#as impermanent but lonely

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

In the end, I’m always alone.

#lonely #isolation #solitude #introvert #independant #lonewolf #selfreliant #closingoff #trustissues #wary #hesitant #oncebittentwiceshy #slowtowarmup #lifetimeofrejection #fearofvulnerability #peoplecomeandgo #impermanence #onlyme #inmyhead #deepinthoughts #philosophical #stoic #makingpeacewithit #strengthinself #powerwithin #spiritualsolitude #quotes

[teja-has-puppet-autism]

Even though I theoretically know my irl friends are safe to talk to about kin shit

My brain just doesn't let me talk about it

A part of it being "fuck I'm being cringy rn" self hatey shit, but also cause like

I don't want to have to explain all this shit. I don't wanna have to go through the whole spiel of what kins are, what I kin, how I experience it, etc, etc.

I just want to ramble about my fuckin experiences and not have to justify it

#idk man it just gets lonely #and i am genuinely just shit at being online and being apart of online communities #i want to find other people like me #but then the object impermanence kicks in and i forget that anyone i haven't seen in the past week even exists #being mentally disabled is tiring as hell when youre also physically disabled and homebound #like bruh literally who do i talk to? #I've got three bitches because i live with them and one of them is an abusive shit #the othet doesnt care #and the other doesn't understand #anyway I'm done venting in the tags lmao #otherkin #otherkin rambles

[johannestevans]

insomniac patient awaiting transplant on a hospital ward and a nurse who regularly sits with him at night and reads to him, talks to him about his shifts, about life, about philosophy

he's a funny guy. dry, cool, collected.

wears a high-collared white shirt, has his name badge and a watch hanging from his chest, always has a pen or two in his pocket.

the first time he ever comes in, the ward is dark, and patient just sits there and stares as the nurse walks forward, leans in to read his chart.

sits down in the chair beside his bed and strokes his fingers over the spines of his books, smiles faintly. "have an affection for vintage titles, do you?" he asks.

he's pale. has heavy lids under his eyes, thin lips, lines on his brow.

are you doing rounds?" he asks, and the nurse shakes his head.

"my shift is over," he says. "Can't sleep?"

"chronic insomnia."

"recurring arrythmias aren't helping with that?"

"i suppose they're getting me closer to a heavy sleep. in a way."

it makes the nurse laugh, and he nods his head, reaches for the first book on the stack, and begins to read aloud from it - does it near well every night, after that.

he should question it, maybe, but it's lonely at night, after visiting hours, when no one drops in to see him.

---

"they say the hospital's haunted, you know," he tells him one evening.

"all hospitals are haunted, dear," the nurse tells him faintly, searching for last night's page. "we fill them with the dead and dying."

"which of us is which?"

the ghost's lips twitch.

"hush now," he orders, after checking his watch - force of habit, the patient supposes. he's never seen the hands on it move. "let's get you off to a nice, impermanent sleep."

that makes him laugh, and he settles further under his blankets as the nurse begins to read.

#musings #original fiction #writers on tumblr

[sakkiichi]

BABY BLUE.

“Tell me you will live through this and I will die for you.”

You can imagine any of your favorite characters for this, but I was specifically thinking of Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Kaeya x fem! reader.

genre/cw: very soft spice, angst to comfort, fluff, some slight aftercare.

word count: 1.4 k.

To someone I cherish, this is for you. If you ever see it, I hope it brings you some semblance of comfort on nights that feel lonely. Even if I’m asleep, I’m on the other side of the screen, dearest 🩵

The rain falls.

Your palm rests against the cold window glass, drops splattered on the other side.

Raindrops.

Looking up at them, you could feel like flying to the grey heavens; you always liked the weather better when it was gloomy.

Shades of light blue seem contained in the still free falling rain, before it shatters against the dull concrete.

You could relate to that, one amongst millions, forgotten afterwards.

Only so many loved to splash in muddy puddles, after all.

With a sigh, you pull away from the blurry glass, the imprint of your hand outlined against the indigo hues of the approaching night.

Is that all the world will have to remember you by?

Are you really that… ephemeral? Impermanent?

Unimportant? Is the word that lodges into your heart, freezing it, each beat painting in dark blue your lips that used to smile, the fingers that used to caress him, so lovingly.

Wrapping your soft blue blanket around your form, you step towards your room’s balcony, the curtains an eerie muted cyan in the dim light. Knuckles white, you pull the crystal doors open, frigid rain almost piercing when it touches your skin.

And yet, it feels peaceful, it feels good.

Perhaps you just missed hurting in ways that were not emotional, and maybe the cold drops in the night provided that.

“I knew you’d be here.” A familiar voice pulls you out of your daze.

Startled, you turn around. Your hands tremble around you, your rumpled up blanket falling off your shoulder, your yellow sweater akin to a blue sun, the water splatters over it, storm clouds. Your hair is plastered against your face, its vibrant shade, ashen in the faint moonlight through decaying skies.

Sighing, his hand wraps softly around yours.

Warm. Loving.

Not his usual chill; not his dominant or fearing for you hold; not his usual teasing; not his trembling hold in twilights when he begged you to please not go.

Permanent. Grounding.

Your lover pulls you into him, under the awning, freezing cobalt bleeding into smaller sapphires when it hits the canvas.

He doesn’t care how you’re dampening his clothes, his hair, arctic hues spreading like watercolors to his core.

Carefully, he guides you inside, the warmth of your room welcome to your shivering form.

The wet blanket is lifted from you, hung on a low chair before the balcony’s doors, the dripping water pooling in a mirrored image of the half concealed moon.

Your partner’s arms hook under your legs, cradling you close, walking towards the bed.

He lays down by your side, svelte hands slipping your ochre sweater off of you. His hands caress your hips, the skin right above your black pants, and the skin under, when slightly calloused fingers slip beneath the turquoise silk of your underwear.

His own shirt meets the same fate as your discarded sweater, both yours and his trousers following after.

Scarred hands travel up and down your sides, his gem-like eyes reflected in your dilated pupils.

Tears shine like colorless emeralds in your lash line.

You want him. You need him. So bad.

But do you deserve him?

As if he was the only one privy to your thoughts, your lover’s hand laces with yours.

His gaze is comfortably piercing, completely set on your pretty face.

A gentle squeeze, before his hand slips delicately under your sports bra, unclasping it, alice blue fabric slipping off your frame.

“Beautiful.” He breathes, his stare dilating, his hands fondling with your breasts, gently pinching your nipples. He relishes in the little moans you let out.

Even if he never liked to see you cry, you were still perfect with teal eyeshadow running down your cheeks.

“My love…” you utter, a choked out sound. You want him to go on, but you want him to find better than you too.

And yet, he doesn’t think there’s anyone better, not here, not on any of the seven nations, not in another world.

