#Shadow and Jolt Comic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slu7formen · 1 month

Note

Could we have a part 2 of friend Luke teasing us?? help im so addicted rereading that so many timesssss

(smut or more flirting? your choice love—)

ITS JUST SO GOOD

SORRY FOR THE WAIT, this request was asked more than once so here it is. Also, I´m so glad you liked the previous part so much you re-read it <3 🥺, tysm

previous part (if u want)

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke´s a fucking tease, again, pet names, semi-public s3x, alcohol mention, kissing, biting, sucking, unprotected p in v (don´t), dom!luke, rough s3x.

reminder: english´s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

"I'm going for a walk. Care to join me?" you asked, swaying on your feet. Your voice wobbled slightly, but it held.

Luke's amusement was evident in the quirk of his eyebrow. "A walk, huh?" he drawled, his gaze lingering on the way your lips, still tingling from the fiery drink, were slightly parted. "Too drunk already?” he teases.

You roll your eyes with a groan from your throat. “Are you coming or not?” you cross your arms over your chest, the movement slightly comical given your unsteady stance, but your breasts crushed so deliciously when you did so, tightening the fabric of your t-shirt, that Luke couldn´t help but dart his eyes down there for a second.

A slow smile spread across his face, the kind that sent a delicious yet cold shiver down your spine. "Alright" he sighed, rising smoothly to his feet, even when his system was filled with the strongest drink he found himself drinking on a few minutes ago. “Lead the way then, princess”

You set off through the trees, the path illuminated only by the sliver of moon peeking through the tree cups and the distant glow of the bonfire, less and less intense the further you hid in the shadows. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sounded amplified in the quiet night. You could practically feel the weight of Luke's gaze on your back. His eyes roamed down your body from behing, eyes falling to the way your hips swayed so effortlessly as you walked, that fucking jean skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. You weren't sure if you were leading him, or if he was leading you, both of you drawn by a force far stronger than reason.

After what felt like an dense and heavy eternity, you reached a clearing bathed in moonlight. A large oak tree stood in the center, its branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. You stopped, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

"Nice spot" Luke said, his voice a husky murmur behind you.

You turned to face him, his dark form silhouetted against the moonlit clearing. "It is, right?" you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.

As if on cue, the music from the bonfire faded completely, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The world seemed to shrink until all that existed was the space between you and Luke.

He took a slow and confident step towards you when your eyes kept looking at him, and you met him halfway, the space between you shrinking with each step. The playful teasing from earlier was gone, replaced by a simmering intensity in his dark eyes. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek. You closed your eyes at the feeling of his warm touch, cold sweat forming on your palms. This wasn't how you'd imagined spending your night, but suddenly, it felt like the most perfect moment you could have ever wished for.

"Gods" you breathed, the sound barely audible, "you're killing me, Luke." Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into you, and felt his smile too.

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through your body. "Maybe that's the point, doll." His voice was husky, laced with something that sent a jolt of desire sizzling through your veins.

You opened your eyes, meeting his stare. His cheeks were flushed a faint red, a testament to the potent drink he'd consumed, but his eyes held a fierce intensity that excited you, even though you´ve seen it before, just not this close. His hair was windblown and messy, perfectly accompaying his handsome features.

"That was quite a show back there" he rumbled, his voice low and warm inside your ears, as he placed behind your ear a stray of loose hair. You could smell the faint scent of the strange red drink on him, mingled with something else - a familiar, comforting scent that you associated with him.

"You dared me" you defended yourself, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

He chuckled again. "Don't worry, ´m not judging. I'm just impressed."

His thumb brushed over your lips, sending a spark of desire shooting inside your tummy. "You shouldn't have done that just to prove a point, though." There was a playful glint in his eyes, but also a hint of something more, something serious simmering beneath the surface.

The words were a warning, but they held an undercurrent of something else entirely. The way he was looking at you now, with a fire burning in his eyes that mirrored your own, made your knees weak. You knew he wanted to kiss you, but he wanted to make you wait; by brushing your lips with his thumb, your jawline, your cheekbones. His touch, so light, left a trail of thin fire where he touched, a blush in your face, a hot feeling against his fingers.

"Who said I was trying to prove a point?" you ask, your voice as weak as your knees felt.

He met your gaze then, his dark eyes searching yours after he drifted them away from your plump lips. "What was it about then?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in a mocking tone.

You swallowed, the sudden honesty both exhilarating and terrifying. "You" you blurted out, word dripping heavy from your lips.

A smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips.

"Me?" he echoed, his voice husky. "What about me?"

You weren't sure if you could take back the words you were about to say, but the look in his eyes, the way his hand tightened on your cheek, urged you forward. In a sudden, bold move, you brushed your hands against his forearms, gripping them. Then, with a surge of newfound courage fueled by the moonlight and the strange drink, you reached out and guided his free hand to your waist, slipping it dangerously beneath the edge of your shirt. Your touch sent a visible tremor through him.

"I´m not dumb, Luke.” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly, but still flashing a smirk at him. "The way you like to tease me," you continued, your cheeks burning even hotter. "The way you look at me-,"

Before you could finish your sentence, the space between your lips vanished. With a grip on the base of your neck, he slammed his cold lips against yours. His kiss was sudden, fierce, and intoxicating. It tasted of the strange red mix he'd been drinking, but it was also the taste of desire, of unspoken feelings finally finding their release. It was a kiss fueled by the electricity that had been crackling between you all night, by the way his eyes roamed down your body, by the way you instantly feel your arousal stain your panties as soon as he called you ´Good girl´, a desperate exploration that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning. His hand found its way to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, the heat of his body searing through your thin shirt. You moaned into his kiss, a sound that was both surprised and utterly satisfied.

The kiss was messy, fueled by the heat of the moment and the alcohol coursing through your veins. You stumbled backwards, his hand following the curve of your back and the top of your ass until you found yourselves pressed against the rough bark of the oak tree.

His touch ignited a fire within you, a desperate need for more. You stood on your tiptoes to reach his lips more, which were impossibly perfect in the moonlight. Your height difference, usually a minor annoyance, felt electric now. You felt small and protected in his arms, yet the need to be closer burned bright.

A strangled moan escaped his own lips as his tongue danced against yours, exploring every corner with a possessive urgency. The quiet of the night was only broken by the ragged sound of your breaths and the frantic thump of your hearts, the smack of your lips. The kiss intensified more, a battle for dominance that you were both surprisingly eager to lose.

He was gripping into everything he could, he semed to know you so well; he grabbed your waist, gently let his finger fall from your shoulder blades to your lower back, brush your inner thighs with his fingers and just when you parted your lips to sigh in satisfaction, he would fly his hand to your throat again, squeezing slightly; he still gave you reasons to look for breath.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the dark strands surprisingly soft against your fingertips, and pulled slightly.

"Whoa there, princess" he murmured against your lips, his voice thick and heavy. He pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, but not enough to sever the connection entirely. His eyes, dark and gleaming with desire, twinkled with a hint of his usual teasing glint. "Slow down. We've got all night, or at least until someone notices we´re gone."

Even in your flustered state, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The sound was breathless and shaky, but it broke the tension that had been building between you. “Everyone knows we´re gone. Besides, you started it” you mumbled.

"Maybe I did" he admitted, his eyes gleaming with a devilish delight. "But you have to admit, doll, you didn´t stop me."

He leaned down again, but this time, the kiss was different. It was slower, more deliberate, his tongue exploring yours with a languid sensuality that sent a whole new different warmth in your body, more intimate, more private.

"Maybe you should show me exactly what you meant by 'not dumb'" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His words were a challenge as his kisses started to trail down the side of your neck.

You bit your lip, torn between playful defiance and a desperate need to feel his lips lower. "You know what I meant, Luke” you breathed out.

“Can you read me that well?” he let out a breathed laugh out, his hot breath making the skin of youe neck grow goosebumps.

"Maybe better than you think" you whisper. Your lodged your head back, the back of your skull hit the rough oak tree, but Luke´s lips trailed such delicious and desperate bruises down your neck that you didn´t seem to care.

The conversation was quickly replaced by the filfthiest sounds; his teeth sucking on your skin, the wet pop of it whenever he would pull at your skin to start another purple spot on your skin, your whimpers as he did so.

His hips pressed against yours, squeezing his hardened cock against your pelvis to relieve the painful and heavy tension inside his jeans. One of his hands brushed up one of your thighs, grabbing it from the back of your knee to raise it towards his hip. Then it widened, fingers open as much as possible and squeezing the flesh as he went higher, your skin getting hotter and more tender as he trailed up, finally brushing his fingers over your panties.

You gasped when he applied the tiniest pressure, breath shaking as he held tighter onto your body. Your had your hips rolling against his hand unconsiously, letting little whimpers fall off your lips as Luke grinned at the feeling of his fingertips getting slightly wet.

He pulled them aside slightly, your arousal coating his fingers as you let out a strangled moan from the back of your throat. Luke pulls back slightly, his face in front of yours. He admired your face, twisted in pleassure as he dipped one finger in, slowly. "You´re all wet for me" he whispers, eyes darting from yours, to your lips.

A small pout crossed your features as you nodded. Luke felt like dying. The alcohol had his head spinning slightly, eyes blurry as he tried to focus on your face again, the little pout in your lips, your pink cheeks, the so innocent look made his cock ache more inside his jeans. You were too much for him, you always were his weakness, but tonight every emotion he ever felt for you was multiplied a hundred times more.

He would lie to himself if he said he didn´t dream about having you before, about holding you tight against him, about feeling how warm you would be. He spent endless nights jerking himself off at the simple thought of you, his mind racing with all the memories he held deep back into his head. He loved it when you wore skirts like now, so small yet so elegant in your legs, how you managed to make everything pretty on you even if we were talking about the sweaty and old camp shirt. He loved the exposed skin of your legs and arms, your cleveage, your neck. he fantasized about them every time he could, biting on his bottom lip and holding back moans as his hips twitched when his seed would stick in between his fingers.

But now he didn´t have to worry about being quiet, or about how long he would have to keep his secret to himself, because he had you right there, with two fingers deep into your cunt, pumping them in and out at a fast pace that only made the squelching sound louder and wetter by the second.

He took your bottom lip in between his teeth, stealing a painful cry from you. Your brows were frowned in the deepest pleasure when you started to mumble senseless things in Luke´s ear, something about going faster, or harder. Truth was, Luke wasn´t entirely listening either, too focused on how much he could use you by following all the thoughts that ever crossed around his dirty mind.

He felt like staining his pants any second when your hand squeezed in between your bodies and grabbed onto his cock over the fabric of his jeans, your hand guiding your fingers up and down as you tried your best to satsify him too. A low groan erupted from him, darting your hand away and pinning it against the tree behind you.

"Stay still" he said in between tight teeth, his nose bumping against your as he used his free hand to get rid of his belt. Your heart pounded at a franatic rythym, almost ripping out of your chest. You decided to keep quiet, pressing your lips together as you patiently waited. "I know you´d blow me if I asked you to" he suddenly blurted out, "but as much as I like your pretty mouth, I don´t wanna cum in it yet" he declared with a single raise of his eyebrows.

Your cheeks got squeezed together when he grabbed them with a single hand, kissing you deeply again. He had pulled his jeans down to the ground, and as much as you wanted him to manhadle you, to tell you what to do, to play with you more, you couldn´t wait much longer. Your free hand went down slowly as your lips moved against each other. Luke hissed when your cold hand grabbed the base of his cock, heavy and hot in between your fingers. You pumped him a few times before leading it to your entrance.

And you both lost it.

You tried to be as quiet as you could, Luke slapping his hand across your lips as you pulled into his hair to make him groan instead of moaning, but it was a task as hard a letting your mouths do the sound they pleased. You squeezed your eyes shut at how tight the knot in your belly was turning, your cunt squeezing Luke´s cock so much it started to hurt.

Because Luke was not gentle, or slow. He was behaving like an animal, fucking you like one, with his deep groans and the bites along your neck and shoulders. He held you up as your legs were wrapped around his waist, back painfuly pressing against the rough tree behind you. He shook you as if you were lightweighed, hands gripping to your ass with his hips slamming against yours over and over again.

The heel of your feet pushed his lower back, forcing him to go deeper. He was being louder than you, moaning into your ear with his mouth hanging open and his brows frowned, his words dripping down your body, melting your brain.

"You feel so good, baby" he panted. "So tight. Can’t believe I had to wait this long to fuck this pussy"

And you couldn´t help but reply to his words, parting your lips and letting out the most pornographic whimper you could release when your ass kept bumping and bumping against the oak. The material was hurting your skin, but you didn´t seem to care. All you asked was for more, and more, and more, and Luke was determinated to give you what you wanted.

"You´ve always been my favorite, Luke" you whispered into his ear, one of your hands holding the back of his neck. Your words came out so easily, it didn´t seem as if he was fucking you so violently that it had your back hurting and your eyes rolling at the back of your skull. "I-," you cut yourself off, biting your lips to get out a single cry. The tip of his cock was brushing your spongiest spot. "I always knew you´d fuck me right"

You smiled when a subtle whimper of vulnerabilty slipped past his lips. "Yeah?" was all he asked.

"Yes" you pleaded. "I know you´re always playing, but, you can have me when you want"

He was fucking you dumb against a tree, and you were rotting his brain with your words. You could sense the effect it had on him; how he gripped you tighter, painting bruises into your skin. How he rested his forehead on the crook of your neck and his breath smashed into your skin.

"I´ve always wanted you, yn"

There was a glenching sound echoing through the clearing, the sound of where you two connected the most, but it got lower and lower as Luke´s frenetic movements started to slow down its pace.

He grilled his teeth when his cum filled you up, white and hot. He squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling, it was too good. You squeezed him on porpuse when his cock twitched inside you, his hands almost failing at the task of holding you to him.

He stopped feeling his heartbeat inside his ears, but his mouth hung open against your chest, kissing your sternum tenderly as he slowly made you stand on his feet again.

You placed your hands over his shoulders, hugging him into your embrace as his lips grazed over yours again. He brushed them against yours before pressing softly, the taste of the alcohol forgotten, but the warmth of his smooth flesh transfered to your mouth.

But when he tried to pull away to kneel down and look at the mess he had made; his cum dripping down your legs, your panties so messy you weren´t sure if you could wear them ever again, you stopped him.

"I haven´t cummed yet. This isn´t over, big boy"

615 notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

Text

go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk.

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki.

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!”

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you.

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing.

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him.

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you.

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun.

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet.

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm.

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down.

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes.

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.”

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything.

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right?

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.” yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer.

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him.

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

…

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips.

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway.

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways.

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence.

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently.

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful.

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly.

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right?

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound.

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?”

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off.

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure.

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing.

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them.

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably.

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes.

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

922 notes · View notes

butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 1 month

Note

Hi! I just stumbled upon your profile when I was searching for jonathan crane x reader fics, and can I just say that I loved Behind The Mask so so much! Would it be possible to request a fic Jonathan x reader that is inspired by You are the right one by Sports? If so, thank you so much! 💕✨

You Are The Right One - Jonathan Crane x Reader ONESHOT

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 8016

Warnings: High School!Jonathan Crane, bullying

Summary: !!Request!! High school was a cesspool of misery for Jonathan. After the cruel prank from his crush and biggest bully, he believed his days would be forever marred by the shadows of ridicule and isolation. Until a beacon of light emerged in the form of one girl who reached out with a helping hand.

A/N: (This gif does not match the vibe whatsoever, but oh well!) Bro, I had never heard this song before, but the second I listened to it AHAHHAH!!! the way this song tingles my brain~ chefs kiss. Thank you so much Anon for introducing this song to me 💚 While writing this fic, I really got into the comic book Jonathan, so the whole time writing this, instead of picturing Cillian Murphy, my brain went off and thought about the lanky ginger Jonathan from the comics...smash. This doesn't really affect how you read it or anything, I don't bring up his appearance (I think) but yeah, fun fact! Thank you so much for the request, Anon, I hope you like it and I hope everyone else likes it as well 💚

"Hey! Scarecrow!" The jeering shout pierced the air before a rotten pumpkin collided with Jonathan's head.

With a jolt, he crashed onto the unforgiving concrete, the impact scraping his knees raw and sending his glasses tumbling from his face. Laughter and mocking taunts echoed from the other side of the street, adding insult to injury. Wiping the slimy remnants of pumpkin from his face, Jonathan retrieved his glasses from the ground and carefully replaced them, picking himself off the floor and rushing to his house.

Jonathan hated his time at school, not due to its academic challenges, they were a mere breeze to him. It was the individuals within the school walls who soured his experience. Each day seemed to bring a fresh onslaught of taunts, shoves, and the relentless pursuit to make him feel small. It was an existence he loathed.

Bo Gribbs stood out as the ringleader of torment, his cruelty unmatched by any other. Jonathan couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve such relentless bullying from Bo, but he found himself powerless to retaliate. Physically overpowered and painfully aware of his own frailty, Jonathan's slender frame seemed almost translucent beneath his clothing, a stark testament to his vulnerability in the face of Bo's tyranny.

Yet, even within the supposed sanctuary of his supposed home, peace was still not found for him. If he managed to escape the torment of school, he found himself ensnared in the clutches of his eccentric great-grandmother, whose own torture made every moment a living hell. The irony of her religious fervor contrasted against her treatment of him was not lost on Jonathan.

Though Jonathan's existence felt like a descent into inferno, he clung to the belief that it was merely a chapter in his life, not the entire story. Determined to carve out a brighter future for himself. He vowed to end the torment, one way or another.

Walking through the corridors proved to be a difficult journey for Jonathan, each step fraught with the anticipation of another cruel encounter. As he traversed the halls, barely two minutes had passed before a forceful shove sent him careening forward, his body meeting the cold embrace of the linoleum floor. His knees, accustomed to such harsh treatment, absorbed the impact with resigned familiarity.

The clatter of his glasses hitting the ground echoed amidst the cacophony of jeers from passing jocks, their laughter cutting through the air like a serrated blade. With a heavy sigh, Jonathan reached out, his fingers fumbling as they sought the familiar frames now lying abandoned on the floor.

To add insult to injury, the contents of his binder lay strewn across the corridor in a chaotic array of papers and notebooks. With a resigned sense of foreboding, Jonathan began the arduous task of gathering his scattered belongings, readying himself for the inevitable shit day that lay ahead.

Amidst the din of the bustling hallway, the sound of approaching footsteps caught Jonathan's attention, his heart sinking as he braced for yet another harsh confrontation. However, what he beheld was not the expected boot poised for a strike, but rather a figure, a girl, crouched beside him, her hands reaching out to aid in gathering the scattered papers.

