liked me?”

“No, but she doesn’t need to. Neither do you, but as your best friend it would be nice if you told me these things.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, annoyed that Mingyu had made him think you had finally admitted having feelings for him.

“You two act like you’re in your own world all the time. The guys notice it, too, not just me,” Mingyu continued, “And since when do you like yellow so much?”

The question took Wonwoo so off guard that he laughed incredulously, “What?”

“She’s always giving you stuff that’s yellow. And you started wearing yellow clothes,” Mingyu pointed out. And it was true.

The first thing you had gifted him was a simple pen; it was a sunflower yellow color with black lettering etched on the side that said ‘hello, sunshine!’. He was confused when you had handed it to him that second time you hung out together to play video games. You showed up on his doorstep, telling him to close his eyes and put out his hands. When he had opened them again the pen was sat in his palms.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing, I guess. I was at the supply store and noticed it by the check out, and I thought about you. So I got it for you. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo honestly had no reason to use such a pen since his day-to-day work required little writing. And most of his notes were made in his phone, but the sentiment behind your gift made his heart flutter, “It is. Thank you, _______.”

And nearly every time after then you had gifted him things similar. While at the park with him and Mingyu, you bought him a banana flavored popsicle, solely for the fact that it was yellow—and you were relieved to find out he liked the banana flavor. When you went bowling with their friends, you gave him the yellow ball and left yourself with the last one which was brown. When you went to Mingyu’s to see the two of them, you had brought them each a keychain from a new pop-up shop that was near your art studio. You gave Mingyu a red one that had a soccer ball on it while Wonwoo’s was yellow and had a sunflower on it. You had initially got it because of its color, but the flower reminded you of the day you met him, so it held even more sentiment.

And recently, Wonwoo’s favorite water bottle had broken, so while you were out shopping you had found one that was similar to it. The cap was a little different, but it had the same shape and size, and it was a golden yellow hue.

When you gave it to him, the two of you were about to leave his apartment to get some dinner at the fried chicken place down the street. You had mentioned that you had a surprise for him, then you fished the bottle out of your tote bag to show him. His heart skipped a beat and a smile crept onto his lips when he saw it.

“I know you probably won’t love it as much as your other bottle, but hopefully you still like it,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He took it from your offering grasp and shook his head.

“I do love it,” he said.

“You can leave it here while we go eat,” you turned towards the door, pulling your bag more securely onto your shoulder. But just before you could reach for the doorknob, Wonwoo’s voice called your name, making you turn back to face him, “Hm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized he was a lot closer than you thought, just a foot or so away from you. His tall frame seemed to tower over you, causing you to have to look up at him. You could see a struggle happening behind his eyes, as if he was going back and forth in his mind trying to decide on something. You were about to question him when suddenly he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to your cheek. The skin that he touched felt hot in his wake, the warmth spread across your face and ultimately your whole body felt heated under his gaze.

“Thank you, ________. For everything,” he spoke softly, his anxiety apparent in his tone. He averted his gaze, looking down at his hands. A bracelet that you had bought him last week was wrapped around his wrist—white beads and yellow smiley face charms decorating it. For some reason seeing the jewelry gave him the little boost of confidence he needed to ask, “Would you like to make this a date?”

Your eyes widened even further, but you couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies going wild inside your chest, their fluttering wings tickling your heart. Your crush on Wonwoo had started long before his crush on you had formed, but that didn’t bother you. Because you knew that he liked you now, and you couldn’t pass the opportunity to say, “Yes.”

A charming smile grew wide on his face, prompting you to grin too. Happiness bloomed inside you, and the two of you walked out of the apartment suddenly feeling shy after wordlessly admitting your feelings for each other. Despite his nerves, though, Wonwoo found the courage to take your hand in his as you walked down the sidewalk to the fried chicken place.

Along the way you pointed out some yellow canola flowers planted outside of an office building, and Wonwoo decided in that moment that he would never get tired of the color yellow. The way your face lit up when you saw it or gave him yellow-themed gifts, he would always find it cute. As far as he was concerned, the entire world could be covered in the color yellow, and he would be content just knowing it made you happy. He no longer would appreciate rain; instead, he would look forward to sunny days when the bright, yellow sunlight would remind him of you and your kind heart. Maybe yellow wasn’t his favorite color at first but, over time, it would be.

— please like, reblog, and/or leave a comment! i appreciate your feedback! 🧸

— join my taglist here

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ownedbyfictionalwomen · 9 months

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would you like to write something like:

modern abby and her best friend are both working on their athletic careers but trying to always be there for each other!

until one day- volleyball player! reader had an important game and abby forgot about it, going out with her friends after her training session! but when she goes (running) to the place of the match there's no one other than a sad reader (her team lost) and they start arguing but then abby kisses her 😔

[thank you for everything you post 🤍 wish you a lot of happiness (and yes i'm in love with your acc)]

would i like to write something like this??? ughhhhh... yes please, baby. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to the request... i have just been in such a rut recently but sexy abby anderson can always break me out of it.

let's go :)

warnings: fem!reader, alcohol, love, mutual pining, tongue sucking and some making out, an ass grab, boobie talk, a baseball reference

the match wasn't going the way you wanted needed it to. it didn't matter how many points you won, the other team just seemed to do one better... and it was eating at you.

and what was worse? you couldn't see her in the crowd.

abby. your best friend. your personal cheerleader. nowhere to be seen. and that somehow felt worse than all of your hard work training for this match going to waste.

the referee blew her whistle long and hard, signalling the end of the game as the other side of the net erupted into cheers and celebrations, and it broke your heart. you had lost before, you were a well-seasoned athlete in your last year of college, a professional contract just out of reach, but each loss hurt just as bad as the one before it.

but if a loss was a broken heart, a forgotten promise was your heart being ripped out; she swore she would be here, at the back of the bleachers where she usually sat, her fingers crossed in the hope that you would once again lead your team to victory. instead, she was...

---

... at the fucking bar. her teammates all crowded around a table, pizzas and vodka-sodas covering the expanse of the dark wood as they all celebrated a successful practice and a week free from competition.

abby had gone a little too hard, she and her co-captain jokingly practicing their victory speeches and doing a shot or two of tequila before falling into an easy yet slightly slurred chat.

"so, you going to that party becky was talking about tomorrow?" abby asked, throwing her pizza crust onto the tray in front of them and taking another drink from the waitress who offered her one.

"you mean the party on friday?" her friend laughed, jokingly sliding abby's drink away from her, hinting at the fact that abby might have had a little too much.

she couldn't help the chuckle that burst out of her lungs at (what she thought was) a joke.

"yeah, tomorrow." abby paused, her eyes widening, "tomorrow is friday."

"abs... tomorrow is thursday," was what she heard, solidifying her nightmare.

but it still took abby a good 30 seconds to take in the news, and another 30 seconds to realise the grave mistake that she had made; wednesday, your match. shit.

---

the steel of the door smashed against the palms of her hands as she flung the sports hall's door open, rushing inside and making it only to the edge of court before she saw you, head in your hands and weeping. if abby listened closely enough, she could hear your quiet sniffles.

"everyone else's friends managed to come," you rushed out, albeit quietly, only just lifting your head enough to meet her eyes, "so you better have a damn good excuse."

abby dropped her head, her right hand automatically sliding around the back of her neck to try to expel some of her awkwardness and guilt. she didn't say anything, she couldn't, because she had no reason good enough for upsetting her best friend.

"nevermind. i can smell the fucking tequila from here." you raised your voice, letting your anger take control as you shoved your sports bag onto your shoulder and made to leave, only making it two steps before abby came up behind you, grabbing your wrist.

"i have no excuse, okay? i forgot, and i'm sorry." choosing the honesty route, she let the words hang in the air behind you, your eyes still pointed away from her.

"we lost, abby." the anger that was once at the wheel wasn't there for long as your earlier disappointment floated back into your head. you stepped back into abby's chest as she laid her chin on top of your head and wrapped an arm around your chest, your back plastered to her front.

"i'm so sorry, honey."

"i needed you here, abs." you whispered, turning around in her embrace to look into her eyes, your arms instinctively going around her waist, holding her closer.

it happened slowly: that first look down at your lips, stealing the words off her tongue as she shot her eyes back up to yours, seeing that they too were now pointing down slightly. and then she couldn't stop herself from leaning in closer, and closer, until your mouths touched gently, your recently glossed lips sliding over hers.

she had once thought about your first kiss, thinking it would never come but hoping so desperately that it would. it would be soft and slow and tender- and it was all of those things, for the first ten seconds.

and then abby felt your hand slip into her hair behind her braid and your breasts squish against her hard chest, your nipples grazing against hers through your sports bras.

you made abby lose it; sucking her tongue into your mouth and sucking on it, tasting her desperately as her hands slid to your ass, squeezing roughly and making you yelp and lose contact.

"okay okay, wait," you said, a hand on abby's chest, keeping her at bay. "i'll forgive if you let me go to third base."

abby laughed, out of breath, "i don't play baseball but you can eat me out."

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #hann answers

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steviewashere · 4 months

Text

Words Like A Bullet, Wounding My Soul

(also on ao3)

This is Part One, Part Two is Posted Here!

CW: Implied/Referenced Sex, Safeword Use (No Smut, Though) Rating: Teen

WC: 2,543

Tags: Post Vecna, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Arguing, Eddie Being Mean, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Insecure Eddie Munson, Insecure Steve Harrington, Safeword Use, NO SMUT, Using a Safeword While Arguing, Hard of Hearing Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

----------------- Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington were two forces not to be reckoned with. Everybody knew this. If Eddie was snippy and rough and loud—then people zipped their lips, threw away the key, and sat on their hands. If Steve was cold and distant and biting with every word—then the others knew to be warm and inviting and leave the past in the past.

These were known facts.

It was also known that Eddie and Steve were a pair. They were gentle with each other and all soft and gooey around the edges. Often, they'd circulate each other in public—skimming fingertips over backs of hands, sharing straws because somebody "forgot" to grab another—or behind the privacy of closed doors—entangled on the couch during movie nights and washing dishes after large dinners and exchanging quiet glances that everyone knew meant, "Horny and Impatient."

But they definitely knew how to choke each other out. Insecurities ran deep and were easy to point out. Like mold on bread slices.

So it makes perfect senes that they constantly argued, too. Usually mundane situations. Things like: "Ugh, Steve! It's my turn to choose what we watch, enough with the basketball!" and "Eddie, stop leaving your dishes strewn about!" and "No, I'll pick up everybody and drop them off!" Though, these were quickly resolved. A deep breath taken, a compromise made, and a few warm pecks exchanged.

However, on a slow Thursday evening in the middle of November, things go haywire.

They've been neck at neck for hours. Biting back and forth about the usual. The dishes. Your sports game. No, I'll do this. No, I can do it. Yet, everything comes crashing down the moment Eddie says:

"God, you're being so stupid!" Shouted and spitting. He's red faced and wild. His body lanky and petrifying the way a molten skeleton in some very graphic thriller movie would be.

Steve stops where he's been pacing in the living room. Now glancing back over to Eddie on the couch. "What?" he asks in a quiet, shaking voice. He doesn't remember anything about the argument, but he can definitely hear the way Eddie's voice echoes now. Doesn't know where the snarky remarks were going, how they dissolved now into this.

This being the two of them several feet apart in the same room. Not looking at each other, trying to find the most convenient and decorated corner of the Harrington's living room. Spitting and biting and growling.

