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demonfox38 · 10 months

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Completed - Ninja Gaiden

And by completed, I mean, don't expect a stellar performance out of me. Especially, not cold. But, I can beat this in an afternoon now. It's just a clumsy, brutal performance.

I'm sure that it will surprise exactly none of you to know that I enjoy watching speedruns. This has been a habit of mine at least since the early days of YouTube. At my first job, I was so afraid of being caught on YouTube that I would smuggle speedruns on my MP4 player and listen to them while coding. I was particularly fond of Speed Demos Archive, but obviously, I've got a few more sources to watch them on now-a-days. Naturally, this includes both the old standby YouTube and the newer streaming service Twitch.

Now, I don't talk too much about my Twitch viewership. I mean, what's to say? I'm not the one doing cool things there. But, I am a frequent viewer—so much so that I pay more for Twitch subscriptions than cable TV and streaming platforms. (Then again, $15.00 > $0.00, so it's not like I’m breaking the bank here.) If you're gonna find me lurking, it's either in a retro, kuso, or survival horror crowd. Not that I'm gonna be saying much. I've got the damn thing on my TV after all, and that's a bitch to chat on.

The accounts I support fiscally are as follows:

Rifftrax—because I don't want commercials interrupting my comedy aunts/uncles.

Brossentia—The host of a number of competition and showcase events, including "Don't Make Us Bored", GDQ's "Grudge Match", and the "Kusogrande", a tournament that pits people into hour long matches playing weird and/or awful video games. Funny and honest.

Arcus—Often called the "Bob Ross of Speedrunning" because of his relaxed nature, Arcus is best known for his contributions and records with the "Ninja Gaiden" series. He participates in marathons both of his own making and others' design, almost exclusively focused on Nintendo Entertainment System titles.

I first came across Arcus while searching for "Ninja Gaiden" speedruns. And man, is there a culture shock one has when watching him for the first time. The dude's about as western as can be, sporting a moustache and consistently wearing both a cowboy hat and bolo tie. Seeing a man like that being an expert "Ninja Gaiden" speedrunner is like…I dunno. Finding a "Red Dead Redemption 2" speedrunner that is constantly wearing a kimono and smoking a kiseru. Definitely wouldn't expect that. And I really can't talk about my experience with "Ninja Gaiden" without mentioning that I've been watching him play this game for years.

Did I pick anything up from him? Did years of viewership make a notoriously hard game easy for me?

Well, there's definitely a difference between a monkey seeing and a monkey doing.

"Ninja Gaiden" is a 1989 Tecmo platformer known both for its aggravating difficulty and its cool presentation. The game stars Ryu Hayabusa, a young ninja whose father has recently gone missing after a fateful moonlit duel (and hell yeah, you get to see that.) On his father's urging, he goes to the United States to investigate the power of a statue left in his care, as well as to find out just what happened to his father. Along the way, shadowy organizations (both magical and governmental) interfere with his progress, placing him in non-stop mortal peril. It's only through his determination that the dark forces at work around him can finally be put to an end.

And, hey. Dude might have only two lives, but he's got infinite continues. The pair of you can totally do this!

If you ever needed to find what might be considered the average NES title, this might be it. Not in terms of it itself being average. Not in the slightest. There are just several elements to it that were recurring across the most memorable NES games. Challenging platforming, cool cutscenes (actually, among the first to use them, if not the first!), banging music, a distinctly Japanese feel—"Ninja Gaiden" definitely came packed.

I mean, what's more NES than this?

Okay, yes. I know. There's several versions of this title. But, seriously. What do you think the average gamer is going to remember?

And damn, do people remember this game. Definitely, own of my coworkers. When I mentioned that I had been pushing my way through the game, all he could say was "How?!"

Six pages of hand-written notes is how. And at least four YouTube videos. (Arcus has two levels of "Ninja Gaiden" training videos available for beginning and advanced players, for one. If you need a couple extra recommendations, "U Can Beat Video Games" and "Displaced Gamers" have a couple interesting videos on the game, too.)

Of course, the most important thing to do is practice, practice, practice…

Ryu Hayabusa is a bit of a quirky dude to control. He's not that far removed from your average platformer protagonist. He's got a single jump, a sword, and access to an array of subweapons. The difficulties with mastering him come down to his unique quirks. For one, he's got the ability to jump between walls to ascend to a new level. If you slam the A button + the direction you want to go to constantly, you're going to tear up your thumbs. What you actually want to do is hold A down, latch onto a wall, then just rock back and forth with the D pad until you ascend.

Additional control management issues include:

The lack of a backwards jump. Ryu can go back a little bit, but he's pretty much locked to the block just one tile past where you are. There is no escaping here. You either go forward or hold your ground. And really, the game wants you to go forward constantly. Forever. Now.

Inconsistent subweapons. See, most of Ryu's subweapons use the "Castlevania" style of Up + B to use them. That is, except for the Spin Slash (a.k.a. Sword Slash) technique. This thing just requires a single B press to use while the player is airborne. Which, great! It's like giving Samus Aran a katana and letting her Screw Attack someone into submission. But, the problem is that it takes over the button press for your standard aerial attack. It also quickly eats through your Ninpo (the fuel for your subweapons), so you can accidentally use it up before you intended to do so, should you not know about a work around for that issue (see below.)

Spotty sword hit detection. About the closest I can compare this to is Marth's Falchion in a typical "Super Smash Bros." game. There, you'll want to land the tip of your blade to maximize the amount of damage that you do. Here, it's like the same, only it involves the game registering whether or not Ryu's sword hit anything. (Maybe he was just using the back of his sword?)

A short invincibility window post-injury. The game isn't cruel enough to constantly stack damage against you. However, his invulnerability window after getting hit feels shorter than the average game. If you're not paying attention, this can result in you looping Ryu into the same source of damage multiple times before you register what's going wrong.

Having said that, there are a couple of techniques that speedrunners have discovered for mitigating some of Ryu's issues:

Sword cancelling is a way to break out of the standard aerial slash and/or Spin Slash. While you are in air, instead of hitting B to attack, you can hit Down + B to get the same attack motion. By doing this, you can avoid accidentally using your Spin Slash ability (if you have it). Additionally, you can use this to spam more hits than intended against targets. This is particularly critical for handling the final boss.

Quick/Wall Jumps is a technique where you ascend a single wall by using the standard wall bounce move rapidly. This can occasionally help you climb out of a pit to escape otherwise certain death.

Even with his odd control behavior, the challenge of "Ninja Gaiden" doesn't come so much from learning how to handle Ryu himself. Weirdly, I don't even think it's due to the platforming or even a majority of the bosses. Really, most of the difficulty I had was with just your average stage dwellers. Like, okay. Level 1's enemies are pretty benign. Levels 2-4 put their enemies in some tricky spots. It's 5-2 onward that gets malicious. There, it becomes pretty much standard to jump off a platform with your sword extended to hit an enemy that hasn't even rendered yet. Carpet-bombing ninjas with jetpacks were also routine recipients of my middle finger. Boomerang tossers and green ass-tracking ninjas can also be a pain, particularly with how fast they can rack up damage.

I think the enemy that would win the most rewards for being an absolute asshole are the goddamn hawks. Like, fuck. It doesn't take much to learn how to work their A.I. to line up a single killing blow, but does the game love throwing them over pits. Or, in pairs. Or, sometimes rising out of the goddamn ground. And man, do they hurt in Level 6. Like, 3 ticks of damage hurt. Geez, man. You'd think with a surname that means Falcon, the birds would cut Mister Hayabusa a break. Apparently, he's in a bird-on-bird war that he doesn't even know exists.

It really is strange how tame most of the bosses are. If you can bring that Spin Slash into a boss' room, you can have them shaved in seconds. The greatest challenges come from Level 3's boss (where no Spin Slash spawns) and the final two bosses. Even the latter are more due to spamming tufts of fire than the boss itself actually doing much. Damned if the game doesn't punish you for not being good at bullet hells, though. Screwing up on the penultimate or final boss will send you all the way back to 6-1, which…fuck. But, at least they stay dead when you kill them.

Allegedly, that might be a programming error? I wouldn't put it past someone to be that malicious, especially in a North American release. But, hey. This game was released on the NES Classics mini console. That's implicit acceptance of save state use by Nintendo and Tecmo for your home use, right? Just don't expect that excuse to fly in competitions. :P

Oh, speaking of which—there is another good reason to use the NES Classics version of this game. The built-in flash suppression is put to good use for this title. Considering every game over comes with quite the color strobe, you'll definitely want some level of protection for that if you have flash sensitivity. Game's hard enough without potentially triggering a seizure or headache.

I had a bit of an epiphany regarding video game difficulty while working on this particular title over the last couple of weeks. See, prior to "Ninja Gaiden," I had worked my way through "Wild ARMs," a turn-based RPG released on the PlayStation. I've probably spent about the same amount of time on both titles as of writing (28 hours for the former; 30 for the latter.) What I think is important to note is how progression is rewarded between the two genres and how that affects player morale. Like, I'm at the point in my life where beating an RPG is not a matter of if, but when. It's just picking away at battles and building up resources. Meanwhile, I still get apprehensive around platformers. Like, I think I've come a long way with them, but I wouldn't consider that a genre that I am effortlessly good at.

There's a different mindset between the two. With RPGs, it feels like constant positive reinforcement. Win a battle, win a battle, win a boss battle, hooray! With platformers, the cycle feels very negative. Die on a platform, die to a boss, die to a random enemy, die, die, die, okay you passed. It's funny. You can put the same amount of time into both games, clear them, and feel so differently because of it. I mean, duh, right? But, it is kind of silly for one to be considered naturally doable and the other meritorious of a Gamer Boy Scout badge when it's basically the same amount of time and effort. It is just all in your head.

Sorry. I may have suffered some manner of…well, I can't say it was ego death. Some kind of ego mutilation in April. It's resulting in some new perspectives.

In terms of non-gameplay elements, "Ninja Gaiden" remains strong across the board. In fact, they were the reasons children would have subjected themselves to this game willingly back in the 1980s. Its use of cutscenes in particular was quite novel. Sure, the story is a bit of a trope fest, but it is arranged in a compelling way. Mysterious cults, missing fathers, government interference, and a love interest whose idea of a meet cute is shooting you with a tranquilizer. No arguments against that. (Well, I guess Irene could have done more than get abducted after that, but she eventually rips assholes open in "Ninja Gaiden III," so I'll let it slide. Also, is it me, or was she modeled on screenshots of Sean Young's Rachel from "Blade Runner"? )

There are a couple of occasional graphical glitches, but otherwise, the game is visually solid. Well, solid past the flash warning, anyway. The music is quite good as well, with a wide amount of emotional energy and drive. It's something a retro gamer would keep on in the background while working, for sure.

About the only roughness here is with the translation. It's not incomprehensible, but it is about as grammatically consistent as the writing of an average kindergartener. There's a lot of basic mistakes here, including simple things like misused your/you're, capitalization issues, and sentence fragments. (Although, who am I to pick on writing chopped up sentences?) Clearly, it passed some measure of review from Nintendo, as it had some dirty words scrubbed out. Or, at the very least, hid from the kids. Apparently, it was all dictionaries and no grammar books at the localizer's office.

I still find the localization for Jaquio's name strange. Definitely makes more sense for it to be Jaki-Oh in modern parlance for Japanese to English translations. (I suppose there's an unfortunate Jackie Onassis joke to be had in there.) Or, hell, literally Demon King would have been fine. Maybe not so much in terms of text compression and ROM space, though.

You know what this game is? A peacock. Like, you look at all of the elements of a peacock, and you think, "Oh! This is a lovely bird!" And then it pecks at your hands and eyes before flying off. You can get mad at it, sure, but a peacock is a bird. It is destined to act like an asshole. (Please see the previous paragraph about the game's hawks, if you need a refresher.)

If you admire a peacock or wish to have its company, you have to learn how to handle it properly. And, you know what? You're lucky. There's a community of people out there that will help you do that. Same with "Ninja Gaiden."

Really, there's no better time than now to learn this game. The speed runners and video reports are all there for your review. Will they be in the future? With the fragility of Internet services and the egos of their CEOs, who is to say? But, "Ninja Gaiden" is not an unapproachable game. Even if you are alone, armed with nothing more than original hardware and your wits, you can get through this game. Hell, even with all my research, making my own notes helped greatly in remembering what I had to do for each section. If you can make it through 2,500+ words of my writing, you are smart enough to understand this game. It's just about training your own hands to do it right.

Remember—the game gives you infinite continues. I think it might want its players to beat it. It's just a drama queen about it.

#post game evaluation #ninja gaiden

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egcdeath · 3 years

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finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it.

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends).

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions.

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat.

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered.

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat.

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you.

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.”

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him.

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows.

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found.

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow.

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot?

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side.

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat.

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve.

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands.

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.”

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?”

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together.

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all.

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number.

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige.

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos.

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom.

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice.

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?”

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second.

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement.

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin.

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned.

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs.

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown.

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable.

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some reason.

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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arrière-pensée

— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence

word count: 8,550

a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them! carefully read the warnings!!!!

kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink

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“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”

Click.

You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.

Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?

You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.

The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller.

Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.

Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.

Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.

Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.

You were as ready as you could ever be.

With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment.

It was time to work.

The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?

All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters.

By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.

Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due.

Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.

White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving.

Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.

There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.

Name: Fuwa Mawata Position: Greeter & Inspector.

“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”

“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.

“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”

What now?

“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”

“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.

“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”

You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”

“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”

It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”

With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.

The second floor is loud.

People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were.

Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.

This job had no downtime.

You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked.

Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of.

It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.

“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”

“Ah, I suppose so!” she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”

She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.

There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs.

It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor.

Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?

“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”

You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.

Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.

It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.

Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.

It was Ground Zero.

Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.

BANG.

Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.

“Everybody get the fuck up.”

It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt.

You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence.

“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”

Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.

“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.

But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.

“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”

Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.

“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”

Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.

But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.

Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you.

The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.

“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”

Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.

A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.

“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.

“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead.

It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…

You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin.

But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.

Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce.

“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”

“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”

Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.

It’s over before you can blink.

You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know.

There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless.

“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”

You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.

“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.

Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet.

Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.

“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”

The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.

“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”

Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.

Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.

“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”

And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him.

His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.

Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.

Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.

You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.

“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”

You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.

“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”

You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs.

Too much, too much, too much!

His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely.

The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor.

Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.

But that was enough for Ground Zero.

It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.

“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”

With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.

You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.

But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient.

His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.

“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.

Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.

“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”

Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.

“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”

Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.

But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.

“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”

“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”

“Oh?”

Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.

Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up.

The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands.

You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.

“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”

The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”

With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.

“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.

“Y-Yes?”

“How much fucking longer?”

“I-It’s at 63%!”

“Wonderful.”

One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.

“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”

“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.

“How much?”

“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”

“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”

“W-What?!”

“Show her your cock.”

It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored.

“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.

Then the world picked back up.

The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.

“Cute fucking thong.”

You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.

Ass up, back curved, chest down.

“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.

The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”

Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”

You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.

“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”

But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.

“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.

Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”

It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”

The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.

“Answer me, fucking whore.”

There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.

“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”

“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”

“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”

Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”

The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.

Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes.

“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.

“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.

Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.

“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.

You cried.

The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.

Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.

“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”

“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”

Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.

His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.

“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”

You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You wake up in a car.

The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.

You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.

It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.

His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.

“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours.

“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.

“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.

“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”

“Perfect.”

It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.

You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.

“I love you.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.

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tags in comments, theres too many of you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #bakugou katsuki x reader

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

The Cover Story, Ch. 1

Greetings! This is a preview of my first chapter that I’m posting exclusively on my patreon. If you like it, I hope you follow along as I work on it there. I appreciate your time and thoughts and would love to hear what you think.

Without further ado, or perhaps much ado about thing...

Lucy Madani was not going to cry.

That was a lie. She might cry. She wanted to cry. She was known to cry very easily, but not without reason, and there certainly were more than enough reasons already for her to tear up as she stood on the corner and felt a wave of water from a bus going through a puddle splash her legs and skirt. It was only just after eight in the morning, and she was ready to crawl back into bed, admit defeat graciously, and sleep straight through to tomorrow.

“I can’t talk right now, Baba,” Lucy muttered into her phone as she resumed her quick walk down the street.

“You are mad, and we need to talk.”

“Let me rephrase it. I don’t want to and I also can’t. I’m going to be late for my meeting.”

“Your big interview pitch. I wanted to wish you good luck, but you stormed off.”

“Yes, that is what one tends to do when their father informs them that he is getting engaged,” she fumed, her anger coming over her once again at the thought as she darted across the street, waving her hand at the honking car.

She was an adult, she tried to remind herself. A full, grown adult. An adult-adult who barely had a stable job, had heaps of student loans, and still lived with her widowed father. She didn’t throw tantrums and she wasn’t going to cry about any of it. Today was too important for that, and she was going to nail the pitch and finally move on from puff pieces for teen magazines. She was going to make the jump to serious journalist. She was going to be requested, by name.

Today she was not going to cry.

At least not on purpose.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

Luckily, he knew enough to sound sorry, though it wasn’t enough of a victory for her, only fueling the prickling behind her eyes.

“No, I’m going over Laila’s. I’ll just stay there. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your time with her.”

“Lucy joon, please talk to me. I know you’re mad-- you have your mother’s temper, but I think we should talk about this.”

“I’m going into my meeting. We’ll talk sometime this week,” she offered, shaking her head. “Just… I have to go.”

She didn’t wait for much of a reply because she knew he was playing low, dragging her mother into it. It only made it worse. Shoes sloshing against the tile of the lobby, she made her way to the elevator and decided firmly, once again, that she was not going to cry.

Her phone chimed with a handful of well wishes and good luck’s from the group chat and she thanked them quickly before trying to find the meeting information from her calendar, head down and lost in her own world as she stepped into the elevator and right into a stranger.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy hurried, looking forward and then following the chest and then long pale neck up a few more inches to an amused smirk and eyes hidden by wayfarer sunglasses.

“Not a problem. I was in the way.”