Stunned into silence, Jonathan could only watch in disbelief as the girl worked alongside him, her actions a stark contrast to the hostility he had come to expect. Caught in a moment of bewildered confusion, he found himself unable to move, his mind reeling with questions. What was she doing? Was she helping him?

As Jonathan's mind struggled to catch up with the whirlwind of events, he watched in astonishment as the girl collected the scattered papers, her movements somehow appearing graceful. With each piece she retrieved, she seemed to breathe life into the crap that had enveloped his world just moments before. As she stacked the papers before him, Jonathan couldn't help but marvel at the dexterity of her fingers, a stark contrast to the clumsy awkwardness he felt coursing through his own limbs.

When she finally glanced up, her face illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the corridor, Jonathan found himself momentarily transfixed by the sight before him. The delicate curve of her jawline, the softness of her features, and the warmth in her eyes sent a flutter through his chest, igniting a blush that crept up his cheeks. It had been an eternity since he had been in such close proximity to a girl, let alone one this attrative.

Despite the pounding of his heart and the flush of embarrassment that suffused his face, Jonathan couldn't help but brace himself for the anticipated rejection and humiliation. Yet, to his astonishment, the girl's expression remained neutral, devoid of the revulsion he had come to expect from others.

In that fleeting moment, as their eyes met, Jonathan felt a spark of hope ignite within him, a glimmer of possibility amidst the darkness of his reality.

"I'm not sure they're in order, sorry," she offered apologetically, handing the papers over to him.

Jonathan's mind raced, struggling to process the flood of emotions and sensations crashing over him like waves against a rocky shore. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words emerged, his voice lost amidst the thoughts within him. His cheeks burned with a fierce blush, the heat spreading across his skin like wildfire as he fought to steady his erratic breaths.

Despite the turmoil raging within him, Jonathan found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the girl before him. Every delicate movement, every subtle shift in her demeanor, captivated his attention like a mesmerizing dance. He watched as she nervously nibbled on her lower lip, her brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

A pang of self-reproach stabbed at Jonathan's heart as he cursed his own awkwardness, berating himself for his inability to ease the tension that hung thick in the air. He longed to reach out, to offer some semblance of reassurance, but the weight of his own insecurities held him captive, shackling him in silence.

In the midst of his internal turmoil, Jonathan couldn't help but wonder if he was the cause of the girl's discomfort. Was it his presence alone that had driven her to such nervous agitation? The thought only served to deepen his sense of self-condemnation, a bitter reminder of his own inadequacy in the face of this unexpected encounter.

Taking the papers from her outstretched hand, Jonathan murmured a barely audible "thank you," his eyes remaining fixed on the ground.

"It's okay," she reassured softly, straightening up.

As Jonathan remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixated on the ground, he felt a sense of regret wash over him as he watched the girl gracefully rise to her feet. Every movement seemed to unfold in slow motion, each subtle shift of her body conveying a depth of emotion that left Jonathan feeling utterly captivated.

The soft rustle of fabric as she straightened her posture, the delicate sway of her hair as she lifted her head, every detail etched itself into Jonathan's memory like a scene from a cherished dream. He longed to reach out, to capture this fleeting moment before it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, but the weight of his own insecurities held him firmly in place.

As she turned to leave, the sound of her footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, each step a somber reminder of the distance that now lay between them. Jonathan listened intently, the rhythmic sound of her footfalls fading into the silence like a whispered promise lost to the wind.

Only when she was finally out of sight did Jonathan dare to lift his gaze, his eyes scanning the empty space where she had stood mere moments before. The memory of her presence lingered like an echo in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the connection he had felt, however fleeting it may have been.

As the final bell reverberated through the hallways, signaling the end of lunch and the impending arrival of the last period, Jonathan's thoughts were consumed by the memory of the girl he had crossed paths with that very morning. Her image lingered in his mind like a vivid dream, each detail etched into his consciousness with a clarity that was exhilarating and mildly disturbing.

The mere thought of her sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could almost feel the weight of her gaze, piercing through the veil of his thoughts, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

This crush felt different, unlike any he had experienced before. It wasn't merely a passing fancy or a fleeting attraction. It was a connection that transcended the boundaries of mere physical appearance. There was an ineffable quality about her, a magnetic allure that beckoned him closer with each passing moment.

As he gazed out into the tranquil expanse before him, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that destiny had intervened, weaving their paths together. And in that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the afternoon, he allowed himself to entertain the tantalizing possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, this encounter was the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

It may have seemed naive, even foolish, to harbor such aspirations, but for Jonathan, it was a rare moment of respite in an otherwise shitty landscape. To entertain the notion that perhaps, just perhaps, the universe held something extraordinary in store for him was a welcome change.

Jonathan’s previous crushes seemed like nothing compared to the emotions that stirred by his encounter with the mysterious girl that morning. Recollections of past crushes, like shards of fragmented glass, pricked at his consciousness, reminding him of the superficiality that had defined those fleeting attractions.

Sherry, with her beauty and captivating presence, had been the subject of Jonathan's affections not so long ago. Yet, his admiration for her had always been tempered by the harsh reality of her social circle. Despite the allure of her charm, Jonathan found himself relegated to the sidelines, but he knew he could never have anyone like her anyway.

But it wasn't just Sherry's group that posed a barrier to Jonathan's desires, it was her association with Bo Gribbs, the boy that tormented him every day. Bo's looming presence, like a dark cloud on the horizon, served as a constant reminder of the toxicity that permeated Sherry's world. And yet, despite the danger that lurked beneath the surface, Jonathan remained steadfast in his pursuit, blind to the warning signs that whispered caution in the wind.

It wasn't until Sherry played a cruel prank on him, a twisted joke that left him humiliated and vulnerable, that Jonathan's rose-tinted glasses were shattered, revealing the harsh truth that had eluded him for so long. The sting of betrayal, like a venomous serpent coiled within his heart, forced him to confront the reality of his situation, a reality where he made judgement off appearance alone.

As he reflected on the events of that fateful night, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the time wasted chasing after hollow dreams. But amidst the ashes of his past disappointments, a flicker of hope ignited within him, a hope born from the promise of a new beginning, forged in the fires of his encounter with the mysterious girl who had captured his heart with a single glance and kind gesture.

This girl, she was unlike anyone Jonathan had ever encountered before. Every detail of her presence seemed to exude an air of kindess, something that he didn’t experience often.

It wasn't just her appearance that set her apart, it was the way she carried herself, with a confidence that bordered on defiance, as if daring the world to unravel the enigma of her being. There was an undeniable magnetism about her, an intangible quality that drew Jonathan in like a moth to a flame.

And for the first time in his life, Jonathan dared to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for something more than mere admiration from afar. He allowed himself to entertain the possibility of forging a connection with this stranger.

As Jonathan settled into his usual seat at the front of the classroom, he arranged his books on the desk before him. The desks were arranged in pairs, accommodating two students each, yet Jonathan found himself occupying his table alone, a solitude he had grown accustomed to and even appreciated.

The rest of the class filtered in, taking their usual places. But just as the bell signaled the start of class, the door creaked open to reveal a newcomer, a sight that caused Jonathan's heart to skip a beat. Like a vision materializing, she stepped into the room, the girl who had occupied Jonathan's thoughts since the start of the day.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Jonathan's eyes traced her every movement, drinking in the graceful sway of her stride, the subtle tilt of her head as she looked around at the desks before her. It was as if the very essence of her presence infused the room with a palpable energy, setting Jonathan's heart ablaze with a flurry of emotions he struggled to contain.

What was she doing here, in his classroom, when she wasn't supposed to be? The question echoed through Jonathan's mind like a mantra, a puzzle he couldn't quite unravel.

As she cast her gaze about the room, seeking out an empty seat, Jonathan's breath caught in his throat, a knot of anticipation tightening in his chest. And then, as if guided by some unseen force, her eyes landed on the spot beside him before drifting up to his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips like a secret shared between them.

The rush of heat that flooded Jonathan's cheeks was as sudden and unexpected as a summer storm, his pulse quickening with a fervor that threatened to overwhelm him. It was a moment suspended in time, a collision of worlds that left Jonathan reeling in disbelief.

He sat there, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a drum echoing in the hollows of his chest. Every nerve in his body seemed to hum with electricity as he watched her draw nearer, her presence casting a spell upon him that left him breathless with anticipation. It was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl, each passing second stretching into eternity.

"May I sit here?" Her voice, like a melody woven from silk and honey, broke through the haze of Jonathan's thoughts, drawing his attention to the question hanging in the air.

Jonathan swallowed hard, the sudden dryness of his throat betraying the ruckus of emotions raging within him. With a shaky nod, he managed to tear his gaze away from her mesmerizing presence, meeting her eyes with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, her voice like a gentle breeze on a summer's eve as she settled into the seat beside him, her movements fluid and graceful.

"I just moved classes," she continued, her tone casual yet tinged with a hint of frustration, "I had a clash with English and Statistics, which messed up my whole timetable."

As she explained the reason for her unexpected presence in his class, Jonathan found himself captivated by the sound of her voice, each word a symphony of warmth and sincerity that washed over him like a soothing balm.

Jonathan drank in her words like a man parched in the desert, his thirst for her presence growing with each passing moment. He wanted nothing more than to listen to her voice for eternity, to lose himself in the melody of her speech.

"I'm Y/n, by the way," she said, turning to look at him with a smile that seemed to illuminate the entire room with its radiance.

"I'm Jo-" Jonathan's words were abruptly cut off by the sharp impact of a book colliding with the back of his head, jolting him out of his trance with a start.

Laughter erupted throughout the classroom, echoing off the walls as Jonathan winced in pain, his hand instinctively flying to the back of his head, fingers curling around the tender spot where the book had struck.

"Holy fuck! Are you okay?" Y/n's voice cut through the chaos, her hand landing gently on his shoulder in a gesture of concern.

Jonathan's breath caught in his throat at the touch, a jolt of electricity coursing through him at the warmth of her hand against his skin. If he weren't in such agonizing pain, he might have choked on his own saliva at the unexpected intimacy of the moment. "I'm fine," he managed to whisper, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

As Y/n leaned in to check on him, neither of them noticed the approach of the culprit responsible for Jonathan's suffering. It wasn't until he spoke that their attention was drawn to him, his smug tone slicing through the air like a knife.

"Sorry, Scarecrow, my hand slipped," Bo said, his voice dripping with malice.

With a heavy thud, Bo's hand landed on Jonathan's back, causing him to flinch and cough in response. Leaning in closer, Bo loomed over Jonathan, his presence like a dark cloud casting a shadow over the room.

"Do you mind?" Y/n's voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade, her gaze locked on Bo with a fierceness that made him falter for a moment.

"Mind what, Y/n? I’m fine, how ‘bout yourself?" Bo retorted, his smirk never faltering, even under the weight of her glare.

"Go be a dick somewhere else," Y/n shot back.

Jonathan's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and admiration as he watched Y/n stand up to Bo, her unwavering determination a stark contrast to the fear and apprehension that had gripped him only moments before.

For a moment, Bo seemed taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness, his usual swagger faltering in the face of her unwavering gaze. But then, with a mocking snort, he straightened up, his smirk morphing into a sneer as he turned his attention back to Jonathan.

"Looks like Scarecrow's got himself a little protector," Bo jeered, his words dripping with contempt.

Ignoring Bo's taunts, Y/n turned back to Jonathan, her expression softening with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and reassuring.

Jonathan couldn't help but nod, a surge of gratitude flooding through him at the genuine concern in her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied.

As the tension in the room began to settle, the teacher cleared their throat, drawing attention to the front of the classroom. With one last glance at Y/n, Jonathan turned his focus to the lesson.

Jonathan felt a gentle tap on his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to find Y/n looking at him with a kind expression.

"Sorry, I never actually caught your name before Bo started being a dick," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of apology.

"Jonathan," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, before turning her attention back to the front of the classroom.

As Jonathan watched her, a warmth spread through his chest, chasing away the lingering discomfort from Bo's earlier antics. In that brief exchange, he felt a connection form.

As Jonathan sat beside Y/n in class, his mind couldn't help but drift back to her. Her presence beside him seemed to fill the air with a quiet warmth, casting a soft glow over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the classroom.

He stole furtive glances in her direction, marveling at the way the sunlight danced in her hair, illuminating strands of gold like a halo. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way her eyes flickered with concentration as she followed along with the lesson, every detail of her being seemed to captivate him in ways he couldn't quite comprehend.

He longed to hear her speak again, to lose himself in the melody of her words and the warmth of her smile. But more than anything, it was the way she made him feel, the sense of comfort and ease that washed over him in her presence. For the first time in a long while, Jonathan felt a glimmer of hope stirring within him, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there was something special blossoming between them.

As the final minutes of class ticked by, Jonathan's attention remained divided between the lesson and the gentle presence of Y/n beside him. He found himself stealing glances at her whenever he could, savoring the fleeting moments of shared proximity.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the period, Jonathan felt a pang of reluctance as he realized their time together was drawing to a close. He began gathering his belongings, his mind already drifting ahead to the remainder of the day.

But before he could make his exit, Y/n turned to him with a smile, her eyes sparkling with warmth and kindness. "Hey, Jonathan," she said softly, "do you mind if I walk with you?"

Jonathan's heart skipped a beat at her words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the prospect of spending more time with her. "I don’t mind," he replied, almost too quickly.

Together, they made their way out of the classroom, the bustling halls alive with the energy of students eager to begin their weekend. As they walked side by side, Jonathan felt a sense of contentment wash over him, grateful for the unexpected situation that had brought them together.

As they stepped out of the building, Y/n cast a fleeting glance behind them before returning her focus to the path ahead. "I just really didn't want Bo to bother you any more than he already has. If you don't want me to walk with you, I totally get that," she said, her voice tinged with concern.

"It's fine... I don't mind," Jonathan replied, his words tinged with a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/n's lips as she looked at him. "Then I'll walk with you," she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity.

As Jonathan processed Y/n's offer, a swirl of conflicting emotions churned within him.

On one hand, he was overwhelmed by a sense of disbelief and wonder that someone as kind and compassionate as Y/n would willingly extend such a gesture of friendship to him. It was a glimmer of light in the darkness of his daily struggles, a ray of hope that pierced through the clouds of uncertainty that hung heavy over his life.

But as he considered the practicalities of the situation, a nagging sense of apprehension gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that allowing Y/n to accompany him all the way to his house would only invite trouble. Grandma Keeny was not one to tolerate such liberties, and Jonathan knew all too well the consequences of crossing her.

With a heavy heart, Jonathan weighed his options. On one hand, he longed for the companionship and warmth that Y/n's presence offered. But on the other, he couldn't bear the thought of subjecting her to the wrath of Grandma Keeny.

In the end, Jonathan found himself at a crossroads, both metaphorically and literally, as they reached an intersection. With a heavy heart, he turned to Y/n, his expression a mixture of gratitude and reluctance.

"I'm going this way," he murmured, the words stumbling awkwardly from his lips.

Y/n's smile faltered slightly at his words, a flicker of confusion dancing in her eyes. "You don't want me to keep walking with you?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to confide in Y/n and the fear of burdening her with his troubles. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head gently.

"It's not that," he began, his voice soft but resolute. "I just don't want to inconvenience you. It's a bit out of the way, and I wouldn't want to make you late home or anything."

Y/n regarded him with a thoughtful expression, her gaze searching his face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. After a moment, she nodded understandingly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Alright then," she said, her tone warm and reassuring. "Just know that the offer still stands if you ever need someone to walk with."

Jonathan felt a surge of gratitude wash over him at her words, a sense of warmth and belonging settling in the pit of his stomach. Though he couldn't bring himself to explain the full extent of his situation, he was grateful for Y/n's understanding and compassion.

With a final nod of thanks, Jonathan watched as Y/n continued on her way, her presence a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone in his struggles.

As Jonathan made his way along the footpath, the memory of Y/n lingered like a gentle breeze, offering a brief respite from the turmoil of his thoughts.

But as he neared his house, the weight of reality came crashing down upon him like a leaden blanket. The giddiness he felt began to wane, replaced by a sense of foreboding dread.

He couldn't bring himself to call it a home, not with the constant cloud of tension that hung heavy in the air. Grandma Keeny's presence loomed over the house like a specter, her disapproving gaze a constant reminder of the hell Jonathan endured within its walls.

With each step closer to the front door, Jonathan's stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety and apprehension. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, there would always be something for Grandma Keeny to find fault with.

But as he steeled himself to face whatever awaited him inside, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, a reminder of the brief moment of solace he had found in Y/n's company. And for that fleeting moment, Jonathan allowed himself to cling to the hope that one day, he would find a place where he truly belonged.

As Jonathan entered the house, the air seemed to thicken with tension, each creak of the floorboards echoing through the house. He braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, steeling his nerves against the onslaught of Grandma Keeny's disapproving scrutiny.

Sure enough, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he was met with the sharp pang of her voice slicing through the silence like a knife. "You're late again, Jonathan," she scolded, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

He hardly needed to glance at the clock to know she made that up. Jonathan bit back a retort, knowing from experience that it would only incite further wrath. Instead, he offered a mumbled apology, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground as he braced himself for the barrage of criticism that was sure to follow.

But to his surprise, Grandma Kenny's response was not as scathing as he had anticipated. "Don't let this happen again," she said curtly, her voice carrying a tone of warning.

Though her words lacked the usual venomous edge, Jonathan still felt the weight of her disapproval bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He nodded silently, knowing better than to provoke further confrontation.

As he retreated to his room. While he was grateful to have escaped unscathed this time, he couldn't shake the feeling that Grandma Keeny's temporary leniency was merely the calm before the storm.

As he settled into bed, the memory of Y/n's kind smile lingered in his mind like a flickering flame in the darkness. It was a reminder that even amidst the chaos and uncertainty, there were moments of warmth and kindness to be found.

But that moment of rest was short-lived. The tranquility shattered as Grandma Kenny's sharp voice pierced through the silence, demanding that he come downstairs to make her a coffee. Jonathan's shoulders sagged as he rolled his eyes, begrudgingly pushing himself off the bed.

Jonathan stood by his locker, the light of the hallway casting shadows across the floor. The low hum of students milling about filled the air, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or snippets of conversation. He slowly grabbed each book from his locker, the scent of aged paper and faint traces of graphite wafting up as he sifted through the contents.

With each item he retrieved, Jonathan's mind wandered, lost in the potential chance of Y/n walking past. He imagined the rhythmic tap of her footsteps echoing down the corridor, the soft rustle of her clothing as she approached. His heart quickened at the thought of her warm smile, the playful glint in her eyes that never failed to captivate him.