"You're being so stupid!" Eddie shouts again. "I feel like every time I try to explain something to you, I'm just talking to a brick wall! Do you even listen to me? Or are you just a fucking space cadet all the time?" He runs a frustrated hand down his face, pulling at his features exaggeratingly. "For once, I wish you'd listen to me, just once!"

There's a tense moment where Steve just stands rigid and Eddie must take this as some sort of confirmation. Because he hefts himself up from the couch and makes his way around the coffee table to where Steve is just standing. A bony finger stabs into Steve's chest. Eddie closes in, voice low and husky. Face centimeters away, eyes lit with ingenuine mirth and teeth glinting in the shape of fangs. "See?" he questions lowly. "Can't even fucking give me an answer."

And something finally wakes up in Steve. He takes a wobbling step back, feeling cold air rush around him. "Wh-what? Of course I listen to you. I just—"

"You just what?" Eddie raises. His voice itching to be loud and louder. "You just listen to what you want to hear? Want me to call you pretty names and tell you how good you are and how excited I am to see you?" he taunts. "But when it's something I care about—"

Steve flinches at his wording.

"—when it's something I care about, you just can't bother," Eddie growls. "If it isn't fascinating to you, then you just tune me out. Your brain fucking implodes and shrivels back down to being jock sized and empty." He takes a hefty step forward, once again in Steve's orbit. A palm raises in Steve's line of sight, it shoves hard at his chest. Not sending him to the floor, but stumbling enough that he wheezes from the impact.

Eddie moves again to try it once more, to make Steve feel small.

But, Steve sidesteps him. "That's not true," he tries to argue, but it sounds too soft and tiny to be anything. "You were talking about D&D and I tried to follow along, but you know how I am with that stuff. It doesn't—"

"It doesn't connect," Eddie mocks. "Fuck you, Harrington. I've heard that a million times before and each one of those times, I've explained this shit to you. Over and over and—"

"Fuck me?! Fuck you, Eddie!" Save finally screams back. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're being such an asshole, you know how I am with being called du—"

Eddie scoffs. "Oh, so for years, you and your little pack of high school bullies can mock me for shit. Call me names. Toss me around. And the one time I finally call you out on this, it's suddenly too much?!" he roars. "You're so—" He grunts, groans, screams nearly.

"Stop, Eddie," Steve demands. Tome firm first.

But Eddie barrels on anyway. "You're such a dick. You think everything revolves around you. You don't care for anything I have to say. You—"

"Stop," Steve pleads.

"You don't really care for anybody around you, do you?" he questions darkly. "'Just wanted to help,' my ass. Just wanted to clear your name, more like. Am I right? And now you're just stuck here, fucking jumping to whatever conclusions you want, following the wording you want to hear—"

"Red!" Steve screams. "Red, red, red!" he shouts before turning towards the couch and sitting down heavily. Head in his hands, fingers pulling at the hair around his ears. His throat feels like it's on fire and his head is pounding and there's definitely tears threatening to pour from his eyes. Peeking between the gap of his palms, the carpet is a mirage of blended colors, not a single one making a complete picture. But he can't look up from it. Not after having to practically safeword out of an argument.

Eddie is now startled into silence. His body turns to face his boyfriend. Where he sits, shaking and choking on quiet sobs. There's a brief moment where Eddie can literally feel his heart parachute to his stomach. Can hear the sizzling of his organ and the rush of his own blood. He's never heard Steve get loud like this. Usually he's so quiet and pensive and passive aggressive, but this, this is a new side. And Eddie doesn't like it at all.

It was common between them to try new things out and see what pleasure can be derived. And if things were taken too far or something immediately felt off-putting or terrible, they were allowed to exit the scene at any time. The stoplight system. Their shared word being "Asparagus." Things that could easily be heard and shut down everything at once, forcing them into a gentle lull where they share whispered praises and warm compliments and careful touches with a soft rag or just fingers.

So it's not unusual for Eddie to hear it. He's had to comfort Steve after a few scenes. And Steve's done the same for him.

What gets him is the context now. How tense the room feels, like walking into an already heated up sauna. Like walking into a hot tub set to one thousand degrees, in nothing—absolutely nothing.

And even though they’re fighting, Eddie’s immediate care kicks into overdrive. He forces his body to skitter over to the couch, plop down by Steve’s side, and reach out to rub a palm over his back. But when his skin makes contact, Steve flinches away.

“Don’t fucking touch me right now,” he growls. And when his eyes look deep into Eddie’s, there’s something tragic there. “You—You don’t get to say shit like that to me and then try to—Try to,” he chokes. A sob caught between a gag and a phlegm cough cracks open from his chest. “I don’t understand what I did wrong,” he cries out.

Eddie is once again quiet, keeping his hands to himself. Running them nervously over his thighs. It takes everything in him to not reach out and scoop Steve up and run fingers through his hair. He swallows and breathes. Opting to not respond. Maybe this will teach him to shut his mouth, for once.

Steve cries loud and harsh. And Eddie bears witness to it all. The contortion of his body, the reddening of his skin, the pulling of his hair, especially the wailing that’s spilling from his closing throat.

“I was listening,” Steve hiccups. “I was, I swear. I didn’t—“ His breath stutters through his next inhale. Lip sucking inwards when he does attempt a deep breath; it’s not like it lasts, merely only sitting in his lungs for three seconds before punching back between them. “I couldn’t hear you!” He exclaims.

There’s no residual anger in Steve’s tone, though Eddie thinks there should be. God, he feels like a pile of shit just for the way Steve is holding himself right now. How his body is giving up on him. The way he continues to writhe through each stabbing cough and sob and gag and—He just feels like shit.

Though, alarms are going off in Eddie’s head. What Steve just said, that doesn’t make any sense. They were facing each other. They were sitting only two inches apart, practically every open area of skin clinging to one another. For a moment, Eddie once again feels anger spike through him. But the other part of him is overcome with deep concern, rippling in his blood, pouring out in the way his eyes widen and his eyebrows furrow and his mouth shifts downturned.

“You couldn’t hear me?” He parrots.

Steve nods his head. A bobblehead who’s spring is wound too loose, head flopping almost over its shoulders. “I—I was going to tell you, I swear. But I—You were talking and talking and I couldn’t read your lips because that’s really hard and you talk super fast and when you talk fast you mumble and—“ He gags. Slams his back behind into the couch, head dropping over the curved edge. He blinks rapidly, swallows so aggressive that his Adam’s apple appears to be plunging from behind his tongue. A deep breath, short lived. Two more deep breaths and they wheeze through him, but it must be enough because he carries on. “And then you got mad and you were so mean and I swear I was listening, I was interested, I just didn’t understand. And you get so tired of having to reexplain things that I didn’t want to ask and then you got even more mad and now—I was listening, I swear!” He cries out once more.

In response, Eddie’s jaw is dropped slack. He couldn’t hear me, he realizes. Genuinely, really.Scrambling, he whispers, “And I got mad and I called you stupid and then…” And then he called red, you idiot, Eddie self-chastises.

God, he is really a steaming back of flaming dog shit.

Taking another breath, Steve exhales with, “I was listening.” He tilts his head to look directly at Eddie. Eyes open and pleading. Begging to be understood. “I’m losing my hearing, Eds. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t—I didn’t get the chance. And then you were—“

“I was being mean. I was being an asshole. I wasn’t listening to you,” Eddie lists off. “I was doing the things that I accused you of,” he realizes.

Steve nods against the back of the couch. Blinking and blinking and swallowing and trembling.

“Oh my god, you couldn’t hear me, you couldn’t understand me,” Eddie whispers. Suddenly, he shoots upwards. Nearly startling Steve into another frantic round of panic. “How long, Steve?”

“Since March,” Steve admits, almost shamefully. “My head slammed into the wall inside of the Creel house and I ended up with another concussion. And that was the start of it,” he elaborates. “It’s just been going from there.”

As he talks, Eddie begins to silently cry. And when Steve’s done, Eddie sobs.

“And this entire time…Oh my god,” he mumbles. “Oh my god,” he repeats. Choking through his next breath. “Baby—“ Steve perks up at that. “—Baby why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Steve shrugs. “Everybody else had it worse off. It didn’t seem important.” He sniffs. “Guess now it kind of is though, right?” A humorless chuckle. “If that’s how you’ve been thinking of me.”

Damn him, Eddie thinks. Damn him and stu—and his unnecessary self-sacrificial nature. “Sweetheart, you’re not stupid. I swear, you’re not stupid. Steve, you are one of the most intelligent people I have ever had the fortune of coming across. You know just what to say, when to say it. You’ve got that interest in classic literature, which I fucking adore by the way. And you know almost too much about any sport in the world. That’s—Your sport stuff is like D&D for me.

“God, you’re not stupid. Not by a mile. I just—I’ve always been treated like shit for the things I like. And I know that’s not an excuse, it’s just the way I’ve had to adapt and grow, y’know?” He asks rhetorically. “If I got defensive and angry and vicious, then people left me alone. And I could enjoy my stuff in peace. But when I tried to share the things I liked, people were fast to tune me out and shrug me off.” Eddie slowly inches in again, gauging Steve’s reaction. When he doesn’t flinch, but instead moves close, Eddie shoves a hand into the back of his hair and slings his other arm over Steve’s lap. Thumb rubbing at Steve’s denim thigh. He says, “You’ve never been stupid. I just thought you didn’t care. Nobody has ever cared about me the way you care about me, I swear it.”

Steve nuzzles in closer. He breathes against Eddie’s neck. Murmurs, “Everything you like is special to me. And I want to be able to understand. I’m trying.”

“I know baby, I see that now,” Eddie whispers. “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you previously and today. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

He squeezes Steve tighter. An attempt to meld their bodies into one.

“I love you so much, Steve. We’re going to figure something out. Learn a language or raise some money for a hearing aid, whatever you want.”

Against Eddie’s chest, Steve nods. “I love you too,” he whispers. Presses a kiss over Eddie’s left pec. “You’re gonna have to show me though.”

“Whatever you fucking want, Steve. You can have anything you want from me.” And he can feel the smirk against his neck. But Eddie is willing and able to give. “Take anything you want from me.”

----------------- Part Two is Here!

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #arguments and making up #arguments #hard of hearing steve harrington #established relationship

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box— Quinn Hughes Edition (Part Two)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: one

next: three

*** this is still attached to my trevor penalty box series so there will be connections and like when they play together it’ll probably be one post on the trevor one. so y/n is dating trevor and quinn is best friend

ps 103 votes and over 90% a yes for this?? i must give the people what they want ;)

THURSDAY, MARCH 2, 2023

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes, and 5,483 others

yourusername here by popular demand: welcome to my postgame penalty box update: quinn hughes addition! after he was a rude head to jason robertson on monday, he was an angel against the wild! (heck the wild, though. he should’ve been a menace) my second greatest enemy has returned to his place as my #1 best friend with 1 game without going into the house of sin💙 proud of you huggy bear!!!

tagged _quinnhughes

view all 388 comments

_quinnhughes i didn’t ask to be apart of this but thank you?

yourusername you’re very welcome quinnathan<3 (ps i have to do this i’m giving the fans what they want)

_quinnhughes do you though?

yourusername YES QUINNATHAN and as my BEST FRIEND you’re supposed to support me in every endeavor!!

jackhughes @/yourusername I FORGOT YOU CALL HIM THAT HA! HI QUINNATHAN

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes i’ll end you

lhughes_06 proud of you quinnathan!

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 please no

user1 FINALLY

user2 they really hoed us on the broadcast there was hardly any quinn screen time :(

trevorzegras first his own scrapbook now THIS?! i’m appalled.