The stranger ran her hand through a mop of curly copper hair atop her head, faded on the sides and shaggy on top, decidedly better put together than any tiktok boy’s. Her small smile pulled at bow-shaped lips and left dimples on both cheeks, and there were too many freckles to even begin counting. Lucy gulped before moving to the side and slinking to the back corner.

Of course she would get into an elevator with the hottest woman she’d ever seen. Of course she would nearly plow her over in her hurry. Of course she would be sweet and smile like that and have an adorably shaped chin and face. Of course Lucy would do all of that while looking like something the cat dragged in after a bad night.

But luck wasn’t with her today, and she was unable to hide too long, as no one else got on behind her and she heaved the heaviest sigh before looking down at her ruined stockings, spattered with mud and whatever else was festering in that puddle. Her skirt was soaked still and dripping and she was beginning to really feel it sinking into her skin. Phone clutched tightly in her hand, she felt the weight of it all and didn’t know what to do with it.

From under her brow she looked up to study the back of the stranger, their long legs and black jeans, their primly tucked in black t-shirt that stretched slightly across her shoulders, and the softest looking hair in the most beautiful shade of red she’d ever seen.

The elevator ascended approximately three floors before she started crying. Alligator tears slipped down her cheeks before she could do anything to stop them. And then the stranger cleared their throat and quietly turned around to verify what was happening, was actually happening, only making it worse.

But she didn’t say anything, just turned back around, and with the smallest movement stretched an arm forward to hold the elevator between floors, and quickly, Lucy turned herself around and faced the wall. She took a few steadying breaths and wiped her cheeks, mentally preparing to leave everything else behind and focus on the moment-- when she would be selling herself to one of the largest companies of all time to be the writer of the profile of their Director of Creative Design before they went public. She’d prepared. She was ready. Nothing else mattered and she was a goddamn adult.

The stranger, the kind, hot stranger pushed her sunglasses up into the messy curly hair and offered a smaller smile than before, the communal ‘it’ll be okay’ without saying anything. Lucy didn’t register much of it, just stared at the grey-green of her eyes, forgetting all else, and especially that she was a goddamn adult who desperately needed a payday to move out of her father’s place and away from whoever was moving into her mother’s side of the bed.

“I’m not usually,” she began, but bit her tongue because she didn’t want to lie. She was usually like this, just occasionally less muddy. “Thank you.”

“We can stay a few more minutes if you’d like. I don’t really want to go to work today.”

For the first time all day, Lucy smiled genuinely and felt lighter. It was that quick and that easy.

“It’s okay. I’m ready.”

A curt nod led to a stretch again and the elevator started once more. Lucy leaned across and pressed the button for her floor, catching a whiff of a distinctly woodsy smell, like sandalwood perhaps? There was a hit of lavender? Maybe cedar? It was wonderful. She wanted to breathe in more of it, but retreated before she was the girl who cried and sniffed people in the elevator.

The silence was oddly comfortable for a few more seconds until it dinged and she took the step out. The stranger politely held the door and offered one final smile, complete with just one dimple this time.

“Good luck,” she winked before pulling back, hands clasped loosely in front of her before the doors closed forever.

It couldn’t get better than that, Lucy decided, staring at the elevator doors and steadying herself once again. But she was hoping it couldn’t get worse either.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Quinn Sullivan wanted to die.

Not really die, but she might have taken a good coma. Just for like a week maybe. Or six months. Something long enough to beat out this hangover she was sporting, courtesy of her very thoughtful best friend, and if she was lucky, long enough to survive the offering and release of the new game. Maybe a year-long coma? Was that too much to ask for, honestly? Maybe the universe could toss her a bone, just this once, especially after the previous year of her life.

But in lieu of a swift and merciful death and/or coma, she was just going to have to survive the giant hangover that was currently attacking her body. All she needed was a quiet day and an extra large piece of leftover pizza she was certain was waiting in the staff fridge somewhere. Maybe some birthday cake--

And then a five-five wrecking ball of a human barreled into her chest.

The rest of her ride up, Quinn thought about the weird trip it’d been, and if she should have done something different. And then she beat herself up for winking. Who winked? Why did she wink? She’d never done it before. But she earned a smile from a cute girl, and there was a tiny flutter at the base of her rib cage, one she hadn’t noticed in a long, long time. She pressed her fingertips there for the rest of the ride to her floor.

With a groan, she put her sunglasses back on as the elevator dinged to her floor and took a deep breath to prepare for her day, not allowing her brain to trace out an entire life with the cute, crying stranger where they bought peaches at the farmer’s market on Saturday’s and danced in the kitchen. Romance was dead and dreaming was forbidden.

“Aspirin is already on your desk,” Jenny greeted her cheerfully. “With an egg sandwich and some fruit.”

“No leftover pizza?” Quinn didn’t pout, but she might have for that.

“Trust me, this will fix you up much better. I went to a state school, remember, MIT?”

“We partied…” Quinn trailed off as she pushed open the door to her office.

She hadn’t partied, but she was certain people had to have partied. It was college, and though it was many moons ago, she certainly couldn’t remember hangovers feeling like this. Maybe this is what almost thirty felt like. That thought didn’t help with the headache.

“All-night coding sessions don’t count. Eat the food. I’ll hold the wolves at bay as long as I can, but Chris and the Exlust team are adamant you have the meeting today to resolve story issues.”

Quinn tossed back the aspirin before she even sat down. Maybe Jenny was her universal compensation. The shades were already drawn so her normally bright office was much more tolerable. Even the eggs didn’t make her stomach swirl, and she was grateful her assistant learned something useful while studying biomedical engineering..

“I just need like an hour to work something out. I had an idea last night--”

“Before or after the sangria?”

“During. Definitely during, but still. I just need to work through it and then they can tear me to shreds. Can you add to my calendar a warning to never drink again?”

Quinn was fairly certain she’d texted her assistant that at some point in the morning. Probably before the shower, but after the first cup of coffee.

“Gladly,” Jenny smiled softly. “You doing okay? It’s been a while since you tied one on like this.”

“I’m fine. Just celebrating with Darcy. No more sad drinking, I believe was the rule you came up with and I follow all of your rules.”

With a roll of the eyes, files were placed on her desk and her assistant retreated to the ringing phones, which when the door was held open, were actual torture devices to Quinn’s brain.

“Sadie wants your afternoon free. I think it’s another reporter.”

“She’s relentless.”

“Maybe you’re impossible?”

“It’s genetic then,” Quinn sighed, munching on a grape and tugging open a notebook. “One hour, please?”

“I got you, boss.”

“Thanks.”

Never quite sure how Jenny did it, Quinn chose not to ask any questions. But when she asked for an hour, she got it. And despite the headache and laziness in her muscles, the food and aspirin did help so that by the end of her allotted time, she felt like she had captured the breakthrough that appeared to her the night before.

Before she could admire her work though, her team filed in and she was prepared to start her day, finally, even with the nagging idea of a reporter nipping at her thoughts through it all.

Somewhere between her breakfast and lunch, Quinn felt better. She fired off a few texts to see how Darcy was handling it and received only pictures of a half obscured but obviously still in bed face and chuckled to herself. It was a slower day, and she wasn’t about to waste it with a hangover. She should give Jenny a raise, she decided, because the woman could cure hangovers. Maybe submit her for the Nobel for Science.

“Sadie is here,” her assistant buzzed and Quinn lost all forms of motivation.

Her head hit her desk dramatically as the door opened and her sister walked in. Slightly shorter, but older by two years, Sadie was nearly everything Quinn could never manage to be despite her best intentions. She had the MBA from Harvard and the doting husband that came with it, a cute brownstone near White Hill and the park, and her first baby on the way. But even past her resume, Sadie Sullivan-Hawkins was personable and charismatic. She was adored and shrewd, capable of disarming anyone and eviscerating the others. It all came so easy to her, to have people around, to talk and be listened to, to be loved. She was a shark in business, and at the same time warm and put people at ease.

Quinn could barely tie her shoes and Sadie was running a marathon in life.

“Want to talk about it?” Sadie smiled as she took the seat across from Quinn’s desk.

“About what?”

“Why you’re getting drunk with Darcy on a Tuesday?”

“She got the job at Taylor and Vine. We were celebrating.”

“So not about Chloe’s announcement in the Times?”

Quinn played dumb, typing gibberish into her phone because she didn’t want to look at her sister’s kind and caring face. If she looked, then she’d have more feelings, and for the life of her, she just wanted the incessant tinnitus of the break up to disappear completely.

“Nope, I caught that this morning though, so I was in the right physical and mental place to really wallow. I don’t care about her.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“I have these notes to get done for the Shadow Operation team before our meeting with design. I’m fine. My ex can marry whoever she wants-- God knows she didn’t want to marry me. Good luck to the next sap.”

This made her sister chuckle, and Quinn smiled quietly to herself. There was still a bitterness there that she couldn’t get rid of. It was masking potentially the worst hurt imaginable. She preferred the bite of the bitter though. Easier to navigate.

“I have someone I want you to meet with.”

“Oh, fuck off Sadie,” Quinn moaned, knowing full well what was about to happen. “I’m not talking to anyone. You’re the face of this outfit. That’s what you told me.”

“You’ve run off three other reporters. Our public offering is going to underperform if there is no faith in the heart of our company,” she explained, sitting up a little straighter. “And that’s you. I might crunch the numbers and keep the lights on, but you are what people are buying.”

“Then you tell them about me. I don’t even have to be there.”

“If only that were true, my job would be a lot easier.”

At a stalemate, the sisters stared at each other for a few moments before Sadie broke, making a face as she smiled towards her lap, running her hand over the smallest bump barely showing. Quinn shook her head and looked away. Anywhere else was better than the damn disapproving look leveled at her now.

“I don’t know what to say,” Quinn finally muttered. “I don’t want to-- I can’t--”

“Chloe was an idiot. She broke your heart. Now, you barely exist, but I know that you’re still you. And we need this.”

“I can’t. I really can’t. I wish you’d get it.”

It hurt too much all over again. In a weird way, Quinn missed the feeling of the hangover because at least that was a useful ache. The dull throbbing in her chest and bones just felt hollow and haunting.

“We have a meeting with her. I’ve already walked her through the contracts and final edits, as well as shown her around. Please just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. She’s good. I’ve read a few of her pieces and Donna recommended her to me.”

Sadie had their mother’s eyes. It drove Quinn crazy, that she looked like she didn’t belong in her own family. It also meant it felt like her mom was staring at her and reminding her to do her chores. She rubbed the back of her neck, letting her head lull to the side.

“I’ll… I’ll try.”

“Yes! I knew it. Thank you. Seriously, Q. It’s going to be great. This is going to--”

“I said I’ll try. I didn’t say I’d do it.”

“It’ll be great,” Sadie ignored the warning, hopping up from her chair and moving to the door to beckon the reporter in. “Come in and meet the genius of the whole outfit.”

Quinn rubbed her face with her hands, digging her fingers into the corners of her eyes under her glasses before steadying herself. She could do it for her sister, she reminded herself, and that stupid niece or nephew she was incubating.

Maybe it would be as simple as ripping off a band-aid. Maybe she could just let a stranger rifle through her entire life and being, except that she wasn’t sure there was anything there anymore. Everything felt like she was going through the motions, and it was terrifying to Quinn to let someone see that she was barely stitched together. How could she explain that there was nothing behind door number one? Let alone number two or number three.

“Quinn, this is Lucy Madani. She’s a freelancer hired by New York Magazine. She did a great piece on the Attorney General last month and her article on the director who went on to win Cannes went viral.”

There was still mud on her skirt, but her stockings had been disbanded, gone forever, but it was unmistakable the stranger from the elevator standing in her office. That felt like an entire lifetime ago, and yet Quinn tried to swallow.

“You have longer hair, in the pictures I found of you online,” Lucy offered, overcoming her surprise much quicker. She stuck out her hand over Quinn’s desk and waited for her to shake it.

She was a reporter. A reporter who cried in the elevator. A reporter Quinn had, if she were being honest, checked out. But foremost, she was a reporter. She wanted to dive into the deepest parts of Quinn’s brain for profit, mutual benefit and all. It sounded dreadful.

The universe did not owe her anything, Quinn remembered, but the perpetual mocking was getting a little over the top.

“Quinn Sullivan,” she shook the hand presented and tried to breathe. Lucy’s hand was warm and felt soft. She wasn’t sure how to let go. “How’s it going?”

Fuck! Her mind blared as she dropped the reporter’s hand and mentally beat herself to a pulp. Who talked like that? And still, she could not answer, winked?

“It’s been a day,” she smiled, nodding to herself as she accepted the seat Quinn offered. “Your sister has sung your praises all morning though. I feel like I could write about your without even meeting you.”

“Great. Let’s do that.”

Sadie laughed but gave Quinn a stern look.

“I’m going to go grab you some passes and copies of the contracts,” Sadie smiled graciously at Lucy before turning to her sister. “Listen to her pitch.”

“Seems it’s been decided,” she muttered to herself before plastering on a smile.

“Don’t have too much fun. I’ll be right back.”

And with that she truly was gone, and Quinn was left in her office with the reporter who had pretty eyes. They felt like syrup-- warm and deep brown, gooey and sticky. Her face was longer, her nose thin and long, her lips full and bitten-- and Quinn snapped herself out of her perusal and felt her chest warm too much. No, the universe didn’t owe her anything, and the punishment for thinking it did was sitting across from her in a muddy skirt and gentle smile.

For just a moment, Quinn held her breath and willed a coma..

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stardestroyer81 · 2 years

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Hi everyone! I'm back yet again with another lengthy design deep-dive post, this time having to do with Override! It's been a short while since I've discussed anything Override related, and since I've been wanting to talk about it and its cast of characters again for quite some time, I settled on the perfect topic: how its main character designs have evolved over the course of two years!

Since I first unveiled Override as a concept to my tumblr (Which you can find linked in the paragraph above), a good few touch-ups have been made to all four protagonists— including a complete redesign of Casey! Check it out!

I find that the differences in design are most prevalent with Casey, though effectively, the remaining three have also had pixel-perfect alterations made to their sprites. I'm also just now realizing that this is the first time my followers are getting to see their default sprites, something I'm very much acquainted to by this point.

Below, you will find not only explanations as to what's changed for each character's design, but also their full design timelines (And developmental names!) which includes sprites I made for Casey and Lauren back in 2019! Without further adieu, let's get into it, because we're in for a long ride!

As I've mentioned in Override's two year anniversary post, Override was once a completely different concept entirely compared to what it is today, and given this, each member of the chosen four have had quite a rollercoaster ride in just about every aspect of their design, be it their looks, name, or personality.

And who better to start with than Casey?

Casey was originally going to be named either 'Weston' or 'Colton' early on in back when the project was called MOTHER: Into the Unknown, but 'Casey' was settled to be his final name once I drew him for the first time.

As you can see above, the tried and true Earthbound 'striped shirt and shorts protagonist' combo in Casey's design was used to its fullest since day one. At first, I wanted him to have a red shirt with orange stripes, but after noticing this made him look too similar to Lucas, it was changed to a blue shirt with cyan stripes.

Fun fact: Casey's dull brown hair color and the color scheme of his shirt for a while were in direct reference to one of Lucas' Smash Bros. alternate palettes, which was where I got the inspiration from (Plus, blue is my favorite color)! He was going to have red shorts as well, but that was much too on the nose.

Casey's scarf also went through a few color changes! I think the reason it was white in the first design was just for placeholder reasons, though I recall it being red for a little while before I switched into yellow for two reasons: one, the color yellow is associated with both optimism and cowardice (Both being big personality traits of Casey's), and two... well... this guy.

Lastly, let's touch on Casey's most recent design. Because Override is now its own entity separate from the Earthbound continuity, I wanted to opt for a design that was... more of my own, if that makes sense. I ended up giving him a long sleeved light cyan shirt with blue sleeves, referencing his previous design, as well as completely redrawing his hair so that it wouldn't be too spherical.

Now, how would you react if I told you that Casey's design timeline has the least number of sprites?

Enter Lauren, who I've given the distinction of having the second most changed design since her first version! My original vision of Lauren was to have her be more of a 'girly girl' type (Look where that ended up lol), and while she had several preliminary names, the only ones I distinctly remember are 'Madison' and 'Hannah'.

Because I didn't bring it up in Casey's section, you might notice that Lauren's sprite style changes drastically by the third design, opting for a bigger sprite with room for more detail. Early on in, this visual style lined up with Oddity's quite a bit, and became its own thing soon enough (Plus, Override's character sprites have four pixel tall eyes. Big difference.).

For like a very brief while, Lauren's color of choice was a mint green, though that was swapped out for a shade of orange quite fast. I also wanted Lauren to have a bow, kind of like what Paula wears in Earthbound, and I also wanted her to wear a dress... before long, I realized I had just designed another Paula.

So, the dress aspect of the design had to be changed, but I first wanted to see if I could hammer out a good hairstyle for her, which doesn't come into full effect until the third-to-last sprite. Lauren eventually began to sport her trademark ruby red color, and instantaneously after that change, she switched out the dress for something marginally less lady-like; a t-shirt and overall combo.

By now, Lauren's 'nine-year-old tyrant' personality was beginning to take shape, and while her overall design was her final design for a while, I then remembered that Override takes place early on in the year, so it might make a little more sense to have her dress in something warmer (Like how Casey gained a sweater)!

Thus, Lauren was given her standard jacket, as well as keeping the pink shirt aspect of the previous design! I find that Lauren had the smallest amount of changes between the Override reveal post and this one, as all I did were give her the little hood pullies and a hood for her jacket.

And that's a wrap for Lauren! You know how I said that Lauren had the second most changes to her design since her initial concept? Well, do you want to know who couldn't keep a consistent design for the live of him for the longest time?

Bradley.

With a whopping eleven different design sprites, it took me an extremely long time to settle on how I wanted Bradley to look, as well as who Bradley is as a character. Named 'Oliver' originally, his design didn't start making the rounds until I had started to round out the designs for Casey and Lauren.

Initially, I envisioned Bradley as more of a 'social outcast' type (Much more so than his present version, funnily), though I also wanted him to be kind of a nerd type who plays video games a lot and does well in class, but I also wanted him to be a 'cool guy' character who would skateboard everywhere... oh, boy, this wasn't going to be easy.