In his mind, Jonathan pictured Y/n strolling alongside him to class, their conversation flowing effortlessly as if they had known each other for years. He envisioned himself maintaining composure, staying cool, without the usual nervousness that plagued him in social interactions. Imagining her radiant smile directed up at him, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, hoping to see her.

Sure, he had only met her the day before and their only interactions were brief. Yet, in those fleeting moments, Jonathan felt a something with Y/n that bet any connection he had ever thought he shared with Sherry. The memory of his last crush on Sherry now seemed trivial and shallow in comparison to the depth of feeling he harbored for Y/n, he cringed just thinking about it.

Lost in his imagination, Jonathan nearly missed Y/n's presence walking through the hallway. She was a vision, just as captivating as the day prior. His heart quickened with anticipation, hoping for a fleeting glance from her. Yet, she passed by without so much as a glance in his direction.

Feeling a pang of disappointment, Jonathan turned back to his locker, cursing himself for entertaining such fantasies. He berated his own foolishness, knowing deep down that she wouldn't notice him. As he watched her move toward her own locker, he couldn't shake the sense of longing that lingered in his heart.

Jonathan couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched a guy approach Y/n at her locker. He felt a surge of jealousy rise within him, coupled with a gnawing sense of unease. His mind raced with scenarios, imagining the worst possible outcomes. What if this guy was her boyfriend? What if she preferred his company over Jonathan's?

He had completely forgetthen the about the possibility that she might already be in a relationship. A knot formed in his stomach as he watched them engage in conversation. He strained to hear snippets of their exchange, trying to decipher their relationship. His grip tightened on the books in his hands, his knuckles turning white with tension.

Jonathan's thoughts swirled with insecurity and doubt. He couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that washed over him. As he watched the interaction unfold, a sense of resignation settled over him. Perhaps it was best to keep his distance, to spare himself the inevitable disappointment of rejection.

As Jonathan closed his locker, he couldn't help but overhear the exchange between Y/n and the guy who had approached her. He lingered nearby, discreetly eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you every time, I don’t want to go out with you,” Y/n's voice carried a firmness, her words laced with frustration.

The guy persisted, undeterred. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you that I’m not a bad guy. What have you got to lose?” he argued.

Y/n didn't mince her words. “I’ve watched you and your friends bully people, yet you’re gonna stand there and tell me you’re not a bad guy?” Her tone was sharp, cutting through the air with conviction.

With a dismissive roll of his eyes, the guy retorted, “It’s just a bit of fun.”

Y/n's response was final. “Goodbye, now,” she stated firmly, closing her locker and walking away, leaving the guy behind.

Jonathan felt a wave of relief wash over him as he listened to the conversation unfold. Not only did it confirm that Y/n was single, but it also revealed her refusal to entertain someone disrespectful like that guy. Yet, alongside the relief, a simmering anger brewed within him. The audacity of that guy to treat her with such disrespect ignited a fire within Jonathan. Upon getting a closer look, he recognized the guy as one of the same guys who had tormented him before, one that hangs with Bo. Aaron was a real piece of shit.

Jonathan's gaze must have lingered for too long, for the Aaron turned to face him, his expression twisted with anger. "What are you looking at, Scarecrow?" he spat out aggressively.

Jonathan felt a surge of panic coursing through him, his muscles tensing in preparation for confrontation. However, before he could respond, the bell rang, cutting through the tension like a sharp blade. With a sense of relief, Jonathan hastily made his exit, heading off to his own class, leaving the guy behind in the hallway.

Jonathan managed to navigate his classes without encountering Aaron again, a small relief in an otherwise nerve racking day. As lunchtime arrived, he found himself in the crowded cafeteria.

For Jonathan, lunch was a simple affair. His pockets rarely held enough spare change to afford a cafeteria meal, and even if they did, the thought of eating the food they served was revolting in and of itself. Instead, he relied on the sandwich he'd prepared at home earlier that morning. A humble meal, but one that brought him comfort.

In the corner of the cafeteria, Jonathan sat in solitary silence, a lone figure amidst rest. With a library book propped open before him, he stole moments between bites of his homemade sandwich to immerse himself in its pages. The book was a refuge, a small rebellion against the suffocating grip of Grandma Kenny's stringent beliefs.

Jonathan didn’t want to imagine the consequences if Grandma Kenny were to discover his forbidden literary indulgence. Her wrath was legendary, her punishments cruel and unpredictable. From stupid chores to brutal beatings. Jonathan shuddered at the memory of being locked in the decrepit church, surrounded by the menacing caws of circling crows. An ordeal he'd endured more than once for daring to defy her rules.

He barely noticed that person approaching his table. Jonathan's heart jumped in his chest as he watched Aaron's hand descend upon the table with a thud, the sudden noise echoing in the cafeteria. His grip tightened on the book, his knuckles turning white, as he braced himself for whatever confrontation was about to unfold.

Aaron's smirk widened as he snatched the book from Jonathan's hands, flipping through its pages with a mocking chuckle. "What cha reading, Scarecrow?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

Jonathan remained rooted to his seat, his silence a stark contrast to Aaron's brash demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, a torrent of emotions churned within him. Fear, anger, and a deep-seated sense of vulnerability.

With a swift motion, Aaron swatted Jonathan's sandwich off the table, the force causing crumbs to scatter across the surface. Jonathan flinched at the sudden movement, his fingers twitching as if instinctively reaching out to reclaim his meal.

But he held himself back, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Aaron. He knew better than to provoke further confrontation, especially in such a public setting. So, with a clenched jaw and a steely resolve, Jonathan remained silent, his eyes betraying none of the turmoil raging within.

Aaron's smirk widened at Jonathan's restraint, clearly relishing the power he held in this moment of dominance. With a swift motion, he tossed the book aside, its pages fluttering in protest before settling on the tabletop.

"What's the matter, Scarecrow? Cat got your tongue?" Aaron taunted, leaning in closer, his breath hot against Jonathan's ear.

Jonathan's jaw tightened further, his fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He refused to give Aaron the satisfaction of a response, knowing that any retort would only fuel the bully's ego. Instead, he focused on maintaining his composure, willing himself to remain calm in the face of adversity.

As Aaron continued to mock and jeer, Jonathan's mind raced, searching for an escape from this uncomfortable confrontation. He knew he couldn't let Aaron intimidate him, not again. With a deep breath, Jonathan forced himself to ignore the taunts, his eyes flickering momentarily to the scattered crumbs on the table.

Just as Aaron seemed poised to escalate the situation further, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Hey, Aaron, leave him alone."

Y/n stood at the edge of the table, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. Her presence seemed to catch Aaron off guard, his smirk faltering for just a moment before he composed himself.

"Mind your own business, Y/n," Aaron retorted, his tone dripping with disdain.

"And you wonder why I won’t go out with you," Y/n shot back, her voice unwavering.

Jonathan watched in awe as Y/n stood her ground, her confidence radiating in the face of adversity. He felt a surge of gratitude towards her, knowing that she had once again stepped in to defend him.

Aaron's eyes narrowed as he glared at Y/n, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged. For a moment, the cafeteria seemed to hold its breath, or atleast it did for Jonathan.

But then, with a frustrated huff, Aaron shoved himself away from the table, casting one last menacing glare at Jonathan before stalking off into the crowd.

Y/n exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing as the immediate threat dissipated. She turned to Jonathan with a sympathetic smile, offering him a reassuring nod.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, concern evident in her eyes.

Jonathan nodded, gratitude swelling in his chest. "Thanks to you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's smile widened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder. "Anytime," she said. “You wanna come sit with my friends and me?” Y/n offered, her voice carrying a warmth that melted away some of Jonathan's anxiety.

Jonathan felt his heart flutter in his chest. Was she really inviting him to join her? He glanced down, adjusting his glasses to hide the nervousness he felt bubbling inside.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just don’t want Aaron coming back to bother you,” Y/n added, her concern evident in her tone.

“I’d like that,” Jonathan replied, his voice soft but resolute.

Y/n's smile widened. Jonathan began gathering his things, carefully stowing his book in his bag before turning to his sandwich. However, his heart sank as he realized it had been scattered across the table, a casualty of Aaron's aggression.

With a frustrated huff, Jonathan began collecting the remnants of his meal, his movements tinged with embarrassment. Y/n watched him with a sympathetic gaze.

“Do you have anything else to eat?” Y/n asked gently.

Jonathan shook his head, a pang of hunger gnawing at his stomach as he disposed of the ruined sandwich in the nearby bin.

“I have some food you can have if you’d like,” Y/n offered, her voice warm and inviting.

“It’s okay, you should eat your food, don’t worry about me,” Jonathan replied, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“It’s fine, my dad always packs me too much anyways,” Y/n insisted, her smile unwavering.

Y/n reached out a hand towards Jonathan, silently inviting him to join her. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and gratitude, before accepting her gesture.

As they walked together towards Y/n's table, Jonathan couldn't help but steal glances at her. She walked with an effortless grace, her presence exuding a sense of comfort that eased the tension coiled within him.

Arriving at the table, Y/n pulled out a sandwich from her bag, “You can have this one, I don’t feel like eating two ham sandwiches today.” Without hesitation, she handed it to Jonathan, a small but genuine smile gracing her lips.

Jonathan accepted the sandwich with a grateful nod, his stomach rumbling in anticipation of the unexpected meal. He glanced around the table, noticing Y/n's friends chatting and laughing amongst themselves. They didn't seem to pay him much mind, but Jonathan didn't mind. His focus was solely on Y/n, her presence casting a comforting glow that made him feel at ease.

Settling into his seat, Jonathan began unwrapping the sandwich, the simple act of kindness from Y/n filling him with a sense of warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time. As he took a bite, he couldn't help but steal another glance at Y/n, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over him for her unexpected kindness.

It was perfect that he shared lunch with Y/n, not just because Jonathan cherished her company, but also because they had a class together, offering the perfect excuse to stroll side by side. With each step, Jonathan felt a sense of pride swell within him, as if walking with Y/n wasn’t just out of practicality, but because they were together, almost like a couple.

Y/n's lively chatter filled the air as they walked through the corridors, but Jonathan found himself lost in her presence, captivated by her every word and movement. Arriving at their classroom, they settled into their familiar seats, and Jonathan couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement as Y/n's arm brushed against his own, sending his heart into a flutter.

In that moment, Jonathan felt a sense of certainty wash over him. Y/n was meant for him, of that he was sure. Her smiles, her kindness, her very essence seemed to affirm his belief. No girl had ever shown him such warmth, and he couldn't deny the connection he felt with her.

As he sat beside her, Jonathan knew he had to ask her out. It had taken him over a week to muster the courage to ask out Sherry, but with Y/n, it felt different. She lifted his spirits effortlessly, instilling in him a newfound confidence. Though they had only known each other for a short time, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that she was the right one.

Walking out of class together, their steps echoing faintly in the empty hallway, Jonathan and Y/n exchanged casual conversation. Their last periods were both study periods, which gave them the opportunity to leave school early. As they stepped into the open air outside the building, Jonathan's heart drummed against his ribcage. He knew he had to ask her out. There was no turning back now.

Approaching the familiar corner where their paths diverged, the pair came to a halt and turned to face each other. The soft afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow around them, highlighting Y/n's radiant smile.

"Thanks for walking with me. See you tomorrow," Y/n said, her smile warming Jonathan's heart as she prepared to bid him farewell.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Jonathan spoke up, his words hanging in the air between them like delicate wisps of anticipation. "U-uh, Y/n?" he began, his voice betraying a slight tremor of nervousness.

"Yes, Jonathan?" Y/n replied, her eyes fixed on him expectantly, a gentle curiosity gleaming within them.

This was his moment. Jonathan took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. "I-I was wondering… if y-you'd like to go out with me?" he managed to utter, his heart pounding furiously against his chest, his hands trembling ever so slightly with nervous anticipation.

As he observed her reaction, he detected a subtle change in her demeanor. The radiant smile that had graced her lips moments ago seemed to wane, replaced by a hint of saddness that creased her brow ever so slightly. Jonathan's stomach churned with apprehension as he realized he might have misread the situation.

In that moment, he felt like a complete idiot. He berated himself internally for being so stupid, for daring to hope for something more. Jonathan's gaze faltered, his eyes dropping to the ground in a gesture of defeat. He cursed his own foolishness, reprimanding himself for misinterpreting Y/n's kindness as something it wasn't.

"I'm sorry, I never should have asked," Jonathan murmured, his voice tinged with shame.

Y/n's gentle touch on his arm made him glance up, meeting her gaze once more. He was met with a look of sincerity and understanding, her eyes soft with empathy.

"No, it's not that, Jonathan..." Y/n began, her voice tender as she sought to reassure him. "I'm sorry, I do like you, Jonathan, it's just... I'm not really ready to date anyone at the moment," she explained, her words laced with a hint of guilt.

Jonathan felt a mixture of relief and disappointment wash over him. He appreciated Y/n's honesty, but he couldn't shake the sting of rejection. Nevertheless, he managed a small nod, acknowledging her words.

Jonathan's heart sank as he prepared himself for rejection, his mind already forming apologies for his audacity. But then, Y/n spoke, her voice soft yet firm, cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

"It's okay, Y/n," Jonathan replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. "I understand. Thank you for being honest with me."

Y/n's expression softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you for understanding, Jonathan. You're a good friend."

The weight of her words settled over him, and Jonathan couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth blossom within his chest. Despite the outcome not being what he had hoped for, he found solace in the bond they shared and the prospect of their continued friendship.

With a faint smile, Jonathan mustered the courage to meet Y/n's gaze once more. "I'm glad we can still be friends," he said, his voice soft yet sincere.

Y/n returned his smile, her eyes reflecting warmth and gratitude. "Me too, Jonathan," she replied, reaching out to gently squeeze his arm.

Jonathan's heart swelled as she suddenly pulled him closer, wrapping him in a warm embrace. His breath caught in his throat, momentarily stunned by the unexpected gesture. He hesitated for a moment before tentatively returning the hug, savoring the fleeting moment between them.

As Y/n pulled away, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, wishing he could hold onto the moment just a little longer. He watched in awe as she walked away, her figure disappearing down the street. Despite the bittersweet twinge of unrequited feelings, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for Y/n's grace and kindness.

He knew that she was the one he wanted to be with. Her kindness, understanding, and genuine nature spoke volumes to him, reaffirming his belief that she was worth waiting for.

As he watched her walk away, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a profound sense of connection to her, a feeling he hadn't experienced with anyone else before. He knew that their bond was special, even if it wasn't romantic just yet. And while he longed for more, he was willing to be patient, knowing that good things often took time.

With a wistful smile, Jonathan silently vowed to cherish their friendship and support Y/n in any way he could. He was willing to wait for her, confident that their paths would eventually align in the future. And as he continued on his journey home, he carried with him a sense of hope and anticipation, knowing that she was worth the wait.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to come out, as usual, uni shit 💀 (cause I'm a dumb ass doing a double major) I set this after the Halloween party, so Jonathan probably should have been more aggressive and all that shit, but in the comic, he's all shy and all that stuff with Sherry (before the prank), so I wanted to keep along those lines. I really hope I did this request justice as I loved it so much. Thank you all for reading and I hope you liked it as much as I liked writing it 💚

137 notes · View notes

idoodlestuffsometimes · 1 year

Text

Brother's Keeper AU Story Post 12 (Part 2)

AU MASTER POST

BEGINNING | PREVIOUS | NEXT

[Image ID under the cut]

[IMAGE ID: Three pages of a black and white comic.

PAGE ONE

PANEL 1: Perry Porter continues his news report. "Further investigation," he says, "reveals that this human has been the subject of sightings in Bonesborough for a few weeks now, and is the cause of a recent disturbance at Hexside School. For further comment, here is my own son, Augustus." PANEL 2: Perry interviews Gus, who is grinning with excitement. "Augustus, is it true you've encountered this human before?" "Yeah!" exclaims Gus, "She snuck into the school and now she's my friend! Her name is Luz!" PANEL 3: "Now that they're together, I can see…" says Belos. "It's them." With a point of his finger, he conjures hologram-like illusions of Luz and Lillith, who stand in the throne room facing them, with their names above their heads. "I don't understand," says Caleb. PANEL 4: The illusions have transformed into Luz and Lilith in their disguises from "Elsewhere and Elsewhen." The names over their heads have changed to "Luzura" and "Aunt Dirtrude." "I had to consult memory magic to be sure," Belos says, "but I was correct." Caleb reads the names out loud: "Luzura and--" PANEL 5: He points, laughing. "Wait, is that the witch who broke your nose?" "They're the two who helped me find the Collector," Belos grumbles. "I did always have questions about them. Clearly there was time magic involved."

PAGE TWO

PANEL 1: A profile view of Caleb, quietly sad. "I see," he says. "And this human attacked a witch in a duel." PANEL 2: But then he turns and brings a hand to his chin in thought. "But… the boy called her his friend?" "Either a cunning ploy, or she is… struggling to find her way," responds Belos. "Either way, she isn't ready to face a witch." PANEL 3: A view of footage from the news report, projected by the crystal ball. In a moment from the episode "Convention," Eda exposes the power glyph used on Amity while Luz looks on in surprise. Belos continues to speak off screen. "If it wasn't for the Owl Lady's intervention, she would have sorely lost." "The Owl Lady protected her?" Caleb asks. "Yes, it appears my suspicions were correct." PANEL 4: "The portal door has reappeared, in the hands of another one of your blasted Clawthornes." A close-up of Belos against a totally black background, his face shadowed. One hateful eye gleams from behind his mask. PANEL 5: A close-up of Caleb staring up at him, also shadowed against black. His face is lined, his single pupil a pinprick. His expression is schooled neutral. "And just as before," Belos continues off screen, "the witch has taken advantage to claim a human soul." PANEL 6: "No wonder the child came to me for help. If not for Lilith, perhaps I could have aided her back then." He stands in front of the projection, watching the newscast, his back to Caleb. "I should order her collected and brought here. Shield her from further corruption. If only the Owl Lady wasn't guarding her." PANEL 7: A close up of Caleb jolting forward, fearful. "NO!" he bursts out.