_quinnhughes “now playing “get over it” by the eagles” ~y/n to alex at some point

_alexturcotte that’s a true statement

yourusername yeah what i said^^^ love you,always, my z🧡

trevorzegras @/yourusername sounds fake but i love you, forever

user3 BACKWARDS HAT QUINN! I REPEAT BACKWARDS HAT QUINN

jackhughes so proud of you big bro🥰💙🥹

yourusername he’s doin so good skatin and shit

jackhughes the best

_quinnhughes i don’t like this

user4 i’m screaming please let this be a regular thing

user5 okay but what’s the plan for the canucks vs ducks game?

yourusername chaos. the plan is chaos.

lhughes_06 my hero💙💚💙

yourusername he’s such an inspiration

trevorzegras i aspire to be like him

_quinnhughes i’m not having a good time

yourusername @_quinnhughes don’t be silly! of course you are!

_eliaspettersson legend

yourusername truly

#penalty box series #penalty box series: quinn hughes edition #quinn hughes #quinn hughes insta edit #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #trevor zegras #jack hughes #luke hughes #vancouver canucks #nhl imagine #nhl #trevor zegras x reader

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theneighborhoodwatch · 1 month

Note

002 - Popstar, Franklydear and whatever we call what Wally and Home have going on

(send me a character/ship to hear my thoughts)

i've gotten Multiple asks about all of these pairings, so let's not waste anymore time. under the cut bc unsurprisingly this got Long.

POPSTAR

when or if I started shipping it: i think it first Really started with this pokemon AU post clown made talking about what he thought they'd be up to in that universe... the language he uses in that post really caught my eye, and it just kinda snowballed from there, especially as canon started picking up and we saw more of them interacting 1-on-1.

my thoughts: i feel like we don't really get a lot of yuri in this specific Type of horror (i.e. cute thing is secretly fucked up), at least not in the west. i think that's a crying shame, but i believe popstar has the potential to truly open the floodgates. unless i'm forgetting herstory - idk i feel like there's definitely some rpgmaker game out there that'll prove me wrong but you know what i mean. more mascot horror yuri NOW.

What makes me happy about them: i think it's super cute that they both kinda geek out whenever one of them asks the other for help, like they're being asked by this big huge celebrity and not, like. their literal next door neighbor lol. sally in particular - as bullheaded as she is, her insistence on trying to put poppy in the spotlight more often isn't because she thinks poppy is untalented and needs to train up, but because she genuinely thinks poppy is Just That Stunning And Talented And Beautiful, and doesn't want that to go to waste. nepotism has never looked so romantic <3

What makes me sad about them: sally seems to enlist poppy's help Way more than poppy does sally's, and while sally clearly Wants to take poppy seriously, she has a hard time not immediately brushing off other's concerns in general because She's An Auteur, Dammit, She Knows What She's Talking About. it does make me very worried for poppy! i think things between them are gonna get Way worse before they get better lol. not dysfunctional enough to be toxic yuri but certainly painful enough that it will Get Me when it happens.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: THAT NOBODY WRITES IT

Things I look for in fanfic: MORE OF IT

My kinks: again, serious in-depth answers go on the nsfw blog only. i will say i think they're definitely those people who keep trying to set up roleplay scenes only to get distracted by trying to figure out the technical aspects and/or getting so in-character that they forgot what the end goal was.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: poppy partridge if you read this im free on Thursday night and would like to hang out. Please respond to this and then hang out with me on Thursday night when I’m free.

My happily ever after for them: after a series of trials and tribulations, complete with at least one breakup arc, the two of them reconcile in an appropriately dramatic apology-that-looks-suspiciously-like-a-marriage-proposal scene. i don't really know what happens after that. i was going to say they go on to become lesbian statler and waldorf, but i think they would both be too invested in trying to give actual constructive criticism, so maybe they just mst3k it instead.

FRANKLYDEAR

when or if I started shipping it: i dunno! i don't remember ever being opposed to the ship, but there was definitely a period of time where my approach to it was more "hmmm i wonder what this ship being canon means for welcome home's Themes" and less "ough fuck they make me so sick," as opposed to the current day where it's a pretty even mix of both.

my thoughts: god what haven't i said about them. i think i peaked with this post. i don't think anything i say can summarize the appeal of their relationship to me more succinctly than that.

What makes me happy about them: when it comes to eddie, frank is like. frank is so fucking funny bc he seems to be under the impression that he's being subtle. yeah get mad whenever anyone who isn't you makes fun of that beautiful big breasted mailman to the point where you'll even defend his honor in the merch advertisements and also when you Do make fun of him be sure to be gentler than you would be with almost anyone else but also don't let up entirely bc then you won't get to see him be adorably flustered and also enforce a surname-only basis with him so people don't think you're getting too chummy but ALSO drop the surname-only basis whenever he seems genuinely upset to let him know that you're worried about him and want to help. and also do this in front of everyone at a holiday party. nobody will suspect a thing. and the best part is that IT WORKS ON EDDIE. EDDIE ALSO THINKS FRANK IS COOL AND TRUSTWORTHY AND RELIABLE ENOUGH THAT HE AUDIBLY/VISIBLY RELAXES WHENEVER FRANK ENTERS A SCENE.

What makes me sad about them: EDDIE'S ASS IS NOT PREPARED FOR THE DAY THAT IT'LL BE FRANK IN THE PROVERBIAL LOVESEAT OF TORMENT. arguably neither is frank but like given how eddie saw frank at the end of the homewarming special? it's going to FUCK him up.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: when i click on the eddie dear/frank frankly tag. and i filter out all mentions of wally darling. i should not still be seeing wally darling. do u understand. get that little yellow cunt OUT of here!!!!!!!

Things I look for in fanfic: pre-established relationship hurt/comfort or angst. i realize i may be alone in my interpretation of franklydear as not being Together together yet, but i am stubborn.

My kinks: i wonder how many times i can say "ask for my nsfw blog" without it getting old.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: GOOD QUESTION. i don't think either of them would particularly struggle to find a partner if they didn't end up with each other, but i also can't see either of them being attracted to any of their other neighbors.

My happily ever after for them: these two images specifically. in general they should get to be huge cornballs for at least a little while should they successfully endure The Horrors.

HOME AND WALLY. HOMEWALLY? WALLYHOME? WHO KNOWS.

when or if I started shipping it: an old friend of mine made a joke about it once in 2022, waaaay before there was any like, huge fandom presence outside of a few scant discord servers. i thought about it too hard and now i'm here.

my thoughts: romantically or not, THEY ARE SOOOOO DOOMED, DUDE. THEY ARE SO FUCKING DOOMED. and i don't mean, like, "yeah they have some stuff that makes their current relationship less than ideal but i'm sure they can work things out ^-^" no i mean DOOMED. there's only one way this relationship can end and it is in BLOOD and TEARS. and i will be there with a tissue box and a big ol' bucket of popcorn. i've written about them so much on this blog already but by god i will write more.

What makes me happy about them: the obsessive aspect to their relationship, like. it feels very mutual. it would be so easy to make home coldly imposing 24/7 and/or just have them be taking advantage of wally's love for them, but. no. they seem just as attached to their inhabitant as he is to them, for better or worse. i get a lot more mileage out of a relationship where both parties Love each other and desperately want to be all-encompassing for one another in All aspects of relationships, but live in a reality where that simply cannot be, and their relationship is wildly unhealthy as a result. home is a monument to a past that either never existed or cannot be revived without Severe consequences. but wally doesn't care about that. all wally cares about is that he is his home. see also: this post.

What makes me sad about them: [copypastes the entire above paragraph]

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: most wally/home fic is either pure crackfic or fic in which home gets hit hard with the ron the death eater treatment. like jesus, he's already pretty morally ambiguous in canon by just Standing There, you don't need to make him an actual rapist to establish that his and wally's relationship isn't exactly ideal.

Things I look for in fanfic: i don't look for it because i've pretty much given up on it being there at all, but i hope more folks write some actual character study-adjacent stuff about them some day!

My kinks: i do have actual answers to this but no way am i stating them here. again, i have a separate blog for that.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE.

My happily ever after for them: you know that's not gonna happen.

#mobileleprechaun #ask #welcome home #popstar #franklydear #whatever wally and home have going on #....is there a ship tag for that actually #no there is not

22 notes · View notes

nonobadcat · 2 years

Note

I’m not sure if this is a good idea, but AFO as a college professor. Imagine this: reader is a senior the top of her class, but she is really stressed and tired from all the pressure from her peers as well as her boyfriend cheating on her, and so when AFO finds reader sobbing her eyes out near the dorms, unable to stand up cause she’s as drunk as a skunk, he decides to sweep her away to *ahem* relive some of her tension.

Btw, I loved the merman AFO post, keep up the good work, your writing is amazing!!!

Hands-On Instruction

College Professor AFO X Graduating Senior Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.5k

(Masc!Reader Version - Available Here)

Rating: 18+ Readers only

Content Warnings: Dubcon (alcohol/manipulation), size kink, implied stalking, PnV with mild mating press, a metric ton of romanji Japanese dialogue, unsafe relations with creampie, unhealthy power dynamics between professor and former student

Please note: This story will contain numerous conversations in Japanese which has been phonetically spelled out using the Latin alphabet. The author does not have any formal education in Japanese. Resources used are listed in the end notes.

Translations of the Japanese language dialogue can be found here

Sometimes, dirty dishes are more clairvoyant than crystal balls.

In retrospect, your afternoon began to sour when your boyfriend brought his frat brothers over for a “little pre-gaming” before their “last hurrah” party. They swarmed your quiet apartment, draping themselves across the furniture like locusts over a wheat field. Though Caleb swore it would be a “casual thing”, the thirty-two pack in the fridge implied more human interaction than you could handle. Still, trying to be the “chill” girlfriend, you schooled your face in a mask of placid contentment. As the noise level climbed decibel by decibel, your eye began to twitch.

Biting back both your thoughts and your thumbnail, you didn't notice the splash of water in the cheap, stainless sink. Raw, exhausted eyes were too busy scanning your half written speech for the five hundredth time to catch his furrowed brow. Ringing ears ignored the low huff that pinched between his clenched teeth. What you did catch was Caleb’s snide jeer to his friends.

"Yeah, sorry the place is such a mess. These dishes have been sitting here for weeks."

To his credit, he was correct about the flower vase. You'd bought yourself the roses three weeks ago when you'd been officially declared valedictorian of your university's graduating class. Using sugar, bleach and internet instructions, you helped them limp along as long as cut flowers could. When they molded beyond salvation, you’d thrown them away. Your boyfriend never asked what they were for.

Caleb was wrong about the coffee mugs. Five days ago, when you buckled down on your speech, they'd been whisked out of the cabinet and abused with cup after cup of liquid wakefulness. Fat lot of good it'd done you. Graduation was only four days away, the stupid thing was half written, and Caleb had teased you about your eye bags this morning.

…but really! The pancake batter bowl was only ten hours old. He should know. You got up early to make them so he could help “the brothers” with the party decorations. He had no right to complain about you using too many dishes. After all, pancakes were the first thing you'd eaten since Thursday night. Unfortunately, in your brain dead state, you forgot to add the sugar. Every last one of the flapjacks tasted like couch foam and frustration. Caleb had rolled his eyes and told you to pay more attention.

While all those little things hurt, these new words hit like a cannonball to the gut. Your mouth snapped open, but at the sight of his guests, bitter protests flailed on your tongue. The crack of your computer lid slamming shut out sounded any gunshot. You cringed and glanced at the group. Not one of them, including Caleb, turned your way.