“What is it, my bunny?” He whispers, kissing down your jawline, your neck, your collarbones.

You let out a shaky sigh.

“Are you sure? That I’m the one you want to do this with?” You ask, not meeting his gaze, head lowered.

“My dearest, look at me.” His tone is mellow when he takes your chin in between his fingers, gaze haloed in night and starlight, magnetized by you. “You’re the only one I want this with, the only one I’ll ever want. Do you understand?” The shadow of a smirk crosses his perfectly sculpted features when his lips brush the shell of your ear, feeling your frame shiver at his every touch.

All you can do is nod, throbbing and wetness starting to pool in your core, shades of pink and amber merging into the blue lighting of the night when his fingers brush your hipbone.

Skilled digits prod at your needy nub, thumb circling it, pearlescent juices leaking out of you.

You were always so perfect, and right now, you’re ethereal.

Reflected moonlight paints your skin azure, the city lights fiery against your hair, splayed out around the pillows.

Lips that have smiled, smirked, bitten and brought you endless pleasure envelop yours, his tongue swirling over the rosé of your parted mouth, asking for an entrance that was and would forever remain his.

His hardened tip teases your hole, as his arms wrap around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer, two colliding meteors, so bright, the sun would never need to rise again.

He enters you, in a melody of skin against skin and moans of yours and his name mingling in a million colors in the dark.

You can feel him. Deeply. Every vein and drag of his length spreading you out, taking you higher with every kiss of his tip on your sweet spot, to a vantage point from where you can see the skies end.

“I love you…” your boyfriend groans, pushing deeper inside you, one of his hands intertwining fingers with yours, the other, firm on your hip. “I love you, my darling… I’ll repeat it until you believe it… you feel so good, archons, you’re perfect.”

With one last forceful thrust, you feel your walls clamp around him, ribbons in a myriad of bright lights you only see after the nebula you and him create, painting your walls in every little detail that constitutes him and all the sheer adoration he holds for you.

Perhaps he once was a fallen god, now wandering in search of his own identity; or a broken angel, casting everyone in light, except for himself, donning a mask, kept in the shadows; maybe he is a crafted alchemist, still wondering about what it means to be alive; he could have been a silent scribe, caring more than his hardened stare let on, always peering from behind a book or another; at times you swore he was an artist, the architect that designed your very soul. Or maybe you’ve dreamed of him as a suave knight, his heart concealed behind a wall of spiky ice.

But what never changed is that his heart was always yours, in every version of the world, in every chapter of the story you still write, in the hours you dream away.

And so, you let go.

Liquid starlight coats him in your burning desire, as his nails dig into your skin, claw-like marks in his wake.

You’re a star, him, the moon, or the sun, that will forever orbit around the shine you don’t always see. Together, you meet the zenith of more than just entangled bodies, his lips descending upon yours once again tonight, feather-like this time.

With breaths mixed and labored, he pulls out, his arms not letting go, never letting go, for the gravity of you will forever tie him to your heart; even if his is hollow, icy, corrupted, or hard and gold, the threads of your sweetness are all he needs to feel alive.

Gently, your lover pulls the covers snug around you.

Summer sky blue, he sewed them himself. Or was it just his design? You can’t recall, but they are coated in him, his scent, his goodnight kisses.

Tender fingertips brush sweaty strands of hair away from your face. ‘So that I dream of you’, are his unspoken words, before his eyes close and his lips meet the tip of your nose.

In his arms, your lashes flutter closed too, in tandem with his.

Will you find wine and warm light on the other side? Lanterns to guide your night? Perhaps vast expanses of greenery with paths to find yourself and libraries to lose yourself in. Whatever the case, you hope for clear skies.

When dawn approaches, the baby blue of your now dry blanket matches the heart shaped rays expanding in the horizon.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #kaeya x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #albedo x y/n #albedo x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #kaveh x y/n #kaveh x you #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #alhaitham smut

[technicallyeldritch]

the thing about tma that i don't get is why the fears are so comforting to me (actually i do i'm trans so let's talk about it) spoilers for newbies!

the stranger? impeccable. if no one's face is their own, why should mine be any different?

the vast? there is nothing as important as i think it is. this form is impermanent and inconsequential as each dead skin cell i do not miss

the end? when i die i will rot and be replaced with something better

the buried? i can be crushed held in the gentle weight of the earth no more feeling of flesh only pressure

the flesh? boneturner can fix my transness and also my scoliosis while he's at it

the eye? infinite knowledge, would totally know my pronouns w/out me having to say them. i am infinitely correctly gendered.

the extinction? no one can mess with me if we're all dead

the slaughter? understanding of the brutal physicality of selfhood, corporeality

the lonely? i am the only one left. i am the only one to decide who i am

#trans #tma #tmagp #tma spoilers #the magnus archives

[writing-for-life]

Hi love, how are you?

Would you like to talk a little about what Morpheus finds attractive, sexy in a woman?

opinions, theories, anything aaaaaa

Hi friend, always so lovely to see you in my inbox! And everyone else: Send me asks, too, I love them!

Oh, an ask about Dream’s sexual/romantic proclivities and his “type”—the excitement!

You could of course read my fic, then you’ll know what he wants/needs 😜

In all honesty though: I’m not in his head, so who can tell? I guess we can only go by certain hints we get in the comics and draw our own conclusions. So here come a few thoughts:

I think he has a thing for dreamers? Sounds obvious I guess, but many of the women we know he got involved with were women with strong connections to the Dreaming (Killalla, Nada, Calliope, even Thessaly), for a multitude of reasons. And having that connection is, by extension, a connection to him. If we’re getting conceptual about it: They are actually, in a way, pursuing him first (and in the case of Nada and even Killalla and Thessaly, we are basically told so in a way). Which then leads to his courting them, because they are interested in him. And I think that’s something very integral to his being: He is extremely, devastatingly lonely. He craves not being lonely. So the very fact that someone would even contemplate being interested in him, giving him their time of day (or night), would probably already mean a lot to him.

I think we can also see a pattern for women who are fairly strong-willed and speak their mind. Whether he always likes that is a different question, but Titania, Alianora, Nada, Calliope, Thessaly are all prone to talk back and not take shit.

I’ll leave the whole Desire-involvement out of the equation because that skews things. He tries to avoid D/desire because of the sibling-conflict yet definitely feels it. So I neither subscribe to the theory that he’s asexual nor aromantic (some corners of the fandom think he is, fair enough). Especially not aromantic. That’s a contradiction in terms. He’s Dream. Dreaming is idealised and unreal. In love, that’s the very definition of romance—having pink goggles on and aspiring to something that’s not grounded in reality (one of the reasons his relationships ultimately all fail).