Bradley, for a while, wore glasses, as a subtle nod to the glasses Jeff wears in Earthbound: the only difference being that you could actually see Bradley's eyes. Jeff was a big inspiration for Bradley's character, too, seeing as both were blonde (At one point), had glasses (At one point, again), wore green (At some point) and didn't use magic.

It was when I did away with his glasses that his current design began to form. I briefly brought back the hoodie his first design has before giving him a red dress shirt with a black overshirt jacket (Though the hoodie was repurposed for his best friend's design, who ended up looking a lot more like how I first wanted Bradley to).

I then tested out a different palette for his new outfit by making the overshirt jacket green and trying out a long-sleeved black shirt underneath, and since that design change, Bradley was pretty much finished, save for small changes from then on (Such as his military dog tag necklace).

His current design changes two things from his previous design: one, I finally got his hair how I wanted it to look— noticed best by his bangs and the addition of a cowlick— and two, he now sports an undershirt like this, which I find has a particular 'late 90s/early 2000s' feel to it.

As for Bradley's character, it was eventually decided he would be a mix of the personalities I wanted to give him: he's mostly known as an unassuming and awkward teenager, but also likes skateboarding and playing video games. With perhaps the most design-intensive character out of the way, let's move on to our last but certainly not least team member...

MacKenzie! Oddly enough, I'm pretty sure MacKenzie was like the second character I began to think of ideas for. In the Into the Unknown days, my basic idea was for her to be the standard 'early 2000s gothic girl' without going too overboard in terms of the usual dark and complex clothing.

She was named 'Destiny' at the start, but I then changed her name to 'Kenzie', as it better fit the era Override takes place in... but then I felt like Kenzie was too feminine of a name for the type of character I was aiming for, so she was promptly renamed to MacKenzie thereafter.

MacKenzie is noteworthy for having her first design line up pretty closely to her current design, though plenty of changes were made in-between. She started out with an extremely basic, placeholder look: a jean jacket, deep red shirt, black pants... boom. MacKenzie. However, for a while, MacKenzie had two things the current MacKenzie does not: a hair bow, which has a crescent moon in the middle, and bright pink wrist sleeve braces.

Most of her early sprites were focused primarily of detailing her first sprite, while experimenting some with color choices. Somewhere down the line, though, a humorous idea came to mind— what if she carried an entire stop sign for a weapon? I had wanted MacKenzie to be more of a masculine type of girl, similar to MOTHER 3's Kumatora, so it was a perfect addition to her design!

For a little while, the sprite where she first has the stop sign was her current design, before I tried out giving her the black jeans I had initially drawn her with. I liked the design, though I felt that it was a little lacking, like it was missing something... maybe if I gave her different headwear?

Her crescent moon bow was replaced with a black snapback with a purple brim (That's why MacKenzie is always represented with a purple color, by the way!), and I saturated her jean jacket a bit so it wouldn't be so flat. She also now wears a black wrist sleeve brace (Though it could also be a Psiometer... up to interpretation!) on one of her arms, as a nice callback to her starting design.

Thus, MacKenzie's design was complete! ... or, so I thought. It was when my good friend @minxxikuo took a huge liking to MacKenzie and began to draw her that I found that I really like how he portrayed her. Knives' portrayal of MacKenzie featured a shorter hairstyle that juts out to the side a bit, as well as giving her all kind of earrings.

We ended up agreeing that this interpretation was now canon, and the only other addition I made that you can find in her latest sprite— which is an extremely easily missed detail, mind you— is the addition of two little pins to the front of her jean jacket. Oh, also, her stop sign has a dent in it now, implying... previous melee use.

Well, I think that's about everything! This post ended up being much longer than I expected it to be, but knowing a good few of my followers do like when I get lengthier insights to whatever I make, I'm not sweating it too much! I hope that you've enjoyed this deep dive of the Override cast's designs— these four have come a long way!

#Override #Casey Treverton #Lauren Henley #Bradley Snider #MacKenzie Connors #Sprite Art #Character Design #Concept Art #Deep Dives with Star #Coolness #Cool-NESS?#(It is even FUNNIER a third time!)#This straight-up might be one of if not my longest post yet #Local Star goes off about his OCs #I think it's absolutely evident that Override's been around for two years with everything that's in this post #The Override quartet is without question a few of my absolute favorite characters I've ever designed #So it's nice to finally be able to say that they're just about finalized in terms of their designs!#I still have one other faux Override screenshot to post though I have to fix a few things in it before I do #Namely how Casey looks since it was drawn prior to his redesign as well as some color fixes #Said screenshot is like... one of my most tileset-intensive sprite works yet though. Really excited to post it!

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sealer-of-wenkamui · 3 years

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Ciaran Character Analysis

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ciaran over the last few months, so I wanted to try and collect my thoughts and do a proper character analysis of sorts. Of course, things are highly open to interpretation in Dark Souls, so this is just how I read her character and the reasons why.

First of all, I actually don’t think she was together with Artorias for a number of reasons. She almost certainly had feelings for him, but I think she tried to hide them, and perhaps didn’t fully understand them. For one, she simply speaks of him as a “dear friend”, and while this could also be taken as her keeping their relationship secret, there is no description or unused dialogue from Artorias’ side hinting at it either. I also wonder if her unused dialogue where she calls him a “dear companion” was changed because it sounds too openly affectionate. In Gough’s unused dialogue he states that she had “strong feelings” for him, which is worded like they were one sided instead of in a relationship. And while he might have realized it, Gough is also the most perceptive of the Knights, even realizing that the fire will one day fade, while Artorias strikes me as being much more oblivious. Finally, her dying words come across like the confession of a dying woman, one who was never able to say her feelings in life, so she at least will say them now that she has nothing to lose. Interestingly enough, they’re also unsubtitled- words meant not for you, but for Artorias and for herself.

One of the biggest reasons why I think she would hide her feelings is her position. She is one of four Knights of Gwyn, entrusted with a special soul, and despite her appearance, she is considered something more than human, and seems to have disdain for humans (as seen by her dialogue when you attack her, or even just the way she says “human” in her unused dialogue).

I don’t think it’s the case that she’s human while the others are not just because she’s small, since size seems to be easily variable based on the state of the soul, for example Ornstein grows in size upon absorbing the soul of Smough, or Gael, much larger than your average person after consuming the dark souls of the pygmies. Perhaps even Artorias was a normal size to begin with.

Ultimately the gods and these demigod-like existences with their special souls aren’t all that different from humans, but the important thing is that they are considered as such, so she would be too. Humanity is constantly linked with the dark throughout the series. And even someone as kindhearted as Artorias, who believes in the goodness of humanity, thinks of the dark as something evil, something to be feared (In fact he words it as believing them to be more than just dark in his unused dialogue). One of the four Knights of the man who sacrificed himself to stave off the Age of Dark would want nothing to do with the dark. Yet feelings, and especially feelings of love, are a very human thing (just look at the pursuers/affinity description for example). That alone seems like the strongest reason to hide any feelings she might have for Artorias, to refuse to acknowledge that human side of her, to repress them and pretend they don’t exist.

Even more so than the other knights she comes across as having something to prove, as someone that has worked so hard to reach the distinguished status she has and doesn’t want anything to take that from her. The lightning arrow description mentions that female knights were rare to begin with, and she was able to work her way up to being one of Gwyn’s most trusted. The porcelain mask description mentions how determined she was to earn it as a decoration of honor (I imagine she first became an especially distinguished Lord’s Blade before becoming one of the four), and the English description actually leaves out another interesting fact- that it’s decorated with her own hair. The wording makes it sound like she cut her own hair to decorate that mask. This makes it seem like she wanted to stand out and make a name for herself- giving herself a distinct look that would come to be feared by all enemies of Lord Gwyn.

On the level of character design, her mask is what she’s most known for, the hornet ring description in DS3 even drawing attention to it. This comes across as a very deliberate choice reflecting her character- as she is a woman whose mask is more than just physical, someone who is perpetually hiding her “human” side. Her mask gives her an otherworldly look, like something beyond humans and reflects her “divine” self. Her purpose in life is to strike down any and all enemies of her Lord, and she has worked so hard towards that alone, almost as if she’s trying to become the mask she wears. Even though I think she might be able to relax a little around the other knights and especially Artorias, she comes across as a very serious woman that doesn’t truly know much about herself outside of her job. Interestingly, her face under the mask is just the default female face in-game, as if she truly isn’t meant to be seen without it!

No matter how much she tries to repress her feelings though, a mask is still just a mask, and they don’t disappear just because she wants them to. She has strong feelings for Artorias, a darkness she desperately wants to hide. Despite being a Knight of Gwyn, I tend to associate her with the darkness as a result, and even her name may be a reflection of that as well. Ciaran is common Irish boy’s name (Ciara is a girl’s name but she specifically has the masculine form of the name, a decision I also think was intentional and may tie into her being the only woman of the four and how rare female knights were) and looking around, she doesn’t seem to be named after any famous Ciaran as far as I know. So, what is the meaning of the name? Little dark one. A name associated with darkness seems especially significant in this series, and her struggle with her own humanity is central to her character, something that even her name itself betrays.

Since female knights are apparently rare, and she has an especially high-ranking position, I think she would also want to hide her feelings out of fear of being seen as just a girl in love. I also think its interesting how the hornet ring description also draws attention to the fact that she’s the only woman of the four, and how her name is almost exclusively used for boys, and I wonder if she went by the title of “sir” as well. At the same time, her appearance is the distinctly feminine look shared by all the Lord’s Blades, even using her own hair as well, so it’s not something she’s hiding either.

In addition to being the lone woman of the four, I also got the impression that she’s the youngest and last to join the Knights, which may further add to the feeling of needing to prove herself.

The main reason why actually comes from her speech pattern, when you compare it to the rest of the characters seen in that time period, it stands out. While Elizabeth, Dusk, Gough, and even Artorias all speak in an old-fashioned manner, she noticeably does not, except for “May the Lord guide thee” which sounds like a set phrase anyone serving Gwyn might say. If it was tied to status, then she would speak that way as well, she’s hardly trying to hide it (and besides we see other characters opposed to the gods that speak in the same way, like the hollow outside the Ringed City or Yuria). Maybe she did come from a more humble upbringing and that could be why, but with how varied the characters that do speak like that are I don’t think that’s it (and even some clearly noble characters don’t, like Lothric or Oceiros). So I wonder if its simply because she was born later once speech styles had changed.

Her position also makes sense if so as well, she’s an assassin, so even if she wasn’t around until after the Age of Fire had begun and Gwyn had gained status, that’s exactly when you would need a skilled assassin to eliminate your enemies. In other words, she’s not a dragonslayer, so it still makes sense if she is younger.

Going back to her feelings, the way I see it is that Artorias being consumed by the Abyss and killed is what finally forced her to face them- she’s not able to recognize just how strong they are until the man himself is gone. Perhaps she planned to kill him herself as she was in the area, but realized she couldn’t, or rather that she would almost surely hesitate and get herself killed. In a way, its almost a relief the chosen undead came along and killed him instead, she understood it was something that needed to be done, and though she doesn’t seem to like humans very much, she doesn’t hold anything against you. You find her immediately after killing Artorias, so she almost certainly would have been the one to find his corpse and make that small memorial, as if she wanted to make sure it would be her and no one else to find him. Despite being the kind of person who would always be watching her back, you find her kneeling in prayer, not so much as turning to look at you when you approach, and you can even easily attack her from behind in such a state. As if simply being there in prayer was the most important thing in that moment- and she surely has a lot of thoughts going through her head and a lot of feelings hitting her all at once. At this point, she can’t lie to herself, and even if she couldn’t confess while he was alive, if you take her life, she’ll at least do it before she dies.

When you speak to her, she seems to have no interest in you outside of obtaining Artorias’ soul, with only his will stopping her from taking it from you. She claims she wants to pay proper respect to him with it, but at the moment, his actual grave hasn’t been made yet, so I imagine she might take it into herself for a while until that point.

As to her eventual fate, I do think its likely she’s the corpse found behind his grave that has the hornet ring. At first I wondered why someone of her status wouldn’t have a proper burial, but in time, not many people are going to that grave, and those that do don’t return, so it may simply be she died after it was forgotten, and her corpse was never found.

The fact that she will give you her tracers if you give her his soul implies she gives up being a Knight of Gwyn (they’ve half fallen apart at that point anyway), but she doesn’t strike me as the type to kill herself right then and there, I think it would be a slow wasting away and curling up to die behind the grave of the man she loved. She (nor Gough) drop the special souls that they should have as part of the four… and while it may simply be to not further encourage people to kill them, if that soul is what gives them a long life (Ornstein is somehow still around after all) she may have purposely given it up so that she may eventually die… or maybe its after she receives his soul and she keeps both hers and his at his grave.

Finally, her ring ends up in the untended graves in DS3, and while there are a number of reasons you can come up with for how it ended up there, I feel like the most important part is the symbolic meaning behind it- for it is found by a grave with a Farron greatsword, one of the types modeled after that of Artorias’. It feels as if even in death, her feelings linked the two of them together.

While not nearly as direct, even DS2 has a parallel to Ciaran in the form of Alsanna. Much like Ciaran, you find her kneeling in prayer mourning her lost love, who also happens to be a left-handed swordsman who sacrificed himself and got corrupted and even has (several) animal companions. (DS2 also is where its mentioned that Artorias was left-handed, and its consistently used to mark characters paralleling him, even in Bloodborne with Ludwig.) Her soul even gives you a pair of curved swords. Parallels can also be drawn between the other three knights and people closely associated with the fragments of Manus, but only Ciaran parallels the child of dark herself, further deepening her association with the dark.

More directly, DS3 has the Dancer and Vordt, two knights who seem to honor Ciaran and Artorias’ legacy, and were always seen together- in fact you can see phantoms of what seems to be them before they were transformed into beasts walking the streets of Irithyll together (Vordt too, is left-handed). Despite how she tried to hide her feelings, I think it may have been her ring that betrayed them, so they ended up being remembered together. The Pontiff Knights in general also have a great deal of similarity to the Lord’s Blades, somewhat in armor design but mostly in their job, being described as Sulyvahn’s “punitive blades”. The Dancer herself most notably has two curved blades that look remarkably similar to Ciaran’s tracers in shape, as well as being gold and silver, even wielding the gold one in her left hand like she did.

There are probably more little details I could add, but this is already long, and I’ve covered the major points that I’ve thought a lot about. I tried to explain my reasoning as best as possible too, but there’s plenty of stuff that’s unknown and that’s half the fun. Feel free to comment, I love Ciaran and I love to think about her and discuss her!

#Dark Souls #Ciaran #Lord's Blade Ciaran #I've been dwelling on her ever since i met her in DS1....#i love her.....#i don't really write much but i've been posting a looot of thoughts about her on twitter and stuff #so i wanted to try making something somewhat cohesive to collect them all #didn't even get into little details like how cute it is how her voice softens when she talks about Artorias #or my delusions about how she might have initially reacted to his death #but i got the important points!#enjoy?#I hope i can make everyone appreciate her just a little bit more~

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add-the-account-yourcosmicguide · 3 years

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Lunar Magick : Waning Gibbous Moon 🌒 in Taurus ♉♥✨❤💖😍♉♥✨

& SHADOW WORK

With the Moon in Taurus we are motivated by the desire for serenity, security, peace, and comfort. The Moon is very most sensual and constant in Taurus. You may feel like you want to relax, resist change and “stop to smell the roses”. Life slows down a little, and we get comfortable. We may also be inclined to stubbornness and materialism.

Patience, diligence, perseverance and practicality are on the increase. The Moon in Taurus favours occupations which demand prolonged and persistent effort, but it is also good for complete rest in comfort and coziness. It is best to avoid undertaking anything which requires quickness, decisiveness and quick-wittedness. This Moon generally favors financial activities or applying for a loan, beginning a potentially long-term relationship, music and home decorations.

For me, there is no season for shadow work. Although of course the colder, darker months bring forth the more obvious associations and move people to journey within, Spring and Summer call to me just as much because I know that the work never really stops. I 'keep my hand in'. I want to be practiced and ready at a moment's notice because, hell - when you catch your shadow in action and you're thrown off guard, you need to have those tools sharpened and prepared. I never want shadow work to be something that's gone rusty for me.

Sometimes we can know that shadow work is needed but feel unable to pinpoint exactly what the issue is. We just know that we feel, well, 'shadowy' about stuff. Perhaps this is you right now. Maybe you don't feel like yourself at the moment. Maybe you're making harsh judgements, feeling rejected and resentful or just finding yourself trying to please others and play up to their expectations. Maybe you're reading this blog post because you're trying to ignore the big project you keep saying you'll begin or the business you really want to start. Sometimes you get that 'not quite right' feeling but you're not sure how to describe or confirm what's going on. I think that's one of the best times to do a little shadow work journalling. Clarity knows when you're looking for it, and it often rewards your searching by showing up! (Sometimes in a very unexpected place!)

So, whether you're actively engaging in shadow work now or you feel like you need to but dunno where to begin, these challenging journal prompts are for you. (They are also for anyone who just happens to read through them and thinks one of them might be just the ticket for some random self-exploration. Go for it!)

1. How judged do you tend to feel on a daily basis? Explore how much of that perceived judgement is real and how much is imagined.

2. Take a look at the best and most enjoyable aspect of your life right now. What is your underlying fear in that area and why?

3. Write about the last time you tried to manipulate a situation to your advantage and examine how you feel about that in hindsight.

4. Describe a scenario in which you feel that competition could be healthy and productive. Then describe a scenario in which competition could be toxic and unproductive. Finally, write about your emotional response to this exercise.

5. What does it feel like to have your emotions belittled or downplayed? Be as descriptive as possible and try writing about specific examples from your own life too.

6. Pinpoint something that's really frustrating/upsetting you at the moment. Then try writing an uplifting, beautiful poem about it!

7. Write about the last time you ran away from your responsibilities. Consider why you did that and what the results were.