Bile burned your throat. Head down, you excused yourself to the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind you. When your hands touched the computer keys, your saliva turned into cotton and your fingers into lead. The digital clock flicked from number to number. Tense shoulders locked into hard knots. Black text swam in and out of focus. Burning salt stung your eyes before blazing down your nose. As you stared at the blinking cursor, aluminum cans crinkled in the background.

It was only when the front door banged shut that you realized the party had moved on without you.

Caleb led the pack, swinging himself around with a raucous laugh. When one of his brothers pointed to your bedroom window, your boyfriend waved his hand. His words cut through the glass before slicing straight into your heart.

“Don’t bother talking to her. She’s too busy.”

Oh. It was on.

Furious and ferocious, you threw yourself into your closet. What to wear tonight? It needed to say “college party” but with that “I want attention” bite. Slutty co-ed? Nah… the pleats needed pressed and you weren’t feeling the iron. Kohl liner goth? Meh… If you were drinking, jacking around with fishnets in the toilet sounded like a hassle. Sweater puppy bimbo? Too humid for that much knit. Crack-my-glowstick ravecore? Not enough black lights. Bodycon babe? Please. It’s not like you were fundraising in the Ivy Leagues.

After three minutes of clawing through the nest of clothing, gossamer polyester slipped through your fingers.

Dark academia? Perfect.

Wiggling into a belted black mini skirt, you smoothed the asymmetrical ruffle hem. Petite brass buttons lined your creamy chiffon blouse, trailing past the thin ribbon necktie to the top of a frilled mandarin collar. Golden hour slipped into twilight as purple haze painted the spring sky. Whistling at yourself in the mirror, you paused to snap a photo of waterproof war paint and flawless hair. With the snap of a deadbolt, glossy black heels clicked out the door.

Ten minutes later, you turned the corner of "Greek Street" with a swing to your hips. Strutting in time with the throbbing beat, you crunched down the crumbling cement walkway and climbed the freshly painted steps. Wrapping both columns of the Greek revival house, flashing LEDs in the college’s colors blinded passers by. Skunky smoke poured out an upper window. You clasped your bag to your hip and strolled inside.

With a flawless smile, you slithered through the bodies step by step. On the left, beer pong players roared with satisfaction. To the right, some brunette barely legal sucked on her purple vape pen, fluttering her lashes at the wrestling team’s co-captain. The hot genderfluid punk in the corner gave you the up-down and licked their plush lips. You grinned but continued on your quest. Crawling past some lost girl desperately texting her friends, you raided the kitchen and snagged the most expensive beer you could find. It still tasted like yeasty squirrel piss.

“Have you seen Caleb?” you half-yelled over the music.

The booze tender shook his head.

Circulating through the sweaty crush, you stalked the room like a wolf on the hunt. A hand brushed past your skirt. You ignored it. With pursed lips and peeled eyes, you tip-toed up as tall as your aching calves would allow. Two sorority sisters shrieked to your left as a third heaved her dinner behind the sofa. A pair of co-eds snuck out the back door, tongues well past each other’s tonsils. Still no Caleb. You sighed and headed for the stairs.

While the base beat rattled the rickety floor, you trudged from room to room, looking for your boyfriend. Door one revealed a heated poker game complete with enough foul words to spontaneously combust a Southern Baptist. Door two hid the “horror movie and bake” crowd. They offered you a brownie. You declined. Door three led to the bathroom, which was occupied by two women cleaning yellow beer off a white dress. Door four smelled like stale pork rinds and dirty socks. You elected not to open it.

…and behind door five was Caleb, dick first down some red-head’s throat.

To your credit, you listened three full solo cups into Caleb’s flustered apologies. However, when he started to whine about how cold you’d been these past few weeks, drunk you decided that your relationship absenteeism should be permanent . Even the non-binary beauty in the back couldn’t keep you in the same house as your ex-boyfriend. Beer tender boy offered to put Caleb up for the night. You slurred your thank yous, ripped off your heels, and toddled out the door with as much dignity as you could muster.

As you tipped and swayed towards your apartment, a cool night breeze brushed past your hot cheeks. The odor of flowery detergent from the girls' dorm itched your swollen nose. Head spinning, you let heels and purse fall to the grass before slumping onto the hideous green bench. Thermoplastic coated metal stamped diamond shaped indents in your bare thighs. Snorting back another string of thick snot, you rubbed at itchy, salt crusted lids. Black mascara smudged your wrist. You groaned. So much for waterproof! Pressing your head into the unforgiving surface, shaking hands gripped your flip-flopping stomach. Gas bubbled in your gut. Sweat beaded down your brow. You sniffled with misery.

“That looks like a rather uncomfortable place to spend the night.”

Reeling from the booze, you squinted into amber lamplight. Trailing thick arms up to broad shoulders, your eyes climbed higher and higher until they reached a familiar, toothy smile. With all the haste of a woman rising from the grave, you peeled your cheek off the rubberized coating and blinked to clear your head. Inspecting his long white lashes, images of a small, neat office off the side of the library swirled into clarity. Finally, those jarring crimson eyes pierced the veil, dragging you back to reality with a panicked hiccup.

“Shigaraki-sensei!” You shoved yourself upright. “W-whashoo doin’ here?!”

Your Japanese language instructor cocked his head. “You say that as if they lock me in a closet after I finish my lectures.”

Heat blazed up your neck. Your brain swam like a fish in an undersized bowl. With a groan, you gripped your head. “Sorry… mmm just not s-ho…” A sulfurous burp puffed your cheeks. Doubling over, you pressed your overheated forehead to the cold metal again. “Sorry…”

With a short chuckle, the tall, platinum blond shuffled out of his sport coat. Wrapping it around your shoulders, he placed his broad hand on your back. “Are you in the dorms?”

You shook your head and pointed to the squat, overpriced apartments on the far side of campus. All at once, the image of Caleb sneering at the dishes flashed across your mind. Puffy lips began to tremble.

Professor Shigaraki hoisted you onto wobbly feet. “What is the matter?”

You opened your mouth, heavy tongue poised to politely explain away your sorrows. It refused to budge. Body shaking in his hands, stinging tears welled at your lash line. Your teeth chattered as a raspy inhale preceded a choked sob. Clutching his coat tight to your chest, bloodless fingers ran cold. “S-sorry…” You repeated, smearing good make-up over bad memories. “Ish a really, really ba-hic-d night.”

With a curious hum he pressed his hand flat to your spine. The streetlamp’s light haloed around his spiky hair. His patient expression glowed with angelic calm as he waited for you to speak.

All at once, everything all poured out. Sleepless nights pacing the apartment waiting for inspiration that wouldn’t come. Combing the thesaurus for words which sounded fresh, but unpretentious. Trembling nausea instead of hunger pangs. Caleb’s complaints about your absent mindedness. Demanding questions about your five year plan from nosey relatives. Laundry that wouldn’t hang itself. Food that tasted like sand. The way your jaw ached from gritting your teeth so much. Crappy beer. The red head’s lush lips cupping your boyfriend’s ex’s cock.

Through it all, Professor Shigaraki held you steady at his side. When your angsty rant devolved into ugly sobbing, he pulled you into his chest. His white button down wrinkled in your grip. He patted your head.

“Taihen desu ne?” he murmured in that low, rumbling voice you’d tried not to drool over during every lecture.

An exhausted giggle snorted from your stuffy nose. “Hai.”

As you glanced at the eastern horizon, the city’s light pollution reminded you of the coming, lonely dawn. Memories of Caleb’s stupid apologies blending with imagined scenarios for the future. Having to stare at his face after seeing him deep throating some rando— Ugh ! You shivered just thinking about it. What if he tried to talk to you tomor— er… today when he was coming to get his crap?!? Oh man … You’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

Prickling despair crawled over your skin. “Apāto ni ikitakunai,” you admitted, nails clenching tight enough to prick your palm. “Kowaidesu.”

Shigaraki-sensei nodded to the green metal behind you. “Benchi wa dame desu.”

For the first time all night, you laughed openly. “Benchi ga suki,” you replied, pressing your forehead into his chest.

Daaannnnnggg… It should be illegal to smell so good. Scented with something fresh and clean, his cologne had a hint of white tea and light, blond woods. However, underneath the cultured surface, it was musky in a very animal way. Hypnotic body heat sent your drunk brain reeling.

With a knowing smirk, he playfully booped your head with the side of his hand. “Dame,” he repeated, steadying you on your bare feet. He leaned down, tossing your purse across his shoulder before scooping up your shoes.

“Doko ni iku— iie…” you groaned, trying to summon what you’d retained of the last four years lectures. “—ikimas..ka? Is that right?”

Like something out of a late night fantasy, your professor slowly kneeled before you on the hard cement. Your heart skipped as he took your hands and placed them on his shoulders. All rational thought screeched to a halt when racy red eyes met yours. “I think your pronunciation is actually better drunk.”

Forcing an awkward laugh, you tried to fight the sappy smile that threatened to split your cheeks. “Are you sh-aying, I shoulda done shots before my final or somethin’?”

“Final grades were submitted four days ago”—he explained, tapping your ankle— “and you already got the highest score in the course.”

Following the wordless command, you lifted your foot. Smooth fingers slipped you into your shoe, fastening it behind your leg. They lingered for a moment, tickling down your achilles tendon before he nodded to the other foot. As his bristled hair brushed the thin fabric of your shirt, all those late night fantasies burst into vibrant color. Heat pooled in your stomach. The hairs on your arm stood upright. When he let go of your body, your thighs clenched.

Graceful as a cat, Professor Shigaraki rose to his feet and peered down at your dumbstruck expression. Eyes dark and pupils blown, you remained frozen exactly where he put you. He leaned over. “To answer your other question…” Warm breath fanned across your ear as he purred: “Kaerimashou, Sotsugyousei-san.”

Trying to ignore the seductive allure in his words, you fished for any topic to clear your head. Finally, you settled for a stupid question. "Sensei, whaz 'Sotsugyousei-san' mean?"

Leading you down the street, he hummed. "The closest translation is 'Miss Graduate'."

More intoxicating than liquor, the sound of your new nickname wrapped in his velvet baritone made your knees buckle.

Nestled between two ancient white oaks, Professor Shigaraki’s boxy Second Empire[1] home sat half a block from the end of campus, down a narrow, quiet side street. Remodeled in cornflower blue with ornate cream and black trimmings, the spacious two-story boasted a bronze plaque near the front door which read “Est. 1883 - Historical Home”. When you reached the end of the cement driveway, he pinched his chin and paused to contemplate the porch steps.

You hiccupped, half lidded eyes slipping shut as you nuzzled into his coat. “Didja know your roof ish kinda shloopy?”

He chucked, squatting beside you. One arm cupped the backs of your thighs as he hoisted you against his chest. “I think the stairs will be a bit much.”

You wrapped your hands around his thick neck. In a singsong tone, you slurred: “Mmmm~kay Sen~sei.❤”

“Well, you seem more relaxed at least,” he teased, ascending the stairs with barely a bounce. He placed you down on the landing like a porcelain doll. Shoving his keys into the lock, he held open the heavy wooden door before coaxing you across the threshold with a soft tug. Your teacher smiled, long fingers slipping between his heel and shoe. He peeled the leather wingtips off, before kneeling down to help you with your own footwear.

“Sussh a gentleman,” you declared, patting his shoulder.

Grasping your hand in his, he fixed you with a seductive smile. “You seem like you need a little extra care tonight.”

Welp, that pair of underwear was ruined.