So I think he’s prone to romantic gestures (we know that from especially Calliope) and would probably also appreciate them from his lover? That also means: If you want to keep it going, there’d probably always need to be something that keeps him interested. Questioning even (but not in the way like with Thessaly, because she completely removed herself). By definition of his being the unreal, reality setting in is the very thing that makes it all come crashing down. Push/pull, back and forth is probably something he secretly likes? It wouldn’t surprise me if he enjoys a certain amount of drama—again, not the type that makes it all come crashing down, but just enough to keep him on his toes and wondering. Just enough to keep the illusion of impermanence and striving for the impossible going, but not so much that it really turns into an issue. And that’s exactly the problem, because that sounds like a fairly tricky line to walk if you ask me. And exhausting 🤣

Now to the more speculative side:

I think he desperately needs someone who removes the proverbial stick from his arse. He needs to learn to laugh again (if he ever did so in the first place). With others and at himself. I spent a lot of time in my fic to build on that. Ultimately, I think he needs to feel safe enough to let his guard down completely with someone, and I honestly don’t think he ever experienced that with any of his lovers. And for that, he needs to be able to trust. Could be via shared experience of sorts, but I think most of all, he needs someone who truly listens and doesn’t try to change him. Because he is D/dream. Being perpetually strange and prone to be misunderstood is the essence of his being, and he needs someone who is comfortable enough with that fact. So weirdly enough, I think he would change if people stopped trying to make him change, if that makes any sense? He needs acceptance, not blunt or subtle force. I guess you can give dreams the space to change and grow, or you can try to control them—and the latter just doesn’t work. We also see that with him—his rigid sense of control is ultimately his downfall, not what truly helps him. And I think that extends to everything he is, including his relationships.

As for what he likes in terms of bedroom shenanigans (and the purely speculative, but obviously what Tumblr seems to be most interested in 🤣): In my mind, he’s the ultimate switch, if you will. He’ll get a kick out of everything that turns you on, because he is D/dream, and I think it is his very essence to also be that for sex dreams (we don’t need to talk about Calliope’s inappropriate speech at the Wake in this context 🙈).

BUT, and I think that’s an important one: Maybe, just maybe, he needs something that is just for him? Giving in to his own desires (there’s that messed up sibling relationship again). Giving himself permission to do that by being given permission. Be very afraid of my sequel… 🤣 No, that sounds all wrong because my sequel is really not about that alone and will be reliably sad and heavy in parts, like the first one, but I wouldn’t be a romance writer if I didn’t explore relationship dynamics through sex. Because sex is never just about sex 😉

@morpheusbaby3 ask answered

#the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #sandman meta #sandman character analysis #sandman analysis #asks always open #asks answered

[grain-my-beloved]

If we're gonna get all Analytical about it the base burning thing. Grian absolutely made those bases to be impermanent structures. He burned them down at the end of each episode because he hated them so deeply they made him wanna tear his skin out, not because there was anything wrong with them, but because he was lonely. It doesn't Matter if he lives in a winding enigma or in a soft nest, if silence still haunts both. So he'd build, and he'd look upon the temporary structures, and he'd burn them down as substitute for the warmth usually filled by companionship, and he promises the next time he builds, it'll be permanent. But every time he builds with wood; kindling for a forest fire or for a hearth (depends on how you look at it). Until he's offered a home with people beside him. He sets another fire, he salts the earth, he leaves, and the next time he builds- with Cleo and Etho beside him- it's out of cobblestone, not wood.

#grian #trafficblr #slsmp #traffic smp #traffic series

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Undoing

Chapter 3: Undoing

Chapter 2: Frontiers

Chapter 1: Backstory

Chapter 4: Casting

Chapter 5: Continuing

Chapter 6: Ergonomics

Chapter 7: Facts

Chapter 8: Gods

Chapter 9: Oneiric

Chapter 10: Replaying

Chapter 11: Storing

Chapter 12: Subsumption

Chapter 13: Transfer

Chapter 14: Transience

Chapter 15: Unlearning

Chapter 16: Velocity

Chapter 17: Vietnam

Chapter 18: Vilification

Chapter 19: While you were gone

Chapter 20: Xitalis

Chapter 21: Zooming

Chapter 22: Treatment plan

Chapter 23: What was it?

Chapter 24: Planning

Chapter 25: Acceptance

Chapter 26: Simple

Chapter 27: Editing

Chapter 28: Siphon

Chapter 29: Evening

Chapter 30: Universes

Chapter 31: Belief

Chapter 32: Meeting

Chapter 33: Molly

Chapter 34: The best of times

Chapter 35: Is that why?