PAGE THREE

PANEL 1: A close-up of Belos glowering dangerously over his shoulder, lit by the broadcast from behind. "No?" PANEL 2: Caleb sweats. "I mean. Philip, don't you think it'll look suspicious to show too much interest in a human?" PANEL 3: Caleb takes Belos hand, clutching him imploringly. "Not to mention the possibilities of meddling in the time-line. It's too risky." Belos isn't looking at him anymore. He looks ahead at the illusion of Luz, whose back is to us in the foreground. His expression is unreadable. PANEL 4: A high angle shot of Belos and Caleb watching Luz's illusion. Caleb still clings to Belos. Luz's illusion is alone now, staring at them blankly as she stands at the far end of the throne room. "Yes," Belos agrees, "I fear it's too early to intervene. It seems the Lord is testing her." PANEL 5: "For now," he continues off screen, "she will have to face the temptations of this realm on her own." A close-up of Caleb, letting out a breath of relief. PANEL 6: Caleb's eyes snap open. Belos' hand has come up to brush his cheek. PANEL 7: Belos pulls Caleb into a hug. Caleb's face over Belos' shoulder is drawn in supressed, silent horror, cast in deep shadows, as Belos murmurs to him reassuringly. "Don't worry, Caleb. The Owl Lady will be taken care of. And then the portal to the human realm will be in safe hands." PANEL 8: Belos and Caleb in profile against a black background, casting long shadows on the ground. Belos hunches over Caleb, one arm around his back and the other hand on the back of his head, pressing him close. Caleb dangles limply, face towards the ceiling, pulled halfway out of his wheelchair. Belos murmurs into Caleb's hair. "I won't let history repeat."

#The Owl House #TOH #Caleb Wittebane #Philip Wittebane #Emperor Belos #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #gus porter #perry porter #Brother's Keeper AU #doodle art #ah yes just totally normal brothers. nothing to see here! I'm sure Caleb and Luz and the Clawthornes will be just fine #with this and the last one there was so much dialogue i finally gave in and started using type instead of hand-lettering #still some kinks to work out but i think i'll stick with it. some def improvements not having to draw out guidelines anymore :)#also!!! my handwriting is now a font. for the sake of transitioning to type without it looking suddenly super different. Very fun :D

1K notes · View notes

stealingyourbones · 2 years

Note

I love the Ghost King Danny gets summoned into the DC Universe by a bunch of wackos through a summoning ritual trope. But, but, but consider. Batfam/Justice League gets BANISHED to the GZ by a bunch of wackos. Like, Danny is just holding court at his palace/castle/lair and a bunch of supers fall from the sky. You could even add a Danny x Batfam member to it.

:0 oH YEAH this is some Good Shit.

I like the JL being used in this prompt more than the Batfam parly because I think that we haven't seen much JL in the GZ, also because I think Plastic Man meeting Danny this way would be positively hilarious.

just "aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!" SPLAT!

Danny jolts upright from partly dozing off on his throne by a massive puddle of red, white, and yellow.

"Wha-"

Suddenly the puddle wriggles. Danny's immediate throughts are "oh fuck that fuck that absolutely not. Not today I don't need sentient gloop coming to kill me."

The puddles slides up itself and reshapes like puddy until it forms into a very strange man wearing a red and yellow spandex uniform with white rimmed goggles and the stupidest diamond shaped belt he's ever seen.

The puddle man checks his limbs in a very over the top fashion, Danny swears that his arms and legs extend and grow larger as the puddle man looks at each limb.

Danny clears his throat and the puddle guy's physical form spikes up as if comically startled and slowly turns around.

"What the hell are you?" Shit. That isn't what Danny meant to say but in all honesty, that's all he could think of.

The Puddle man opened his mouth to speak but paused as a shadow appeared overtop of him.

The Red clad fellow slowly looked up, his goggles widening in surprise, as the shadow became larger and darker as a man in an all black outfit with a cape and pointy ears on the top of his head fell from the sky in the exact same place as the puddle man.

------

Idk that's all I got. This was my first shot at like attempting to write dialogue in a solid 5 years so it is extremely janky. I will do my best to improve tho ^-^

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #anon

2K notes · View notes

mediocre-quill-ink · 25 days

Text

Nightmares

Paring: bloodweave

Content: nightmares, sleep paralysis, Astarion has ptsd, dissasociation, hurt comfort, a little gale angst peppered in

Authors note: this was inspired by the first half of @wellen-katze Astarion nightmare comic, be sure to check it out. Tysm for the permission to write this, I hope it's okay, lol

Astarion stood alone, behind him was a barely visible treeline, the sprawling arms of pine trees reaching into the dull sky was hard to determine where each part begun and ended. In front of him was a vast void of inky nothingness. The chill of the void felt consuming, watching.

"Hello?" The elf called out cautiously, brow slightly raised in hesitation. "Is someone there?" Someone else was there with him. He could feel it. A heavy presence lingering behind a veil.

He craned his head back, looking back into the treeline. Something that resembled something at least to look into. Not this damn void he's found himself in.

"Help me...!" A small, alarmed voice called from behind him. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest at that. The voice was shaking and familiar, sheepish in its plead.

Astarion turned back to the void to see a familiar coffin standing in front of him, sturdy and filthy wood standing in front of him almost expectantly.

"Please... let me out." His own voice called out from within, small, terrified.

The elf tried his best to swallow down his fear as he stared at the to familiar structure for a moment as awful memories came flooding back.

"Help me!" His old self grew more despeate, pleading out to what he remembered to be a suffocating nothingness.

"I can't take it.... oh please..."

There was another brief pause before his younger self grew more frantic.

"Open up! I beg you...! Master!"

With wide eyes, and trembling hands, Astarion approached the door of his own wreched coffin. Gods, he hoped he'd never see this thing again.

The sound of his own blood and heart beat thrumming through his ears disoriented him. Gripping the lid, he took a deep, desprate breath before opening it. The door swung open with an old whine. The hinges rattling off dirt with turn.

Inside his to familiar tomb was himself, paler than usual, sunken, tired features and a mouth sewn shut.

Immediately his past selves mouth snapped open, threads holding his mouth shut broke, his eyes wide and gleaming a blinding void of white.

The only reaction Astarion could make was his eyes widening in horror. But he didn't have enough time to flee. It was already to late.

Whatever version of himself that was trapped in the coffin attacked, it's head rocketing at him, voident of any familiarity in expression. It was the last thing he saw, a blink of an action before he felt his neck snap.

Astarion awoke with a jolt, his heart still racing in his ears, his mind stewing with nothing but fear from the adrenaline.

Thank gods, just a nightmare.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Warm, humid air filling his lungs.

He felt heavy... stuck... Astarions eyes snapped back open when he realized...

I cant move! I'm paralyzed!

Something moved in the corner of his eyes, a looming shadow. His gut dropped.

Slowly, bringing his attention to the figure. It was Cazador, towering over him in his sleep. He looked blurry and otherworldly, but he could see the harsh shadows of judgment etched into his features all the same.

Cazador did not move, nor speak. Nearly watching him as though he was a helpless rat in a trap.

Astarion began to tremble. He begged his body to move. To run. But his body felt locked in place.

Please someone help me! He begged, his mind screaming. His whole body felt hot.

All cazador did was watch, eyes glowing with no expression.

Astarion felt as though his heart would give out, trembling, sweating, mentally screaming for help. Anyone.

He will take me! He pleaded silently. He didn't want to be taken. Please, gods, anywhere but that hell.

All he wanted was to scream.

Astarion flinched at sudden contact. Something has his shoulder. A large palm resting on his trembling skin.

Help me! Help me! He has me!

Astarion swallowed harshly, not daring to look away from cazador even for a second.

"Astarion." A hushed, warm voice whispered.

The voice was familiar but he couldn't place it, to wound up in panic to think on the specifics.

"Astarion." The voice urged again, shaking his shoulder softly.

Astarion hesitated for a long moment before looking away from Cazador, keeping him in the field of his vision to see what horrible stranger was gripping him.

Soft, big brown eyes stared back at him. Pools of concern looking without waver. Astarion let out a tense breath.

It was just Gale.

Not another spawn or Godey or any other wreched creature that would do Cazadors bidding. It was Gale.

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft and warm, losening on his shoulder a bit.

Astarions lips parted, testing his jaw experimentally. He still felt stiff, but his mouth he seemed more able to move.

"Fine." The elf bit out defensively. Rolling away weakly.

I can move thank gods.

Astarion trembled as he sat up right, looking back to where the apparition of Cazador stood. He was gone. Just some terrible sleep paralysis.

With a weak hand, Astarion whiped the sweat from his brow, clenching his jaw.

"You don't seem fine." The wizard replied, equally as playful as he was serious. His tone still hushed not to wake his other party members all sleeping around the fire. "If there's one thing I am, it's not a fool." Gale playfully scolded by waving his finger at Astarion.

The vampire tisked. "I'd argue otherwise..."

There was a long beat of silence before he continued, "what do you want anyway?"

"I couldn't get much sleep. Decided to read until my eyelids turned heavy." Gale chuckled awkwardly at his own joke. If it was even a joke. Gale sure found it amusing. "But I couldn't help but notice you twitching in your sleep like a dog. Then you simply stared into the abyss with a fear I've never seen on someone as proud as you." There was a pause. "I wanted to help."

Astarion gazed into the fire intentionally, trying not to look at the wizard.

"Well, I appreciate the help I suppose. Though I don't appreciate being watched while I sleep." Astarions voice came out cold, though without any real bite.

"And next time." He started, turning to look at gale again, "announce who the hell is touching me. I don't want to wake to the hands of Gods knows what on my... glorious body." The last part he threw in for some sort of defense. He didn't want to sound weak. He wasn't scared. No. Definitely not scared....

Gale only hummed in response, looking at him for a moment with subtle observancy. "I'll keep that noted."

After a beat, Gale carefully sat next to Astarion, crossing his legs. They both watched the fire in silence. The air between them thick with unspoken emotion. Questions and feeling weighed on the humid hair more than desired. It felt suffocating to Astarion. He hated it.

As much as he wanted to be pissed at Gale simply for seeing him in such a state, a small part of him ringed with great fulness. Woken from that gods awful paralysis.

He probably would have pissed himself if he had to keep being analyzed under the awful gaze of Cazador.

"... thank you for the help, nontheless." Astarion muttered. "Though, don't expect me to let go of the fact that you watched me in my sleep." He bit out again, with no real venom.

"You're making me sound like a creeper." Gale teased.

"You've given me no reason to believe otherwise." Astarions voice dipped, a quiet seriousness to his comment.

Gale was still for a long moment, a quiet sigh escaping him. "Fair enough, I suppose..."

The soft sound of crickets sung in the air around them, the campfire small and crackling as it slowly dies.

"... can I ask what your dream was about?" Gale questioned carefully. He was still looking into the dieing fire as he spoke, but Astarion could feel all his attention pressed on him anyway.

"My past." He replied blankly.

Gale understood he was being intentionally vague, and decided against pressing on the details much further.

"The past can be a cruel mistress, hm?"

Astarion simply blinked into the fire, he could feel himself growing more distant from his surroundings, thinking back to Cazador looming over him. He could still feel his eyes burning into him.

Or maybe it was just Gales attention. The difference in tone was evident, but the intensity was all the same. Sometimes sympathy felt worse than malice.

"Or master." Astarion replied dryly.

The flames flickered weakly, small waves of pale orange licking into the warm air.

Gale nodded subtly. It didn't take much effort to understand his meaning.

"... every now and then i get nightmares too." Gale offered quietly, watching the flames turn to embers, the charred logs glowing warm and orange. "About every month, maybe two times a month, I'll get a nightmare of sorts about my... condition. It's a little different every time, but it's always the same in the end. My chest aches as though lightning is inside it, the orb with a hunger so painful I feel like I'm being from the outside in... I pray to the good goddesses mystra in hopes of her saving me. And then I burst.... it's a pain like nothing before, magic tearing your body apart. It's hot and electric and consuming. It rips apart your bones and makes your veins tingly. It's a terrible feeling. Thankfully one I hardly experience in reality but still..."

Gale subconsciously reached up, fidgiting with his earring in anxiety, perhaps he's said to much.

"But that's just my two copper on nightmares..."

Astarion breathed out slowly, still feeling a bit floaty and distant. "Why are you still here?" He asked quietly.

Gale remained silent for a beat, continuing to worry with his jewelry before replying with some effort, as though unsure if he should speak the words. "Because i care about you."

Astarion slowly turned to look at him, chest aching.

Gale noticed a small frown tugging at the vampires lips. He didn't say anything, but he could see the dullness in his eyes, and the vulnerabilitity within them. The way he struggled to believe him.

"... I can return to my bedroll if I'm bothering you." Gale offered quietly.

There was a long moment of nothing. Astarion blinked at Gale before looking back to the embers.

Gods, it was so dark.

Astarion never minded the dark until now. He's spent two centuries in it. But now it felt like a suffocating void.

Like being trapped in a coffin.

"Stay." Astarion replied softly, barely even a whisper.

He didn't want to be alone.

He was so sick of being alone. In the dark.

"I'll stay." Gale murmured, a small nod of acceptance.

Astarion leaned into Gale, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes.

#bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion x gale #bloodweave #hurt comfort

80 notes · View notes

shintin · 7 months

Text

The Wacky Widow's Woes

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Comedy one-shot

Summary: In a twist of fate, the most obnoxious person on Earth, Gojo Satoru, appeared by your hospital bed. Clearly, the universe had a wicked sense of humor.

Word count: 5k.

Genre: comedy, fluff, yapping (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: humor, no angst, whipped Satoru Gojo, bitchy reader, a lot of jokes about chapter 236 of the JJK manga (my personal healing process), mention of Kitkat, prepare for Gojo's nauseating love for his wife, who's probably sick of him.

Notes: I hope you laugh your ass off while reading this.

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

On a very, very, very dull autumn afternoon, we find ourselves in a hospital room where its fancy ass curtains are just letting in enough sunlight to cast a gloomy, eerie glow.

There, on the bed, lies a woman who seems to have become one with the medical equipment—or, better to say, a high-tech octopus. Wires and tubes sprout from her body like overgrown vines, connecting her to an orchestra of beeping machines. It's like a twisted version of a modern art installation, where chaos and order collide in a symphony of medical mayhem.

The woman, blissfully oblivious to the cacophony surrounding her, snores away, blissfully lost in dreamland. It's almost comical how she manages to find solace amidst the tangled wires and the chorus of beeps. One might wonder if she's dreaming of a magical place where the cables turn into candy canes and the machines play cheerful tunes instead of somber heartbeats.

The lighting in the room sucks, perhaps to match the mood or new architectural ambiance design. For fuck's sake, who knows! Shadows dance across the walls, conspiring with the flickering fluorescent lights to create an atmosphere that's equal parts unsettling and strangely fascinating.

As if to bring a touch of irony to the scene, a sad excuse for a vase sits on a nearby table, barely holding onto life. Its wilted flowers, once vibrant and alive, now resemble a bouquet of autumn hues gone horribly wrong. It's a symbolic reminder that beauty is fleeting, just like the woman's health, and that even in the darkness, there's a twisted kind of beauty to be found.

The room carries the unmistakable scent of sterile cleanliness, mingled with a hint of despair. It's the kind of smell that makes you want to open a window and let in some fresh air (read jump out), but alas, in this hospital room, fresh air seems like a distant memory.

Well, hold on to your hospital gown because here's a plot twist for you! Picture this: you've been envisioning this serene hospital room, reading it in all its autumnal glory, and guess what? The woman lying on that bed, surrounded by beeping machines and tubes, is none other than... drumroll... you!

Yep, you're the star of the show, ready to wake up and face your second stroke. But hey, don't worry, it's not going to be as boring as your room décor. No, no, life has decided to throw you a curveball and add a dash of excitement to your hospital stay. Who needs a peaceful recovery when you can have a stroke sequel, right?

So get ready to jolt awake and embrace the chaos! Remember, even in between unexpected events, a good sense of humor can be the best medicine. Laughter might not cure your condition, but it can certainly make the hospital experience a little more bearable. So, chin up, brave stroke survivor! Your story is about to take an exciting turn!

Well, well, well.

As you wake up from your beauty sleep, feeling as if you've been smooching a cactus all night, the machines around you decide to unleash their inner DJs with a symphony of beeps. How thoughtful of them to create an auditory masterpiece that grates on your nerves like a tone-deaf choir. Ah, music to your ears, right?

But fear not, the brave warrior of hydration! You are on a noble quest to conquer the desert that has taken residence in your mouth. Summoning every ounce of strength (and probably some residual grumpiness), you muster the strength to ascend from your pillow fortress. With your hand gracefully reaching out for that tempting glass of water, victory feels within reach.

Your hand hovers mid-air as if suspended by an invisible force, frozen in a moment of pure disbelief. Just when you think the universe couldn't possibly play a more mischievous trick on you, there he was—sitting on the couch like he owns the place—the one person you would rather avoid more than a clown with a pie in hand. Seriously, is this some cosmic prank show?

Your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but let out a little groan. It's like the universe is trying to test your resilience, throwing you into this hilariously uncomfortable situation. Oh, the irony!

You: Hell no! What the fuck are you doing here?

Right in front of your very eyes sits the epitome of style and charm—a man sporting a white shirt and black pants combo that would weaken fashion gurus at the knees. No sunglasses dare cross the path of this confident fellow, for his piercing ocean-blue eyes need no protection from the sun's feeble attempts to outshine them.

But wait, there's more! Let's not forget about his head adorned with fluffy white hair that could rival the fluffiest clouds. Ugh!

Satoru: Hello to you too, love!

He strikes a pose that screams, "I'm the king of this couch!" With one leg casually crossed over the other and his arms spread wide on the back of the couch, he's claiming his throne in the most nonchalant and hilarious way possible.

Satoru: Is this how you greet your beloved husband?

You: Fuck off!

With the speed of a ninja on a caffeine high, you swiftly pull the blanket up to your chest, fully aware that the hospital gowns offer about as much coverage as a single sheet of tissue paper. Yes, those flimsy garments are the Victoria's Secret of the medical world—barely there and leaving little to the imagination! And just when you thought the situation couldn't get any more entertaining, you catch a glimpse of his famous smile. Asshole! Is he peeping on you?

Satoru: Aha! The feisty spirit lives on! Missed your sassy attitude.

He grins like a mischievous little rascal who just stumbled upon a secret stash of dad jokes, except it's a porn website!

Satoru: And, of course, your perked-up nipples!

Summoning your inner grumpy penguin, you dramatically cross your arms over your chest, shooting him a glare that could make a grizzly bear retreat in fear.

You: well, Mr. White-Haired Head with a stinky smirk and eyes bluer than a bottle of Windex, I didn't miss you AT ALL!

Satoru: Why, oh why, did you dye your hair white if you claim not to miss me, baby? Is it some secret signal to the hair gods that you're ready to experience the adventure of life without my captivating presence? Or perhaps it's your way of channeling the wisdom of Gandalf and Dumbledore, hoping that your newly snowy locks will grant you magical powers to forget all about me?