8. How can you begin to give other people more space and acceptance to be themselves around you?

9. Whereabouts do you tend to expect other people to conform to your beliefs? (And what scares you the most about allowing people to have their own beliefs in that area?)

10. What does the term 'superiority complex' bring to mind for you and why?

11. If you could say one thing to the person who's hurt you the most right now, what would it be and why?

12. Consider yourself at your worst - at a point where all of your most negative and disruptive traits have come to the surface. Capture that version of you in your mind. Then write a letter of love, understanding and compassion to that version of you. (For extra credit: Read the letter aloud to yourself whenever you feel like you've turned into a bit of a monster!)

13. What does the word 'punishment' make you think of right now and why?

14. Write about the different ways in which people have expressed their anger or resentment in front of you over the last few months. What do you notice about their different modes of expression for these emotions?

15. What's the one thing you know you need to do but keep avoiding? Write it down. Then write a step-by-step description of actually doing it. Include every action which would need to be involved in order to get it done. At the end of the exercise, explore how you feel.

16. When was the last time you witnessed distinctly self-destructive behaviour, either in yourself or in someone else? Describe it and the emotions you had at the time.

17. What was the last cruel thing you wanted to say to someone in order to make them feel bad about themselves or their actions? Write it down and then explore your feelings about it.

18. Whereabouts do you currently feel isolated and how are you dealing with that emotion?

19. Write about the biggest experience of loss for you so far this year.

20. What do you currently envy in someone else's life and why? (For extra credit: What kinds of emotions come up when you imagine yourself having access to the thing you envy?)

21. At the top of a blank page write the following words, 'My insecurity is my teacher.' Then fill the page up with your responses to this sentence - whatever comes to mind, honey!

22. What does it feel like to be completely discouraged by someone's words? Be descriptive and consider writing about personal experiences of this in your own life.

23. Why is it sometimes difficult to tell the difference between someone saying something intentionally mean and someone just saying something accidentally thoughtless?

24. What does the term 'constructive criticism' make you think of and why?

25. Which emotion do you tend to deal with in unhelpful/destructive ways? Write about the way you usually deal with this troublesome emotion. Then write about what your life might be like if you dealt with it differently.

Keep in mind that these journal prompts are designed to be ball-busters. I like to create journalling tools which feel like a little bit of an uphill bike ride with an increasingly steep incline, so feel free to dip in and out, stop on the side of the road for a rest or take things slowly. These prompts are not designed to be done in rigid order or completed in their entirety either. Feel free to select a couple and see how you get along. No pressure. If you're even considering one of these prompts as an exercise, that means you're showing up in a big, bold way and, baby - I salute that shit, for real!

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scxrlettwxtches · 4 years

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true love’s irony | hwang hyunjin

Genre: royal au, fluff, angst, very bittersweet ig(?), slight han jisung x reader dynamics

Warnings: light making out hehe

Word Count: ~5.3k

Description: You were never just Prince Hyunjin’s servant. You were his one true love, the sparkle of joy in his dull princely life. And despite his intense desire to have you as his own, your happiness would always be more important to him.

A/N: i have absolutely no idea what this is. it was supposed to be a short drabble to get rid of the hyunjin/jisung rivalry flooding my brain, but then it evolved into something a little bigger. i know it’s pretty terrible, but i had to finish it asdfghjk--on the bright side, i can finally start to tackle those requests that you had so graciously sent to me, and im super pumped about it! as always, my dms and my asks are open to anyone who’d like to be friends! love y’all!

Hyunjin’s evening had turned considerably less enjoyable, and it was all because of you.

Actually, that was mean, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Hyunjin was sure that you couldn’t harbor malice intentions towards anyone even if you wanted to. You were just perfect like that, at least in his eyes. However, as he stood beside the crown prince, his brother, he watched you glide across the ballroom like a graceful fairy, dancing with someone that was distinctly not him.

“You might want to tone down that glare, Hyunjin,” Minho nudged him with a subtle elbow as he leaned to whisper in his ear, “You’re going to start a war at this rate.”

Of course Minho knew what the problem was. The young prince was never subtle about his affections for you, never hesitating from letting his words of love fall out of his lips. Everyone in the castle knew. Everyone except you, Hyunjin had slowly began to realize after some time of watching his advances being brushed off without even a second of thought.

Truthfully, Hyunjin’s evening had started out being more exciting than usual. When he’d bumped into you in the morning as you rushed about the palace running miscellaneous errands, you’d happily told him that you would be able to attend at least part of the ball as long as you completed all your chores. Hyunjin was elated; you rarely came to these events, and even when you did, Hyunjin would always be unfortunately occupied with entertaining a visiting princess or any potential marriage partners. This time, there were no visiting princesses, and his mother had finally agreed to lay off the incessant matchmaking, at least for a little bit.

What Hyunjin had genuinely not expected was for someone to sweep you into a dance before he could even make his way towards you.

“You are not the only one with eyes,” Minho chided as Hyunjin failed to control his raging jealousy, “Anyone can see that Y/N looks quite dazzling tonight.”

And you were dazzling alright. Hyunjin was not a fool, he thought you looked especially pretty that evening, dressed in a flowing, lilac gown that billowed gracefully whenever you moved, the off shoulder design creating a sort of airness about you that only further showed off your angelic features. The dress was clearly a little less posh than the rest, no doubt a reject from the tailors that you’d taken and given it your own personal touch. Still, Hyunjin could say without a doubt that you were the most beautiful in the ballroom.

Hyunjin would’ve been fine with you dancing with other people. You were beautiful and of age to be married, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You also never seemed to pay very much attention to the partners that you danced with, always politely brushing off their advances or diverting their attention before slipping away, all while Hyunjin watched with uncontrolled glee.

This time, things were different.

Because you weren’t dancing with just anyone, you were dancing with Han Jisung.

Hyunjin and Jisung were not friends, and if anyone tried to make a case for it, Hyunjin would--without fail--burst into a rant of how Jisung had done him wrong all his life. As princes from neighboring kingdoms, the two boys who were also of the same age were constantly put together during their lives, which only heightened their competitiveness. Hyunjin didn’t like Jisung, but he did respect him. He had a certain charm about him, a certain air in which he carried about him that made it seem like everything came easily to him. He had a smile that could put everyone at ease, and a sense of humor that made him a blossoming social butterfly.

Hyunjin knew all those things, and yet, when he watched Jisung approach you with his trademark smile and lighthearted quips, he’d expected you to dance one song with him and then proceed to brush him off like the rest. But one song soon became two, and then three, until you had spent the entire evening so far with a certain Han Jisung. It was clear that he captivated you from the way you smiled, from the way your eyes sparkled whenever he spoke.

Hyunjin hated it. Your eyes should only sparkle like that with him!

“You know, you could just ask her to dance, and spare yourself the agony of watching them fall in love,” Minho commented with a chuckle.

“They are not falling in love!” Hyunjin hissed, but his eyes darted uncertainty back to the pair who were currently getting a drink together in the side of the room, laughing together as Jisung makes sure to keep his arm hovering near your waist.

“You wait any longer and they will,” Minho pointed out bluntly, now turning to look at the pair as well, “You know Jisung doesn’t mingle with anyone that he doesn’t think is interesting.”

Hyunjin clenched his fist, finally getting fed up with his brother’s unnecessary commentary, “Why are you rubbing salt in the wound?” he growled lowly, careful not to attract any unwanted attention or start any rumors that the two princes were fighting.

“Because I’m tired of watching you pine after her like a kicked puppy. You can’t expect to be able to chase away all her suitors with bribes and threats.”

“It’s worked for now,” Hyunjin grumbled under his breath, suddenly looking a little more embarrassed, “And besides, Y/N wasn’t interested in them either.”

“But it’s going to stop working eventually,” Minho said, and Hyunjin hated just how reasonable his brother was sounding right now, “What will you do when Y/N actually falls in love with someone? Will you chase them away just to appease your childish jealousy?”

“She won’t fall in love,” Hyunjin stressed, glaring at the man.

“She won’t now, because she’s in love with you, but she won’t wait forever,” Minho retorted smoothly.

Hyunjin let out a bitter chuckle, “Don’t mock me. You know she’s not in love with me, or she would’ve noticed,” he muttered, thinking of every gift he’d given you, every subtle confession he’d ever made, every moment when he’d do something just to get your eyes to sparkle in the special way he loved so much.

“That’s because she’s oblivious, and if you haven’t noticed that she loves you, then you’re just as oblivious,” Minho scoffed, looking at you and Jisung back on the dance floor, waltzing away, “Do you think she goes out of her way to take care of you when you’re sick, stay up with you when you’re stressed, cheer the loudest during your ride tournaments just because she’s a palace maid?”

“You goad me now, but where will you stand when I ask for mother and father’s permission to marry her?”

Minho couldn’t help but look a little surprised, “You want to marry her already--”

“You know what I mean!” Hyunjin snapped, turning to face his older brother, “What can I give her? What can I truly give her? Absolutely nothing, because mother and father would never allow this--us--to happen,” he spoke, and Minho distinctly ignore how choked up Hyunjin’s voice suddenly sounded.

Looking out into the ballroom, Minho took a minute before answering, “I can’t tell you for certain what will happen in the future. But Hyunjin, if you let what the two of you have die without ever confronting it, both of you will live with unbearable regrets.”

Hyunjin closed his eyes. Minho was right. There would be a festering hole in his heart for the rest of his life if he continued to watch you from afar, never truly making a move and yet not being able to bear the pain of seeing you with someone else.

As he heard the sound of your lilting, graceful laughter carry across the ballroom, Hyunjin lifted his head, watching as Jisung held you tightly as the two of you danced. He could feel his blood boiling, his temper rising again. Jisung dipped you with experienced ease, his fingers gripping your waist tightly as if you were already his, and Hyunjin finally snapped.

ii.

You were honestly having one of the best nights of your life until Hyunjin ruined it.

Actually, that’s a little mean, but it was true. Fairytales always talk about fated meeting between friends, between lovers, and that day, you really believed that meeting Han Jisung was fate. You were hesitant at first to accept his offer to dance, but his charm eventually swept you into one, then two, then three dances.

Your time in the palace was far from torturous. Having grown up with Hyunjin, he’d always been kind to you, treating you as an equal more than a servant, something you were still very grateful about. However, as you grew up, you began to get bored of the palace, of the people. Han Jisung was a breath of fresh air, and you found yourself having difficulty letting your thoughts drift to anyone but him. He was kind, entertaining, and the words that he’d spoken during one of your dances seemed particularly appealing.

Of course, you were vaguely away of Hyunjin’s presence the whole time. Being his maid practically since the day you came out of your mother’s womb, it was hard for your eyes and your brain to stop instinctively searching for the man, to keep him out of trouble. Luckily for you, he wasn’t difficult to spot, taking a place beside the Crown Prince, but as Jisung dipped you in a graceful arch, you glanced out of the corner of your eye that Hyunjin was suddenly missing.

Oh, well. He was probably courting another noble lady to pass the time.

It wasn’t until the song ended, and you and Jisung were both giving each other teasing curtsies when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your wrist, causing you to freeze. Hyunjin lightly tugged you into his personal space as he towered over you.

“I think you’ve taken up enough of Lady Y/N’s evening,” Hyunjin spoke lightly as he gave Jisung a stare that was anything but lighthearted.

“Nonsense, I thought we were quite enjoying each other’s company,” Jisung gave you a dramatic bow to which you couldn’t help but laugh at, still in disbelief that a prince like him would be so carefree.

Your laugh and obvious amusement towards Jisung only worked to set Hyunjin off further, and he clenched his jaw before speaking, “Could I interrupt your enjoyment for one dance?” his voice oozing sarcasm as he asked, the cold Prince Hyunjin persona seeping into his stance. Then, his gaze shifted towards you and it all vanished, showing a crack of vulnerability in the prince’s normally proud ego, “Please?”

How could you refuse him when he looked at you with those eyes, his exterior so cold and yet his final request similar to one of a needy puppy?

“Just one,” you found yourself saying before turning to curtsey to Jisung, “Thank you for the wonderful evening, Your Highness,” you said politely, putting the Queen’s etiquette classes to proper use.

Jisung chuckled, bowing to you with the respect that, as a servant, you didn’t deserve from the likes of a prince, “I hope to see you again, Lady Y/N,” he said, mockingly formal.

Hyunjin didn’t wait a moment longer after the farewell to tug you away from the prince, walking to the middle of the ballroom just as the musicians begin their next waltz. His one hand moved to hold yours delicately, his other wrapping around your waist and pulling you snug against him. But, to your credit, you were barely caught off guard by his subtle flirting. After all, the two of you had been dancing since you were only little kids, and it was a talent that came naturally to you, especially when dancing with Hyunjin.

The music began to play, and the two of you glided expertly across the ballroom floor, totally in sync as you looked up into his eyes, finding it hard to pay attention to who’s around you and not hard at all to get lost in those beautiful brown eyes of his.

Still, you could notice a telltale pout on his lips, the one that always made him seem younger, more childish, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, “Why the long face, Your Highness?”

Hyunjin pouted even more, and you could feel the fingers wrapped around your waist tighten almost imperceptibly, “Of all people, why were you dancing with him?” he whined, sounding too much like a petulant child as you chuckled.

“You’re throwing a tantrum because I danced with Prince Jisung?” you clarified, and Hyunjin avoided your gaze, which told you all you needed to know, “How old are you, Your Highness?”

“That’s not nice, Y/N!” Hyunjin frowned, “You know he’s a jerk.”

“I know,” you said firmly as he spun you around before guiding you back to his arms, “that the two of you were immaturely competitive in your younger years and just never had the change to talk things out.”

Hyunjin’s hand wrapped around your much smaller one only tightened its grip, “I understand one dance, but you were with him all night,” he said, distraught, “You didn’t even look for me once!”

“I did look for you!” you laughed in response, “And I saw you with the Crown Prince, so I knew you had company.”

“But I want your company,” This made you genuinely blush, and you quickly angled your head to the side in order to do an admittedly horrible job of hiding the reaction on your face.

Hyunjin, the attentive little brat, immediately caught the obvious pink of your cheeks as he leaned closer to your ear, “Do you like it when I’m clingy?” he whispered, and you gave him a light shove to the chest.

“I’m not in the mood for your teasing,” you retorted with a scrunch of your nose, something that--unbeknownst to you--Hyunjin thought was absolutely adorable. However, Hyunjin’s attention had drifted away from your lighthearted conversation, and his eyes fell to the glimmering charm around your neck.

“You’re wearing it,” he stated, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. It was his necklace, a beautiful little diamond charm on a thin chain. He’d spent days looking for the right one, one that would suit your more modest nature, and yet would show how much he is willing to spoil you if you truly let him.

Your hand instinctively reached to touch the charm lightly, “Well, of course I am,” you said lightly as you slipped your hand back into his, “it matches my dress, does it not?”

It certainly did match, but Hyunjin still had a genuinely dumbfounded expression on his face, “You never wear it,” he said more firmly, “I’ve never seen it.”

“Of course, I wear it!” you retorted hotly, and your dance steps suddenly moved a bit faster as you tried to contain yourself, “I just have to hide it under my shirt sometimes. Not just anyone can get me a diamond charm necklace. They’ll figure out it’s you soon enough, and you’ll be the laughing stock of town.”

Hyunjin pouted, obviously wanting you to show off his gifts, but you couldn’t always do what he wanted.

Eventually, the dance came to a finish, and the two of you stepped back from each other, dipping your heads in a curtsey. Hyunjin held your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to leave a lingering kiss, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Not if it means your mother scolding me about being a bad influence again,” you said, before saying sternly, “I know she told you to stay and entertain the guests today.”

Hyunjin’s smile widened a fraction, “Getting out of here it is.”

“Your Highness, I just said—” your exasperated sigh was ignored as Hyunjin began to guide you out of the ballroom, bobbing and weaving through the crowd and heading to a covert back door exit.

“We’re going to get in trouble. And by we, I mean me.”

“Minho will cover us,” Hyunjin replied lightly as he opened the door, which was more of a hatch in the wall than anything, and the two of you slipped away from the party without anyone noticing, leaving the stately music and the elegant dances behind.

iii.

“Isn’t this much better?” Hyunjin sighed contently as he laid down on the grass of the royal gardens, stretching his limbs and letting out an unrestrained yawn.

You were not as relaxed, sitting beside him, your beautiful yet cheap dress smoothed out under you, “It’s only going to be nice until your mother comes out and rains hell down on both of us.”

“Why are you afraid of my mother?” Hyunjin pouted, tilting his head to look up at you.

“Because she’s the queen and she can literally chop my head off with a snap of her fingers?” you questioned him, raising your eyebrows.

“No one will chop off your head. I won’t ever let it happen,” Hyunjin spoke with vitriol, suddenly sounding much more aggressive than before.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Thank you. You’ve always had my back, Hyunjin,” In the safety of the empty garden, with nothing but the fireflies and the flowers to hear your words, you allowed yourself to say his name, his real name, without the fussy titles the separated your statuses.

Hyunjin rolled over, clenching his fist at the sound of his name falling out of your lips. Oh, it drove him mad. He would give anything to marry you, make you a princess, and you’d be able to call him that whenever you pleased. He sat up, his face moving near yours as he studied your face curiously.

You backed up a little, a blush clear on your face at Hyunjin’s forwardness, “What do you want?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

“I want you to me honest with me,” Hyunjin said simply, already reaching to stroke your cheek with his thumb. His touch was delicate, fleeting, and you found yourself leaning into it instinctively.

“I’m always honest with you,” you murmured a soft, weak retort, and Hyunjin chuckled.

“If you were always honest, I wouldn’t be asking it of you right now,” Hyunjin looked deep into your eyes, seeing the endless layers of kindness, uncertainty, homeliness, love. He would be content with studying your face for the rest of his life if only you would stop looking down at your feet whenever you’re with him.

“Well, then what is it?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, looking almost concerned.

Hyunjin seemed almost entranced with your face as he stroked your cheek, his eyes getting lost in yours. Right when you thought that he really wasn’t going to say anything at all, he spoke softly, “Do you love me?”