Chapter 36: Sport

Chapter 37: Starlight

Chapter 38: Effects

Chapter 39: Girlbossification

Chapter 40: Status

Chapter 41: Fearful symmetry

Chapter 42: Reference

Chapter 43: Venom

Chapter 44: Letting go

Chapter 45: Sincerity

Chapter 46: Megido

Chapter 47: Mockery

Chapter 48: Freezing

Chapter 49: Ring

Chapter 50: New

Chapter 51: Discovering

Chapter 52: Destroying

Chapter 53: Conquest

Chapter 54: Liberation

Chapter 55: Seclusion

Chapter 56: Swelling

Chapter 57: Shaking

Chapter 58: Considerations

Chapter 59: Magick

Chapter 60: Dog

Chapter 61: Goncharov

Chapter 62: Lonely

Chapter 63: Hobbits

Chapter 64: Giving up

Chapter 65: Water

Chapter 66: Drops

Chapter 67: Depths

Chapter 68: Improvising

Chapter 69: Quid pro quo

Chapter 70: Hurting

Chapter 71: Anticipating

Chapter 72: Cavity

Chapter 73: Bypassing

Chapter 74: Building

Chapter 75: Assembly

Chapter 76: Nocturne

Chapter 77: Disappearing

Chapter 78: Memory

Chapter 79: Extinguishing

Chapter 80: Approaching

Chapter 81: Interpreting

Chapter 82: Target

Chapter 83: Numbers

Chapter 84: Late

Chapter 85: Safety

Chapter 86: Measures

Chapter 87: Worlds

Chapter 88: Granting

Chapter 89: Jumping

Chapter 90: Fleeing

Chapter 91: Discerning

Chapter 92: Now

Chapter 93: Ultimate

Chapter 94: Brackets

Chapter 95: Instructions

Chapter 96: Severing

Chapter 97: Dire

Chapter 98: Bodies

Chapter 99: Heal

Chapter 100: Consciousness

Chapter 101: Cyclical

Chapter 102: Heaven

Chapter 103: Species

Chapter 104: Empires

Chapter 105: Light

Chapter 106: Waterfront

Chapter 107: Impermanence

Chapter 108: Consummation

Chapter 109: Salving

Chapter 110: Unlimited

Chapter 111: Mediating

Chapter 112: Unity

Chapter 113: Space

Chapter 114: Birds

Chapter 115: Stars

Chapter 116: Telepathy

Chapter 117: Dawn

Chapter 118: Vortex

Chapter 119: Passages

Chapter 120: Defending

Chapter 121: Averting

Chapter 122: Control

Chapter 123: Stars

Chapter 124: Inhabiting

Chapter 125: Stars

Chapter 126: Spoons

Chapter 127: Stars

Chapter 128: Room

Chapter 129: Angels

Chapter 130: Shining

Chapter 131: Offerings

Chapter 132: Rhythm

Chapter 133: Overcoming

Chapter 134: Stars

Chapter 135: Patriarchy

Chapter 136: Rage

Chapter 137: Myopia

Chapter 138: Devouring

Chapter 139: Void

Chapter 140: Juggernaut

Chapter 141: Slumber

Chapter 142: Growing

Chapter 143: Flight

Chapter 144: Showing

Chapter 145: Mutation

Chapter 146: Revolution

Chapter 147: Customization

Chapter 148: Introspection

Chapter 149: Mandates

Chapter 150: Carnival

Chapter 151: Credulous

Chapter 152: Snack

Chapter 153: Earth

Chapter 154: Liberty

Chapter 155: Arete

Chapter 156: Instruction

Chapter 157: Allowing

Chapter 158: Memories

Chapter 159: Traveling

Chapter 160: Binding

Chapter 161: Outside

Chapter 162: Returning

Chapter 163: Birds

Chapter 164: Cabin

Chapter 165: Starlight

Chapter 166: Heat

Chapter 167: Service

Chapter 168: Severing

Chapter 169: Woods

Chapter 170: Siding

Chapter 171: Flowing

Chapter 172: Unreasonable

Chapter 173: Golden

Chapter 174: Unfolding

Chapter 175: Holding

Chapter 176: Sloth

Chapter 177: Wind

Chapter 178: Quarantining

Chapter 179: Awakenings

Chapter 180: Errors

Chapter 181: Motors

Chapter 182: Geometry

Chapter 183: Subsumption

Chapter 184: Crossroads

Chapter 185: Release

Chapter 186: Explaining

Chapter 187: Retrofit

Chapter 188: Returning

Chapter 189: Molly

Chapter 190: Haunted

Chapter 191: Bestowal

Chapter 192: Chances

Chapter 193: Firsts

Chapter 194: Margin

Chapter 195: Thy Kingdom Come

Chapter 196: Harbor

Chapter 197: Crisis

Chapter 198: Searching

Chapter

[attystark]

OK but, TMA entity inspired theme park divided into different sections based on the entities.

If you enter from the main guests, you’ll first see the Eye, which has a dark ride inspired by Jonah Magnus’s house, and a museum of oddities where visitors can give statements.

The Lonely has a forest garden, so big that you could walk for hours and see only your reflection on the lake.

On the opposite side of the lake, every night, the Desolation hosts a firework show that ends in an illusion of setting the lake on fire, and a coaster through the forest as you flee a blaze. 

Cutting through the middle of the park, split into two halves, is the Food Corridor. 

The front half is both a parent’s dream and their nightmare, themed to the corruption, it’s all unhealthy sweets, doughnuts and the kind of dubious cafe food that makes you wonder if it’s made of plastic, but there’s also loads of stuff about learning about bugs, like a butterfly garden, and a kids coaster called “Moths Flight.” 

The second is themed to the Flesh. It sells a lot of meat products (obviously) and is probably sponsored by KFC. There’s probably a few carnival games themed to the bone gardens and stuff, as well as a dark ride about the human body and a shop offering piercings, those plastic body halloween props and bone flower models. 

The Hunt and Slaughter share a section, and it definitely attracts a lot of thrill seekers. There’s loads of coasters including one of those duel ones so you’re trying to catch/escape the other track called “beasts” and a kid’s playground with mass games of laser tag, hide and seek and manhunt overseen by staff members. 

The Dark and End’s section tends to blend together, featuring a space mountain style ride for the dark, a graveyard dance 4D experience that sells fake death certificates from the End, and special shows on Eclipses. The Dark also has a shooter where you ‘turn off’ the stars. 

The Stranger’s section is split across the food corridor, with the small section being more adult. There’s a coaster where the idea is you’re running from a killer clown, and year round 16+ horror maze with a similar premise. The other section is for kids. There’s a two story carousel, a massive circus, a wax museum and a few kid’s coasters. It probably also has a bounce house. 

The Vast and Buried are next to each other. On the overlap between the two opposed entities is a dive coaster similar to Alton Towers’ Oblivion, where riders plunge from a vertical drop into an underground section, though both sections last longer than AT’s one. 

The Vast has a massive aquarium, one of those spinning swing rides, a log flume and a drop tower. 

The Buried has a mine train that really goes underground, a massive sandpit just called ‘DIG’ and a zoo exhibit with mongoose or meerkats where you can walk through the underground part of the exhibit and see the tunnels they did in a large, clear tunnel. 

The Web is one of the smaller sections, with only a puppet show that runs twice an hour for twenty minutes, hosted in a theatre that looks like a run down old house on the top of a hill. In the same building is ARACHNID ENCOUNTER, a shooter ride where you shoot spiders. 

The Spiral has a maze and hall of mirrors, as well as a downward corkscrew coaster just called ‘spiral’ and some other carnival rides designed to be just vomit inducing. 

The smallest section of the park is fenced off, but promises to ‘TORMENT YOU SOON’ and is rumoured to be extinction themed. No one knows much about planned attractions, just the titles: one called meteor people think will be a family coaster and an experience called ‘After Us’ sponsored by the Lukas Corporation. 

At the center of the park, flanked by a hotel, is Smirke Square. It hosts a market, impermanent carnival rides, and a large stage. On this stage, every morning at 6 hotel guests can watch the park be opened to a ritual, and every evening at 10 anyone can watch the closing ceremony of a counter ritual that shuts the park down for another day. 

#TMA #the Magnus Archives #The Eye #The Web #The Lonely #the desolation #the flesh #the spiral #The Stranger #the corruption #the dark #the end #the vast #the buried #the extinction #the hunt #the slaughter #Magpod

[oh-katsuki]

masterlist | kinktober | ao3

< prev | next >

Pairing: Tendou x Reader

Series Summary: A haunting was not included in the lease agreement.

Chapter Title: Cohabitation

Chapter Summary: You begin to come to terms with having a local haunt living in your apartment and disrupting your antique store dream, developing an unlikely and, albeit, odd friendship. Still, it’s just platonic... right? 