You: Hold your horses, chatterbox! My hair has turned snowy white without any meddling from me. No, I didn't secretly sprinkle it with magic hair dye while cackling like a mischievous sorcerer, you idiot!

Satoru: Whoopsie daisy! You've got a point there. Did I accidentally step on your delicate feelings, wise and experienced grandma?

In a grand display of determination, you muster every ounce of strength to grab the pillow behind your back, preparing to launch it at him. Alas, it seems the strength of a thousand paperclips has possessed your hands, rendering them feeble and incapable of fulfilling your pillow-throwing dreams. The valiant effort leaves you gasping for air as if you have just completed a marathon of pillow-tossing.

Satoru: Yowai mo!

He erupts into laughter, showcasing his undeniable talent as a professional tease.

You: Cut the crapola! Spill the beans! What on earth has brought you to this neck of the woods?

With your firm tone that could rival a drill sergeant's, the machine begins beeping faster than a sugar-rushed hummingbird on roller skates. It's as if the beeps are making their best impression of a hyperactive jazz band, matching the frantic tempo of your skyrocketing heart rates.

Satoru: I'll be rolling on the floor in laughter if you drop dead from the sheer intensity of your anger, Granny. Let's be real; finding inner peace is way more beneficial for you in the long run. Just saying!

You: Satoru!

Satoru: Yep, that's me. Breaking hearts and taking names. Can't a poor soul like me simply pay a visit to my dear wife on her deathbed?

You: Hell to the no! You can't just waltz in our life whenever you please! Sorry, but you lost that VIP visiting privilege when you—

Satoru: Oh, and on that note, could that charming chick who graced you with her presence earlier be our beloved daughter?

You sigh, exasperated, and gently rub your forehead as if trying to coax that headache into submission. Ah, the joys of a headache that seems set on conquering you before any actual sickness does. With a dramatic sweep of your hand across your face, you channel your inner drama queen and then grab your neck.

You: Oh, please, for the love of all that is awkward, just tell me that you didn't try to work your "smooth moves" on her.

Satoru: I was this close to making a move, you know? She's like a spitting image of when I was head over heels for you! It's like you've managed to clone yourself or something. Should I be worried? Did you secretly stash away all my precious genes and hoard them for your own amusement? Well, I guess I can't blame you for wanting to keep all those sperms to yourself! But seriously, she doesn't look like me at all. I am hurt!

He pouts like a baby, forever stuck in his eternal state of immaturity, but you aren't about to let that deter you. With an air of defiance, you casually lean against the hospital bed board, gazing intently at the serum making its grand entrance into your veins. Oh, and that obnoxious machine chiming away? You can't help but wish it could just shut up.

You: It's actually better for her, you know. At least she doesn't have anything that serves as a constant reminder of her absent father, who couldn't even be bothered to be present during her birth!

Your words are like a sarcasm waterfall, cascading with vicious wit. You've mastered the art of tongue-in-cheek remarks, and while you're fully aware of their potency, you couldn't care less. It's like you've got a license to sass, and you're not afraid to use it, even if it makes the world say, "Well, ain't you a delightful ray of sunshine!"

Satoru: Let's not paint the picture as if I had some glamorous options! Nope, I was bestowed with the honor of being the designated problem-solver, the one expected to handle it all while gracefully tiptoeing through—

You: Oh, pretty please! If it's not too much trouble, continue your reign as the honored one through heaven and earth, while sparing me from any additional bouts of annoyance. I must say, it's quite the talent you possess—being both honored and a master of irritation. Quite the balancing act, I must admit!

As you clench the blanket in desperation, that rebellious needle gleefully plunges itself into your hand. Fuck unexpected pain! And there, decorating your arm like a chilling masterpiece, are the bruises—trophy marks from your encounters with the needle army. Who knew injections could become an avant-garde art form? With tears welling up and the air growing thinner, it feels like the room is leaving you gasping for breath just to have a twisted sort of fun. Bravo, universe, for your fucked up sense of humor! A standing ovation for this macabre spectacle.

Satoru: Love?

You: …

Satoru: Baby?

You: …

Satoru: My Wondrous Whipped Cream Warrior, the Caramel Crusader, the Sprinkle Spritzer, the Marshmallow Maestro, the Treat Tornado, the Sugar Rush Superstar, the Jelly-filled Joy Bringer, and the Sweetness Sorceress who turns my world into a Never-ending Dessert Buffet! The Honeyed Pussy of—

You: WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT, SATORU?

You are wheezing like a chain-smoking asthmatic, desperately gasping for air, and his attitude is about as helpful as a wet matchstick. You and the mysteries of poor life choices! What possessed you, in that twisted moment of madness, to willingly plunge into the depths of infatuation with him? It's a dark, twisted enigma that not even the Grim Reaper could decipher.

Satoru: Are you still mad?

As you tilt your head, there he is, looking at you with those big, blue eyes, like a lost poppy desperately trying to win the "Most Heart-Melting Flower" award. What a sneaky trickster! He knows exactly what he is doing, employing his secret weapon of irresistible gazes, and darn it; it works like a charm! You can't resist the powers of those eyes, and you reluctantly surrender, cursing his effective tactics while secretly admiring his diabolical brilliance. Well played, Mr. Blue-Eyed Mother Fucker, well played.

You: I never stopped being mad at you!

Satoru: Fair, but you have to know that—

You: Spare me the creative excuses, please! You pulled off the greatest magic trick of all—knocking me up—and then poof! You disappeared into thin air, leaving me with a growing belly and a bewildered expression. Good job, Houdini!

Satoru: You're welcome, baby. But you've got to cut me some slack here! My job description practically has "Accident Enthusiast" written all over it. It's not like I wake up in the morning, rubbing my hands together, thinking, "Oh boy, I can't wait for another mishap!" So, let's blame it on my occupational hazard, shall we?

You: Oh, well, then, thank you so much for gracing us with your presence again! You chose to go down that path because, of course, you believed you were the one and only capable being in the universe. And oh, how lucky we are that you decided to leave me and our daughter behind. It's truly heartwarming to see you saunter back into our lives after years like it's just another casual stroll in the park. I mean, who needs a father figure during precious moments like birth, first words, and first steps, right? Clearly, you had more important things to attend to. Our daughter has grown up and gone through school, and I've had the pleasure of explaining why her dad couldn't be bothered to pick her up like those "normal" dads. Graduation, dating, first job—she did it all without you, and we couldn't be more grateful for your consistent absence. Now you have the audacity to—

You start coughing, and each painful gasp feels like your lungs are being ruthlessly ripped apart, leaving behind crimson stains on your once immaculate sheets and hands. And there he stands, towering tall, as handsome as the day he first stole your heart. It's just not fair that he still looks so good while sickness has mercilessly drained the life from your weary soul. He approaches you, the lingering scent of vanilla clinging to him, a bittersweet reminder of what you once cherished but now resentfully long for.

Satoru: Take a sip of water. Do you want me to help you?

Oh, he's all worried now, isn't he? But honestly, after enduring all that post-him misery, you're not about to let him off the hook just because he's offering a glass of water. Come on, you might be a little dumb, but you're not "drink-water-and-forget-all-the-pain" dumb! Nice try, buddy, but you'll need more than H2O to wash away the mess you left behind.

You: I DON'T NEED YOUR GODDAMN HELP! How about you kindly take a flying leap back to wherever you've been hiding all this time? I'm sure you've perfected your disappearing act by now. And don't forget to leave behind a trail of glittering resentment as you go, just to keep things spicy. Ta-ta, farewell, and may you step on a thousand Lego bricks on your way out!

Satoru: Listen up, partner in crime! I've had enough of leaving you to your own devices. It's been tough for me, too, and I sincerely apologize for piling on the hardship. But I learned my lesson! Starting right this very moment, I'm making a solemn vow never to ditch you again. Consider me your loyal sidekick, ready to tackle life's challenges together, even if it means enduring endless reruns of your favorite TV show or subjecting myself to your cooking experiments. We're in this for the long haul, love!

You use the sleeve of your flimsy, ridiculous gown to clumsily wipe away the blood from your mouth, all the while shooting him a perplexed look. Seriously, how on earth does he still manage to gaze at you with those doe eyes, all lovey-dovey, when you're rocking the vampire-on-a-sunlit-day aesthetic?

You: So, you decided to grace me with your presence just because I'm sick?

Satoru: Yes.

You: I see how it is! You're not here because you missed me, huh?

Satoru: Uh-oh, am I about to witness another round of your infamous anger? But hey, before you explode like a volcano, let me enlighten you that I didn't write the rulebook on how things work. Nope, not my area of expertise. Turns out, the universe didn't consult me when setting up the whole system. It seems they left me out of the committee meeting where they decided the rules of life. Classic!

You: Does it hurt?

Satoru: It hurt me badly because I snapped in half like a Kit-Kat bar. And no, there wasn't a delicious wafer filling in between, just pure pain and emotional wreckage.

You: Come on, Satoru! This is not the time for your quirky sense of humor. I mean, seriously, I saw your guts out in the open, and to top it off, ants decided to take a leisurely hike on them.

Satoru: TV producers really went all out with the graphic details, huh? Sure, I appreciate high-definition viewing, but did they need a close-up of my stuff? Talk about taking reality TV to a whole new level! I hope they provided a warning. Note to self: avoid snacking while watching shows that involve anatomical explorations!

You: SATORU!

Satoru: Alright, alright, no need to get serious! Can't a man crack a joke about his own death around here? Fine, I'll hold your hand during the whole thing. You know, I once spouted that cliché line about dying alone, but let's face it, that was a load of nonsense. Nobody goes down that final road solo. It's like a grand exit party!

You: Oh, really? So, you had some company, huh? Well, you know what they say: ignorance is bliss. I don't need the details, and my imagination can take a wild ride all on its own

Satoru: Jealousy looks good on you, love.

As he bends closer, his breath tickles your lips, making you wonder if he had onions for lunch. With a dramatic flourish, he grabs your chin as if auditioning for a cheesy romance movie. And then, like a vacuum cleaner on turbo mode, he plants a kiss that sucks the air right out of your lungs. It's like indulging in a dessert buffet filled with marshmallows, caramel, and insulin shots. Who needs a thrill ride at an amusement park when you can experience a sugar rush of epic proportions? You may be risking diabetes, but hey, at least you'll be leaving this world with a sweet tooth satisfied and an unforgettable, albeit comical, memory of that last smooch.

Unfortunately, after what feels like a fleeting eternity, he decides to break the kiss. As your eyes meet, you can't help but sneak a glance downwards, wondering if his pants harbored any surprises. Alas, it appears that either he's a master of disguise or ghosts have taught him their spectacular talent for concealment. Sneaky whores!

Satoru: Are you ready to go?

Oh, snap! Once the horniness fades away, reality hits you like a ton of bricks. Holy shit! How did you manage to forget about your daughter? Leaving her behind is definitely not the best parenting move. Time to snap back into responsible mode and give that little one the attention she deserves. Parenthood: where forgetfulness meets a reality check!

You: Will she be okay?

Satoru: She's our little munchkin. She'll be alright.

You: I want to see her for the last time.

Satoru: You can see her whenever you want.

You: WHAT?

He scratches his head, messing up his undercut, desperately trying to dodge eye contact like a game of social hide-and-seek.

Satoru: Ops! Did I just spill the beans on one of the perks of the afterlife? My bad! My master plan was to witness that priceless guilty expression on your face when we reached the pearly gates. Imagine your shock when you realized you blamed me for no reason, only to discover I had a front-row seat to all your shenanigans during all those years! Oh, the things I've seen! I know how many times you've touched yourself thinking about me! No judging, though! And yes, I know you secretly fumed when our little bundle of joy uttered "Dada" before "Mama." Don't worry, I won't tell a soul... except, you know, all the other souls up there. It's the ultimate celestial gossip!

You: WHAT? YOU KNOW EVERYTHING? THEN WHY THE FUCK YOU ASKED IF SHE'S OUR DAUGHTER?

Satoru: First, just to tickle your pickle. Second, as I cunningly planned.

You: You're still a brat!

Satoru: And you're still as beautiful as the day I lost you.

You: Smooth words, my friend, but let's not kid ourselves. I won't buy into any deceit. I'm old, wrinkled, and sick. Time and disease are killing me, just as you hated. Meanwhile, you continue to flaunt that glorious chiseled chest and those rock-hard butt cheeks.

Satoru: Thank you, ma'am, for keeping my ass in your thoughts. Speaking of which, I must confess I've made some boneheaded decisions along the way. Opting for death in the name of someone else can seem like a breeze compared to the complexity of choosing to live for them. So, kudos to you for being the badass who faced life's challenges to honor my memory.

You: I hope this is not just a dream.

Satoru: We can give it a try and see for ourselves.

As Satoru reaches out his hand, something extraordinary unfolds—the machine starts beeping. You look at the device, noticing that the time between beeps gradually increases. But then, your gaze shifts to your cherished spouse, the man whose absence has left an indelible void within you. The man with whom you would have fearlessly confronted doomsday on that fateful December 24th in 2018, had it not been for the fact that you were carrying his last trace of existence, a precious legacy nestled within your very being.

You: You feel so warm.

Satoru: Some things never change.

His hand gracefully slides towards your waist, triggering a chain reaction of chaos. Those pesky wires and tubes that were so dutifully attached to you? Well, they decide it's time for a break and go on a wild unplugging spree. It's like a rebellious dance party of freedom for those little connectors! And just when you thought things couldn't get any more exciting, your feet are about to touch the chilly floor, ready to embark on an unplanned adventure.

You: Hold up! Fetch my wheelchair for me!

Satoru: You don't need it anymore.

As you place your feet on the floor, you can't help but chuckle at the fact that your knees manage to hold up, allowing you to stand upright. The machines emit a continuous beeping sound, indicating a flat line on the monitor. Suddenly, the door swings open, and a troupe of nurses storm into the room. They swiftly gather around your motionless body lying on the bed. One nurse examines your vital signs, another administers an injection into your vein, and a third retrieves a machine to deliver cardiac shocks in an attempt to revive you. Witnessing these intense moments, you hold Satoru's hand tighter.

You: I don't want to come back.

Satoru: Are you sure?

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes and trickle down your cheeks as you gaze at him.

You: Yeah. I've spent more time living with your memory than I've had the opportunity to live alongside you.

Satoru's grip on your hand intensifies like he's determined to etch his touch into your very being. He lifts your hand delicately, planting a tender kiss upon it. Drawing you closer to him, he envelopes you in an embrace, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. With gentle affection, he presses a kiss upon the crown of your head, leaning his head upon yours.

As teardrops trickle onto your head, you find yourself clinging to him desperately, as if trying to hold onto the fragments of a shattered existence. In that agonizing moment, the harsh reality of his unfulfilled roles crashes down upon you like a relentless wave. He has endured the torment of being a husband bereft of a wife, a father denied a child, and a sensei forsaken his students.

Satoru: I will never let go of you anymore.

You: Is this just another one of those "oops, my bad" promises? You know, like when you swore to be to hold me for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?

Satoru: Heyyy! I held you till death do us part. I even remember, the night before my, um, grand finale, I held you so good that you had spread your legs, moaning my name and begging me to hold you harder.

Just as you are ready to break free from his grasp and deliver a well-deserved bonk on his clueless head, the scene takes an unexpected turn. Your doctor rushes into the room and towards your bed, barking orders left and right, and proceeds to administer yet another mysterious injection into your poor, defenseless vein.

Deciding to redirect your attention, you avert your gaze and catch sight of your reflection in the nearby window. To your astonishment, your hair has magically reverted to its former glory, defying the clutches of time. Wrinkles? Vanished as if a skilled magician performed a grand disappearing act. You're suddenly transported back to the good ol' days of youthfulness. Bewildered, you inspect your once-bruised hands, only to find them as flawless as a newborn's.

You: Satoru? What's—

Satoru: I know, right? It turns out one of the unexpected bonuses of kicking the bucket is that you get to rock your sexiest form once again. So, brace yourself because I won't behave when you sashay around in that gorgeous drop-dead gown. I can't keep it in my pants till we arrive and I start making cream pies and babies with you!

You: Oh, my goodness! Does it actually work in the afterlife as well?

Satoru: You're referring to my... um, dick? Let me tell you, it still has the same old magic, if not a little extra pizzazz! It's like a fine wine, aging gracefully and delivering peak performance in the afterlife. Who knew there would be such perks beyond the grave?

You: No, idiot! I mean babies!

Satoru: How should I know? I made sure to wear a condom during my frisky encounters with angels.

You can't help but release an exasperated breath, causing your ears to turn as red as a tomato in a sauna. The thought of giving him a good old-fashioned strangling and sending him off to the after-afterlife has you chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

Satoru: Would it tickle your funny bone if I threw caution to the wind and played a game of "heavenly roulette" with unprotected encounters, potentially earning myself some out-of-this-world STD souvenirs?

With a masterful brow raise and a world-class eye roll, you are all set to deliver the ultimate "exit stage left" move. But he pulls off the ultimate surprise maneuver and hits you with the "Hold up, wait a minute" move. He has a secret superpower to freeze you in your snarky tracks! Goddammit! Those puppy eyes again.

Satoru: I was joking, okay? I just jerked off while watching your showering or self-exploration activities. I mean, fingering yourself while calling my name. That's it! Okay? Also, we should have a talk about that dildo you named Hollow Purple!

You: So, it seems you shamelessly watched everything, hm?

Satoru: Yes. Absolutely! I had a lot of spare time to slay, and, hey, let's not divert our attention from the Hollow Purple subject, you dirty little mouse!

You: God! Kill me already!

Satoru: Why? You're just itching to infiltrate the kingdom of my pants, aren't you?

You: You know what? I've had a change of heart. I'd rather try my chances with cosmic sickness than spend an eternity with your delightful company!

Satoru: Goodness gracious! You and your fiery temper! How on earth did you manage to cast a spell on me, making me fall for you?

You: It's common knowledge among our friends that everybody should bow down to your shameless expertise in the art of begging!

Satoru: Is that so?

He displays a smug smirk, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

Satoru: Well, we can ask when we see them.

Your eyes go from their regular setting to full-on "wide-angle lens" mode, capturing the world in all its wide-eyed wonder. It is as if someone presses the "zoom" button on your peepers, revealing a comical level of astonishment.

You: They are there, too?

Satoru: Oh boy, buckle up for Nanamin's epic rage when he discovers our fashionably late entrance!

You: Well, chop-chop! Time to hit the road! We wouldn't want to unleash the wrath of the entire afterlife just because your chatty ass decided to go on such a long monologue!

He leans in and gently kisses your forehead, intertwining his fingers with yours as he guides you towards the door. As you both stand at the doorway, you cast a lingering gaze upon the nurses and doctor, who seem to have thrown in the towel on their attempts to revive you.