Fanning your heated face, you turned away from his sensual stare. “Um… Otearai wa doko desu ka?”

Shigaraki pulled you towards the far hall. “Kokodesu,” he declared, twisting the brass knob. Beyond the doorway lay a full bathroom complete with a clawfoot soaking tub, smokey marble pedestal sink and a white porcelain throne. He braced you against the painted wood. One hand flat to the door, your professor leaned close. Crimson eyes glowed in the din. “Tetsudatte mashouka?” he whispered.

Your heart hammered against your ribs at the sultry tone in his words. “I dun remember dat one.”

“Really?” he purred, pulling away. “You used it correctly on the midterm.” As you stiffened, he smirked at you. “It's all right. We can review some new vocabulary later as a punishment.” Strolling across the checker tiled floor, he slid the storage closet open and tugged down a fluffy brown towel. “Though I find this new look of yours rather charming, there is some face wash in the medicine cabinet if you’d like.”

You cringed, rushing for the facet.

With a snicker, he pulled the bathroom door shut behind you.

One unsteady toilet trip and three face scrubbings later, you tugged at your cheeks and peered into the mirror. Rolling your head from side to side, you frowned at the patchy black debris still clinging to your under eye. Sure. Now the stupid make-up was waterproof! With a frustrated snarl, you buried your head in the towel.

A firm triplicate knock made you jump. “Genkika?” he called.

“H-hai!” you replied, bustling to the door.

Beyond the bathroom lay a narrow hall with smooth, cherry stained floors. Your teacher leaned against the dark, rose studded wallpaper. He shoved himself to his feet, holding out his hand to you. “Gohan tabeta?”

You blinked at him. “Uh… iie… demo…”

“You must be sobering up some.” His massive palm swallowing your wrist. “You’re starting to overthink your replies again.”

Leading you down the hallway, he pulled you through a boxed archway and into a spacious dining room. Tall, tiger oak, board and batton walls reached past his shoulders. Above them lay rich scarlet and gold damask wallpaper that climbed to the smooth, white ceiling. In the center of the room, a plaster medallion made of coiling leaves circled the crystal chandelier.

Your host tugged out a lyre-back chair and pushed you into the vintage mahogany table. You leaned back against the plush, creamy upholstery, staring up at the delicate rosettes that trimmed the corners of the room. By the time he reappeared with a small bowl of white rice, your head was spinning.

“Kirei desu ne?” he asked, pulling out a chair beside you.

You nodded, gaze falling to the steaming pile of carbs. Your stomach growled. An awkward laugh fluttered from your throat. “Gomenasai.”

“Iie, iie” he insisted, taking a pair of long, black chopsticks in hand. Lifting a clump of the rice, he raised it to your lips. “Tabete kudasai.”

“I-” your tongue stumbled on the word as his heated stare settled on your mouth. “Itadakimasu,” you mumbled.

“Jōzu,” he praised, feeding you the first bite.

Fluffy and soft, the rice rolled across your tongue, bathing your mouth with its gentle flavor. You barely managed to swallow before the second bite appeared. With each clump, the nauseated churning of your stomach ebbed. About half way through the bowl, you stopped fumbling for the food long enough to meet his gaze. The fixed stare reminded you of a panther watching its prey through the underbrush.

“Ano… Gohan wa tari—” you paused, fishing for the conjugation. “—ta?”

He chuckled, never taking his focus off you. The ceramic bowl clinked against the varnish. All at once, Professor Shigaraki took your chin between his fingers. “Ja,” —smoldering scarlet eyes curled into a bedroom smirk— “itadakimasu, Sotsugyousei-san.”

In an instant, your teacher devoured your lips. His wet tongue thrust deep into your mouth as hard teeth nipped at soft skin. You pinwheeled, catching yourself on his chest. He groaned, dragging you into his lap. A firm lump rubbed against your soft thigh. When his knee brushed you crotch, what little sense you hadn’t drank to death shoved one question to the top of your thoughts:

Should the valedictorian really be playing rebound tonsil hockey with her favorite professor?

“Matte kudasai!” you blurted, wriggling away.

One hand caught your shoulder, clamping you against the chair. “Ochitsuite,” he shushed, the pad of his thumb tracing your lips.

“Shigaraki-sensei…” Nervous fingers curled tight into your seat. “Mmm kinda not ts-hinking straight right now an’ dis-ish probobly ah bad idea…”

“You are under a lot of stress” he agreed, letting his hand fall from your lips.

You sighed with relief, starting to rise from the chair.

All at once, thick arms scooped your legs out from under you. You yelped as your teacher pressed you against his chest. Long fingers traced the elastic hem below your skirt. Strolling towards the staircase, he hissed in your ear. “It’s all right. Sensei will help you relax.”

Your dizzy brain sloshed around inside your skull with each tread. At the end of your climb, he turned right down the long, dark hall. The nudge of his foot popped the bedroom door. Amongst plumb walls and heavy velvet drapes, you noted a neatly arranged collection of robust, walnut furniture. From the massive gothic armoire to the king size sleigh bed and its hand carved headboard, the room stood as a time capsule to a bigone, gilded era. How a simple college professor ever afforded such luxurious antiques, you couldn’t fathom.

Peeling back the dark, gold trimmed duvet, Professor Shigaraki wrapped his hand around the back of your skull. With all the care of a man handling an heirloom crystal vase, he nestled you on soft, ivory sheets.

“Shigaraki-sensei,” you pleaded, squirming under his dark stare. “Ah really dun think—”

“Then don’t think,” he commanded, smashing his lips to his.

You squeaked into the kiss. He climbed over top of you. Heavy hips pinned you to the mattress. Your ribbon necktie slid loose. Deft fingers plucked brass buttons one by one, until your heaving chest and lace trimmed bra lay bare to his hungry gaze. Tugging your shirt hem from your skirt, he peeled the crepe fabric from your shoulders. Large hands slipped below your back, snapping hooks and eyelets free. Before you could blink, your bra was under your chin.

Shigaraki broke the kiss, sitting up to admire his handwork. Face on fire, your swollen lips lay parted as small puffs of air rushed through. He cupped your ribs, molding long fingers around your soft breasts. The bulge in his pants twitched against your thigh. His right thumb tweaked across your taut nipple, making you jolt.

“Kanpeki,” he praised, reaching up to smooth a stray hair from your heated cheeks. “Saa, ressun wo hajimemashou ka?”

Lesson?! He was serious about giving you a vocab lesson?!

“Itte kudasai.” He playfully tapped your breast with his pointer. “Oppai.”

You stared at him.

He flicked your forehead. “Kiite kudasai, Sotsugyousei-san.”

“Jodan desu ne?” you insisted, searching his searing stare for signs of a prank.

He sneered at you before rolling your nipple between his fingers. “Jodan ja nai.”

As your favorite professor’s warm hands kneaded your sensitive skin, sparks of pleasure shot across your brain. Shivering in his hold, you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head into the pillow. He hummed. The sound of fabric sliding over fabric reached your ears. All at once, his hot breath puffed across your chest.

“Kimi-ga hoshii,” he murmured, taking you into his mouth.

Firm teeth grazed your pert tit. You yelped, writhing deep into the sheets. A grumble of approval rumbled from his chest as he pinched the other side. With a gasp, your back arched, driving you further into moist pleasure. His free hand circled behind your spine before cupping your backside. Long fingers dragged your underwear over your knees.

Want pooled between your lower lips as you loosed a slutty moan. He shifted above you, peppering heating kisses from the curve of your breast to the point of your collarbone. Heavy panting drowned out the mattress’s protests.

Pinning your hands above your head, your professor nibbled down your neck. The hand on your butt slid between your legs. “Ripīto shite kudasai:” —grinning teeth pricked your skin—“Anata ga hoshii.”

“Ah-Anata ga-” As his fingers slipped between your folds, you squealed the last word. “Hoshiii! ”

“Nureteru,” he remarked, swirling your arousal around your entrance. Pressing his palm firm against you, he pumped his pointer inside. It curled along the front of your walls, stroking the spongy spot that made your cunt clench. Tight thighs gripped his wrist as he began to grind along your sensitive clit. Pleasure tingled though your core. Your stomach flopped. Moving of their own accord, your hips rose to meet him.

As he crushed his mouth to yours, a second finger stretched you open wide. Erotic, wet clicks spilled from your body. Polyester pleats pressed against your leg as he rubbed himself on your bare skin. You bucked in his grasp. The hand on your wrists drifted down to fiddle with your belt. With a tink and a woosh, it sprang free. As he stripped away the last of your clothes, a rough tongue stroked yours, barely leaving you room to breath.

The clink of his own buckle was quickly followed by the rip of a zipper. He slipped out of you. Large hands groped down the front of his briefs, exposing stiff, weeping cock. Cheeks flushed, he trailed the slimey tip up your inner thigh. Coarse, silver-blond hairs provided delicious friction against your aching arousal.

“Ripīto shite kudasai,” he growled in your ear. “Irete hoshii.”

You gulped. “Irete hoshii…”

Face flushed, he rasped out: “Yabai.”

“Hey… Duzzit that mean ‘very bad’?” you demanded.

He fixed you with a coy smirk, wrapping one hand under your hips. “The meaning depends on the context,” he explained, rolling his pelvis into yours. When you shivered, he shuffled down and reached between his legs. “Ripīto shite kudasai: nama ga ii.”

You cocked your head. Well lubricated gears spun wildly. The meaning of the words was lost upon you. “Whazzat mean?”

A soft head prodded your wet hole. “Hmmm?” he taunted, pressing against your moist heat. “Why don’t you guess?”

You squirmed against him. “I dunno but ish sounds naughty.”

“Sotsugyousei-san,” he warned, flicking your nose. “Ripīto shite kudasai.”

Head lolling against the pillow, you sighed. “Nama ga ii.”

He leered at you. “Subarashii.”

The stretch of his thick cock tore a wanton yelp from your throat. He ceased your shoulder, shoving you hard into the springs as each thrust crept deeper. Your head swirled with the smell of his musky, clean cologne. All thought of right and wrong yielded as your pliant body spread before him. While he rocked his way into your core, his head stroked against the bundle of nerves just inside. Quivering lips loosed a husky mewl.

“Ripīto shite kudasai: Motto Fukaku.”

“Mo-motto— ngnn Sensei!” You wriggled underneath him, trying to accommodate his girth.

He tipped your chin up. “Machigatte imasu,” he taunted, tracing your lips. “Hakkiri hatsuon shite kudasai: Mo~tto Fukaku ❤.”

Pouting hard at his playful reprimand, you replied flatly: “Hidoi desu, Sensei.”

“Hai, Hai,” he agreed, sinking deeper inside. Patting your heated cheek, a mocking sneer curled on his lips. "Kawaisou."

Okay… even drunk, you were pretty sure that was insulting.

Still as uncomfortable fullness gave way to aching tension, your complaints died in a cloud of heavy breathing. When he hitched your thighs over his hips, the edges of your vision sparkled grey. Fully seated in your body, he leaned back and wiped the sweat from his brow. One hand wrapped behind your neck. “Mite kudasai.”

Your breathing hitched at the erotic sight of his cock plundged deep into your cunt.

He chuckled at your wide eyed stare, laying your head back down. "Ripīto shite kudasai:” Rubbing his hips into yours, he savored the gasp he drew from your lips. “Motto hayaku."

Faster? Wasn't door to bed in half an hour fast enough?!

“C-chotto matte kudasai!” Your eyes scrunched closed as you pressed a hand to his chest. A tiny whimper pinched between your lips. “Ooki…”

Red eyes glowed with delight as he leaned in. “Oh? Ookii ka?” he teased.