“If you look at him close enough, you’ll notice that you can almost see through him. It’s like Tendou is made of thick, richly dyed, stained glass. He warps the space around him in a way that is barely noticeable, the back wall visible and distorted behind his chest and head. You’d never noticed it before, that glass-like quality that Tendou has. It makes him look fragile and somewhat impermanent. His distance from you, you feel, measures leagues further when you see him in this light. He frays at the edges, like he’s fading in and out of the space, and light never seems to hit him directly. “

Chapter Content Warnings: afab reader, gn pronouns, implications of creepy behavior, slightly creepy behavior (he’s just a lonely guy), wet dreams / suggestive dreams, implied somnophilia (but not actually, they’re just dreams), fingering, lost orgasm, teasing, edging, sexual tension (<3), nothing is unwanted, aspiring monsterfucker

Word Count: 8k

A/N: waaahhh part 2 already!!!!!!!!! i considered pushing the release for this back a little bit since my life has been kinda shit shit garbage as of late (rly just the past few days but i have truly aged a millennia), but i ultimately decided not to because it is already finished. i got kinda funny? with this? the mystery of tendou just keeps raveling itself tighter and yk what? it’s REALLY NOT ON PURPOSE! alright, anyway, i hope you enjoy this second chapter!! happy kinktober <3

The shop has fallen completely silent. That silver clock, which normally brings a comfortable, metronome-like sound to the space, has gone quiet. You’re left with the sound of cars passing outside, bustling through the street completely unaware of what is happening behind the yellow-stone facade of this Parisian street corner. Though you can’t help but think that this shop swallows everything else. When you’re here, there is only the store. There is only the spiced smell of chocolate, only the antiques on your shelves. Everyone else, simply wanders in by chance. The outside world stays just that, outside.

Your fingers tremble around the little glass elephant and you swear that if you were to grip it any harder, it would shatter in your hand. You can feel the sensation of eyes on you and a familiar panic rises to your throat as you hold the object in your hand.

You’re still facing the shelf you checked behind, staring with wide eyes where the cherry wood meets the wall, too afraid to turn around and look to see if your house guest is present. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest and you wonder briefly if the clock has actually stopped or if you just can’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in your skull. Your face is warm and your fingers are cold, clutching that little ceramic object as if it were a protective talisman.

“Guess I forgot that again, huh?” A voice comes from behind you, somewhat disembodied, as if it were coming faintly from the walls itself. You wonder why you’d never noticed that before. It sounds like it’s hollow.

You turn around, still crouched, now holding the object to your chest. Tendou is behind you a little ways away, standing behind one of the sitting chairs on the other side of the room. He’s not really near you, but he startles you nonetheless and you find your expression twisting downward against your will.

“Did you?” You squeak, voice barely above a whisper. Tendou raises his eyebrows a little, like he hadn’t expected a response before a small grin slides across his face.

What are you supposed to say in this situation? How are you supposed to approach whatever is currently happening?

Tendou watches you for a moment, his indiscriminate gaze moving between your face and the elephant wrapped in your fingers. Then, his shoulders deflate a little and he gives a defeated smile towards the ground. You watch as he chuckles to himself a little, like something is funny, before he looks up and gives you a bit of a smile through his lashes.

“Figured it out?” You look at the way his eyes curve back into his skull, tilting your head a little as you stand up.

You just stare at him, eyes wide. You can’t figure out what else to say. Your mouth won’t open around the syllables. Tendou spares you from commenting.

“Look, I didn’t mean to disturb you or freak you out. I’m just kind of… here. Don’t know how. Figured I wouldn’t fight it.”

You raise your eyebrows, moving your hands into a shrug before disbelief takes over you entirely.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

Tendou shakes his head a little, like he’s shocked to hear you raise your voice, before returning your expression. He cranes his neck forward a little, deepening his perpetual slouch and then motions to himself and around him.

“Exactly what it sounds like?”

“You’re just… here…? Sat- Tendou, that’s fucking weird.” You clutch the trinket, nerves beginning to calm as you try to wrap your mind around the situation. “That is so fucking weird. This is so fucking weird.”

“It’s not my fault,” he shrugs cooly, raising his shoulders and his palms upwards towards the orange wood ceiling.

“Not your-” you whip your head around to look at him, “Not your fault?”

“Well… no?” He smirks a little. “You think I want to be here?”

Then, you begin to laugh. It’s dry, coming from the back of your throat and your head rather than your stomach. You feel the way it forces your tongue to go rigid and you lean back on your foot as it comes, leaning into whatever absurd feeling swells in your stomach.

Tendou says your name and steps forward, eyebrows pulled together and upwards. “Are you o-”

“Don’t come near me?! What’s wrong with you?!” You hold the trinket out toward him like it’s a sword, not quite angry but moreso in disbelief that he would think to take a step towards you. “I am so fuckin’ scared right now. Do not come near me.”

“Woah, jeez… fine.” He tucks his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight back.

You almost feel a little bad for being mean to him, sidestepping until you reach the chair in front of you before sitting down in it. Your eyes remain fixed on Tendou, watching in case he decides to lunge at you in an early 2000s… ghost-caught-on-camera… youtube video-esque fashion. He doesn’t move though, instead just sort of hovering on the opposite end of the room, peering at the books and occasionally looking over at you.

You lean your head up towards the ceiling, thinking to yourself that if he’s going to get up in your face, he might as well do it now. The ceiling is dark, barely illuminated by two light fixtures that you think are done in the art deco fashion. It’s weird that those are in Paris, but you don’t think too much about it, staring at their orange-yellow glow until your eyes hurt.

After a moment of silence, Tendou speaks up.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, y-”

“Don’t talk,” you interrupt. “Just… don’t say anything right now.”

You can practically picture the way Tendou purses his lips, hearing him kiss his teeth.

Think logically. Think logically about this. Wait no- why the fuck are you even hearing him out? You should be heading to the store to go buy sage and salt and maybe call a priest while you’re at it. You should be trying to think of every humanly possible way to get him out of your apartment and your shop. Instead, you’re staring at the ceiling while he stands on the other side of the room, arms thrown over either side, with a ceramic elephant clutched in one hand.

“So you’re…” you swallow the words, groaning. It is borderline embarrassing to say this out loud, cliche even. “You’re like… dead?”

“Like dead? I am dead.” You can hear his grin.

“Ha ha… what the fuck.”

While you sit, you notice that the downstairs ceiling is the stark opposite of the one upstairs. While the upstairs is equipped with a white-painted ceiling, this one is the same orange wood as the floors. You tilt your head a little, falling quiet while you think about it. Thinking about the ceiling is easier than thinking about… this.

“Why couldn’t you just…” you sigh, cheeks heating when you remember the fact that you liked him. That you flirted with him.

“Just what?”

You sit up in the chair, narrowing your eyes as you take in his stance. Tendou’s got his hands in his pockets still and he leans his weight forward like he’s eager to hear what you have to say.

“Nevermind,” you groan.

“No, what? Tell me,” he insists.

You open one eye to peer at him before running a hand down your face, letting a loud groan string from your lips.