It felt like the world stopped. Your cheeks flared into a bright red color, and you stammered incomprehensibly, “H-Hyunjin--Hyunjin, what are you saying--”

“There’s something between us, Y/N, you must feel it too,” Hyunjin said--no, begged--his hands now cupping your face delicately, like you were the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

“Hyunjin, even if I wanted t-to, we can’t…”

“Then, I’ll be honest first,” Hyunjin spoke, stroking your cheek, “I love you. I’ve loved ever since I laid eyes on you. I fall in love with you over and over again, every time you laugh, every time you smile, every time you look at me with those beautiful eyes,” he tilted your head up as he moved even closer.

You struggled to speak, your mouth opening and closing as you finally nodded, your eyes sparkling in the way that made Hyunjin’s heart skip beats and soar into the air, “I’ve loved you for years, Hyunjin. I love you.”

That was all Hyunjin needed before he pressed his lips onto yours softly, for a moment, just to make sure you were genuinely okay. When you not only reciprocated but deepened the kiss, wrapping your delicate hand gently around the back of his neck and languidly played with his hair, he lost all control. He began to kiss you like a starving man, laying you down on the grass as he ravaged your mouth with his desperate, wanting love, and lacing your fingers together in both hands.

It was only until both of you truly needed air that he finally pulled away with a breathless gasp. He looked down at the perfect picture of you, your eyes unfocused and dazed, your chest heaving as you took deep breaths, your cheeks flushed from excitement, and your lips...your lips were swollen and plump. It made Hyunjin almost feral.

He did that. He put that expression on your face. That was something he was sure no one--not even the great Han Jisung--could do to you.

Hyunjin let out a gentle sigh as he helped you up, propping you against his chest so you could lie on him. You folded into his arms perfectly, curling into his side as his arm wrapped around your waist. He could see the content look in your face, your blissful expression. He wanted to see that smile on your face every single day, even if it killed him.

Everything felt perfect, for you and for him, basking in each other’s love under the peaceful moonlight.

But you knew that things were far from perfect, and deep down, Hyunjin knew it too.

“What did you and Jisung talk about?” Hyunjin finally asked after a long moment of peaceful silence.

You looked up at him, your cheek still gently resting on his chest, “Are you still jealous?” You asked, faintly amused, “After what we just did?”

The prince shook his head, pressing his lips into your soft hair, “No, not jealous,” he answered softly, his free hand absently playing with your fingers.

“Then, what’s wrong?” you asked gently, and when he looked down at you, his heart was heavy.

“Did he ask you to marry him?”

“Hyunjin!” your eyes widened at his suspicions as you pulled away from his embrace, “N-no, no of course not!”

“But he offered you something, did he not?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes looking anywhere but you.

There was no use hiding it from him. Settling down on the grass beside him, you lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you spoke, “He asked me to go to his kingdom with him. To visit.”

Hyunjin couldn’t help but chuckle at your innocence, your naivety, “That’s as good as a proposal, Y/N.”

“What exactly are you trying to get at?” you finally lost your patience with the poor boy, looking up at him expectantly as your chin rests on his shoulder. Hyunjin tilted his head to look at you, his eyes filled with such sorrow and such longing, that you almost knew what he was going to say before the dreaded words even fell out of his mouth.

“You should marry Jisung.”

Your entire body grew cold and you stared at Hyunjin with an unreadable expression on your face as you scooted away from him, “Are you serious?” you whispered, trying to hide the way your voice cracked, “After I just told you I loved you, you’re sending me away? That’s cruel.”

“No, no, my darling Y/N,” Hyunjin spoke desperately, reaching to cup your cheeks with his hands as you turned your head away, “You misunderstand. I love you with all my heart. I love you more than there are stars in the sky.”

“Then, why?” you asked, your eyes sparkling not with curiosity, but with misty tears. Hyunjin wiped them away with gentle fingers.

“You know why,” he said, his voice tinged with heartbreak, and you closed your eyes, tears silently rolling down your cheeks as you answered your own question.

“Because your mother would never let you marry me, isn’t that right?” your voice was soft, disappointed, and resigned at the same time. Hyunjin looked away from your face, unable to bear the way your expression quite literally fell.

The silence that screamed between the two of you was no longer comfortable. It was tense and sad before you broke it, “So that’s it?” you said softly, looking down at your hands as you tried to blink away the tears, “You’re just going to let me go?”

Hyunjin wanted to deny it at the top of his lungs. He wanted to run right up to his mother and tell her to look at herself in the mirror for one second to see how arrogant and stuck up she was. But he couldn’t.

“There’s no fighting my mother’s demands, you know that,” he said, running a hand through his soft, dark hair, “Even if I did, it would only be hard on you. I won’t let you suffer just because you love me.”

“How are you so certain things will go well with Jisung, then?” you asked almost spitefully, feeling bitter, feeling disappointed that Hyunjin was not doing more to fight for your love, “He’s a prince, the same as you.”

“Things are different in his kingdom. The queen was a mere commoner before she and Chan fell in love,” Hyunjin said, laughing without humor, “That man never cared about rules or traditions anyway.”

You finally looked up at him again, your lower lip quivering, “You understand what this means, right? If I leave with him, I’ll never be able to be by your side again!” you said desperately.

Hyunjin looked down, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, “Don’t make this harder than it already is, please,” he implored you, his heart feeling painfully twisted the more he thought about your words.

“Hard? You’re the one that’s pushing me away--”

“I need you to be happy!” The prince finally blurted it out, the words tumbling out of his mouth as his voice gave way. He cupped your face in his hands, repeating them softly, “I need you to be happy, Y/N, and there’s no true happiness for you if you follow me. My mother won’t rest until I marry someone of high birth, and I’d never, never let you become my mistress,”

“You deserve to be married in splendor, be treated like a queen and I-I can’t give that to you,” Hyunjin choked on his words, the tears finally falling from his misty eyes as he fully realizes that--despite being the most sought after prince, the man with everything--he truly had nothing to give you.

You stared at Hyunjin as he fell apart in front of you, his head resting on your shoulder tiredly as you felt his tears drip onto your bare skin. Reaching up, you gently carded your fingers through his hair, whispering soothing words and humming gentle melodies.

“Hyunjin,” you finally spoke after a long moment, “if I do as you ask, what will become of your happiness?”

The prince answered slowly, “My...happiness…” he repeated your words as if they were foreign to him, “I suppose I’ll find my happiness eventually. I’m happy if you’re happy, Y/N,” the words felt cheesier than any other pick up line he’d used on other princesses before, but you know that he meant every word he said to you.

“I’m sorry,” It was the only thing you could say, and even then, it wasn’t quite enough for what you knew you were about to do; break the heart of your true love.

“I’m sorry, too,” Hyunjin spoke softly, and neither of you could resist the temptation. Tilting his head up, he shifted forward, pressing his lips against yours desperately, and you kissed him as if it were the last time you’d ever be able to see him. He pulled you into his lap, wanting to kiss you as deeply and as lovingly as possible, knowing this was the last.

When you pulled away after what felt like only a split second, you sat in his lap, breathing heavily with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes again. Neither of you knew quite what to say, how to say it. The real goodbye.

Reaching to the back of your neck, you fiddled with the clasp, and gently took off your diamond necklace, the only item of wealth you’d ever owned, Hyunjin’s courting gift that had gone unnoticed by you. You wanted to keep it, to hold it close to your heart as you would slowly begin to forget the prince who’d first stolen your affections. But you knew it wasn’t fair, neither to Hyunjin nor to Jisung.

“Here,” you said gently, taking his hand in yours and opening his palm, placing the necklace into his hand, “When you find love, true love again, you can give it to them,” you looked at him fondly, not being able to resist an extra peck on his lips.

As you stood up, having to leave the palace as midnight struck, indicating that all guests and people other than the royal family were to leave the premise, Hyunjin called out to your slowly disappearing figure, “You were my first true love, Y/N!”

You stopped in your tracks, your hand instinctively reaching to touch his necklace, only to find that it was no longer there. Turning around, you called back with a bittersweet smile, hoping that the distance could hide your tears, “And you were mine, Hyunjin.”

epilogue.

Hyunjin wasn’t sure what he was expecting when his servant had walked in to hand him a beautifully ornate envelope send from Chan’s kingdom. It was rare for him to receive mail from other kingdoms, especially since he was only the second prince, meaning that he was the last in line to receive important information.

Still, as he neatly cut open the envelope and pulled out the card inside, he almost dropped it, the words on the paper causing his head to spin.

You are most graciously invited to the wedding of Prince Han and Lady Y/N.

Hyunjin could feel his heart twisting painfully again, almost like a phantom agony from that night, all those years ago. He could still recall every moment of that night in his head, from the first confession to the desperate kisses to the tearful goodbye. It had been more than three years, and as far as he’s heard from your last letter a couple months before, you were doing very well with Jisung.

He was happy for you, he truly was. All Hyunjin had ever wanted was to see you happy, and if that could only be achieved with you not being by his side, Hyunjin was alright with that.

Still, he couldn’t help but let his brain wander, especially now knowing that there’s nothing he could do anymore. He wondered what would’ve happened if he’d decided to fight for your relationship. To make it known that he wasn’t going to marry any wealthy lady or princess, he was going to marry you.

It wouldn’t matter any more, and the invitation in his hand made that perfectly clear, like twisting a knife into a slowly healing wound.

Pulling open a small cabinet on the side of his desk, he slowly picked up a familiar diamond necklace, the only you had pressed into his palm before you’d disappeared into the night. The only physical remnant of your shared love.

Hyunjin brought the charm to his lips, giving it one final kiss as if to truly say goodbye. He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, but he kept them at bay as he opened a small chest in his closet, placing the necklace inside. Sparing it one final, heartbroken glance, he sealed the chest, locking it and throwing the key into the trash.

He would never have an urge to gift anyone else that necklace, anyway.

a/n: why am i incapable of writing a truly happy ending lol pls help ;;_;;

#inkidz #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #my fics

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salty-fang · 4 years

Text

Twisted Fate Sugar Edition

Part three (sorry for the long wait) thanks for being patient @loveswifi

Marinette had had a weird day. She had kept being pulled in the direction of people who could’ve been mistaken for male versions of herself. Jason, Tim and Dick.

She had met Jason first. She had taken a quick detour from her hour-long trip to the fabric store. It had been a week after her outing with Gina, Alfred and Bruce Wayne but a week before the whole Lila debacle. She hadn’t expected Lila to even be in Gotham so Marinette didn’t feel the need to worry. She should have.

----------------------------------------------------

Jason had loads of knowledge on malicious stalking. Growing up as a vigilante taught him some things. So, he was truly stunned when he saw two shady people watched that pregnant woman with wolfish glares that he actually felt the need to follow them. He dragged her out of there line of sight, which without an explanation was pretty stupid. She’d kicked him in the balls causing him to hiss.

“Let go of me.”

“I’m trying to help you. A woman and a man have been watching you for a fucking long time. I just wanted to make sure you knew them. By the way, I’m Jason Todd.”

“Marinette.”

“One of them literally has sausages for hair. I think I’m going to have nightmares for a while.”

“Ugh, you should meet Lila Rossi.”

“Agreste's new wife?”

“Yup. Her eyes are so cold and dead. And she wears so much orange. It’s so painful when you actually look at her that I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.”

“Yo, this chick is the same. You sure we aren’t talking about the same person?” she snuck a quick look around the corner, laughing at the confusion on both Lila and Kim’s faces. She’d laughed too loud as Lila’s head whipped in her direction.

“That’s definitely her. Still as annoying as ever.” Kim had whispered something in Lila's ear just as she rounded the corner. They had started sprinting towards her and were going to catch her if she didn’t move her ass.

‘I can’t run far in heels. I’m going to have to catch a bus. The doctor did tell me to take it easy. Can’t affect those triplets with too much movement.’

She had only made it outside the door when she felt herself be hoisted onto sturdy shoulders.

“Let go of me! Oh it’s you Jay. Give a girl some warning will ya!” she said sighing in exasperation.

“Sorry but you really thought I was going to watch them hurt my little sis.”

“Hey! I’m not little. And put me down. “

“That’s what your focused on? And I won’t put you down. You may think you don’t need help but you’re wrong. So let your good big bro do his job.

“Good my ass,” she muttered, ducking under a signpost. “More like arrogant goofball.” Kim and Lila had either disappeared or they just blended in with the crowd very well. They’d probably lost them. Thank God for that.

“Jay, you can put me down now.”

“Huh, are they gone?”

“Yup.” She said popping the ‘p'. “Thank you Jay. For everything.”

“No worries, pixie pop. You’re my sis. I’d kill a bitch for you.” Marinette had fallen in line with Jason. But with his long strides and her pregnancy she was always steps behind him. Sure he’d fall back to match her pace but Lila had waited until the perfect moment to capitalise. She’d tried to scream for help but she had lost the ability to. They dragged her round the corner to one of her favourite cafés. Her head ached where Lila had pulled tightly on her braid (think Lady Noire) as she felt several strands of her hair fall out. Had no one found her being dragged around slightly disturbing?

She supposed no one cared about business that didn’t affect them in Gotham. Wow. Great, just great. She’d submitted herself fully when another blue-eyed black-haired man had come to her rescue. Seriously, was everyone in Gotham like Jay Jay or had he just been a manifestation of her sleep deprivation. He’d seemed so real, so human but it wouldn’t be the first time her mind would make something so absurd up. It was probably her loneliness acting up again. There was no way any sane person would stay around her for so long.

---------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly it had been Tim who saved her, though she hadn’t known that. Unsurprisingly, Jay and him had two distinctly different personalities. He lived off coffee, looked twice his age with those bags but had such wit about him that he could manipulate the situation without the other party realising. He had been surrounded by so many coffee cups that she had thought he had been in his final year preparing for exams or perhaps working night shifts every day of the week. But nooooo, he was the co-CEO of a business. Starting at the age of 17. Marinette had felt some of the burden dropped on her and she wasn’t even in his position. No wonder he looked like he needed a pick me up. It was just as well that she’d come equipped with her special coffee. She’d make more for Gina later, he needed it more. Plus, Gigi wouldn’t be back in hours.

“I know you said it was alright to sit with you uhh...”

“Tim.”

“Right, Tim. I don’t want to bother you anymore but that coffee looks like it doesn’t do shit for you. I made some for my grandma but she won’t be back for ages so maybe... you would like it?” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Of course he won’t want some he probably thinks you’re a weirdo who poisoned his drink. Maybe you can take it back from him? “ on second thought-"

“Sure. Why not?” Ok Tim needs sleep. My God, I could have spiked his drink and he accepted it. He’s so vulnerable like this.

“If I give you my drink it will probably take a minute to kick in but... but you have to promise me that you’ll drink my power down later. If you don’t I’ll find you and I’ll get you to sleep one way or another. Don’t test me.” He gulped, eyes wide as he frantically nodded. “Good. Now would you like some pastries to go with your Marinette’s Super Special?” Her shift in character made him freeze. He couldn’t find his voice quick enough and instead opted for a simple thumbs up. She dug two flasks out of her bag, placing one in front of him and sniffed her own. Then, she brought two plates out, setting out croissants so buttery they made him drool, raspberry macaroons and a dozen mini chocolate chip muffins.

“You look like you needed a sugar rush so I guessed what you might like. Sorry if they’re not your favourites. Now chop chop eat up child!” Tim took a tentative sip of his drink feeling it slip down his throat. It had been just how he liked it yet slightly stronger. And then he felt the kick. It had been so small that his brain glossed over it but it’d been there. He was starting to feel more human again. And it had shown. His face had become less pallid and gaunt, his eyes held a fire that had been previously extinguished and his movements became less robotic, almost lighter. Before Marinette could utter ‘I told you so' everything had vanished. Tim was never usually a messy eater but he definitely was right now. Chocolate was smeared all over his chin , flakes from the croissant had littered around his suit and coffee had spilt on his white polo shirt.

“Beanie,” he muttered, a wild look in his egyptian blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re real. Or I at least died and went to heaven. You’re too sweet not to be in my life. I don’t know how I lived without you before. Please, I need you as my dealer. Your coffee is the only one I’ll ever drink again. Please.”

----------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t every day you saw Tim Drake beg on his knees and whine. But when you did, you would probably laugh your ass off. Whoever that poor girl was had just attracted the attention of invasive photographers. Unlucky, but at least they would get a show out of it.

“If I give you my coffee you’re not going to sleep. You’re going to be a living zombie and I can’t live with that. I’d rather not have anyone connecting me with your death from excessive tiredness.” Tim knew he had to play dirty if he was going to win. Thankfully, Steph had taught him how to master the art of puppy dog eyes which he aimed at Marinette. He then wrapped his arms around her leg, consequently being dragged along the unsanitary sidewalk to where both their belongings were.

“Please please please please PLEASE.” He noticed Marinette’s will become fragile. He wobbled his bottom lip, sniffling softly. “I’ll stop begging if you say yes. Please beanie.”

“Fine.” She huffed whilst he fist pumped the air. “But we do things on my terms alright?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Jeez. You’ve given me a headache.” She stated aiming a half-hearted glare at a sheepish Tim. “That’s an achievement, dude, not even Chloé could do that and her tantrums were super bratty.”

He had gone to apologise when shrill ringing rang in the air.

“Sorry,” he mouthed. “ I have to take this.”

“Jason what do you want? You just interrupted my deal with my dealer.”

“ I didn’t know you had it in you. But now isn’t the time. I need you to check security where you are. Pixie pop's gone missing.”

“Pixie pop?”

“I’ll explain later but right now she’s in danger. See you in 5 replacement.” With nothing left to say the line went dead and he decided to run some checks on Jason’s location whilst idly chatting with Marinette. She had asked for his unique insight on her latest design.

“What shade would you use on this? I’m only asking because of your peculiar style.”

“Definitely lavender but towards the bottom fade into a dark purple. And peculiar?”

“Who wears a suit on a hot summers day?” she asked eyebrow raised.

“Me. Batman. Business owners. Cosplayers. Bruce Wayne. The list could go on but I don’t have all day.” He said throwing an exaggerated wink at her.