“Course ish huge and you know it!” you fired back, slapping his bare shoulder. Crossing your arms, you turned your head and sniffed indignantly. “Yur like seven foot four or someshing.”

“I know you can say: ‘please, more slowly’. ” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Every time you told me that during our lessons, I wanted to take you on my desk.”

Steam poured from your ears. Hands covering your blazing face, you loosed an embarrassed whine. “Motto yukkuri onegai, Shigaraki-sensei…”

“Onegai?” He chuckled, hitching your hips higher. “Sugei kawaii.”

Following your request, Shigaraki pumped himself into your body at a controlled pace. Overstretched legs relaxed as he scraped your bundle of nerves with each stroke. You slumped into the mattress, eyes drifting shut. Tiny cries urged him on. He captured your mouth, coaxing you into an intoxicating kiss. Soft nibbles made your lips tingle. All sound faded aside from his sultry, shallow breaths.

“Yokatta?”

You squinted at him through watery eyes. Vague memories from watching late night hentai shoved an overused phrase onto swollen lips. “Sensei…” you whimpered. “Kimochi ii…”

He groaned as a full body shudder vibrated through you both. Pressing his forehead to yours, the smile on his face looked pained. “Gaman dekinai.”

With a giggle, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his ear. “Daijoubu. Chotto hayaku, onegai?”

“Chotto?” He snorted and threw your words back at you with a sneer. “Hidoi desu.”

“Hai. Hai. Gomensai,” you taunted. “Demo—”

A broad thumb plunged between your lips, pressing hard on your tongue. “Shizuka ni shite kudasai.”

You squeaked before letting out a small moan.

“Hen~tai,” he teased.

Wrapping one hand underneath, he pulled your hips hard into his. Each firm thrust dragged your clit against coarse hair. Lewd clicks made your body clench. He fell to his forearms. His spittle slick hand slipped to your breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. Your back arched as his thick tongue lapped against yours.

Little by little he sped his motions, keeping up the pressure on your clit. The kiss broke. A string of saliva dangled between you. Through watery eyes, you watched his playful smile become a wide, crazed grin. Blown pupils studied your expression, matching his movements to every twitch of your brow and each shuddered breath. Heat coiled deep inside your gut. Tingling need blazed down your skin. Your body quivered, clenching down around his cock.

“Sensei…” you moaned. “Ish good… ‘mmm gonna… gonna—!”

Swallowing your words with a greedy kiss, he clutched you to his sweaty chest. All at once, you stiffened, writhing on his cock. As sweet relief coursed through your veins, you slumped into his hold, gasping for air. When your breathing evened, you heard him in your ear.

“Ripīto shite kudasai:” he instructed. “Nakadashi wa ii da yo.”

“Na-naka-AH!” You choked as he leaned deep into your farthest walls. “Sensei!” you whined. “Dame!”

“Ripīto shiro!” he growled, grinding against your over sensitive clit.

Fingers digging into his back, you managed to stammer out: “Nakada-shi wa… ii da yo…”

At your words, something snapped. Gripping you tight enough to bruise, Shigaraki’s thrusts speed to brutal pace. You squirmed, trying to adjust. It was no good. With his massive size and your exhausted body, it was all you could do to hold on to him. His hips began to stutter. He buried his cheek in your neck. Between the ringing in your ears and his rapid fire Japanese, you only made out one solitary word:

“—Iku!”

Three quick pumps were all it took to spill himself inside of you.

Your teacher hovered above for a moment, overheated and panting. When he finally opened his eyes, his hand cupped your cheek. “Ore no Sotsugyousei-san,” he murmured, stroking your skin.

You sighed, leaning into his hand. “...shleepy…”

With a pleased hum, he reached down to grab his shirt. He pulled out, using the silky fabric to wipe the cum that dribbled from your body. You groaned and rolled onto your side, nuzzling into the pillow. With a fanged grin, he dragged the comforter over your shoulders and pressed a smug kiss to your temple. “Oyasumi,” he whispered.

Leaving you in his bed, Shigaraki carried the filthy shirt downstairs and dropped it in the washer. Stretching his broad back, he made his way to the kitchen. In the right corner of his phone, the notification alert blinked. He typed your birthday, stolen from the school’s data files, into the passcode slot. Blue light blazed from the screen. Opening his email, he spotted a picture of a slinky red-head, covertly posing with one hand around Caleb’s half-erect cock.

Deed’s done. Here’s your proof. Venmo me the rest.

Shigaraki chuckled, sending the stripper’s money with a fat tip on the side. Tugging a bottle of barley tea from the refrigerator, he replied to the email: Confirm payment when it arrives.

By the time he poured his glass, the answer came. Got the money. Didn’t take much. Kinda feel sorry for the girlfriend though.

Smirking, your professor sipped his tea. Don’t worry. She’s well taken care of.

*****************************************************************

The resources used to create the dialogue are:

Maggie-Sensei.com - School Related Vocab

SG Forums - JAPANESE HENTAI WORDS (2008)

sci.lang.japan

600 basic Japanese verbs : the essential reference guide - Author: Hiroo Japanese Center

The True Japan.com

Gaijin Pot.com

Youtube "RUDE Japanese Words You Use Without Knowing"- Japanese Ammo with Misa

**********************************

Taglist:

@chainsawmansheart @gentle-aesthetic-bby @nycmagi @deadpuppetboi @utena-akashiya @tomiesxworld @kitsunefyuu @themostdeviouspeach @purrfectluv @castershellwrites @anonlifeform @poopingrat @teachillvibes @trystin7 @ghostlychai @beaaarryy @alycat135 @rain-coat-killer @vizhi0n @bambicubie @weo0o @kermitthekrog-blog @shig-a-shig-ah

#afo x reader #all for one x reader #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha shigaraki #afo bnha #afo mha #fem!reader #all for one bnha

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steves-strapcollection · 11 months

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WIP Wednesday!

So I was tagged by the lovely @scoops-stevie and why not get an early start on this fine WIP Wednesday since I'll be cosplaying Steve from peace of mind at work all day tomorrow

THE RULES

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

THE WIPS

i'll burn that bridge when i get to it

romcom!AU

transmasc steve's strap collection (i'll choose which one unless u know the specific one u want)

steve bingo (i'll choose which one unless u know the specific one u want)

askbox prompts (i'll choose which one unless u know the specific one u want)

THE SNIPPET

This is from i'll burn that bridge when i get to it, which is related to my longfic, i could be honest, i could be human

Since bonding with Dustin Henderson during the whole D’Art thing, taking him to the Snow Ball, and then supposedly saving Dustin from the fire at the mall, Claudia Henderson had insisted on hosting Steve for dinner at least once a week. Thursday nights were always reserved for dinner at the Hendersons’ house to the point that Steve never made other plans.

Usually, Steve would rent a video as he clocked out of his shift, and then he would head over to the Henderson household. They would eat like a proper family, then watch a movie together even though Dustin usually bitched up a storm about what they chose. Claudia loved romcoms, and Steve was neutral about them for the most part. He usually ended up just as into the movies as Claudia though, which always annoyed Dustin.

Then at the end of the night, Claudia and Steve would do this dance where she would offer the guest bedroom, and Steve would say he had to go home. Claudia would insist because she didn’t like him being alone in his big empty house in Loch Nora.

That’s where he would get stuck, because while he was omitting the truth a lot, he didn’t like to lie outright to Mrs. Henderson more than he already had to about the Upside Down. Steve didn’t know how to dodge admitting that he hadn’t stayed at his house in Loch Nora in months, and that his current sleeping arrangements were sharing a twin-sized bed with his best friend. Who had sharp elbows.

So, Steve usually gave in and would spend the night, if only to have a bedroom to himself. Waking up to the sound of the Henderson’s bickering affectionately in the kitchen and music playing on the radio was also… nice.

One Thursday evening, Steve arrived for their weekly dinner to find Claudia was the only one home and quite flustered by his arrival.

“Oh, Steve, Dusty said he had that funny club of his for that game he likes. I think they call it Hellfire or something like that,” Claudia explained as she beckoned him into the house. “I asked him if he told you, and he said he would. He must’ve forgot.”

“That’s fine, Mrs. Henderson. I’ll just go home—” Steve began and Claudia sucked her teeth and practically dragged him into the house.

“None of that, sweetie. You came all this way, and I still made dinner so Dusty could have the leftovers when he got home,” she explained as she lead Steve to the kitchen. “Now you get his serving!”

“Sounds good, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve said pleasantly as he sat down at the seat she gestured to. Looking at the pots at the stove, it was clear the Claudia had made more than enough dinner for Dustin to have food when he got home.

“How was work?” Claudia asked as she dished Steve up a plate of meatloaf, veggies, and mashed potatoes.

“Same old, same old. Didn’t get to work with Robin today so it was kind of boring,” Steve complained lightly. “Keith still hates me.”

“That young man will come around eventually,” Claudia said as she put the plate in front of Steve and sat down at the table with him. They were quiet for some time while Steve ate, and the quiet was comfortable.

THE (no pressure) TAGS

@patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @stobinesque, @inairbinad, @pizzaqueen, @legitcookie, @sidekick-hero, @thefreakandthehair, @starryeyedjanai, and literally anyone else who wants to do this. just say i tagged you!

#wip wednesday

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squidthechaotickid · 11 months

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edit just realized I forgot to add that I'm a minor to this thing. I'm chill w/ anyone interacting just keep that in mind

Hm. I suppose, after like 2 years of having that one art challenge as my pinned, I should make an actual pinned post.

I think people usually put this stuff under a cut idk

Squid/Saturn/Silver, any of those names work! Mostly I go by Squid tho.

☆

Any pronouns idrc

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Fandoms/Fandom tag:

Sonic / sth

Undertale / UTMV

Dont hug me Im Scared / DHMIS

Five Nights at Freddy's / FNAF*

Octonauts

Lego Monkie Kid / lmk

Smile for Me / s4m

The world of Mr Plant / twomp

Ace Attorney*

*main fandom/most of my blog is currently about this

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AO3: Same as url, squidthechaotickid

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Art Requsts open, I'd prefer if its for one of the above fandoms tho. I might not get to it/Might not get to it fast, depends on motivation and if I want to do whatever prompt

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Art tag #squid's scribbles

Fic tag #squid writes

Misc posts #Squid rambles

Asks #squid answers stuff

I try to tag known triggers such as blood, death, etc, but if I forget ask me and I'll edit the post!! Also ask to tag anything as whatever

☆

Some other blogs I run -

@saturnstims and @sonic-stimboards (stimboards)

@sonic-transmasc-swag-tourney and the tramsfem varient (kinda dead but I did run those)

@oc-celebration (OC tag games and prompts)

@is-it-throwing-him-thursday (is it throwing him thursday)

Known Infinite apologist that Jackal did nothing wrong

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Um. Dni if ur an NSFW blog,, or a terf/swerf/transmed/whatever other term loser transphobes r using to describe themselves.

#squid rambles #FINE by vote of democracy I'm making a new pinned

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yeonchi · 15 days

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Warriors Orochi: The Recollective Redux Part 1: Introduction and Features

Introduction

In 2015, I created Warriors Orochi: The Recollective (named after the intended localised name of Musou Orochi Z) as a way of sharing my take on a combined remaster of the first two Warriors Orochi games using the characters from Dynasty Warriors 8 Xtreme Legends (and Xun Yu from Empires) and Samurai Warriors 4-II. Over the next 8 years to 2023, Warriors Orochi 4 came out (to low expectations) and I started playing basically every Warriors game I could get on the gaming PC I built.