“Why couldn’t you just like.. be normal? Why did you have to like… you know…?”

Tendou’s lips curl up in the corners, exposing his even row of front teeth. They’re straight and white, stark against the somewhat swallow complexion of his skin, and his front teeth are a little longer than his others. He tilts his head, looking up at you through his lashes despite his enormous height.

“Why did I have to… what?” He asks, clearly teasing.

You stare at him for a second before you feel heat rush to your cheeks. It’s like all of the blood in your body rushes to your head and lower stomach, unable to push the words past your lips. Why did you have to flirt with me? That’s what you want to ask. He doesn’t seem like the type to trivialize that, nor does he seem like the type to toy with girls. You think that while Tendou might enjoy a good game, he’s not an all-around bad guy… or ghost.

You swipe your tongue across your teeth before you cross your arms over your chest, feeling the weight of his sly grin and gaze, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m going upstairs,” you state, turning towards the dark stairwell to your right.

When you reach the entrance to it, that familiar fear creeps back in. It had subsided due to the absurdity and (honestly) rather disappointing lack of anything besides a conversation happening. You turn, somewhat sheepishly, over your shoulder.

“You can come up but don’t uhm… don’t follow behind me on the stairs,” you say, relenting a little bit with your snarky attitude. “I’m still uhm, I’m still scared.”

Tendou’s smile softens a little and he tilts his head to the side, nodding once and speaking a quiet okay. You watch for a second, cautious to turn your back on him, beginning up the stairs while still trying to keep him in your line of vision.

It’s difficult to describe the particular type of fear you feel once he disappears from sight. You don’t feel threatened but you do feel like you’re 14 again, fighting the urge to sprint up the basement stairs from some unearthly ghoul intent on following you.

You walk into the apartment upstairs, half expecting him to already be there. You’re shocked to find that he’s not and that sunlight pours into the room from the window to the left. You had expected your apartment to darken considerably after this discovery but instead, it still retains a somewhat airy feeling, well-lit and breathable.

You move across the room before sitting cautiously on the couch facing the front door. It feels odd for a moment as you try to get comfortable, trying to somehow will your nerves into submission as if they respond to your every command.

“Okay!” You call, voice shaking a little. “You can come up now!”

Tendou doesn’t make a sound when he rounds the corner and enters your apartment. His footsteps are silent, save for the occasional ghostly groan of the floorboards, and he lumbers lightly from side to side as if he were a little bit off of his axis. When he meets your eyes, he smiles a little and carefully moves to the center of the room where he sits on the floor a good ways away from you.

He keeps his fingers folded in his lap, pointers hooked around each other. Tendou’s shoulders are slouched, his neck craned slightly so that he can look at you. He shifts a little on his hips and the floor gives an eerie, ghostly creek not unlike the ones you’ve been hearing for quite some time. You take a breath in.

“Can I talk now?” He asks first, corners curling into a smile.

You nod, swallowing thick. Part of you wants to say something, but you’re not sure what there is to say. You figure that if anyone has had time to think about what would be said, it’s Tendou.

“I’m sorry… for not keeping my distance,” he starts, hands wrapping around his ankles. “Up until recently, no one’s ever spoken directly to me. Well, not since I died.”

You furrow your brows, listening. You’re the first person to see him? That doesn’t make much sense and your expression gives away your doubt, nose scrunching and brows pulling together.

“I know that sounds like a load of bullcrap but I’m being serious. When you first came down that day and spoke to me… I had no idea you could actually see me. Most people just walk right through me. Shit’s weird.” He rolls his shoulders back like thinking about the amount of times it’s happened makes his skin crawl. Then, he smiles a little. “I was surprised. No one could see me and then suddenly, you’re looking right at me.” He rolls his head to the side a little, a charming smile overtaking his features. “I panicked.”

You nod a little, trying to wrap your head around the conversation you’re having.

“Then why did you keep coming back?” You question.

Tendou laughs a little. “It’s not like I can leave.” He glances at the floor beneath him, finger tracing where two boards meet. “I think I’m stuck here. Not that it’s a bad thing. If I try to walk out of the door, I just end up back in the shop.”

“So… when I can’t see you you’re just…” you trail off, unsure of how to pose the question. So when I can’t see you, you’re just… around? Watching?

“Not quite,” he inhales, or, he goes through the motion of inhaling, “sometimes it’s like I’m dreaming. Everything gets hazy and I just kind of go through the motions that I think I used to do. Sometimes it’s like I’m invisible and separated from everything by a thin layer of plastic. And other times, it’s like I don’t exist. I’m somewhere and then I’m nowhere and then I’m somewhere again sometime later.”

Tendou laughs off the statement, seemingly reluctant to get into the specifics of his current existence between life and death. You don’t blame him. You imagine that it must be quite jarring to exist that way, not quite here but not quite there.

“Are you still scared?” He asks, tilting his head up.

“Yeah,” you answer honestly, laughing a little.

It’s true. You are still afraid. Who wouldn’t be? But with each passing moment, you feel those fight or flight hormones recede, leaving you in the shaky aftermath. After all, he looks harmless.

Tendou spends the next hour talking to you. He tells you about what he knows and what he doesn’t. You find that Tendou is less giving with details than you would imagine, occasionally adopting a somewhat forlorn expression as he avoids certain topics. You don’t pry, content to just listen to what he has to say.

You watch him while he talks, listening as he recounts that he used to be a chocolatier, that he doesn’t know when exactly he died or how long he’s been dead. He tells you that one day he was alive and the next, he wasn’t. Tendou laughs when he recounts the day he first realized it. He had gone to sleep one night in his bed and woken up in the middle of the living room, surrounded by unfamiliar furniture. When he went downstairs, he found that the shop (which once served as his chocolate store), had been transformed into a kitchen goods store. Satori closes his eyes when he tells you about how many times he’d tried to leave the building, smiling through it all.

You think that he must be putting on a brave face, but he doesn’t seem upset about it. He laughs like it’s an old memory and you find his acceptance at death to be a little comforting, if not sad.

Tendou talks with his body. He moves his fingers and his facial expressions punctuate his sentences better than his tone. You find yourself looking at his skin. It has a swallow quality to it, like it is somehow deprived of the air around him. You’d never noticed it before, save for the occasions in which you feel like you’re wrapped in blue cellophane when you’re around him.

You watch the way his mouth forms around syllables, heavy in his mouth and rolling off of his tongue in an easy and rounded way. His lips are a pale pink, tinted a soft blue like he’s cold and his cheeks are somewhat sunken, though you wouldn’t consider that concerning. You can see where deep undereye bags rest in a purple-gray hue below his eyes. You think they make the auburn of his irises pop, somehow contributing to his overall sleepy look.