Satoru: I can't wait to spook everyone alongside you. You'll forever be my always.

Author's Note: I had an absolute blast writing this.

@enchantedforest-network 🤍

153 notes · View notes

pink-bandana-writes · 1 year

Text

Comfort Character

Leonardo x Reader

Summary: When your comfort character comes crashing into your room, fresh from another reality, your world gets turned upside down in more ways than one…

Note: I really don’t know where this came from, but inspiration struck at 10:30 this evening and it is now 1:30 in the morning. Enjoy. I will most likely make this a series if y’all like it. <3 As always, the boys are aged up in this. (They're 23)

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.4k

Reader is: Twenty-three, female

It was a quiet, early summer night. One of those nights where the breezes make it cool enough to comfortably sleep. You were in your dark room, laying on your side on your phone, winding down for the night before going to sleep. You scrolled through Tumblr for a bit before finally clicking your phone off and setting it on your nightstand, closing your eyes to try and get some sleep.

CRASH!

You jolted, freezing in place. Had your bookcase collapsed? Had the legs of your desk spontaneously given out? You listened as something stirred on the floor, groaning. Great. Someone had broken in.

“Fuck…” They muttered under their breath.

Shaking, you reached for your phone, plucking it from the surface of the nightstand. For a moment, you thought about calling 9-11, but instead, your fingers found the app you used to control the strip lights you had suspended around your room, turning them on and bathing the room in gentle purple light.

Slowly, you sat up and looked down beside the bed, where the crash had originated. There, sitting on the floor staring up at you, was a large mutant turtle. Your eyes widened.

“D-don’t scream. I’m not going to—”

“Leonardo?” You whispered, voice catching in your throat as your heart hammered. Maybe you had drifted off to sleep, because this most definitely was a dream.

He froze, eyes locked on you. A shiver ran down your spine under his intense gaze. “Do I…have we met?” He asked quietly, those blue eyes of his never leaving you.

“Not…exactly.” You motioned to the poster on your wall, him and his brothers jumping past the title text, reading Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Out of the Shadows.

Leo hesitated, taking a small step closer so he could get a closer look. “But that’s…we…”

“You…You’re real? This isn’t some…weird melatonin dream?”

“Not that I know of.” Leo murmured, still staring at the poster. “You can pinch me if you want. I don’t believe this either.”

“Glad to see your sense of humor is still intact.” You chuckled, unable to take your eyes off of him.

“Teenage?” Leo read, paying closer attention to the title. “I’m twenty-three.”

You chuckled. “It’s from 2016.”

“Oh. Yeah. That…makes sense.” He took a breath and turned his attention back to you. “Can I sit down?”

“Yeah, of course.” You scooted over in your bed and patted the space next to you.

He nodded gratefully and sat down on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, face in his hands as he walked himself through a mild existential crisis.

“So um…what happened? On your end, I mean. We don’t really…have interdimensional travel here.”

“Fight with Kraang. Got pushed through this…portal thing? I don’t know the word for it. And the next thing I knew, I was crashing through your closet. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’ll help you clean it up.” He told you. “I…have a feeling I’m gonna be stuck here for a bit.”

“Donnie’ll figure it out.” You said it with confidence.

He smiled, turning to look at you. “You’re a fan, huh?”

“If the poster was any indication, yeah.” You chuckled and pointed up to the top shelf of your bookshelf in the corner of the room, which held your small collection of action figures. “I’ve got those, too.”

“They made action figures of us?”

“They made a lot more than that.” You chuckled.

He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Like what?”

“Cartoons, several movies, backpacks and funko pops and Halloween costumes…Oh, and comics. You guys are pretty much superheroes here.”

“Wow.” Leo thought for a long moment, looking a little choked up. “Wow. That’s…I mean…when humans in my reality see me they…scream. Sometimes they faint. And here, they think I’m a hero?”

“I mean, the general public might still be weird if they saw you out and about, but you’d be swarmed by nerds at a comic con.” You shrugged.

“What’s your name?” He asked, voice steady and smooth.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He smiled warmly, tilting his head. “So um…do you want me to clean this mess in the morning or right now?”

***

When the morning rolled around, you half-expected it to have all been a dream. And, looking around your room, which was clean thanks to Leo’s help, it could have been. Well, until you got out to your living room and saw the giant turtle sleeping on your couch.

God, he was a sight.

You’d pulled the curtains shut so none of your neighbors got a glance and called animal control or the SWAT team, and loaned him a few blankets and a plush pillow. His gear was laid across the dining room table, bandana off, leaving his face uncovered.

You stared at him for a long moment, shaking yourself out of it and turning into the kitchen to make breakfast. You thought, staring into the fridge, and then dug out the ingredients for scrambled eggs, setting a box of cereal on the counter too, so he had options. After all, you didn’t really know what the turtles liked to eat. Well, aside from pizza, that was.

“Morning.”

“Aah!” You jolted, turning to see him standing in the doorway. You held a hand to your heart. “Jesus, you’re quiet.”

“Sorry about that.” Leo chuckled. “Ninja training.”

“Right, right.” You laughed. “I’m making eggs, if you want any.”

“Scrambled?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect. Do you, uh…need any help?” He asked.

“I’ve got it.”

“I can set the table.” He offered, blue eyes earnest in the daylight.

“Sure! There are dishes in that cabinet. The silverware is in that drawer.” You told him, motioning to both.

He nodded, gathering them before distributing them on the table. Meanwhile, you pulled a package of bacon out of the fridge and fried that up as well, figuring it wouldn’t hurt. He walked back into the kitchen once the table was set and leaned against the counter, watching as you cooked.

“So um…tell me about yourself. If you want. You don’t have to.” He stumbled over his words, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, I am also twenty-three. We were born the same year.”

“’99?”

“Yep.” You chuckled. “I graduated college like a year ago and…I’ve still been figuring it out since then. Working part time for the time being until I…decide how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Eh, kinda. I don’t know, there’s just a lot of pressure to get my ducks in a row. Everyone keeps acting like the clock is ticking double-time now that I’m in my twenties, but especially since I’m out of college. And it kinda feels like it, too. But yeah, I’m hanging in there, I guess.” You shrugged. “My Mom is on a business trip, by the way. We’ve got the place to ourselves for the next…two months or so.”

“Two months?? What kind of business trip is it?”

“She’s a TV show producer. Travels a bit, sets things up, comes back home for the next few months, and does it again when another show gets ready to start filming.”

“That’s cool.” Leo nodded.

“It is.” You agreed, plating up the eggs and bacon and walking with him to the table. You sat across from each other, and you tried not to, but you couldn’t help but stare a little. He caught your eyes, because of course he did.

“What?” He asked teasingly. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Oh! No, I just…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your mask before.” You admitted, cheeks reddening.

“Huh.” He thought about it for a moment. “We do wear them a lot, I guess.”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “It makes it easier for the kids watching to tell you apart.”

“Aww.” Leo smiled.

The thought of human children playing with toys of him, or dressing up as him for Halloween crossing his mind. It was something he didn’t even dare imagine in his own reality, but something that happened all the time in yours. It was a place where he wasn’t feared.

“Did you watch us growing up?” He asked.

You nodded. “A lot of kids did. They’ve been making Ninja Turtles cartoon since my parents were teenagers.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Woah, really?”

“Yeah, it kicked off in the 80s.” You told him, pulling out your phone and walking him through the turtles media of the last forty-ish years, stopping once you got to the version he’d come from. “And this is you guys, the Bayverse turtles—”

“Bayverse? What’s that mean?”

“As in Michael Bay.”

“Michael Bay??” Leo’s eyes widened. “Transformers Michael Bay? Random explosions Michael Bay?”

“Yeah, same guy.”

“Why?”

“Beats me.” You laughed. “He didn’t direct them, though, just produced them.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “Mikey’s still never gonna believe me.”

“Can’t say I’d blame him.” You grinned, finishing your breakfast.

“So when do you have to go to work?”

“I have the day off. Tomorrow, I go in at three, though.” You told him. “What do you want to do when that happens?”

“Well, I…should probably stay here, right?”

“That would probably be smart.” You chuckled. “Will you be okay on your own? I don’t get out until eleven.”

“I’ll be fine. You’ve got a TV and an internet connection. I’m sure I can stay occupied in the meantime,” he said. “Besides, if your closet is indeed the other end of the portal I came through, I should probably stay near it in case Donnie figures out something.”

“Oh yeah, right.” You nodded, the thought of you coming home to find Leo gone without a goodbye making you sick. You hoped whenever he had to leave, you would get to see him off, maybe even see his brothers.

“Where do you work?”

“At an aquarium, actually.” You chuckled. “I’ve always really loved aquariums.”

“I’ve never been.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Leo shook his head. “Where I’m from…being me prevents me from being able to do things sometimes, but I love who I am. I wouldn’t trade it.”

Pity swelled in your heart for him. He’d never been to an aquarium, a theme park, the movie theater, the mall, hell, even a grocery store. He’d had so much taken from him, he’d been barred from so many places. You were glad he and his brothers were proud of who and what they were, but you felt bad that they couldn’t even enjoy the simplest of things because of it.

And because of that, an idea sprouted in your head.

“Do you want to go to an aquarium?” You asked him, mischief glinting in your eye. “I’m in pretty tight with the guys who close tonight and…they’re fans of yours. We just marathoned the 2012 show together. I know they’d be cool about it.”

Leo thought for a long moment, a smile slowly overtaking that handsome face of his.

“I’d really like that.” He decided. It wasn’t like Donnie would crack interdimensional travel in one day, right? What was the worst that could happen?

***

When night fell, you drove to the aquarium, Leo sitting on the floor in the back of the car, ducking beneath the windows, but watching carefully as you drove, taking in the sight of the outside world, the suburbs under starlight. Finally, you reached the mall that housed the aquarium of your employment.

You pulled into a parking spot and dialed your coworker’s number, letting him know you’d arrived.

“Hey, what’s going on, (Y/N)? I’ve got the cart and the tarp. What the fuck are you bringing in here?” Ryan, your coworker asked.

“Is it drugs? I bet it’s drugs.” Your other coworker, Parker, chimed in the background.

“Where the fuck would she get that many drugs?”

“Good point.”

“Can we focus here? Listen, I’ll explain everything, but I need you to be chill, okay? You can’t scream and you definitely can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Right, right, got it.” Ryan promised. “We’ll be cool.”

“Alright. Come on out. I’ll pop the trunk.” You told him, hanging up and looking back at Leo. “Mission accomplished.”

“Not yet.” He chuckled, adjusting himself to get ready to dive into that rolling plastic cart as soon as it reached your car.

“Right, right. But we’re like…halfway there, I’d say.”

“Sure.” He grinned, amused by your optimism.

You got out of the car and walked outside, popping the trunk just as the boys rolled the large, opaque plastic cart up to it.

“Okay, now you have to tell us.” Parker insisted, sliding the tarp off of the cart, readying himself for whatever was about to go in it.

“Well the good news is, it’s not drugs.” Leo said, climbing over your back seats and into their line of view. His heart pounded, waiting for the scream, but once again, it never came. Instead, the boys stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Holy fuck, Leonardo???” Ryan asked, turning to you for explanation. “Thee Leonardo???”

“This is way better than drugs.” Parker grinned, helping Leo get in and putting the tarp on top of him. You closed the trunk and walked with them inside.

Once the coast was clear, Leonardo very carefully climbed out and looked around. You were in the backrooms, which was storage, mostly. Not much going on back there, especially after closing.

“I’ve just gotta lock up that back door and then you should be good to roam around.” Ryan gave a thumbs-up. “I’m a really big fan, by the way. You’re my favorite. I think the movies you guys are in are way underrated.”

Leo chuckled, a giant grin on his face. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

“I’ll keep a look out.” Parker reported.

“Thanks, Parker.” You said, leading Leo out the doors and into the aquarium gift shop, which sat at the front entrance that connected to the mall.

“A gift shop?”

“Can’t have a tourist attraction without one.” You chuckled.

“That’s true. They’re everywhere in New York.” He said, following you back into the first area of the aquarium, one housing local fish. He read through the information panels on each one, nodding thoughtfully as he learned the new information.

“Come here.” You instructed him, leading him over towards a glass dome that sat on the bottom of one of the tanks, a gap beneath it a few feet tall, so guests could put their head in it and be surrounded by fish.

“That’s gonna be a tight fit.” Leo noted, eyeing up the small space, but getting down on the floor anyway, cramming himself inside. He looked around in the dome in wonder, watching as the fish swam around him. “Woah…”

“It’s one of my favorite things here.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Further down.” You told him.

“Hey, would you get a picture of me?” He asked, handing you his shell phone, his camera app open.

“Of course.” You nodded, taking a picture of him in the dome. You got a few of him smiling and then waited for him to stop posing, looking around at a fish, and snapped a candid, the expression on his face peaceful. You handed the phone back.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course.” You offered your arm. “Need a hand out of there?”

“Definitely.” He took your hand and you helped him to his feet, his shell barely grazing the side of the entryway.

The two of you continued, stopping to admire the seahorses, the tropical fish, the clownfish that you couldn’t help but compare to Nemo. You stopped in the touch tank, where some starfish and anemone were so the kids could touch them.

Leo rinsed his hands off in the sink and knelt beside the tank, tentatively poking one of the plush pink starfish. “Do they have names?”

“Not officially, no, but I call that one Greg.”

He laughed. “Hello, Greg. Nice to meet you.”

“He said hi. I can tell. I’m a professional.”

“Ah, you speak starfish?” He grinned, teasing.

“Of course I do. It’s a prerequisite to work here.”

“Do you speak turtle, too?”

“I think I’ve been speaking it pretty well, I’d say.”

“I can’t help but agree.” He chuckled, shaking his head. He bid the starfish goodbye and the two of you reached the jellyfish tank, where the jellyfish were bathed in purple light, gently bobbing through the water.

“You can change the color of the light.” You told him, pointing to the buttons on the wall beside the tank.

“That’s really cool.” He reached forward and poked the blue button, and sure enough, the jellyfish were soon floating in brilliant blue light. He snapped a picture, smiling to himself.

The two of you meandered through the exhibits, Leo continuing to read the informational text, glancing up at you on occasion. You told him things about the fish and other sea creatures as you passed them, listing off the knowledge you’d picked up on the job. And then, finally, you reached it, your favorite thing in the aquarium, the tunnel.

The tunnel went through the biggest tank in the facility, which housed a few small sharks, sea turtles, and several fish. There was a large statue of a woman’s head on one wall, and other assorted decorations throughout. You loved standing in it and watching them swim over you.

“This is my favorite thing in the aquarium.” You told him, motioning above you.

“I can see why.” He nodded, staring as one of the sea turtles swam overhead. “Hey, what’s that thing on his shell?”

“Oh, it’s a weight patch. He got hit by a boat a few years ago and he can’t manage his buoyancy anymore. He has to live here so we can monitor him and change his patches when he grows.”

“Mmm.” Leo nodded, watching him go. “What’s his name?”

“Shelldon.”

Leo laughed. “Original.”

“Yeah, I think so too. It suits him.”

It was quiet for a moment, the only sounds that of the water. You looked up at him, and for the first time, really realized just how tall he was in real life. You always knew he was, but it was different when he was standing in front of you instead of on a screen.

Leo reached forward, taking your hand in his, tentative and gentle, very much still testing the waters and giving you every chance to reject him, but you didn’t, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Thank you. For this. It’s been really great.”

“Of course. I owe you, actually, so…this is starting to repay that.”

“Owe me? For what?”

“You’re my comfort character, Leo. Since high school, you’ve gotten me through a lot of rough patches. I honestly don’t know if I’d be standing here without you. You save all kinds of lives in your own reality, but…you’re saving them here, too, just in a different way. You’ve always been my hero.”

His expression softened and he let go of your hand, pulling you into his arms instead, a large three-fingered hand cradling your head while the other held you tight. You surrendered to his hold, a hand resting against his plastron and the other settling on his bicep.

After a long few moments, Leo pulled away, admiring you in the gentle blue glow of the giant tank. He brushed a piece of hair out of your face and leaned closer, once again giving you every opportunity to pull away, but instead, you did the opposite, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to his.

He melted against you, lips melding against yours perfectly and carefully, a little unsure, but the adrenaline of it all fueling him. He finally found the person of his dreams, but of course it would be just his luck that they were from another reality.

“There’s no way this is happening.” You murmured, stars in your eyes as you looked up at him.

“It’s happening.” He insisted, kissing you again, a little more confidently this time, smiling against you as your arms wound around his neck, your chest pressed against his, your lips soft and warm and perfect. It was better than any first kiss he could have imagined. Never, ever did he dare to dream he’d be standing where he was, doing what he was with a person who hadn’t even screamed when he met them.

At this point, it was too good to be a dream. He felt like he was floating on Cloud 9 by the time he finally came back down for air.

“How long can we stay here?” He asked, afraid to even ask. He felt like Cinderella waiting for midnight to hit.

You glanced at your watch. “A little while, at least.”

“Okay.” He nodded, taking your hand in his again. Leo knew one thing for certain, he never wanted that moment to end.

Neither did you.

Tags: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel, @scholastic-dragon

Tag lists open! Let me know if you want to be added! <3

#leonardo x reader #bayverse #tmnt #tmntagedup #tmnt imagine #tmnt aged up #leo x reader #leonardo imagine #leo imagine

321 notes · View notes

speedofsoundsketches · 2 years

Text

Hello and Welcome! If you’re new here, here are some quick tags to find content more easily:

Retro (90s) Sonic Comics (Yes I’ve done more beyond the SA2 and 06 ones!)

Shadow and Jolt (my ongoing fancomic. Here’s a brief synopsis of it!)

Knouge Tag (I....draw a lot of it)

Request Specials (Sometimes I'll do free requests for fun. Not as much these days but there's still a fun backlog to look through and it's what birthed the 90s sonic series!)

All Art Only Posts (All the art, none of my inane text posts :^) )

I mostly post about my fancomic since it’s my primary focus but I still do side comics time to time.

Other places I post: Twitter | DA

Thanks for reading and hope you stick around for more! 🦔💨✨✨✨

#pinned post #text #just making things easier #shadow and jolt #Knouge #Retro Sonic #Onlyart #requests #request week #Shadow and Jolt Comic #Knuxouge #Zoomer Sonic

101 notes · View notes

kydrogendragon · 5 months

Text

Dec 24 - The Night Before

(Ao3 Link) (Masterpost Link)

The stockings hung above the fireplace, casting shadows across the living room of Hob’s flat. He sits in the armchair, nursing the small glass of eggnog with a dash of Fireball in it. His legs are propped up on the coffee table as he lets the warmth of the flames wash over him. It was Christmas Eve and all the presents were wrapped and delivered to those he was close with in this life. His own tree rests in the corner, decorated with the ornaments and baubles that he’s collected over the years. Hob smiles as he spots the small black cat ornament he and Morpheus found while they were out shopping.