“None of those people you mentioned are normal except maybe cosplayers so it doesn’t count. Better luck next time. I’m going to go pee.” Tim had opened his mouth to respond when he spotted Jason. He looked terrible. His hair was matted against his forehead with sweat, his eyes were bloodshot.

“I came as soon as I could. What did you find replacement? Spit it out. I don’t have all fucking day.”

“First, I want you to meet me dealer and then we can talk about what happened to ‘pixie' and who they even are.”

“Tim, as much as I’d love to meet your drug buddy, it’ll have to wait. She’s more important. I’m worried that the people who took her are going to seriously harm her.”

“Fine but you’re missing out on meeting the sweetest girl ever.”

“I’ll pass.” Jason snarled before turning back to the pixelated security feed. “That was where I last saw her. That’s weird. It’s like she disappeared from all footage. Do you have any other leads?”

“Jay-Jay?” Marinette barrelled into him locking him in a hug. “How do you know tater-tot?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry little lady but I’m looking for someone. Holy shit, is that you pixie pop?”

“Yup and who you calling little lady? I’m fun sized and could totally whoop your ass if I wasn’t pregnant. Just remember that Jason.” The way she had said his name sent shivers up his spine. She had delivered her sentence as a fact, not a threat.

“That’s why you’re my favourite, pixie pop.” Jason said, tearing up.

“Replacement, how did you even save Marinette?”

“They probably took a look at his half dead state and got scared off.” After an hour of re-introduction, they finally left. Jason drove her back on his motorcycle and dumped Tim’s limp body (from drinking Marinette’s calming chai tea) on his back.

With many hours to kill before Gina would be back from her night shift, she got changed into her gym clothes- a pink shirt with short sleeves and grey shorts- and headed to her local sports centre. Surprisingly, it was Dick who saved her this time

Marinette had been doing light exercise to keep in shape every day since she arrived in Gotham. She had a daily routine of squats, sit ups and weights, moving at her own pace. She had only attended the gym once before this and everyone had been friendly or had just gone about their days. Today was the first day anyone had actually approached her

“Hey sunshine, is it alright if I call you sunshine?” She nodded. “There’s a creepy guy watching you. He hasn’t actually done any workouts but he’s pointing his phone at you for a hell of a long time.”

“Thank you for telling me...”

“Richard but you can call me Dick.” She snickered. “If you want to that is.” Dick walked away to take a quick call from his brother when...

WARNING: YOU MIGHT NOT BE COMFORTABLE READING THIS PART. TW: sexual harassment. I'll put a brief summary at the bottom if you would rather skip

When she felt a firm hand squeeze her ass. She felt it trail down her shorts before she could even look at their face. She leapt away from his grasp, her breathing heavy as she looked around for any support. Unfortunately, the gym was empty, giving the predator an easy advantage.

“Hey baby did anyone tell you you’re damn sexy when you smile? Cuz you definitely are.” he aimed a snide smile at her. His yellow teeth glinted and his heady scent made her sick. “Princess, come back to mine tonight. We could have so much fun together and I’ll make you scream until you forget your own name. So, how about it?” He had approached he, pushing her boundaries, forcing her to back up against the wall.

‘No. Not ever. But especially not today.’

Marinette paled quickly. Gina wouldn’t be home for hours and he would most likely follow her home anyways. With no one to bear witness to this, he could do as he pleased. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could seriously hurt her or worse... and there would be nothing she could do about it. She’d just fade into the background, just another statistic. No one would believe her because ‘she shouldn’t have dressed like that’ and ‘she definitely wanted it’. So, she would fight and if he won well so be it. At least she had done all she could.

“Has anyone told you it’s rude to hit on people’s girlfriends?” Dick said forcing himself between them. He knew she could handle it but something about that guy made him uneasy. Marinette had exuded confidence but she still trembled and he could see how tense her muscles had been.

“He’s your boyfriend? You could do so much better than him. Just tell him your coming home with me. Or better yet, I’ll pay you to do it in front of me.” Marinette could see the repulsion on Dick’s face, as she gagged. “Yes, that would be way better. I’ll seriously pay you. Got a couple hundred bucks if you want it.” He stated palming himself through his jeans.

“No thanks. Maybe after she’s given birth?”

“She’s pregnant? What a slut. I bet she poked holes in your condom so you wouldn’t be able to leave her. Anyways, got to get back home to the wife and kids. Hit me up when she’s good again.” Marinette flung her arms around Dick as soon as she was sure he was gone.

Tw over

“Thank you so much. He wouldn't have stopped if you hadn’t come Dick.”

“No problem, sunshine.”

“It’s Marinette.” She mumbled, scuffing her shoes against the gym floor.

“What?”

“The name's Marinette. I would have loved to meet you under different circumstances. Oh well. Nice to meet you anyways.”

“You too Mari. Are you driving back home?”

“I actually walked her. I’ll probably just call a taxi or walk back.”

“No way sunshine. That guy is a huge sleaze ball. I don’t doubt that he’ll try something funny. If no one’s coming to pick you up I’ll walk you back home. Ok?”

“Ok.”

Dick had been completely right. The dude had been waiting outside, most likely waiting for Mari to leave but when he saw them leave together, he raced to his car. Dick had memorized his license plate and got a brief description of the car but he would probably dump it somewhere. Still, no harm in trying. He watched constantly to see if he was following them and took some turns to shake him off. In the end, they had arrived and Dick hadn’t left until he saw her actually enter her apartment. He had to tell everyone about Marinette.

-------------------------------------------------

Marinette’s battery had been drained, both physically and socially after that week. Lila had pissed her off and she felt really bad for that guy she spewed on. Not like she would see him again. She’d spent all week working on the dress Tim helped her with to wear to her visit to the Wayne’s tomorrow. It had been her fastest completed project ever, though she had neglected eating and sleeping. Marinette had to agree with Tim. The fade into dark purple had been a nice addition and made it really stand out. Even Penny had thought so when she saw it on their chat about commissions. A hungover Jagged threw a ‘rock’n’roll’ over her shoulder and Marinette had felt a pang in her heart at the tenderness they treated each other with. Maybe, one day she could have that special bond with someone too. But she needed to focus on helping herself heal first. She could see the apologetic look written over Penny’s face to which she giggled at before declaring that she needed some rest.

Gina had forced her to rest before they visited the Wayne’s. Apparently today had been Thursday not Wednesday? The days had just blended into one. She had been intrigued to meet the rest of the family but she felt so weak.

‘Oh well,’ she thought. ‘Nothing a little tea can’t fix.’

Since she had found out she was pregnant, all her normal guilty pleasures had been off limits. No double espresso as bitter as her soul and no alcohol. She had to adapt to the restrictions because of her doctor. So, she whipped up a tea as strong as her go to coffee with way less caffeine. It had still her the kick she needed but it wasn’t as good as she would have liked. Still, she’d take what she could get. It still aggravated her when she would reach for a glass of white wine or coffee beans forgetting about the warnings. It aggravated her when she would call out to Tikki to transform forgetting she was no longer by her side. She would toy with her empty earlobes before letting her tears fall freely. Tikki had been the most loyal-kwami or human- and she still got taken. She wouldn’t pretend it hadn’t hurt but she had moved on. Some days she would remember she wasn’t with her and cry but on some she’d pretend everything was normal. Today was one of those days where she wore herself out from crying. Gina had caught her but even she knew Marinette needed space, assuming she was still upset about Adrien.

After a good half an hour of crying, she went to freshen up refusing to look like a puffer fish when she met everyone. Dabbling at her eyes, she applied light mascara and used concealer under her bags so she wouldn’t look as dead as Tim. She slipped into the dress, wearing it with pride. It had fit like a glove exemplifying her curves and showing her protruding baby bump. That had been the only downside as she wanted it to be a surprise. Though, nothing slipped past Alfred’s keen eyes. She’d been puzzled as to how she could style her hair before she settled on voluminous curls. It had required Gina’s help and a hell of a lot of hairspray but it had been worth it. She set her flower crown upon her head (delivered to her by Adrien) and placed one on Gina's. She’d been quite surprised when Gina told her she would have to go by herself but it wouldn’t be too bad. Alfred and Bruce were kind so she could just chat with them if the others were rude.

--------------------------------------------------

Damian was annoyed. Gina was late. Very late. And he’d been waiting for hours for her to arrive. A soft rap on the door sent him flying out of his seat as he scrambled to unlock the door. He’d expected Gina but on their doorstep was that angel from before.

“You,” he whispered. “Why are you here?” He didn’t like feeling confused so he schooled his features to be cold and cynical. Footsteps behind him caused him to instinctively slam the door shut.

“Sorry angel.” Not that she could hear him. Jason had stood behind him, watching him with curiosity.

“Demon spawn. Who was at the door?” Shit. He couldn’t exactly say how he knew her or his reputation would be tarnished. Everyone in his family knew Todd was the biggest gossiper and he would definitely spread the news. Like hell would he tell Todd. He’d take that secret to his grave.

"It was bArBarA. I mean Gordon. Yeah it was Gordon.” His voice may have cracked several times but it was a convincing lie, right?

“One, you almost never call people by their first names.” Jason said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Two your voice sounded awful. And you don’t stray from perfection. So, what’s your deal?

“Puberty?” He shrugged trying to conceal his panic.

“I’ll take your bullshit for now but you forgot Barbara’s already here. Let’s try this again. Who was at the door?”

“It was that harlot that Grayson suggested I try to court.

“Oh, that bitch. She’s all yours. Just keep her away from me. And Damian when dinner is over, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you. Make no mistake.” And with that, he threw a quick salute over his shoulder and strolled away. Damian had let out a sigh of relief, turning to walk away before he remembered who was still outside.

“Todd tell everyone I went to the bathroom.” He yelled shutting the front door before he could hear his reply. He descended down the stairs only to find her missing. He had begun mapping out all the locations of the manor when his eyes fell upon her. He felt the air forcibly be removed from his lungs and he remained unmoving. Awestruck. His heart squeezed as he watched her sniff his magnolias that he tended to. The way her dress pooled around her and the small but present baby bump had made him flush.

‘She truly was an angel.’ His eyes glanced at the flower crown entangled in her inky locks as the moonlit sky enhanced her celestial look. ‘She’s also much more than that though.’

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” She saw his mortified face. “You know getting a door slammed in your face isn’t the greatest first impression a family could give.”

“I’m sorry. But what are you doing here?”

“Expecting a warm welcome, not being left out in the cold, really anything but this. And I don’t even know you so...”

"You do."

"Excuse me?"

"You puked on me. I didn’t think you were going to ever see me again so you surprised me. I didn’t want to explain to anyone how we were acquainted.”

"I’m so sorry. It’s these stupid hormones. And that stupid Lila. Everything is just stupid."

"Lila Rossi? She is pretty stupid.” And then something changed. His face was softer and he hadn’t looked like he would bite her head off. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m waiting for my grandma but maybe tomorrow. I’m meeting a stuck-up client so I’m gonna need to vent. I’ll tell you the details later?”

“Fine with me.” She hobbled away. She had been patiently waiting by the doorstep, her soft rap probably inaudible due to all the chaos. He whipped out his spare key, unlocking the door. He hadn’t expected that soft click to prompt the attention of his whole family.

"Marinette-"

“Beanie?”

“Pixie pop?”

“Sunshine?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH DAMIAN?” they screamed, rushing forwards to envelop her in hugs.

“I let her in. You guys didn’t even hear her knocking. Wait, how do you all know Angel?”

His eyes nervously flitted to hers at the slip of his private nickname. He saw the flush on her cheeks as her mouth formed a small ‘o'. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes as the others taunted him for his cute pet name. He felt Dick ruffle his hair, which took a while to style, and Jason poke his sides. He felt Tim snicker and Barbara pinch his cheek. And he felt Marinette link their hands together in solidarity, enduring the teasing with him. They had been so embarrassed that they completely missed the arrival of Gina and the scheming look on Alfred’s face who dished her the gossip. They missed the dark but silent chuckle that left both Gina and Alfred as they decided to meddle in their kids failing love lives.

“What’d I miss, my little chicks? Because Mama’s home.”

NOTES (optional)

In the part labelled with tw here is what happens:

Creepy old 50 year old man hits on Marinette and feels her up. He asks her to come home with him but Dick helps her out and stops him. He tells them he would pay to watch them go at it and calls Marinette names. He eventually 'leaves' to his wife and kids.

Tags:

@sassakitty @lunathealphafemale @krispydefendorpolice @blackmagicforever @nach0ava @wannajointhecrabcult @thornalchemist23 @moonlightstar64 @iloveitwhen @little-angel1031 @screwthisshit111 @rebecarojas07 @animegirlweeb @mystery-5-5 @moonystars14 @gingerdaile @spyofthenightcourt @mialuvscats @notmycupoftea26 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @kuroko26 @miracleofadisaster @novicevoice @iloontjeboontje @abrx2002

#marinette dupain cheng #damian x marinette #damian wayne #ml x dc #gina dupain #alfred pennyworth #batfam #lila rossi #kim le chien #damienette #daminette #maribat

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idreamofplaid · 3 years

Text

It Begins

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking for @spnkinkbingo & Singing Christmas Songs for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Sam x Olivia (OFC); Jensen and John mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral (female receiving)

Summary: Olivia is new to the marketing firm owned by John Winchester, and is surprised to be assigned to an important ad campaign for a high profile client. She feels like she’s in over her head with the work, but she’s in even deeper with the boss’ son, Sam.

Word Count:3781

A/N: This is Part 1 of a Series called Surrender to the Truth. It’s an AU mash up of RPF and SPN characters. I’m also playing with time. Imagine Season 8 Sam and Jensen a year or so into the future.

It was beta’d by the wonderful @fangirlxwritesx67. Thanks Viv for your patience with all my questions, your enthusiasm for this project, your thorough reading that really made me think about what I was doing, and the series title.

Why were Mondays always like this? Olivia found it hard to decide what to wear after a weekend of being relaxed in pajamas and denim. Traffic was predictably the worst, even more so because of the holidays, and if there was any day she was going to forget and leave her coffee on the kitchen counter; it was Monday.

She made it to work on time with only a couple of minutes to spare. This was only her second week on the job at the city’s most up and coming marketing firm and being late was not the way to make a good impression on her new boss. John Winchester was a man with exacting standards and high expectations.

Her first stop was the coffee pot in the breakroom. There was no way her creativity was going to start flowing without caffeine. Cup in hand, Olivia made her way to her office. It was a respectable office, larger than the little more than a closet sized space she’d had in her last office. This one even had a small window. These things might seem insignificant, but Olivia had worked hard for them, and to her they were badges of success.

Olivia had barely had two sips of her vanilla creamer laced coffee when she had a visitor in her office, the kind of visitor who doesn’t knock: Sam Winchester. She hadn’t been here long, but she had been filled in on Sam. He was practically legendary among the women of the office, and some of the men. She took another sip of her coffee to hide the fact that her mouth had fallen open. This guy lived up to the hype.

He was wearing a white dress shirt, minus the jacket, and the way his shoulders and chest filled out that shirt was nothing short of sinful. His tie formed a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, and the face above that tie was Greek god handsome. He was a Greek god with dimples.

As he walked across the room, his every move exuded power and privilege, without the arrogance. Holy fuck. Could a man be more attractive?

He put a folder down on the edge of Olivia’s desk. Work. Right. He expected her brain to focus on what his family was paying her for.

She sat down to take a look at what was so important Sam Winchester himself had delivered it. When he spoke, his voice was just as delicious as the rest of him.

“New account. Dad wants you to take it.” He sat down smoothly on the edge of her desk to watch her look through the file like he owned the place, which he basically did. She finished looking through the file then looked up at Sam, more confused than ever. She was the new kid here. Why would they give her something this high profile, as in Hollywood high profile?

It wasn’t her most impressive moment or the most professional thing she’d ever said, but she blurted out, “Why me?”

Sam rested his hand on his thigh. The way his long fingers spread out over it wasn’t helping her concentrate or wrap her head around this situation. “Because you’re from Texas. Gives you insight into the culture, the vibe, the feel of it.” He stood and adjusted his tie, drawing your attention to his hands again. “This Ackles guy is a personal friend of my dad’s, so make it good.” As he left, he looked back over his shoulder. “Besides, everyone likes beer; you’ll come up with something.”

She said to the empty room, after he closed the door behind him, “No, actually I don’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a couple of minutes after Sam left, all she could do was stare at the nicely framed but generic artwork on her wall. The Winchesters were trusting her with a huge account for some reason, and she was scared completely out of her mind that she was going to screw it up and ruin her future with this company, along with her career in advertising. Why did it have to be beer? Finally, she opened the file and spread the pictures of the brewery and the photos of its famous owner across her desk.

She picked up one of the glossy pictures of Jensen Ackles in all his male model perfection and took a good look at it. He was just as gorgeous as Sam, but his look was distinctly different. His eyes were a clear green, and they held a deep intensity. Those eyes were captivating in a photograph. What would they be like in person? She allowed herself to indulge in that fantasy for a few seconds then shook her head to break the spell. She needed some Bailey’s in her coffee. Excellent idea. She was already walking a perilous line at this new job, so why the hell not?

Olivia swiveled her chair and opened the cabinet behind her, reaching into the back to grab the bottle of liquor where she’d stashed it. She poured a generous amount into her cup, hoping it would calm her nerves. With that in mind, she turned on some music. The soothing notes of an instrumental version of “White Christmas” floated from the speakers.

She closed her eyes and let the taste of the coffee and the Irish cream sit on her tongue. This had been one of her favorite Christmas songs when she was growing up. It always took her to a fantasy wonderland, a place where life was ideal and Christmas cottages had perfectly trimmed trees with beautiful presents piled beneath them, fireplaces alive with glowing fires, stockings hung on the mantel, and snowflakes falling gently outside. Living in Texas, snow had been a magical and rarely seen event.

That long cherished holiday dream filled her mind and calmed her. She started singing along with the music. ...just like the ones I used to know. After a stanza or so, she opened her eyes to focus once again on the pictures of the brewery in front of her. A snowy Christmas was her fantasy, but she had a job to do; that was her reality.