While looking back on this series, I realised that I forgot a few characters in some places and I also noticed that some maps I had were duplicated and that it didn’t make sense to essentially have four less stages for Jin with the split route design I had back in 2015. In short, it was time for me to do a refresh of this series and reflect on some of the decisions I made for it in light of Warriors Orochi 4’s release.

The spirit of this project remains – I wanted to give some characters more screentime compared to the original games and I wanted to make the character unlock conditions for some characters easier (most notably the unlock condition for Wu’s Chapter 8-X to unlock Lu Bu).

Without further ado, please enjoy my 2023 remake of Warriors Orochi: The Recollective. Posts will be released every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.

Abilities/Items/Treasures will not be detailed in this series.

Changes from the original series

I realised that it was easier to leave the maps from the original games instead of adapting them to the maps from newer games. As such, all original stages from Musou Orochi Z retain their original designs from Dynasty Warriors 5, Samurai Warriors 2 and their Xtreme Legends expansions.

Some new stages from the newer Dynasty Warriors and Samurai Warriors games, namely those that haven’t been featured in Warriors Orochi 3 or 4, are used for the original stages in this game.

The Dream Mode adaptation stages from the Orochi and Wei stories (for Sanzang, Benkei, Orochi’s backstory and Orochi X) along with the side stories in the Orochi Story Mode have been removed.

The first four stages of Jin’s upper and lower routes (which have been renamed the Sima Yi and Sima Zhao routes) have been unmerged and the stages divided into either one of the two routes.

Both the Orochi and Jin stories have been reorganised and new stages have been written to fill in the gaps.

Originally, I neglected to feature Jia Xu, Wang Yuanji, Wang Yi and Yu Jin in the A stories and Naomasa Ii and Guo Jia in the B stories. As such, the officers appearing in each battle have been balanced (to the best of my ability) so as to allow all playable officers to appear as allies or enemies at least once.

Side stages where more than one character can be unlocked have been changed with the extra characters being moved to the A stories for Jin.

The unlock stages for Dong Zhuo, Keiji Maeda and Masamune Date have been changed so that Koshōshō‎‎, Lu Lingqi and Gracia are unlocked instead. This is to retain the former three officers’ statuses as staunch officers of the Orochi Army.

Game features

All Story Mode and Dream Mode stages from Musou Orochi Z are adapted into this game, with certain generic officers upgraded to playable officers where applicable.

8 original stages have been added to the Orochi story to bring it in line with the other stories. Those stages will also cover how Himiko, Kiyomori Taira and Sun Wukong joined the Orochi Army.

Two original stories have been created for the Jin kingdom, following Sima Yi and Sima Zhao respectively. This is to allow room for newer characters to be featured (where they wouldn’t fit in the other stories).

Shennong, Diamondback and Hundun are added as bonus characters from Warriors Orochi 3 Ultimate with their own scenarios in Dream Mode (like Sanzang and Benkei).

An additional 40 stages have been added to Dream Mode to accommodate the newer characters (but I won’t be detailing them in this series).

Some unlock conditions for the characters in the Warriors Orochi side story battles have been made easier.

Features in battle

Summoning horses is similar to that of Dynasty Warriors 8: press the up/down button to call your horse and hold the button to automatically mount it.

Dynasty Warriors characters have two EX attacks. All characters use their weapons from DW8XL (except for Xun Yu whose weapon is from DW8E).

Samurai Warriors characters have the Hyper Attack Moveset (Shinsoku Action). Mighty Strikes (Tate) are unfortunately removed, but they regain the ability to perform a Dash Attack (adapted from the Shadow Dodge follow-on).

Musou attacks:

Dynasty Warriors characters use a ground Musou Attack that takes up a portion of the Musou gauge. The Rage Musou is used as the True Musou Attack (that is, when your health is at red or when you have a weapon with the skill Verity).

Samurai Warriors characters use up the full Musou gauge. They will have the finisher when they use their normal Musou attack. In the True Musou Attack, the Ultimate (Kaiden/Frenzy) Musou is used following the normal Musou attack in the style of Samurai Warriors 3/Warriors Orochi 3.

Character types and combat systems are the same as in Warriors Orochi 3 Ultimate, save for the True Triple Attack, True Musou Burst and changing battle styles (all 3 characters on the battlefield). Musou Chains (WOZ)/Musou Switch Combos (WO4) are not used.

When the character’s life is in the red or if you have a weapon with the skill Teamwork, a Triple Attack can be used like in Warriors Orochi 2.

New Characters

All older characters will follow their configurations as per Warriors Orochi 3 Ultimate, including Special Attacks and Aerial Special Attacks (Type Actions). However, it should be noted that some Dynasty Warriors characters have changed weapons in either DW7E or DW8. After testing their Special Moves, I can see that most of their Special Moves can be retained, however they can be changed if they are too hard to adapt to their new weapon (ie. Cao Ren and Huang Gai, aerial only for the latter). Newer characters debuting in newer games will require original Special Attacks and Aerial Special Attacks to be created.

Below are lists of predicted character types for the newer characters (and predicted Musou Attacks for the Dynasty Warriors characters). Since Warriors Orochi 4 has come out, I’m going to see how many of these I got right.

New Power Characters

Cao Ren (uses normal Musou, Charging Bull 廬山)

Li Dian (uses R1 Musou, Royal Lightning 雷公)

Han Dang (uses normal Musou, Hostile Action 怒気開放)

Guan Yinping (uses R1 Musou, Sparring Practice 組手)

Xiahou Ba (uses R1 Musou, Castle Crusher 崩城轟雷撃)

Kagekatsu Uesugi

Toyohisa Shimazu

Reflection:

In regards to Musous for DW characters, I matched Li Dian and Han Dang; Guan Yinping uses her normal Musou, Military Training 演武.

When I originally wrote this series, I was unaware that Xiahou Ba had changed weapons and Musous in DW7 Empires. Although he maintains the same character type between WO3 and WO4, he actually uses his normal Musou, Lightning Spear 雷貫槍 in WO4. The same goes for Cao Ren as well; he used his R1 Musou, Cascading Falls 瀑布 in WO3.

In regards to character types, I matched Li Dian, Han Dang, Kagekatsu Uesugi and Toyohisa Shimazu. Guan Yinping and Kojūrō Katakura are Speed type characters in WO4.

New Technique Characters

Lu Su (uses normal Musou, Boulder Wave 岩隆波)

Zhang Bao (uses normal Musou, Rapid Thrust 連刃千撃)

Fa Zheng (uses R1 Musou, Binder 始伏陣)

Takatora Tōdō

Nobuyuki Sanada

Lady Hayakawa

Reflection:

In regards to Musous for DW characters, I matched Zhang Bao and Fa Zheng; Lu Su uses his R1 Musou, Mountain Strike 大山隆��衝.

In regards to character types, I matched Lu Su, Fa Zheng and Lady Hayakawa. Zhang Bao is a Power Type, while Takatora Tōdō and Nobuyuki Sanada are Speed Types in WO4.

New Speed Characters

Yue Jin (uses R1 Musou, Flurried Strike 震身連斬)

Xun Yu (uses R1 Musou, Divine Emperor Formation 天煌翔覇陣)

Zhu Ran (uses normal Musou, Conflagration Arrow 烈火椋穿弾)

Guan Xing (uses normal Musou, Skyslider 天空滑閃)

Jia Chong (uses R1 Musou, Darkness Blade - Destruction 闇刃・滅)

Zhang Chunhua (uses normal Musou, Crazed Web 狂沸糸)

Chen Gong (uses R1 Musou, Puppeteer - Submission 召兵劇・伏)

Naotora Ii

Yoshitsugu Ōtani

Koshōshō

Reflection:

In regards to Musous for DW characters, I matched Yue Jin, Zhu Ran, Guan Xing, Jia Chong and Zhang Chunhua; Xun Yu uses his normal Musou, Comet Formation (流煌陣) with the pillars activated through his C1, while Chen Gong uses his normal Musou, Puppeteer – Horizontal (召兵劇・横).

In regards to character types, I matched all of the DW characters except Guan Xing and Zhang Chunhua; said characters alongside the SW characters are all Technique types.

New Wonder Characters

Yu Jin (uses normal Musou, Cauterisation 灼絶)

Wen Yang (uses R1 Musou, Instant Flash 奥義・逆鱗閃)

Lu Lingqi (uses R1 Musou, Zero Point 零鋒覇)

Munenori Yagyū

Hisahide Matsunaga

Naomasa Ii

Reflection:

In regards to Musous for DW characters, I did not match any of them; Yu Jin uses his R1 Musou, Hell Blade 獄刃, Wen Yang uses his normal Musou, Raging Billows 八十一鱗, and Lu Lingqi uses her normal Musou, Angel Blade 天翔刃.

In regards to character types, the Wonder type is removed and incorporated into the Technique type in WO4. If we take this assumption into this series, only Munenori Yagyū, being a Technique type, would have matched my prediction. With the exception of Naomasa Ii who is a Speed type character, other listed characters are Power types in WO4.

Unlock conditions for other characters:

Orochi/Da Ji (Orochi story): Clear Chapter 8 for the Shu, Wei, Wu and SW stories.

Zuo Ci: Clear Chapter 8 for the Shu, Wei, Wu and SW stories.

Dodomeki: Obtain 10 treasures.

Gyūki: Obtain 20 treasures.

Sanzang: Clear Chapter 16 for Wei.

Benkei: Clear Chapter 16 for Wu.

Orochi Z: Clear Chapter 16 for all stories.

Shennong: Clear Chapter 16 for SW.

Diamondback: Obtain 25 treasures.

Hundun: Unlock all other characters.

#dynasty warriors #samurai warriors #warriors orochi #warriors orochi z #warriors orochi: the recollective redux

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atwooozi · 28 days

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Almost Perfect (Sebastian x Fem!Farmer) Chapter 15: Solarion Chronicles: The Game

Warnings: Slow burn, personal struggles, anxiety, depression, eventual smut

Summary: Angeline prepares for a game night at Sebastian's place, where they are joined by Sam.

A/N:

I know what I said about posting on Thursdays and while I like having that as a set day to post I also get very impatient. Soooooooo, in the nicest way possible please deal with my impatience.

Anyway, writing this chapter before I even started writing this story stressed me out. High fantasy has such a highly intricate style that I don't think I'm capable of, so please go easy on me if you think it blows. I tried my best and I think the the next chapter will make up for it, I promise!

READ ON AO3

Chapter 15: Solarion Chronicals: The Game

Summer 13

Angeline was scrambling to get ready for game night at Sebastian’s. She had only found out recently that the governor was coming to the Luau and that she needed to bring an ingredient for the community soup. Thinking of the whole situation only made her more confused. Why was the governor coming? Why were they eating soup in the middle of summer? What the fuck was a community soup?

She groaned and picked some of her more decent peppers and set them aside for the party. Hopefully they weren’t too spicy. She only hoped that everyone else in the village brought things that would make sense for the get together. However, she couldn’t be too sure since even Jas and Vincent were permitted to bring things to put in the stew. It was a cute gesture, but one that caused Angeline to fear for her life. Eight year-old Angeline would have put in gummy worms if she was given that much power as a child. She couldn’t even imagine what either of the village’s children would put in.