He’d been drawn to it the moment his eyes spotted it in the Hallmark aisles. Hob had to chuckle to himself as Morpheus’s eyes grew almost comically large at the sight of it. They bought it, of course. Hob had a brief thought about wrapping it up and putting it in his stocking, but it was worth the joy in his face for the rest of their outing as Morpheus held the small brown bag close to his chest.

They’d hung the ornament up the moment they got home. His first one. First of many, Hob was certain. It settled something in his heart knowing that a piece of Morpheus was on his… on their tree, now. It felt right. It made him warmer than the bit of whiskey in his drink did.

Morpheus was fast asleep on the couch, his laptop resting on his lap, the screen long since turned off. His black hair was spread out across the cream throw pillows, one hand resting above his head, the other on his stomach. Hob watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest and smiled as his lover’s eyes flickered behind his eyelids.

It was strange to think that at this very moment, Morpheus was off in another realm. Back in the Dreaming, his old home. It had taken him quite a bit of time to be comfortable with that notion, afraid that he was somehow intruding upon Daniel’s new reign. But now, Hob’s pretty sure he almost looks forward to his dreams, even if he’s now like everyone else and only sometimes remembers them.

Hob drains the last bit of his drink and sets his mug on the table to his side. The soft glow of the tree lights softens the edges of Morpheus’s face. The sharpness in his jaw and cheeks has filled out since he first arrived. No longer was he the hallow, jagged creature he was when he showed up at Hob’s doorstep. Now, he’s softer, warmer, and more importantly, happier. And Hob helped do that. He helped that softness grow, helped it wrap around his frame like a warm hug.

He’s seen Morpheus staring at himself in the mirror one day, his fingers trailing across the soft expanse of his stomach, pinching lightly at the soft rolls that were just beginning to show. Hob had worried that perhaps Morpheus was displeased by it. He’d only ever seen him as the gaunt sharp edged man for most of his life, after all. But no. Instead, Morpheus had met Hob’s eyes through the mirror and just smiled. Said it was a physical sign of Hob’s care and attention. Hob struggled not to cry a bit at that. And now? Now, Hob gets to kiss every inch of that soft skin, he gets to suck marks into the warm flesh that he help build and spill his love into the plush give of Morpheus’s body.

Morpheus stirs, mumbling something under his breath as he shifts on the couch. His legs move and the laptop that was on them moves with it. Hob’s eyes widen as the laptop tilts. He stands, moments too late as the laptop slides off of the blanket and clatters to the floor.

His lover jolts upright, his eyes blinking away the sleep from his eyes as he takes in his surroundings. His hair is staticy from the pillow and sticks up with all directions. Hob snickers at the sight. In all honesty, it’s probably a look Morpheus would love to replicate on the daily. It reminds Hob more of how his hair used to look in the Dreaming when he was Dream. Morpheus stares up at him, his brows slowly drawing close.

“What happened?” He asks, his voice thick with sleep.

Hob steps closer and leans down, scooping up the laptop from it’s tumbled position. He wiggles the trackpad and the screen lights up. No marks, no scratches. All good. He closes the lid and sets the laptop on the coffee table.

“Laptop fell, that’s all.” Morpheus blinks a few more times as his gaze slowly falls on the computer with it’s new home on the table.

“Ah,” he says, followed immediately by a yawn. Hob chuckles and holds his hand out.

“C’mon love. It’s late. Let’s get to bed, yeah?”

Morpheus nods and takes his hand, pulling himself up and off of the couch. “When did I fall asleep?”

Hob guides the two of them down the hall to their bedroom. “An hour ago or so? You looked too peaceful to disturb.”

Morpheus hums as he climbs into bed, hauling the sheets over his body, tucking it right under his chin. Hob shakes his head fondly as he follows after, pulling Morpheus’s body close to his. His lover’s hands wind around him automatically. Soon, Hob’s face is full of wild black hair as Morpheus tucks himself under his chin.

“G’night Hob,” Morpheus mutters against his neck. Hob tilts his head to press a kiss to Morpheus’s head.

“Goodnight Morpheus.” Hob looks at the glowing red digits on the alarm clock on the nightstand and smiles. It reads 12:43am. “And Happy Christmas.”

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #december writing list #ky writes #kydrogen's december drabbles 2023

56 notes · View notes

ken-dom · 7 months

Text

Keyboard Smash

Steven Wingdings x afab!reader

1k words

∘₊✧ Summary: fonts drive him crazy in more ways than one.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: this is the drabble I was toying with writing… don’t @ me! This was entirely encouraged by the usual suspects, and I simply couldn’t resist

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: nsfw, rough sex, dubious consent, slightly creepy vibes including a storm, very silly, probably classed as a crack fic if it wasn’t also pure smut, crying, meltdowns, font kink

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Your fingertips tapped the keyboard, the little squares clicking the letters into being on the screen before you.

You knew he would disapprove of this font, but it was easy on the eyes and you always managed to write more when you used it.

You could always change it afterwards. He would never need to know. What’s the harm?

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms and sighing, tired but so close to finishing up.

You relaxed into your seat, amused by the eerie atmosphere in the room. The bright white light of your computer screen provided the only illumination in the room, aside from the occasional forks of lightning lighting up the night sky through your window. You smiled. He’d probably like that.

And with a loud clap of thunder and another dramatic flash of lightning, he appeared behind you, his shadow flooding your desk with darkness. It was as if he materialised out of nowhere. You jolted up, spinning around in your chair to see him standing behind you, furious and dripping with rainwater.

He didn’t say a word at first, his piercing blue eyes fixed on your screen, carefully taking in the words you’d written. And the font. Oh fuck. The font.

‘Comic sans,’ he muttered under his breath, taking his glasses off to wipe them clean of raindrops and place them delicately back on his face. ‘Comic fucking sans?’

‘I intend to change it when I’m done, but-’

‘Spare me!’ he roared, falling to his knees before you. ‘You’re writing a masterpiece like that in comic sans?! It’s tainted. I’ll never unsee it. You actively clicked on the font drop down, scrolled to C, and selected it, knowing how it would look!’

He was practically sobbing at this point.

‘I- I’m sorry, Steven, at least it’s not Pap-’

‘Don’t speak its name in front of me!’ he screeched.

‘Why don’t we just change the font right now, hm? What do you like? Times New Roman? Calibri?’

‘You can change it, but I’ll never unsee that hideous clown scribble!’ he wailed.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ you offered, beginning to feel at a loss, until a stroke of genius struck. Or so you hoped. ‘Here, how about-’

You turned back to the computer, highlighting the entirety of your work and choosing a new font. Something that would throw him off. Bring him back to you.

There was one you’d never used that caught your eye with its name alone; Satisfy. It seemed like it would be awkward to write in and more appropriate for titles, but it’s cursive style and sensual name immediately got your attention — perhaps it would get his too.

You read over some of your work while you waited for him to finish up his dramatics. It looked a little bit like his handwriting and you smiled at that, wondering if he’d actually copied it for his own penmanship.

Another flash of lightning and he was up again, his hand at your shoulder, warm and caressing.

‘Oh?’ he breathed.

You didn’t speak. Not yet. You let him take it in, biting your lips together in anticipation as he looked over you.

‘Oh, that’s very nice, that’s- mmh…’

‘See? That’s better,’ you smiled, pleased with yourself at having calmed him.

‘Over the desk,’ he instructed, low and commanding. ‘Now.’

You stood, heat flooding to your core at the suddenly seductive tone of his voice, and began to move the keyboard away for space, but a big, strong hand wrapped around your wrist and pinned it to the desk.

‘No. Leave the keyboard. I want to see our work.’

Excited, you propped yourself above it, while he made quick work of unfastening his trousers and sliding yours down, his elegant fingers immediately flying to your folds, circling your clit and ghosting over your slick entrance.

‘Mmh, soaked… you like it too?’

In all honesty you couldn’t say you had ever been aroused by a font. But then you’d never had a screaming, crying meltdown over one either. You guessed his reaction to Satisfy must have been as strong as his reaction to Papyrus had been all those weeks ago when you’d dragged him inside off the road, wet and shaking.

‘Yes,’ you agreed, not wanting him to stop.

Much to your disappointment, he did stop, but only for a moment; the next, he slammed his cock into you hard, stretching you open and driving his hips in sharp snaps against you whilst his free hand pushed your head into the keyboard.

An assortment of random letters and numbers burst onto the screen, displaying more of that delicious font, and he whined desperately.

His other hand snaked around your belly and to the apex of your thighs, rubbing furiously at your sensitive nub, making you squirm back against him. It was too much and not enough all at once, and you were ready to explode.

‘Say it,’ he cried hungrily, ‘say it!’

‘Satisfy!’ you moaned, not even needing to sex up your voice in the slightest. The font might not turn you on, but he did, and his request for you to say its name opened the floodgates into a string of needy moans.

Feeling you begin to clench around him, it took only a few more ragged thrusts and he emptied his release into you with force, a guttural growl echoing around the room while you milked him of all he had.

He collapsed, weak and groaning, on top of you, heavy breaths loud in your ear as he withdrew his length, carefully tucking himself back into his trousers and standing as soon as he was able.

‘Keep up the good work,’ he praised you.

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you limp over the desk, leaking your combined juices onto the floor, Satisfy leaving a long trail of F’s and C’s and D’s in the space beneath your work where you were still pressed against the keyboard.

‘Comic fucking sans,’ you whispered, laughing to yourself as you peeled off the keys. ‘I’ll give him Satisfy.’

#not s f w 💀#steven wingdings #steven wingdings x reader #steven wingdings smut #steven the papyrus guy x reader #steven the papyrus guy smut #steven the papyrus guy fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes

131 notes · View notes

hail-americas-ass · 11 months

Text

🔆JUNE FIC REC II

✒ a greek tragedy by ash

(I can’t express enough how amazing this is) 4.6K Words

When Steve started drawing the comic, he drew himself before the serum and Bucky as he remembered him when they worked together to keep from ending up on the streets and dreamed of futures with floating cars. He drew them then and now, scenes against a New York he remembered and scenes against this future he didn’t quite fit in, one drawn soft and hazy, the other hard lines. When he drew them in the present, he never drew himself looking at Bucky; Bucky was always behind him, a shadow that followed as he tried to find a trace of the world they used to know in this one. He called them Orpheus and Eurydice.

🦾 Touch Me I’m Going to Scream by buffypeppers

(This is a classic in my opinion. It’s got recovering!Bucky and every trope you can imagine, so very fluffy) 107.5K Words

Only a few days have passed since the Winter Soldier put Sam into a hospital bed but Steve is ready to find HYDRA’s assassin and bring him to justice.

Things won't go according to plan once the Avengers find the infamous man.

🕵️‍♂️ End of all Days by Minka ( @minka-g on tumblr)

(I was motivated to reread this recently, it kept me on the edge of my seat the first time I read it and it had the same thrilling effect when I reread it too. There’s only one word to describe it: thrilling.)

(Archeological Historian!Steve x Spy!Bucky) (Indiana Jones & Atomic Blonde AU) 116.7K Words

Captain Steve Rogers had thought his military days were behind him, left in the bloody nightmare that was Saigon. Retired and working as a History Professor, the last thing he expected was to get caught up in a cataclysmic Slavic prophesy foreshadowing the end of the known world.

With Cold War tensions running high, Steve finds himself in need of a guide and translator to get him behind the Iron Curtain and into the isolated snowdrifts of Siberia.

It’s deep in the heart of Bucharest’s resistance fighters that Steve finds the ideal candidate, but swaying the enigmatic ex-operative known as The Winter Soldier proves to be complicated. Trust is hard-won, especially in the world of espionage, and with a KGB death squad nipping at his heels, the Soldier has countless reasons to stay presumably dead.

As the lines between right, wrong and the supernatural begin to blur, Steve is forced to reconsider everything he’s ever believed, right from the sanctity of his own country to the very foundations of creation itself.

❤️‍🩹 Every Door Opens by Notoska ( @notoska on tumblr)

(This fic, the words and the way they were written, not only yanked my heart out of my chest, it also sunk deep in my bones where I was forced to carry it and think of it for days. Fantastic.) Recovery fic. 73.9K Words

Then Bucky licks his lips, tip of his tongue just grazing the sensitive skin of Steve’s ear and Steve moans. Nothing close to the surge of lust behind his ribs, but a tiny, breathy sound all the same. Bucky doesn’t react—he must not have heard. Though a minute later he curls his fingers and extends them again, moving just slow enough for it to be a caress.

Just tip your head into his touch. He’ll take the lead and trace the folds of your ear with his tongue until you can’t keep quiet any more. Then he’ll smother your desperate little noises with his mouth, fingers twisting in your hair. Kissing deeply, tongues reaching to declare your filthy intentions. Find his knee with your hand and slide wolfishly up his thigh until you reach the bulge behind his fly. Palm him through his trousers until he’s panting in your mouth, until he’s pressing his forehead to yours, hips bucking, and you can see his dark eyes, glinting in the screen’s flickering light, pleading—

Steve jolts back to the present. The credits are rolling and Bucky is reading them as well. The screen blacks and two fluorescent lights buzz to life. Bucky loosens his hand from Steve’s head, welcoming the world back in.

#stucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic #stucky #steve/bucky #ao3 #stucky fic recs #stucky fic rec #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers/bucky barnes #stevebucky #fic recs

122 notes · View notes

idoodlestuffsometimes · 2 years

Text

Brother's Keeper AU Story Post 1

In which Caleb lives! :) (but at what cost?)

(surprise! i'm alive and invested in the Owl Ow House)

AU MASTER POST

NEXT [Image ID under the cut]

[IMAGE ID: A two page comic in black and white ink and grey tones. PAGE ONE: PANEL ONE: A close up of Caleb's face as he blinks blearily awake. His head is wrapped in bandages covering one eye. "Nnngh..." he groans, "What happened?" PANEL TWO: He is lying in a cave, his torso wrapped as well. It's night time. The only light comes from a campfire. At the mouth of the cave, Philip sits facing away from us. "Careful Brother," he says. "You lost a lot of blood." PANEL THREE Caleb's eyes go wide with a jolt. PANEL FOUR A close up of Caleb's wrapped side. Blood seeps through the bandages. "You stabbed me!" he cries. "And then I patched it up," replies Philip. "You're welcome."

PAGE TWO: PANEL ONE: "My wife!" cries Caleb, "Flapjack! I--" A close up of his wrists. They've been tied securely together with a vine. PANEL TWO: Caleb stares down at his tied wrists in horror, his fingers spread and his eye wide in shock. The firelight casts dark shadows, lighting his face from below. "There's no need to concern yourself with them," Philip says from off screen. "You won't be seeing them again." PANEL THREE: In the background, the other end of the vine fastens Caleb to a stalagmite. He props himself up on his elbows, looking beseechingly at Philip, who sits in the foreground. "Pip, what are you doing?!" demands Caleb, "This isn't funny! Let me go!" Philip's face is cast in dark shadows. He is looking at the ground, ignoring his brother. PANEL FOUR: "Pip, please--" Caleb begs. A distant bird's eye view from outside of the cave. Far below us, Philip calmly draws in the dirt with a stick. He has surrounded the entrance of the cave with a barrier of fire and plant glyphs. Caleb lies behind him, unacknowledged. "Philip!!" /END ID]

#the owl house #caleb wittebane #philip wittebane #wittebane brothers #Brother's Keeper au #<<very cleverly named by astriiformes thx nate :)))#TOH #i have...a lot more drawings around this so expect more in the future #doodle art #tw blood

2K notes · View notes

an-idyllic-novelist · 11 months

Text

Hotaru Haganezuka with Chise!reader headcanons 🎐🪴

Warnings: OOC, aged up!reader (will be in their late twenties), foul language from Hotaru, and the setting takes place five years before the main plot of Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer, so Hotaru will be 32 years old instead of his canon age, 37.

Here it is everyone, the finale of the two part collaboration with @deathmetalunicorn1 featuring the character!reader as Chise Hatori from the anime/manga series, The Ancient Magus’ Bride.

For those who haven’t read the first part, the link will here.

Our inspiration came from the maginificent Haganezuka x reader comic created by @yuki2sksksk. Check it out guys, it is amazing!

With that being said, sit back, relax and enjoy :)

PART THREE LINK IS HERE

PART TWO : A PLACE TO RETURN TO

She was gone. Vanished without a trace in the arms of something that wasn’t human and only he knew about it. Haganezuka couldn’t breathe. He felt light-headed, the air knocked out of his lungs and the world spinning as he struggled to keep himself together. Pulling his body off of the floor, he winced when a loud crack resounded in his ear. He looked down petals, soil, and clay pieces right by his feet, a large fragment inches from slicing through the bottom of his right sandal.

Haganezuka’s chest tightened even further at the sight before…he felt something snap. He did not know how or why, but the force of whatever he was feeling made him scramble across the room, looking for something, anything to keep him grounded. Then from the corner of his eye, he saw an iron key half buried in a hydrangea plant. The key to [First Name]’s shop. Grabbing it, he briskly towards the entrance, swiveling on his heel and locking up the place before sprinting down the street.

Civilians and swordsmen alike dove to the opposite side of the road upon seeing him but he could not find himself to give a shit as he passed them all, skidding to a halt in front of the private room where he knew Tecchin would be resting until dinnertime.

He yelled, pushing the shoji door open with enough strength to knock it off of the tracks. “Old man!” Haganezuka did not even both remove his sandals as he stepped inside nor cared about the surprised and exasperated expression that Tecchin was throwing at him.

“Hotaru! What is the meaning of -” It took him three steps to be in front of the old man, and he kneeled down to Tecchin’s level as his hands clamped down on those frail shoulders that used to hold him as a child.

“She’s gone!”

“Who is gone, Hotaru?” Tecchin pressed.

“[First Name]!” Haganezuka snapped, his voice growing shaky. “She- she was taken by this brat with dark hair and green eyes. He had a horned shadow th-that grabbed her. He called [First Name] his child! A-And he said that she’d almost killed herself again.” He stared at Tecchin long and hard through his mask. “Old man, she told me you knew him as the master, and that’s what…I think that is the one who took her. I asked him questions -”

“You spoke to him?” Tecchin squeaked.