By the end of the day when Sam came back to check on her progress, Olivia had practically nothing to show him. It would do no good to try and stall or hide just how little she had managed to accomplish. He was her supervisor on this project, and he was here to see how much progress she’d made.

He flipped through the work she’d done that day. His expression was unreadable, but his words were clear enough. “The Taste of Texas? Not exactly original is it?” He paused and cut his eyes over to her, then dropped them back to the papers he was holding. “The drawings aren’t bad though. We can probably use some of these hill country sketches. Maybe a logo design.” He closed the file and tossed it back on her desk.

“Do you know what you need?” Her silence said she didn’t. “Inspiration.”

She put her hand on the folder lying on her desk, the one that represented her failed day of work. “Where do I get that exactly?” She was unable to keep a hint of exasperation out of her voice.

He flashed her those unbelievable dimples and winked. “Follow me.” Sam took her to his office. It was easily four times the size of hers with an entire wall of windows that revealed a breathtaking view of the city, the lights from the skyline competing with the white lights on the tastefully decorated Christmas tree that adorned his office. It was opulent and sleek, a space befitting the heir to the growing empire.

She allowed herself to indulge in the breathtaking view of the skyline for a few seconds before commenting, “It’s an incredible view, but I don’t see anything about a family business in Texas out there.”

“Your inspiration isn’t out there; it’s in here.” His voice drew her eyes away from the magnificent view. Sam walked to his mini fridge and pulled out a six pack. He held it up. “A little Cosmic Cowboy from Family Business Beer Company. How can you create an impactful and memorable campaign without sampling the product?”

Sam twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her. She took a sip of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of those people who could describe the taste of beer. It was cold. It was beer. That was all she had. She was not a connoisseur. How was she ever going to do this ad campaign? She didn’t even like beer.

Sam had been watching her reaction carefully. Olivia didn’t have a poker face, though she’d tried to hide her reaction. It didn’t slip by him that she wasn’t comfortable with this beer thing.

“Not your favorite then?” He took a drink from his bottle. “Taste it again.”

He was the boss’ son, effectively her boss right now, and this was her job; but she got the feeling she would have done whatever he asked even if that hadn’t been the case. She took another sip, and Sam coached her through it. “Think about what you’re drinking; savor it. Just like wine, beer has notes; and they’re all different.”

She took one more drink. “What am I supposed to be tasting?” She’d never been good with wine either, but once someone explained there was blackberry or oak or whatever in it; she could pick up on that. She needed Sam to tell her what she should be tasting.

“Do you taste how it’s substantial but still light?” She took another sip and nodded. “It’s the grapefruit and pineapple that make it light; the pine in it gives it a little something more.” When he said it, she could taste it. She could taste it all.

Sam’s office had a fireplace, not like the one in her fantasy Christmas cottage, but when he picked up a remote and clicked it bringing the flames to life, it was cozy nevertheless. Sam took off his tie and tossed it on one of the upholstered chairs in front of the fire. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Absentmindedly, Olivia took another sip of her beer while she watched him.

Sam sat down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his back leaning against the leather sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. He put what was left of the six pack of beer down beside him and patted the floor on his other side, inviting her to join him. Olivia lowered herself next to him. She was thankful her pencil skirt wasn’t so tight that it didn’t allow some freedom of movement, and she tried not to stare at the way the firelight danced over his golden skin. He caught her looking at his strong forearms, exposed below the rolled white cuffs of his shirt. Sam smiled, a flirty and suggestive sort of smile. He finished the last of his beer, and popped open another.

Olivia was slower to finish hers, but she was beginning to warm up to the taste. Perhaps it was something you had to acquire, or maybe the company you were in made all the difference. Beer might be okay after all.

He asked, “What do you think of it now?”

“I can taste everything you said.” The crackle of the fire, the lights from the Christmas tree, and the skyline in the background created a perfect storm of romantic atmosphere. Olivia noticed how Sam’s eyes were a beautiful honeyed brown, dappled with green and gold. His lips looked incredibly soft in contrast to the hard line of his jaw. He caught her starting again, this time at his mouth.

He took her empty bottle and slotted it back into the cardboard square where it had originally been and put what was left of his beer in the empty square beside it. Sam turned back to her and leaned in closer. He took her face into his hand and looked into her eyes for a long second or two before he lowered his mouth to hers.

The way he kissed was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. His tongue was sure but gentle as it circled hers. He had complete control of her through what his mouth was doing. A wet spot was forming in her panties, her body responding to him. At the same time his hand was cradling her face while his fingers moved slowly back and forth through her hair, massaging her scalp and melting her under his touch. He could do anything to her. She was eager for it.

He broke the kiss, and now he was holding both sides of her head in his enormous hands. His lips were still just inches from hers. She could feel his breath when he asked, “What do you taste now?”

This man could make her breathless. He was either meant for her, or he was excellent at reading her actions and responses. His attention was completely on her, waiting for her response.

“I...can still taste the beer, but the way you taste makes it better.” It wasn’t eloquent. For someone who worked with words to pull the maximum effect from them, he could make her forget how to use them properly.

Sam kissed her again, hands roaming down her back and stopped just above her waist. “You know what else might really inspire you?”

Olivia pressed her body so tightly against his she could feel the muscles in his chest and stomach through his shirt. It made her wetter. “I have some ideas.”

He took off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “Then let’s get those creative...juices flowing.” The blouse she was wearing was form fitting. Sam’s gaze traveled over her breasts before his eyes locked onto hers.

A spark traveled between them. Lust? Need? Want? Whatever it was, the sexual tension hung in the air for a moment before their lips crashed together.

Sam lowered her to the floor while he pulled her shirt up. He broke the kiss to tear it over her head and throw it out of the way. Now it was his turn. She took a fistful of his shirt and pulled it out of his pants, then did the same on the other side. He propped himself over her on his hands while she unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. She ran her hand across his chest and over his shoulder. What he’d been hiding beneath that expensive shirt was impressive.

Sam smiled down at her. “You like?”

“Very much,” she answered while he took off her bra and lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He teased it with his tongue until she was arching her back and raising her hips off the floor.

Sam sucked hard on the nipple in his mouth before pulling off it. “Do you want more?” Her eyes closed and her lips parted, a small moan escaping from them.

He unzipped her skirt and dragged it down her legs, then turned his attention to her lace covered mound. Sam rubbed his fingers over her panty covered core. “Already so wet.” He pushed her panties aside and swiped his fingers through her folds. Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her juices from them. His eyes bore into hers. “Tastes so good.”

He tore her panties from her body to gain access to what he wanted; she heard the sound of silk and lace ripping. Sam’s hand felt huge on her thighs as he pushed them wide apart. He held them there, and his tongue found her clit. He sucked it the same way he’d worked at her nipple.

She was raising and lowering her hips beneath him, fucking nothing and needing to be filled until Sam swirled his tongue all the way down her slit to her opening and thrust it inside. She wasn’t empty anymore, and it felt incredible. He moved his tongue in and out of her, fucking her on it until she was writhing and grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

She wanted to scream but was still aware enough to know they were in the office building. So, with some effort, she held it in. But when he added the pad of his thumb circling over her clit while he continued to thrust into her with his tongue, she started to whimper and moan. Her thighs were shaking when she came on his face. He licked and stroked her through her orgasm until she went still beneath him.

Sam didn’t move for a few seconds, then he raised himself up so he could see her reaction to what he’d done to her, how it had affected her. Olivia smiled up at him, and Sam returned the smile while he unbuckled, unzipped, and pushed his pants and underwear down over his hips. If she’d thought what was under his shirt was stunning, what was under his pants was better. His cock was absolutely magnificent. It stood against his stomach long and thick, resting on his well defined abs. Sam caught her looking at him yet again, and his smile got bigger. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam lowered himself from his kneeling position until he was sitting on the floor. He pushed his pants farther down his legs to get them out of the way. He extended a hand to her, and she took it. He settled her on his lap. Olivia wrapped her legs around him. He looked at her with those beautiful eyes that combined colors in so many ways that seemed to change from moment to moment. “Do you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to say no.”

She squeezed her thighs into his sides. She was imagining the feel of his cock stretching her open. From the looks of him, it was going to be a tight fit. “I absolutely want to go through with this.”

That was all he needed to hear. He took a condom from the wallet in the pants pooling around his ankles and rolled it down over his length. Sam put his hands on each side of her waist and lifted her up, lining her up over the tip of his cock.

When he started to lower her down onto his shaft, she rolled her head forward. Her hair brushed over his shoulder as he continued to slowly ease her down onto his length, giving her time to adjust to his size. Once he was fully seated inside her, he began to roll his hips. Oliva imitated his movements, rolling her hips with the same rhythm.

She raised her head because she wanted to see into Sam’s eyes while he thrust up into her. There was something in the depths of them that she couldn’t quite define, something she wanted to figure out, something she wanted to understand and know better. He covered her mouth and kissed her with an intensity she could feel through her entire body.

His tongue was circling hers, tasting her, when she came again. Olivia clenched around him and her body spasmed in waves as her orgasm crested and blended into another. Sam kissed her all the way through it. She went limp in his arms, and he kept moving.

She could feel his hands on her and the warmth of the flame from the fire on her skin. She could feel the way his cock throbbed, still buried deep inside her, and she could taste him. He pulled away from her mouth and buried his face in her neck when he came.

“Olivia.” He said her name once, just the one word, and it struck her to the core. Olivia regretted that she couldn’t feel his hot release painting her insides. It felt like some part of him was being held back from her, and she wanted it all.

Whatever magic she’d felt hearing the sound of her name on his lips dissipated with the reality of Sam pulling himself from her body and carefully removing the condom. He pulled his pants back up before walking over to his desk to dispose of it in the wastebasket there. Olivia imagined it wouldn’t be the first time the cleaning service found one of those in his trash.

What was she doing? She just screwed the boss’ son in his office. She was a total cliche. Her mind told her she should feel like a slut, but she didn’t. She refused to be ashamed of what she’d done. The sex had been mind blowing; her body had never responded to any man that way. Sam had stirred something in her physically, but it had gone beyond that. It was something she would examine later and try to define, but now all she could think of was escaping the overwhelming thoughts and feelings consuming her. Hastily, she grabbed her clothes and was in the process of putting them back on when Sam returned.

He took her hand and charmed her with his boyish dimples and his eyes that had turned a soft gray like the color of a sky lit by a silvery moon. Still, it was his words that got to her the most. “Hey, don’t be in such a hurry to leave; you’re going to make me feel cheap.” He was flirting with her. Guys like him moved smoothly through situations like this as though they were born to it, and in a way they were. Still, part of her hoped he was being at least a little sincere.

Sam hadn’t let go of her hand. “Stay with me. We can watch the fire, enjoy the lights on the Christmas tree.” This was a fling, right? It was a one night stand with the irresistible guy at work. “Plan our trip to Texas.” What did he just say? “A six pack is just an introduction to the business. What you need is to see the brewery.”

Sam sat down on the sofa, and Olivia sank down beside him. She lowered her guard a little and let some of the bliss she was feeling wash over her. The ambience created by the light from the tree and the fire enhanced her mood; both the light and her mood seemed somehow softer now.

“We can take the company jet. Ring in the new year in Austin.” Listening to him, Olivia had a most happy thought. Maybe this wasn’t a one night thing after all.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @waywardnerd67 @fullmooner @julesthequirky

#spnkinkbingo #spnchristmasbingo #sam smut #sam x ofc #sam series

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whump-town · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday, Hotch!

Waking up surrounded by nothing but white walls, Aaron Hotchner… feels sick. Miserably, his throat burns as he coughs up stomach acid choking on what little bile does come up. He must have passed out some time earlier but his cheek is resting on the toilet’s lowered rim so that has to be some sort of win. Better than the nothing in his stomach-- nothing in his body except pain killers that wore off hours ago and the Gatorade he’d sipped to make the charge-nurse at the hospital happy.

But at least he’s home.

Speaking of---

There’s a harsh knocking on the front door. He recognizes that as the sound that had woken him up from his toilet nap. Whoever it is-- Dave, he recognizes a moment too late-- is not happy.

Picking himself up off of the ground, knees and back and every joint in his body heaving complaint, he makes a shaky attempt to move from the bathroom.

“Hotch!”

That’s… that’s not Dave.

“Emily?” All the way from London? “What’re you--”

He’s taken aback when she throws her arms around his neck. It takes him by storm, a stumbling storm of honeysuckles and lavender and all so very distinctly Emily. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until this moment. He entertains himself by thinking the swell of emotions in his chest is caused by the medicine in his system and not the genuine pain of missing her so desperately.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers, still rocked up onto her toes so that she’s tall enough to hug him properly. “I’ve missed you, you old bastard.” She pulls away from their hug first which in itself is a dead giveaway that something isn’t right.

He’s warm to the touch. Too warm. That’s excusable but added with the mess his apartments in and the mess he looks…

“You’re sick.”

Hotch is a very organized and predictable man. He sleeps in old t-shirts and sweatpants. The man wouldn’t be caught dead in his underwear. The closest thing to a design his apartment has is in the books he leaves propped open, print side down on various surfaces. Asides, of course, the toys left mid-play by Jack. It’s tidy and unique and very him.

The man standing before them now is not that same man.

He’s standing in plaid green boxers, absent of the shirt he thinks he might have gone to bed in. There are tissues on the coffee table, a blanket of sorts over the sociology book he’d been reading earlier this week. He’s only got one sock on and with Emily no longer holding his shoulders square he sways slightly. As if rocking with a breeze only he’s aware of.

His sleep-deprived mind having a hard time processing all of this. His birthday? Is it November? It can’t be November… Surely he’d know if it were his own birthday… wouldn’t he?

There’s a wordless exchange shared as Emily steps back and allows Dave to step close. Hotch stands still-- which speaks volumes-- as Dave presses his wrist to his forehead. With a solemn nod Dave condemns his fate, “oh he’s sick alright.”

Hotch rubs at his nose with the back of his hand, “I already went to the doctor.” Actually, he’d gone to the ER. Jessica had dragged him there kicking and screaming--- or rather, grumbling and too weak to stand (she’d said it was the same thing). He can’t remember how long ago that was.

Dave huffs at that and Hotch jumps when Morgan’s voice adds, “he’s got a prescription from yesterday.” Morgan flips the bottle around to read the label. He blows out a breath and passes it to Reid. “I have not idea what this is for, though.”

Reid scans over the whole bottle and hums, “for the flu.” He hands it back to Morgan, “you don’t recognize the name because it’s not the typical prescription doctor’s are asked to prescribe.” Reid passes the medicine to Dave, who holds his hand out expectantly. “This medication, while proven not to be as effective, won’t counteract with the blood thinners Hotch has, also, been prescribed to take daily.”

Biting his lip, Reid acknowledges his boss won’t like him further adding it could counteract with the other medications he takes for his OCD, thyroid, or the anxiety that he tells his therapist only has a tendency “flare up”. Still, those medications could cause additional side-effects.

“Here,” JJ gets tired of seeing Hotch just standing there shivering. His glossy eyes seem vacant and far off and she assumes this is why he hasn’t moved to cover himself up despite how badly his body is shaking. So, she pulls the blanket off of the back of the couch and pulls it around his bare shoulders.

Hotch blinks owlishly at her… how many people are in his apartment right now? There’s Emily who’s now taking him by the hand guiding him to the couch. He can see Reid and Morgan tossing discarded tissues into the trash can from where they’ve been left to sit on the coffee table. There’s JJ who, as he caves into the couch, pulls his blanket a little tighter around him. Dave leaves the room without comments leaving…

“I can’t believe you’re sick on your birthday.”

Garcia.

It’s sweet that she’s so concerned but…

“Is it really my birthday,” he asks, turning to Emily. Surely, this is all a part of one of her games or maybe he’s dying on the bathroom floor and this is all some hallucination. If it’s a hallucination he’d really like to imagine some pants and a shirt, please.

Emily looks so sad when she turns to him that he almost regrets having asked. “Your birthday is November 2nd, isn’t it?”

JJ takes his hand and adjusts the blankets again as he keeps sinking back into the couch. Her hands are freezing.

He nods, throat sore and head too cloudy to really want to reply.

“It’s your birthday then.”

Dave comes into the room with a handful of pills. There’s green and blue and white and at least five different pills sitting in his palm right now. It’s startling within itself to the others but Hotch takes them without question because five pills really isn't that much to him.

“Drink some more of that,” Dave says, putting his hand under the glass of water Hotch only sips before trying to put down. He guides it back to Hotch’s mouth, ignoring Hotch’s weak grunt of protest. Hotch pulls away sooner than Dave would like but he’s already looking queasy and Dave backs off, not wanting to push it.

Hotch looks around, dazed and confused, when JJ and Emily both stand from where they’d been sitting beside him on the couch. “Get some sleep,” JJ says, guiding him by the shoulders to the side so that he’s laying down.

He doesn’t want to sleep. Not with them here. Not when his guard needs to be up and he has to be the boss, the guy they can rely on.

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” JJ promises, kisses his temple.

But… it’s so hard to fight…

“Please get better,” Garcia whispers, bending down to hug him. He grunts a little, smiling despite himself when she squeezes him. It’s worth the small smile she gives back.

Emily lingers for a moment. She doesn’t hug him or kiss his head. She just runs her hand through his tangled hair, shaking her head at this whole mess. For someone so guarded, so stuck on being perfect he seems to constantly be getting himself into these messes. A drama queen, really.

And that’s the final straw. He can’t fight how soothed he is by her fingers slowly ghosting through his hair. He’s just vaguely aware of when she pulls away. Her hand moving from his hair and the blanket around his shoulder being tugged up over his shoulders. “Get some sleep, Aaron.”

And he does.

Garcia thinks it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen in her entire life. Aaron Hotchner snores?? Why hadn’t they told her that?

“Because,” Emily comments, popping a grape into her mouth. “It’s cute now, to you, but go on a case and get stuck with that--” she throws an accusing thumb in the direction of the softly snoring couch. “Not so cute anymore.”

JJ rolls her eyes. Dave had assigned her to cutting carrots as she’d proven to be the only competent person he could trust (his words not hers). So, the farthest side of the island in the kitchen had been taken over by the girls. Leaving Reid and Morgan to fend for themselves (they’d found Jack’s connect four game and have been playing that for the last hour).