If you look at him close enough, you’ll notice that you can almost see through him. It’s like Tendou is made of thick, richly dyed, stained glass. He warps the space around him in a way that is barely noticeable, the back wall visible and distorted behind his chest and head. You’d never noticed it before, that glass-like quality that Tendou has. It makes him look fragile and somewhat impermanent. His distance from you, you feel, measures leagues further when you see him in this light. He frays at the edges, like he’s fading in and out of the space, and light never seems to hit him directly.

As you talk, you find that Satori is a lot like you. He doesn’t know much, instead rolling with the punches (of which, you happen to be one) and taking things day by day. He doesn’t overthink his existence too much, nor does he dwell on what can’t be changed. You admire that about him, finding yourself relating to him more and more.

There’s a moment during your conversation in which you realize that your fear has subsided, replaced by an indescribable sense of relief. It’s not overwhelming, nor is it particularly weak. You’re simply aware of it. You fight the heat rising to your cheeks when you realize that it’s because you’d been hoping for the irrational solution rather than the likely one. To break the tension and this growing sense of excitement within you, you speak. Tendou falls silent quickly after, content to let you talk if it makes you feel better.

“So you’re stuck here?”

Tendou nods.

“Should I call a priest?”

He laughs, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his cheek on top of them. Tendou watches you through low-lidded eyes and his smile, coy and knowing, makes them pinch in the corners.

“Hmm, I dunno about that,” Tendou smiles. “I’m not quite ready to find out what comes next. Besides, this was my home first.”

That sentence shocks you a little. This was his home first. You let it sink in a little bit, allowing the words to imprint themselves on your psyche. You consider them and what it must be like to feel like an intruder in a place you consider home. Tendou watches as you do, peering up at you like he’s reading your thoughts.

After a moment of silence, you heave a sigh.

“Alright. You can stay,” you stand from the couch, slapping your thighs with your open palms before pointing down at him on the floor. “But don’t be fuckin’ weird.”

“Haha, so considerate.” Tendou laughs. You find it to be considerably warmer than that of a ghost.

—

Tendou is a respectful houseguest, you think. He’s not always around, sometimes disappearing for days or weeks at a time, but the apartment and shop still maintain an eerie feel to them. You notice that syrupy feeling Tendou brings with him more often now. It coats your hallways and floors, leaving you slow and sleepy in the early mornings and late evenings when the sun casts bright orange shadows across your room.

You thought you’d be uncomfortable with the prospect of a haunting. You always imagined that if it were you, you’d react the way any sane person would and call a priest. Instead, you’ve gotten to the root of your “problem” and find that you’re quite comfortable with the result, if not excited. You’ve grown rather comfortable with your silver clock being silent most of the time, the second hand pausing in it’s ever-constant turn.

Still, there is an underlying layer of fear and intrusion. You think it’s attributed to being watched, to having a near-constant voyeur of your everyday activities. If you think too hard about your new roommate, the hair on the back of your neck stands, making the back of your neck hum with nerves.

What makes it worse is that the dreams continue. You dream about him almost constantly. In your mind, he approaches your bed with an even step, hands at his sides until they reach out to touch you. His skin, ghostly pale and glowing in the dark of the room, glides up your stomach and chest, hands splayed over your waist as he grips it.

They always feel like velvet, like a cross-section between sleep and waking hours. You feel the way his hands move up your abdomen, clutching your breasts and pressing them to your chest with greedy hands. He rolls his fingers across the fat there, dragging them down your belly and letting the skin catch and move with him until it bounces back up into place when he loses his grip.

In these dreams, Tendou never speaks, which you think is unusual for him. He’s always silent, admiring your form with hungry eyes as he runs long, spindly fingers up and down your stomach, raising goosebumps across your arms, thighs, and chest. He soothes them quickly with his fingers, ghosting over the raised skin with a featherlight touch until he comes to the place that you need him most, called by your desire and the knot winding in your stomach.

When you wake, you are always needy. You always find yourself glancing around, cheeks hot with embarrassment out of fear that he’s managed to materialize at the worst moment. Still, the only feeling that remains is that of someone just leaving the room. The shell of someone and the smell of warm, spiced chocolate wafting through the floorboards again.

It’s wrong, you think, to be so close to someone like Satori. You imagine that this friendship is taboo and somewhat strange, but you’re content to be called insane if it means you get to be around him.

Tendou is cheeky. Cheekier than you originally imagined him to be and still, despite the plane of existence gap, he flirts. Satori flirts with you like it’s a game, smiling with his upper teeth and a particularly mischievous glimmer in his eye. It’s like he knows what he’s doing, making calculated comments that he’s learned will get your heart racing.

It should be irritating. It should make your blood boil. Instead, you accept it with hot cheeks and a somewhat awkward reply. Flirting was easier when you thought he was human. It was easier to imagine it as harmless fun, toying with your perfect stranger whenever he visited. Now, it feels like it has a bit more weight behind it.

The tension is almost palpable. It sits on the back of your tongue when you speak to him sometimes, making your words sound clumsy and thick. You can almost taste it, that heavy-handed desire that swells within you like someone wading in water. It pulls and pushes in your gut, swirling until you think you might keel over and get sick.

Tendou however, is patient. He doesn’t pry, nor does he press you for an answer to his often teasing remarks. It seems that he’s somewhat hesitant too, though you can’t imagine that he has much to lose in his current predicament. What are you gonna do? Kill him?

If you could visualize your conversations with him, it would be like someone pausing to let you tie your shoe. He waits until you’ve thought of a response and backs off when you seem like you’re in over your head (which is, arguably, all the time). That’s not to say he doesn’t play with you like food though. Tendou seems like he wants to eat you up.

Still, despite the tension and the undeniable flirtatious undertones he takes with you, you gradually become somewhat close. You and your friendly neighborhood poltergeist… best friends forever. It’s like having a live-in, unpredictable, slightly irritating roommate. Sometimes, you almost forget that he’s not human. Other times, you’re painstakingly aware of it and swallow down desire like it is a medicine.

—

You sit on your bed with him, a few inches apart with one arm behind you and the other between you both. You watch the ceiling paint with him, eyes following the chipping paint in its nonsensical and frayed pattern. Secretly, you hope that you will get to see it curl further. You watch it praying that time will take its toll the moment you look at it.

Tendou is reclined beside you, his head level with yours and his legs bent half over the bed. His arms, long and lean, are tucked beneath his medium-length red hair and if you glance to the side, you’re able to see the upturned curve of his small, somewhat pointed nose.

Normally, you choose to stay away from sensitive topics. Despite your newfound closeness, you’re not so eager to get into conversations about life and death, though it seems that Satori would be willing to share. Today, however, you’re feeling undeniably curious, egged on by the warmth you’re imagining to emanate from him and the proximity of his body to yours.

“Do you miss anything?” You blurt out, silence scattering from the room and into the cracks in the crown molding.