“I wasn’t going to let some stranger take her away!” Haganzeuka growled. “You, I, and everyone in this village....she’s helped us all but we know so little about her. What she told me about herself…only the one who bought her freedom would know. And that brat….he knew everything. Where he got her, How he knew what she truly was, even why he purchased her! But he took her, and said she’ll come back when she’s ready!”

Haganezuka jolted. He looked down and saw Tecchin’s trembling hands resting on top of his own. He watched the old man closely, his chest rising and falling shakily before he spoke.

“Hotaru, my dear, dear boy.” Tecchin squeezed his palms. “The medicine woman’s master…he is someone who never comes down from his mountain unless it involves two matters: purifying ayakashi, and his apprentice. If he had come to her shop and taken her as you say he did, then consider yourself fortunate that you even saw it happen, because he has the ability to stop time, if only for a few moments. He could have just done that and taken her away and you would have never realized it.” He inhaled a deep breath. “As of right now…we cannot tell anyone about what happened. Should anyone say something, [First Name] received an urgent summons to one of the cities…that there is an outbreak of an unknown disease and she will not return until it has been resolved.”

“But -”

We cannot scare the villagers about things they will not understand or accept as we have, Hotaru. You know that. We cannot waver. Not now.”

Haganezuka swallowed a sob, trying to hold back the tears prickling the corner of his eyes…but they just came out, warm and wet, slipping down his face. He didn’t even stop Tecchin from removing his mask. “She’s gone…She’s gone, and all that person told me was…to look after her home! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WHEN SHE’S DYING?!”

Tecchin did not say anything. He just sat in the room with him, squeezing his hands until Haganezuka felt he couldn’t cry anymore. Now…now he just felt…numb. He stood up from the floor, bowing to the old man and murmuring an apology before he trudged towards the sliding door. Tecchin then called out to him. He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“[First Name]’s house…it is on the outskirts of the village, in the east. My servant will fetch the spare key that she’d entrusted with me so that you may use it. Tend to her shop as needed, since he is the one who had told you to take care of her home. Please wait by the stairs.”

Haganezuka blinked, then nodded before he left the room, closing the door behind him. By the time he’d made it to the entryway of the old man’s residence, there was a servant already there. He just took the key and left without saying another word. When he looked up at the sky, it was still early in the afternoon. He had time to at least look around the place before heading back to his own home before nightfall settled in.

Her home was about a quarter mile, the forest nestled right behind it. It was small with large sliding panel doors. The perfect size for an unmarried woman living on her own. Using the key Tecchin had given him, it slid into the front door and allowed him to push it to the right. Sliding his shoes off, he stepped inside, and he was immediately greeted by the pungent scent of herbs and soil. It was similar to how he’d entered her shop for the first time….but there was something else here. It felt…warm. Cozy even.

When he rounded the corner, however, he did not expect to see an enclosed courtyard in the center of the room, sunshine leaking from a square-shaped hole in the ceiling and shining down on rocks, plants, and flowers or how the hallway extended even further, leading to a corridor. Haganezuka blinked. He then exited the house, stepping outside to glance at the exterior before walking back inside. It wasn’t possible for a place like this to be tripled in size when it looked so small from the outside! Unless…

He pushed up his mask, scowling at the throbbing sensation pulsing on the side of his head. “It has to be the magic that [First Name] talked about. There’s just no other possible explanation for this…to even happen.” He sighed, and then continued to walk around the empty house. The wooden floors stretched towards the living room, where an irori stood in the middle, a kettle suspended over rotted wood and sand. There were four seating cushions around the outer area, most likely set up for any guests she might have had.

Walking past it and through the double sliding doors, Haganezuka found the kitchen with dry goods kept in wooden baskets. No doubt the water jug is outside, and probably needed to be changed out sooner than later. The ladle to scoop the water out might also require a good scrubbing too. Probably the bathroom too, unless it was an outside one. He began to make a mental list of what needed to be done and what could wait as he went from room to room. The sitting area was covered in a light layer of dust, the futons in the bedroom would need to be washed…and there was a second room connected to it? And it was an office?!

Books and journals laid on tatami mats as twin towers leaning precariously against each other, with a small desk covered in scrolls and an ink stone set on the right side with a ink brush and a zaisu. Haganezuka turned to leave and explore what other secrets were to be discovered when something flashed from the corner of his eye. He paused, and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened at the sight of a piece of jade, round in shape with a perfect circle in the center and tied with a leather cord. Excluding the color, it was an exact replica of the one [First Name] wore.

He stepped forward and carefully lifted it from the desk, cradling it in the center of his palm. He felt grief swelling up inside of him again, and he bit his bottom lip until he could taste his blood. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he held it up and yelped, instantly dropping the necklace and watching it fall onto the floor with a low ‘thud’. His heart raced against his chest. Something…something was in the center of the stone. He saw something.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he kneeled down and picked up the stone, looking right through it. What he saw is…well, there’s really no way he can explain it. There were tiny, female human-shaped creatures with multi-colored feathered wings and big, black eyes staring at him with smiles that had pointy teeth sticking out.

“Such a funny man wearing a funny mask!” One of them giggled, performing a small circle in the air, flapping her verdant wings. “I wonder if our sweetie knows him?” Another scoffed, one with violet tresses and wings, as she crossed her arms.

“Obviously he knows him, sister. We all know our dear child never allows no one to come into her home unless it involves an emergency with a patient. He hasn’t screamed or run from us yet, so she must have told him about us. He has earned her trust.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you someone we can trust, human?”

Haganezuka gulped, knowing at this very moment, he needed to be careful with his words or he had a feeling that these….things will do anything in their power to prevent from carrying out the job he’d been given by the one who hid in the mountains.

“[First Name]...she is someone who is important to me. This morning, she was taken away by someone like you…except he has a horned shadow and green eyes. He told me to take care of this place until she returned. Have you heard of him?” He asked.

They looked at him with expressions ranging from shock to worry to fear before they gathered together, huddling and whispering to each other in low, soft voices for a few moments until the green-haired one spoke to him again. “If what you’re saying is true, then our sweetie must have been much weaker than we had thought after she had dealt with relocating the salamander. The Horned Hermit likes to isolate himself up in those cold cliffs, so for him to come and get her….she must be very, very sick.”

“The Horned Hermit?” Haganezuka repeated.

“That’s what we call him,” One of them chirped, pulling away from the group and landing right on his shoulder. “He’s had many names over the centuries, and they are all so dull.” He looked down at her.

“And…you’re neighbors, right?”

“My, my, you are an intelligent one!” She said, beaming up at him. “Now that I think about it, you must be the human she had rescued from the salamander! That explains why you know so much about us! Our sweetie doesn’t tell us much about the humans she’s treated…but she does smile when she speaks about the one who had given her a few sticks of mitarashi dango when he didn’t have to. You must be very special if the Horned King wants you to look after her home. I hope you’ll keep us entertained until she comes back, young one~!”

All right, now he knew they were teasing him.

“So…if you’ve been visiting or staying here, then you must know where everything or anything I need to know about this house, right?”

The violet-haired one stared at him long and hard before she sighed, drifting towards one of his hands. He immediately expanded his fingers, and she sat on the edge of it with a huff. “The first rule about the neighbors is that nothing is free. We will tell you what we know…we just expect fair payment in exchange.”

Haganezuka remembered [First Name] mentioning that something cannot be made from nothing; in simpler terms, the foundation of magic revolved around give and take. To need something, a payment of equal value must be exchanged. For example, if someone asked one of these….little ones to do something for them, then they require an offering for their services. In this case, they wanted sweets. The best that the village had.

Fair enough. He thought, turning away from them. “All right, I’ll bring some back. Give me about an hour or so.” He said. They cheered loudly, the echo of their jubilation bouncing off the halls and even to the front door as Haganezuka slipped on his shoes and locked up the house.

Within the time he had promised, the swordsmith bought a lot of the best sweets in bulk and snarled at the owner when he asked why in the world he needed so many at once, stomping back to the house. He was not going to get conned by these neighbors, damn it! Too many sweets is better than bringing back too little and then he’d be broke and have no idea how to take care of [First Name]’s house!

They quickly scarfed the plates of sweets as soon as he set them down in the kitchen on plates he found near the stove, not leaving a single crumb behind. Once they had their fill, the green-haired one introduced herself and her sisters as Ariels; they are neighbors, fairies with control over the winds though they hate being addressed by the latter term because it’s such a ' dull name’. They stay here from summer to fall and travel back home when winter comes. Since they had found a child of magic in this part of the world, there was harm in being friendly with [First Name]; Like what he’d just done now, he respected and paid them with sweets.

Now they will return the favor.

Since Haganezuka had already seen the house already, they showed him where everything is; cleaning supplies, the location of the water jug, garden tools to use for the inner courtyard, etc, etc. They also showed him two rooms in the very back, locked and covered in paper seals. These were not to be opened while [First Name] was away under any circumstances, they stressed. One of them had disobeyed this rule and snuck in to see what secrets [First Name] could possibly be hiding. It ended with a cursed ink painting of a bakeneko nearly been released into the world, no doubt to seek revenge on the monk who had sealed it away, and entrusted this dangerous artifact to [First Name] due to her experience in handling such things.

That was the first and only time that they had ever seen their sweetie so incredibly angry. The culprit was punished, and no one has gone near these rooms since. The doors, however, need to be blessed once a month with a special solution to preserve the wards. They will teach him it, of course, for an extra serving of mitarashi dango.

Haganezuka felt a shudder of dread crawl down his spine. Shit. They were not teasing him. They were serious. He stiffly walked out of the corridor, swearing to never set foot in either room unless it was to perform another blessing ritual from the inside.

Although he would have been content with being a glorified housekeeper and gardener, making sure everything is nice and neat when [First Name] returned home, the Ariels regretfully (or not) informed him that those won’t be his only tasks around here. He had to spread salt outside and around the house’s perimeter, at dawn and at dusk. He’d also have to buy or make them, the Ariels, more offerings and for any other neighbor who might stop by, plus wipe down the wind chimes in the courtyard with salt water.

It’s a lot to do, they know, but these rituals were necessary. They prevented the ayakashi or any other unwanted guests from entering the house and possibly causing harm to their sweetie…and now, him. The tasks at night-time were shorter, if it made Haganezuka feel better. But it didn’t, though he grudgingly understood the importance of this daily routine.

[First Name] had to do this every day, including running her shop and traveling up the mountains? No wonder she always looked tired. He felt his face heat up from behind his mask when they all stared at him as if he were the village idiot.

“What?” He hissed.

The green-haired one shook her head. “We’re not making fun of you, dearie. Our sweetie must seem exhausted when you see her, but when we see her, she doesn’t tire out from performing these rituals….she simply uses too much magic that the human body cannot handle all at once, even if she is a Sleigh Beggy. But if you’re really curious about them, you can find everything in her office, she always keeps her books there. Now, let’s get started while there’s still daylight~!”

And that’s what happened in the coming days. Every morning and night, he went to the house to perform the rituals and make offerings to the neighbors. Yes, you heard him. He fucking made the sweets because buying them in bulk had burned through most of his extra income from two last-minute jobs. He had to lie to Kanamori's wife and say he wanted to make mitarashi dango because he was tired of buying it all of the time.

The Ariels seemed to like his offerings…and his company.

They helped with some of the chores, pointing out where stuff went and so on. After he cleaned the house, tending to the garden in the courtyard is his next job; weeding, plucking herbs carefully from the soil, preserving them in jars or carefully bundling them together with string and placing them in the storehouse. The Ariel who’d be with him always reminded him to make sure he labeled the jars so it would be easier on him and their sweetie to find whatever needed in a pinch. After the wind chimes were wiped down and the salt was spread around the house, it would be time for him to go home.

The Ariels would thank him for his hard work, and one of them would go with him as an escort just in case there was an unpleasant neighbor lurking around at night. Fortunately, nothing has happened yet.

In between handling his client’s swords, eating, and sleeping, he would read. Every time he went to the house, he would take journals from there - two of them. One about the neighbors, the ‘research pile’ and one of [First Name]’s personal diaries. He read about her earlier years with the master and the difference of legends regarding the origins on the nue and tengen, all at once. It fascinated and terrified and angered him, reading those meticulous ink strokes. She was strong and reckless, intelligent and kind, but never once had she been truly selfish when her body is so weak.

A Sleigh Beggy can absorb magic at an incredible rate, but it’s really no different from a weak heart and there’s too much blood in the body. It was no wonder, thinking back on it, why the Horned Hermit was upset when he took his apprentice away from the village. And that comment on how Sleigh Beggys aren't as strong as they used to be.

Then he found the last entry she had written, dated three days before she vanished. He felt fury boiling in his veins as he tightly gripped the diary in his hands on the eve of the last day of summer. She…she had used her magic to accelerate his healing?! Idiot! He screamed in his head. You didn’t have to do that, I was fine so why did you still-?!

But he already knew the answer. She did it because she knew she could, even if it would backfire on her one day. Haganezuka bit his lip, feeling the tears well up behind his eyes again. Shit, shit, shit! He furiously wiped them away with the back of his hand and closed the diary, succumbing to a fitful sleep that made him cranky the very next day.

As the weeks grew longer, the night-time air began to cool and the leaves fell from their branches. He kept himself as busy as he could with his work and looking after [First Name]’s home, but there is yet to be any sign of her returning home. Then one cold morning when he opened up his window to let in some fresh air, Haganezuka saw…fluffy clouds with tiny black legs and pale blue wings floating around? Huh? Glancing around his room, he quickly found one of the journals and flipped through the pages until he found an illustration of the neighbor he can see right now.

Wooly bug, not a neighbor. Closer to animals. Migrating from the West as the Ariels and other ‘neighbors’, they are not too picky about the offerings. They seem to prefer rice balls. Their bodies absorb the cold air, which allows fleece to grow. Normally populates in high numbers during the summer. Fleece can be sold as a magical item or put under a pillow to ensure good dreams. Note - they are very rarely seen by humans, so even most people with magical talent do not know they even exist and mistake the wooly bug’s fleece for the fur of a baku, which is in fact a rare and HIGHLY dangerous neighbor.

For more information on baku, refer to page 45.

That was when he heard a squeak. Looking up from the page he’d been reading, he yelped in surprise when one of the wooly bugs suddenly appeared in front of him, causing him to drop the journal. He swore, kneeling down to pick it up from the floor when the wooly bug grabbed it first, holding the notebook in its snout.

Haganezuka blinked. Then, very, very slowly, he took the journal from it. “....Thank you.” He murmured, wondering already how many rice balls should he give to it when it just pressed its soft body against his right shoulder. When he tried to push it away, the wooly bug began to squeak incessantly until he hugged it back with his spare arm.

Well…it’s definitely warm. They were going to be nice to have around with the winter approaching very quickly.

Before he realized it, the Ariels bade him good-bye after he had served them their final offerings of sweets for the day. It was time for them to return home and celebrate the coming of winter in their kingdom. They were surprised to see a wooly bug attached to him, but they knew it would be in good hands. They did advise him to shear them before they migrated home in spring, should he wish, so that healthy new fleece could grow back.

Throughout the winter, Haganezuka alternated time in his workshed and [First Name]’s home. Now he knew where everything was located and what to do, including the blessings in that damned corridor, the tasks seemed less laborious now that he’s comfortable with doing the rituals on his own without any help. He also had two fluffy companions that curled up with him as he read more of [First Name]’s research journals. He learned about all the herbs and plants that grew around the mountains and the village. In all honesty, he had no idea there were so many of them with practical uses.

When a fever broke out in the village, Haganezuka had been the only one who didn’t get sick. He offered to go out and get what the village doctor needed to treat his patients. Tecchin and the doctor were shocked that he’d not only did the task, but also acquired herbs that were extremely hard to find in winter just in case they were needed.

Haganezuka tried to brush the praise as not a big deal, but the damned old man would let it go that his precious son was growing up into a fine, young man.

Once the house and his work was finished for the day, he made time whenever he could to tend to the shop. It wasn’t easy to do so, though Kanamori and his wife were more than happy to do most of the upkeep whenever he got saddled with too much work. At the very least, when Haganezuka couldn’t tend to the potted plants and trim away their leaves or throw out any moldy herbs, he wiped down the wind chimes with salt water.

The shop still remained closed, but he and Kanamori made sure it was also clean when [First Name] returned.

There wasn’t a day when Haganezuka’s thoughts drifted towards the medicine woman. He wondered if she woke up, if she’s eating well and taking medicine, if she’s resting when she’s supposed to be doing under the Horned Hermit’s instructions and getting stronger in the mountains. He tried to be optimistic…but it was starting to get harder and harder to cling to that hope in the darkest time of the year.

Days blurred together, bleeding into weeks until the first breeze of spring arrived. The wooly bugs migrated back to the west, but two of them decided to remain by his side. He didn’t mind their company since they were…adorable, and kept out of his way when he worked. One of them loved sitting on top of his head or on his shoulder.

Haganezuka remained diligent in his work and looked after the house and the shop.

Then, one week after the New Year had been rung in…she returned.

He had been tending to the garden, trying to preserve the herbs that had barely survive the frostbite that blew through the village with the wooly bugs curled up close to him when he heard the pitter-patter of bare feet pressing against the floor….except that no one should be in the house because the wards were still active. No ayakashi should be able to get in, and he had performed the monthly blessings.

Could it have been Kanamori or Tecchin showing up unannounced to check on him again? Haganezuka growled, feeling his temper about to boil over when he looked up from his work, ready to shout at whoever was here when the words got stuck in his throat. His grip on the spade in his right hand fell onto the snow-covered dirt with a low thud.

[First Name] was standing right in front of him, smiling softly…and dressed in the worst kimono he’d ever seen on a person, feeling his right eye beginning to twitch.

It was black with golden eyes on the sleeves and a dark red obi wrapped around her waist with more golden swirls etched on the fabric. She wore billowing dark blue pants underneath it, and wooden geta sandals. Her lower legs were covered in leg bandages.

He opened his mouth to argue at her attire…then stopped himself and decided not to give a damn. He stood up and swept her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “You’re home.” He whispered shakily, carding a hand through her hair, which had gotten longer in the past year since she’s been gone, just to make sure that it isn’t a crazy dream and this is all real. Haganezuka felt his heart begin to hammer wildly against his rib cage upon feeling her quivering arms coil around his waist and whisper softly in his ear, her voice low and tired…and relieved.

“I am.”

#an idyllic novelist #chise!reader #hotaru haganezuka x reader #hotaru haganezuka demon slayer #hotaru haganezuka #fem reader #kny x reader #kny x female reader #kny headcanons #demon slayer headcanons #collab work #collaboration #kny haganezuka #kny au #demon slayer #ancient magus bride #mahoutsukai no yome

138 notes · View notes