Angeline ran into her house and changed rather quickly. She was running out of time fast. She really didn’t want to be late. Especially after Sebastian went out of his way to invite her. She quickly threw on some biker shorts and a big navy hoodie. The outfit wasn’t anything special. She was sure if Haley saw her she would insist that she change immediately. ‘You can’t show up to your crush’s place with messy hair and a hoodie that makes you look like a box’. Luckily, Haley wasn’t here, though.

Angeline took out her contacts and put on her glasses. She looked in the mirror a bit unsure. She looked comfortable. That was good, right? Maybe she should listen to the Haley in her head. She didn’t look bad , but she did look on the verge of being too relaxed. She checked the time on her phone, 5:30. She cursed under her breath. She was already going to be late.

~*~

“Maybe she forgot?” Sam asked as he started to set up the pieces for their game.

Sebastian stopped pacing and ran a hand nervously through his hair. Maybe she did forget? Or maybe she just pretended to forget and didn’t want to come at all. He patted his pockets, he needed to smoke. This was a bad idea. The whole thing was just putting him on edge.

“Dude, will you chill?” Sam asked as he looked up at Sebastian. “You’re making me nervous.”

Sebastian frowned at Sam. He probably looked insane. If he was nervous enough to be affecting Sam he must’ve been worse off than he thought. “Yeah…sorry.” He grumbled and sat at the game table.

“Let’s wait like a few more minutes.” Sam said as he patted Sebastian on the back. “She’s a busy lady, so for all we know she’s just late.”

Sebastian hoped that Sam was right. It wasn’t like Angeline to just blow someone off. She had to just be busy. Sebastian busied himself, grabbing his dice bag and his DM screen. That would keep him from freaking out.

Perhaps the spirits were being kind to Sebastian today because just as he started to lose hope he heard his mother’s voice carry from upstairs. “Angeline! The boys are downstairs. Can you take this down with you? I made snacks for you all.”

Sebastian groaned internally as Sam cheered beside him at the mention of snacks. He was thankful, but it made him feel like a little kid.

He got up from his seat next to Sam and opened the door for Angeline as she made her way down the stairs. She was carrying a tray of maki rolls, and a few maple bars that he figured were for Sam.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” Angeline said with an apologetic smile. “I lost track of time.”

Sebastian smiled back and shook his head. “It’s no problem.” He took the tray of food from her. “Thanks for coming.”

“Ange!” Sam bounced up from his chair almost causing the table to topple over. “Are you ready for the adventure of a lifetime?”

Angeline giggled as she followed Sebastian into his room. “I think so.”

“Good enough.” Sam said as he took a maple bar off the plate that Sebastian had just set down.

Angeline smiled and sat across from Sam. She adjusted her large round glasses and tucked her hair behind her ear. Angrline was always cute, but something about her looking a little more undone stirred something in Sebastian. Her looking so relaxed put him at ease for whatever reason. It brought a smile to Sebastian’s face as he sat down in between his two friends. All the tension he was feeling just moments before had started to subside.

“So have you played before?” Sebastian asked as he glanced Angeline’s way.

Angeline shook her head and covered her mouth as she opened her mouth to speak. She had just popped a maki roll into her mouth. “No, but I always wanted to.” She crossed her legs, getting comfortable. “I could never get a game going because no one wanted to DM.”

“Sebastian is really good.” Sam interjected. “Sometimes we play with Victor and Abby and he’ll go all out.”

Sebastian flushed as Sam continued talking. “He even, like, will get music and make maps for the campaigns.”

Angeline smiled brightly and looked over at Sebastian. “That’s really cool.” She rested her hand on her palm as she stared up at him in admiration. It made his heart race. “I didn’t take you for such a nerd, Sebastian.”

Sebastian wanted to protest at the comment. It only caused Sam to laugh and pat Sebastian on the back. “Hey, being a nerd is cool,” Sam said with a grin. “And Sebastian here is the king of all nerds. But in a good way.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the two. “Thanks, Sam. I wear my nerd crown proudly.”

Angeline laughed, a warm and melodic sound that made Sebastian’s anxieties ebb even more. “Well, I think it’s cool.” She smiled, her dimples showing. “I’ve been curious about this type of thing for forever.”

Sebastian nodded eagerly, feeling a surge of excitement now that Angeline was genuinely interested. “Yeah, it is.” He started to fiddle with the pieces, getting everything into place. “Trust me, once you get into it, you’ll be hooked.”

As they settled in around the table, Sebastian and Sam began to explain the basics of the game to Angeline. Her eyes lit up with curiosity and interest. Sebastian felt his chest grow warm as Angeline was getting into something that he cared about.

The three of them quickly fell into an easy rhythm, the worries and tension of earlier fading away.

“Ready?” Sebastian asked.

Angeline nodded and smiled at him, brimming with excitement.

Sebastian coughed and cleared his throat as he settled into his chair.

~*~

In a world teetering on the brink of darkness, three unlikely heroes stood against the encroaching shadows: a wise wizard, a devoted cleric, and a fierce warrior. Their quest was daunting yet clear– to vanquish the malevolent wizard whose dark magic threatened to consume everything in its path.

As the towering silhouette of the malevolent wizard's stronghold loomed before them, the party steeled their resolve. With spells at the ready, swords gleaming in the dim light, and faith guiding their steps, they marched through the imposing front doors.

~*~

“Holy shit you guys I really have to pee.” Sam interrupted. Sebastian sighed and face palmed.

Angeline giggled. “We just started, it's okay.”

Sam got up with Angeline's permission and quickly made his way to the bathroom. Leaving Angeline and Sebastian alone.

Sebastian looked down at his hands. He felt the nerves fluttering back up again.

“This is a lot of fun.” Angeline said with a smile. “I was a little bit nervous at first.”

Sebastian glanced up at her and smiled. “I'm glad you're having fun.”

Angeline opened her mouth to speak but Sam came barreling down the stairs. “Did you guys miss me!”

“So much…” Sebastian said dryly. “Now sit down.”

“Yessir.” Sam saluted and took his seat.

“Does anyone have to use the bathroom, get something to drink, or anything else?” Sebastian said as he glanced between the two.

Sam shook his head and so did Angeline.

“Good.” Sebastian said and cleared his throat. “As I was saying…”

~*~

Their first challenge emerged in the form of a skeletal guardian, it's bones rattling with dark energy. With a fierce battle cry, the warrior charged, the cleric invoked divine protection, and the wizard wove intricate spells of destruction. Together, they shattered the undead creature into a pile of lifeless bones with ease.

Standing amid the remnants of their victory, they faced a fork in the path ahead. Two corridors stretched out before them, each beckoning with its own ominous allure…

“What do I do?” Angeline had her hand in her hair as she agonized over the choice.

Sam stood up from his chair excitedly. “Obviously down the path the green light!”

Sebastian looked between the two amused. “Well?” He asked.

Angeline bit her lip as she thought about it. “Sam’s right, let’s go down the left path.”

Sebastian nodded and continued.

~*~

… After a moment of deliberation, they chose the left path, its eerie green glow casting an unsettling pallidness over the scene before the adventurers.

They ventured deeper into the heart of the tower. They had stumbled upon a chamber filled with rows and rows of capsules. Peering inside, they beheld the tragic fate of countless mercenaries who had dared to challenge the evil wizard before them. Mercenaries, once full of bravado and hope, now lay trapped within the cold embrace of undeath, their vacant forms twisted unnaturally.

A heavy silence descended upon the party as they gazed upon the tragic scene. The warrior clenched his fist in anger, and the wizard's jaw tightened with resolve.

“We can’t leave them like this.” Angeline, the cleric said, her voice soft yet resolute.

With a solemn nod from the others, they set to work, breaking each cursed capsule that stood before them. One by one, the mercenaries were freed from their torment, their spirits finally able to find peace.

The party pressed onward, climbing even higher towards their final confrontation. At the pinnacle of the tower, amid crackling energies and swirling shadows, they found the malevolent wizard awaiting them, his eyes filled with malice.

A fierce battle ensued, the clash of spells and swords echoing through the chamber. Yet, despite their determination, the malevolent wizard proved a formidable foe. With a wicked grin, he unleashed a devastating magical blast, sending the wizard and warrior crashing to the ground.

~*~

“Wait!” Angeline stood up from her chair, causing Sebastian and Sam to jump slightly at her outburst. “I can’t take him down by myself.”

Angeline looked genuinely afraid. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides. She looked in between the two guys sitting before her looking for answers. “What do I do?”

Sebastian blinked at her, he was surprised with how into the game she was. “...Whatever you want.”

Sam shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, it’s your choice, Ange.”

Angeline’s shoulders slumped and she sat down back in her seat. She frowned as she looked at the map in front of them. “I…I am going to cast a protective aura around the wizard.”

Sebastian nodded. “Thanks Angeline.” Sam pouted slightly but nodded to her, letting her know that he approved of her decision.

~*~

With a whispered prayer, she called upon the healing powers bestowed upon her by the divine. Light and warmth enveloped the wizard, a shield of light surrounding him.

With a grateful nod, the wizard rose shakily to his feet, his eyes blazing with determination. Grasping his staff tightly, he faced the malevolent wizard once more, channeling all of his magical prowess into a single, searing spell.

The chamber erupted in blinding light as the wizard’s spell collided with the malevolent wizard’s dark magic. For a moment, the world held its breath, the very air crackling with power.

Then, with a deafening roar, the malevolent wizard was vanquished, his form dissolving into wisps of dark smoke.

As the echoes of battle faded, the party stood amid the ruins of the tower, their bodies weary but their spirits triumphant. The world was saved from the clutches of darkness.

~*~

“We did it?” Angeline asked as she looked between Sam and Sebastian. “We won?”

“WE WON!” Sam cheered as he bounced up from his seat.

Angeline squealed with excitement and she jumped from her seat, matching Sam’s excitement. “We won!”

Sebastian smiled as he looked at the two before him. “That was pretty good, it took me a while before I could finish my first scenario.”

Angeline sat back down in her seat and smiled gratefully at Sebastian. “You saved us all.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but grin. “We couldn’t have done it without each other.”

“Yeah, I helped a lot too.” Sam said. “I wanna be told I did good.”

“You were great, Sam.” Angeline giggled.

She stretched and checked her phone, it was now 10. “We were playing for four hours?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’s pretty typical.” He yawned. “I need to get outta here. I’ve got work tomorrow.” He gave a quick wave and made his way up the stairs.

Angeline gathered her things to leave and Sebastian couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that the night was over. He was getting ready to say his goodbyes, but Angeline turned to him with a bright smile and sparkling eyes.

“Thanks for inviting me, Sebastian,” she said, her voice warm and sincere. “I had an great time. I’d love to play again.”

Sebastian felt a rush of happiness flood through him. “I’ll, uh, let you know when we have another game.”

Angeline nodded enthusiastically. “Um, h-here…” she said as she presented him with her phone.

Sebastian took Angeline’s phone and plugged in his contact information. “Text me whenever.” He said, trying to come off nonchalant. Although he was pretty sure he could hear his heart banging against his chest.

Angeline nodded and pocketed her phone. “I should get going.” She said as she made her way to the door.

“...Do you want me to walk you home?” Sebastian asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. He felt a bit silly, the girl could obviously handle herself, but he just didn’t want her to go yet.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Angeline shook her head. “Thanks, though.”

“At least to the door.” Sebastian offered and Angeline nodded.

“I guess the door is okay.”

Sebastian chuckled and followed Angeline up the stairs. He really did enjoy her company. She was so easy going and happy. It warmed his heart in a way that he didn’t even know was possible. As he walked Angeline to the door, bidding her a goodnight he felt like his smile might not ever fade. Not while she was around.

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