“Dave is the worst,” JJ says with a strange amount of conviction. “It goes Dave, Derek, Spence, then Hotch.”

Emily scoffs, “uh, no. Dave, definitely the worst, but Reid is way worse than Derek.” She pulls a few more grapes off the vine. She’d found the bag in Hotch’s fridge, which was startling empty. Given that she won’t go stealing Jack’s gummies, that left the grapes.

“How have things been,” she asks. She doesn’t typically feel too guilty about leaving them but seeing how things are right now… “Other than,” she tilts her head back towards the couch. To Hotch.

JJ shrugs and Garcia shares the same not displeased but nothing to comment look. After a moment Garcia softly says, “it’s not always like this but… we miss you.”

JJ nods, pausing in her carrot cutting. She stares, for a moment, at those chopped carrots. They really do miss her and how could they not? Resuming her job she tries to shake that thought away. She’s here now, that’s all that matters.

Hotch stirs on the couch, a distressed groan coming from either the mound of pillows Garcia’s stacked around him or the blankets she’s stacked on him. Either way, before anyone else can move, Derek is standing and waving for them to remain where they are.

Emily watches as Derek disappears behind the couch. His deep voice rumbles as he talks to Hotch. “Easy, easy,” Derek says, a hint of trepidation. “Come on--” Derek stands, stumbling back and Hotch’s head becomes visible for just a moment before he falls forward.

Derek stands, “Dave!”

Hotch grumbles something and the two argue for a moment before Dave can get there.

Emily stands, starting a whole wave of movement.

Dave holds up his hand to hold them off, “he’s fine.” And they see that for themselves a second later when, heavily supported by Derek’s shoulder, Hotch stands. The blanket falls off his shoulders, giving them a good view of his back. The muscles taunt with the effort he’s putting into moving.

And, as they are told, the other’s stay right where they are. They watch every step he takes, waiting on bated breath as Morgan and Hotch argue all the way back to the bathroom and even then, they can still hear the two of them going at it. Which is annoying but if Hotch is well enough to argue then he’s well enough to eat the soup Dave’s been pouring his heart into for the better part of the last hour.

“Now listen,” Dave says, hands on hips and talking to everyone sans Hotch and Morgan. “Jack is on his way with a birthday card and a chipper attitude. I won’t have you all ruining that, understood? That boy is going to be better than any medicine we could have Aaron choke down right now.”

Jack’s not stupid but it’s unlikely he’ll react well to them freaking out.

So, they’re going to be the perfectly happy little family that they are.

“If you don’t eat that soup--” Dave is standing, hovering over Aaron’s side.

Hotch raises an eyebrow in question. While his birthday might not matter to him in the grand scheme of his favorite days and things worth celebrating, it matters to them. Enough so, Dave won’t do shit if he doesn’t eat this soup. Plus he doesn’t really want to eat it. It’s not that it doesn’t smell good or even look good. He just doesn’t want to throw up.

“You’ll what,” Hotch inquires hoarsely. “Break into my house again?”

Emily glances up at that, “it’s not really breaking in if we have a key.”

There’s a hum of agreeance, the other’s happily eating Dave’s soup.

Hotch rolls his eyes but picks up the spoon.

Dave pats his back, giving Hotch a proud smile. “Happy Birthday, son.”

Hotch blushes under the attention, ducking his head as the other’s chime in alongside Dave. He shyly thanks them with a nod of his head, “thanks, guys.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #emily prentiss #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #penelope garcia

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too-many-baes · 4 years

Text

The Girl in the Library

Pairing: Fem!reader x Jack Kline

Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: 1.2K

Request: Hi !! I have a request for Supernatural if you can? (I also just got into Season 13 and think Jack is super sweet !) Jack meets the Reader (female) at the library, studying for her exams, when Sam takes him for the first time, and he asks Sam what a crush feels like! Thank you !! :) - anon

A/N: I cannot apologize enough for the wait for this one. I’ve been really bad with writing this past year and honestly I lost a bit of motivation for it. I’m slowly getting my groove back though, so I hope you like this one!

*****

There were many things that Jack had discovered about being human that he had decided he liked. Nougat and television were at the top of his list. He wasn’t quite sure what would be at the bottom of his list, but going to the library with either of the Winchester’s would definitely be a strong contender. There was something about the way that he got dragged with either of them that felt distinctly like they didn’t actually want to take him, that he was more of a burden than anything.

Today was one of those days. Sam had brought him to the library so that he could research, and Jack was expected to sit quietly while he did so. How boring.

“Sam?” Jack’s voice queried. Sam spared him a small glance before humming to prompt Jack to continue. "Can I go look at some of the books over there?” He asks, motioning at some shelves slightly across the room. He didn’t know what kind of books would be on them, but he did know it would be more interesting than sitting here staring at the table.

“Sure. Just go there and back though Jack.” Jack smiled and nodded, all but leaping from his chair and hurrying across the room to the aforementioned shelves. When he got there the first set of shelves he looked at contained books about chemistry and physics. He opened a few of them and skimmed the pages, but he very quickly decided that he didn’t like them.

A couple of sections over piqued his interest much more. English classics. The books on this shelf looked a lot older in design than the previous shelves but the names were much more interesting. He debated to himself for a while which one to look at first before settling on the Scarlett Letter.

…both men and women, who had been familiarly acquainted with Hester Prynne, were now impressed as if they beheld her for the first time,-was that Scarlet Letter, so fantastically embroidered and illuminated upon her bosom.

Jack had opened a page and read at random, furrowing his brow at the contents. He had no idea what the words before him meant and it seemed he wouldn’t get a chance to find out.

“Excuse me.” A soft voice floated into his ears before he looked up and saw you standing there. “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you going to check that book out? It’s just I’m writing my final assignment and I was hoping to use that one.” He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but suddenly he finds himself unable to speak. He tried to say that you can have it, but the words get caught in his throat. He shakes his head at himself, confused by his current state before he shuts the book and wordlessly hands it over to you. You offer him a smile in thanks, completely unaware of his inner turmoil. You turn around to leave and suddenly Jacks words come back to him in a rush.

“What’s it about?” The sentence comes out far too fast and loud to be considered normal, and despite himself he feels a flushing in his cheeks. He got your attention though, as you stop and turn around again. “I tried reading some of it and it didn’t make much sense.” And then you laugh, and the sound alone puts a smile on Jack’s face.

“It’s pretty hard to get your head around at first isn’t it?” He nods at your rhetorical question. “It’s about punishment and sin in 19th century America. I’m writing an essay on the portrayal of women throughout literary history”, you say, filling in the gaps for him.

“How were they portrayed?” You laugh again at his question, his heart swelling at the knowledge that he’d caused that beautiful sound to fill the air.

“Overall not that well to be honest, but it depends on what you read.” A silence fills the air as Jack can’t seem to find anything else to say to make you stay in this aisle any longer. Even though he would really like to. “I better get back to my essay.” You half-heartedly say, motioning with your head to the table a wee way behind you. “It was nice talking to you though. Maybe I’ll bump into you in the classics section some other time.”

“I hope so,” he replies without hesitation, causing yet another laugh to bubble out of you. “How do you do that?” He asks, causing you to quirk an eyebrow at his question. “That laugh, how to you do it?”

“I guess it just comes naturally,” you answer with hesitation in your voice before continuing, “I’ve always hated my laugh to be honest.”

“Why? It’s my favourite one I’ve ever heard.” His honesty makes a bright red form on your cheeks which you try to cover by briefly rubbing either cheek with your shoulders.

“I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so.” You give him one last smile before you turn around and head back to your table, unsure of how you were going to focus on your essay now. Jack also heads back to his table, knowing that nothing held in any of these shelves would be able to entertain him. As he sits down with your smile and laughter swirling around his head, Sam looks up at him with a puzzled look.

“You okay Jack?” The boy looks up at the Winchester, unsure how to answer his question.

“Yes and no.” He finally settles for. Sam was going to ask him what he mean but Jack continued before he could. “I met a girl and she made me feel really happy when I was talking to her, but then she said goodbye and now I feel sad, but also still happy.” Sam lets a knowing smile creep onto his face as Jack continues. “How can someone make you feel both happy and sad at the same time?”

“I think you have a crush Jack.”

“A crush? What does that mean?”

“It’s when you like someone.” Jack couldn’t understand what Sam was saying.

“I like you and Dean and you guys don’t make me feel like this.” Sam coughs slightly at Jack’s statement, clearing his throat before continuing.

“You can like people in different ways, Jack. You like Dean and I like a friend. This girl you like romantically.” Jack nods his head along with Sams statement, seemingly beginning to understand his meaning.

“So… a crush?” Sam nods, his smile having barely left his face since Jack sat down, although it starts to dissipate slowly as Sam thinks of the implications. Poor Jack would never get a traditional life, where he would get to date and fall in love. He never thought the moment would come when he would have to think about any of that and it had caught him off guard.

“I think I’m about done Jack, you ready to go?” Jack nodded his head, wanting to leave but sad at the idea he might not get to see you again.The men pack their stuff quickly and make their way to the exit. On his way out he sneaks a glance over his shoulder, spotting you with your nose in a book and typing occasionally.

He smiled to himself as he left, resolving to ask the boys to get him a copy of the Scarlett Letter.

#jack kline #jack kline x reader #jack kline reader insert #jack kline one shot #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline fanfic #jack kline imagine #supernatural #spn #supernatural reader insert #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural imagine #writing #mine #too many baes

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red-hood-redemption · 3 years

Text

SO I know I’m like, super late to the party, but I finally got my hands on Robin 2021 and there is literally no one for me to talk to about it so now I’m just screaming my thoughts into the void ✌

First off, before i even bought the first two issues, I read through a lot of other people’s opinions on it to kinda get an idea of where it was going characterization-wise for Damian, and because of all the mixed reactions, I figured I should just read it myself and find out. Now I am the FURTHEST thing from a comic book authority, so like, this is truly just an opinion piece but if it convinces anyone to give the run a chance, then yay!!! Honestly, I’m really glad I gave it a shot because I’m genuinely hooked! I’m actually excited about this series (and it scares me lol)!!!

I'm gonna separate my thoughts into two sections: characters, and story, mainly for my own ease, but also if anyone cares more about one thing or the other it's easier to distinguish. But, the line is a little blurry so if I end up getting a little too much into the characterization in the story section, just bear with me lmao. OH and I'm going to try and keep this as un-spoilery as possible but we'll just have to see. SOOOOOOOO

Characters

I think it goes without saying that Melnikov's art is absolutely gorgeous, and really does show how much Damian has grown up. It makes me want to sob its so beautiful, everyone is so pretty, even the guy that looks like a washed up, high as fuck Tony Stark lmao. But moving on to the actual characters,

Rose Wilson

I honestly don't know too much about Rose, I haven't read enough about her to say anything about her characterization and how it compares to her other appearances, or whether or not she is OOC, but so far, I'm enjoying her taking up the "big sis" role, like, immediately lmao.

I don't know how much I trust her yet, but I definitely get the vibe that even if she does betray Dami in any way, she's probably gonna stick her neck out for Dami again and he's probably gonna do the same.

I'm really intrigued about her motivations for being here. Obviously, Respawn has something to do with it, but I want to know what's up with that. I've seen a lot of theories and I'm so excited. Also side note, that Black Swan chick is hot, and I can't wait to see more of her in action!!!

I feel like Ravager knows a WHOLE lot more than Dami does about the interesting things going on on the island, mainly because she's been doing a lot more sitting and waiting than he has as of yet, but I'm hoping to see more of the two of them doing detective-y sleuthing together. We love a mysteryyyy

Flatline

Okay but real talk, why does she look like a character straight out of Monster High

Honestly tho, I dig it. It's cute! She's cute! She isn't annoying (yet) but I don't know if I care too much about her other than she would make a cute friend for Dami.

I think the problem with DC is that they know people LOVE Harley Quinn and they try so hard to make characters just like her but it always falls short, so honestly I am a little wary of her character development in this run, but I'm willing to give her a shot since her little coffin purse on the cover of the second issue is so damn cute. I'm a slut for character design, okay?

Oh speaking of Flatline and Dami, I don't ship it and I don't want them to force a romantic relationship into Damian's "coming of age"/"soul-searching" moment okay? Because that's what this run is about, at least to me! More on that in the story section!

They're literally 13/14 years old. That's 8th-9th grade, babes lets think about that for a minute

Also let's stop the whole "lets introduce a female character just to make her a love interest!" bullshit okay?

Basically, Flatline is interesting, or at least has the potential to be, but I don't want to get my hopes up because DC is notorious for disservicing their female characters 😕

I think the mixed reaction to her is valid, I don't think she's had much time to make a solid impression yet, so I guess you'd have to read it for yourself. Personally, I don't understand why people immediately hate her, especially because she's like, 14, and what kid that age isn't annoying? like at least a little bit lmao! But, yeah. I don't trust her either but literally everyone on this island is sketchy at least and a murderer at best, so hey 🤷‍♀️

Damian

His new outfit lmaoooo at first I was like "WHaT is this child wearing? You'd think Dick would have rubbed off on him and taught him what good taste looks like" but then I saw the later outfit, with the gold patterning and those sleeeevessssss ugh and I take it all back. A Fashion Icon TM. Truly stunning. A sight to behold. So proud, look at him go 😪

I think there's a lot of different opinions on Damian's characterization in this run, and I can definitely see where its coming from, but I disagree with the notion that Damian has been done dirty and reverted to a blood-thirsty, feral child. And I have a LOT of opinions on the whole "feral" thing regarding Damian period (but that's for another time).

I don't think of Dami's rampage as a regression for his character. He's letting of emotions right then and I think its very similar to him venting. Its just not verbal, its physical and he knows he's not going to have to grapple with the consequences of his actions on the first kill. He knows he's technically not doing anything wrong.

He is clearly upset at Bruce and his failure to protect Alfred, and while Dami and Bruce are really often described as being very similar personality-wise, they are still distinctly different individuals who came to their current moral codes in vastly different ways. Bruce came to his "no killing" rule on his own; he made that decision for himself. It wasn't taught to him, it was a moment-of-truth kind of situation. Damian, on the other hand is in a vastly different situation.

Dami is, I think, at the beginning of the climb to his own moment-of-truth. He is in his rebellious phase like Dick, where he's gone off to spread his wings. It's not his conscious intention (at least that's not the vibe I got from reading the first two issues), but its directly underlying his "mission".

Damian is growing out of the expectations of his parents and into his own person. We all know he's been thrown from one moral code to another, both drastically different from each other. I don't think its a regression for him to lose his way a little, because realistically, he's going to have to in order to find it, specifically a moral compass that he forged on his own. He's just what? 14? Like hell a kid his age wants to listen to any form of authority. He's as stubborn as it comes. Damian needs to come to his decision regarding the path he takes in life on his own. It can't be made for him. He's seen and lived both sides of the coin, and I don't think he should be forced just yet to choose a side or pave a middle ground, but I do think that he should get the opportunity to see and experience all the gray areas on his own.

I think I'll transition from characterization to story here, because let's face it, this story is about Damian dealing with his confused emotions right now, in the wake of losing Alfred, a man that kind of acted like a grounding presence, a voice of reason, or a moral compass for him (and honestly Bruce and the rest of the bat crew if we're honest).

Story

So there's a lottttt going on in the story that is really enticing and exciting, and I'm really interested to see how it all plays out.

All the rules to the tournament are so, sketchy? Like they don't sound like they are meant to be sketchy, its basic safety and guidelines or whatever but with all the glowy green shit and the stakes of the tournament? Yeah, you can bet your ass its the "no fighting at night" and other shit is gonna be broken, and that's likely when the fun begins *insert evil laughter*😈

I was slightly put off by the whole "let me teach you to have fun" thing with Rose, because it's not like Dick, Steph, Jon, and like the Titans haven't done that with him too, but eh, not something I'm too concerned about. It's definitely just a segway to get us introduced to more characters that might become Damian's friends which will be interesting considering what Mother Soul said about fraternizing.

And that's another thing! I want Damian to make some friends! I know he already has some, but here's the thing: I think he's already been struggling with belonging, and he's definitely been feeling the disconnect between his life and other kids', whether they're supers/vigilantes or not. I think it'd be nice to see Dami have the experience of meeting people who he at first thinks are just like him!! and then realizing that maybe he doesn't really fit in here either, and that it's okay to feel like you don't belong, as isolating as it may feel at times. It just means you have a set of values. I want him to realize that its not always a bad thing, and you learn more about yourself and your own heart this way.

And from there,,, lets talk about the thing that stuck out to me the most in these two issues! GUILT!! It's mentioned SOO many times already, and I think its going to be a really fun, heartbreaking, and interesting aspect to explore about Damian. Is it guilt about his actions? Leaving behind family? Not being able to save Alfred? Not being a perfect example of Robin? He may call himself Robin but he doesn't sport the OG look or symbol like before. I love that his guilt takes on the form of Alfred though, or at least his conscious. I think it'd be really interesting to see this conscious disappear when Dami strays too far from his center, and when he finds it again, it reappears.

I really think that seeing Damian's actions in this run as a failure of character development is an unfair assessment, though. You can't do everything right in order to grow! You have to screw up, lose your way, experiment with life to find your fit, right?

Something tells me he doesn’t care for the tournament itself, but the end result, and the people behind it and more about WHY it was hidden from him. I mean he finds out the tournament TRULY begins once everyone has died once and tHEN he kill everyone? Felt to me less like a “killing spree” as everyone put it to a calculated decision to get the tournament going. He literally cuts Mother Soul off in the middle of her speaking to start fighting at the beginning

Anyway, just my thoughts lol. I do have some issues with the past two issues, and I might make a separate post about that, but honestly not enough for me to dislike Robin 2021 so far. I mean, besides the very obvious white-washing in the second issue, because DC can absolutely do better. And they should. It’s like they thought we wouldn’t notice???? But besides that, story and characterization-wise I’m looking forward to more. Here’s to hoping it stays that way, just with a better colorist!

#dc comics #robin 2021 #damian wayne #robin

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