Tendou glances sideways at you without turning his head. Instead, you turn to face him, curling onto one side with your legs bent at the knee.

“What do you mean?” He laughs a little and you watch the smile curl at the corner of his mouth, pulling out and then upwards to give you a flash of a sharp canine. He turns his focus back up to the ceiling.

“Like… being dead. Do you miss anything?” You clarify.

Tendou hums inquisitively. It comes from the back of his throat, from his belly where joy and fear and anger live. You listen, breathing quietly beside him.

It takes Tendou a moment to consider and while he does, you admire his side profile. His nose, his heavy creased eyes and the strong curve of them, the way his lips curl slightly in the corners. You note his thin upper lip as well as the full roundness of his bottom in comparison.

Your eyes find his cheeks, the even tone of pale skin there, dotted with freckles or scars— you don’t know which. His eyebags, which sit heavy beneath his lower lash line and the spot just above them where it’s puffy and protruding a little. All of his imperfections, you think, seem to make him prettier. They serve to give him a quality that only Tendou has.

After a moment (which feels far longer to you), Tendou turns his head towards you. He cranes his neck, the back of his head rolling along the forearm tucked behind it. It brings his face only a few inches from yours and, from where he’s laying, he has to look down a little to see you. Then, he gives you a knowing smile, glancing down at your mouth and the space just above your upper lip.

“Yeah… a few things,” he says, voice measured.

It has an upward lilt, clearly teasing and all-too-insinuating. You stare for a moment, enamored by the way he talks to you, by the way he looks, by the way heavy, meaning-laced syllables drip from his lips so easily. He feels so real to you. Tendou is so tangible when he’s this close to you, like physical proximity makes him more solid. It’s like you could just melt and become part of him, pulled by that syrupy gravitational pull. You want to taste it. Then, you’re brought back to your senses, head snapping to the side as you return your attention to the ceiling above you.

You fight the heat on your cheeks, inhaling and puffing out an exhale. Tendou looks at your profile for a moment before you hear him roll his head back so that he mirrors you.

“Like what?” You gather your courage, a bit alarmed at the way desire pools in your belly.

“My friends,” Tendou answers cooly.

You turn your head towards him again, catching the way his voice pulls down into a more melancholic place, and furrow your brows.

“Your friends?” If you’re honest, you’d never really considered it.

“Mhm. I had a lot of really great friends,” he says, smiling softly up at the ceiling. “I think that… if I were to miss anything… it would have to be them.”

“What were they like?”

Tendou laughs. “I can hardly remember now but I remember that they were good and that we got along. They accepted me, y’know?”

You nod, reminding yourself that Tendou was a person before he was a ghost. He had a life, he went to the movies, probably played a sport, and had regular visitors and people he talked on the phone with. What a weird thought.

“And sex,” he adds, his smile bleeding across his features. He doesn’t spare you a glance, instead, his expression reads that he’s so certain of the face you’re making that he doesn’t even have to look.

Your cheeks heat and you roll your eyes, sitting up and standing from the bed.

“Okay, Casper. That’s enough.”

“What?” He laughs, standing when you do and raising his hands defensively. “It’s true!”

You nod, fighting the urge to laugh as he tucks his hands in his pockets and looks down at you.

“Yeah okay, whatever. Go sit in the living room. I need to shower.”

“No invite?” He chides, raising one thin eyebrow.

“You don’t even pay rent,” you deadpan and Tendou nods lightly.

“That’s fair. Enjoy your shower.”

Then, he turns on his heel and walks out of your bedroom door. You close it behind him with a soft click, the door handle jiggling slightly as it slips into place.

You turn on the shower water before you let yourself start thinking. It hits the yellowed tiles in soft drops, pittering across it before it swirls down the drain and you watch it for a moment before disrobing and getting in.

It’s warm, falling across your shoulders and head as you tip your chin down and lean your hands against the shower wall.

You think about how close he was to you only a moment ago. You think about the desire that’s been pooling in your stomach since you first met him in the shop, hunched over his own figure as he commented on the niceness of your store. The curve of his cheek and lips haunts you the same way Tendou himself does.

You think about how he’d looked at you, the way his eyes slinked down to your lips, following the line and curve of them before moving back up to your eyes. It hits you that you want him. You want him more than you think you’ve wanted anyone before.

And sex.

You can hear the way he said those words clearly in your mind. It replays, his familiar and cat-like cadence on a loop in your mind. You can’t help but imagine his experience. Have his fingers been inside of someone else? They must have. He must have experience, with that much confidence. It sends you loopy, turns your blood to syrup and honeys your mind.

There’s an insatiable and unfullfillable curiosity when it comes to Tendou, coated in a rich and thick desire. That must be what the syrupy feel he brings with him is. It must be that you’re developing physical symptoms from him. He’s contagious. Maybe, sometime soon, you’ll look like stained glass too.

—

Do you want to fuck a ghost? You ask yourself this every morning when you wake up. Three weeks into your new arrangement and you spend your mornings fixing coffee while you grapple with the idea of wanting to fuck a ghost so desperately that it makes you a little crazy.

You think, most of the time, about your dreams. They’re so vivid, getting more vivid by the day. You wonder if they’re just fantasy or if something is lining up with your energies (which is something you, apparently, believe in now) that’s giving you such descriptive dreams. They’re so real that you can almost taste them. Well, you would be able to taste them if Satori did anything but feel you up in them.

He’s gotten close to kissing you a few times. Always hovering just above your face, you tilt your chin up in hopes to catch his mouth with yours. Just a small taste. That’s all you really need.

Instead of obliging, he just pulls away slightly, making you chase until you’re whining. When you wake, you’re always sticky. Your body is covered in sweat and between your thighs, you’ve made a mess of the underwear you wore to sleep. You stick to the fabric, inside of your thighs sticky with arousal, and it never fails to put you in a bad mood.

“Good morning,” Tendou chimes from around the living room corner. He’s made a habit of speaking before you see him, you think, to avoid startling you.

You shoot him a glare. It’s not really his fault that dream Tendou wouldn’t kiss you, but you think it’s his fault that you’re having the dreams in the first place.

Tendou’s eyes widen a little and he sits back in the chair. It doesn’t dent with the weight of him.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed…” he chides, giving you a small lopsided smile.

You grin sarcastically before moving to the kitchen, pulling down a mug from the cabinet and setting it on the counter with a thud. He watches from the couch, chuckling a little bit to himself.

“Awful chipper for a dead guy, aren’t you?”

“We make do with what we have,” he says matter of factly. You frown a bit at the wisdom in his voice. “You opening the shop today?”

“Yeah, I have to,” you state, rolling your shoulders back while you wait for your coffee to steep in the french press.

“Mm or… you could just hang out with me?” He comes up behind you, putting a hand on either side of you on the counter. You hadn’t heard him get up. “How’s that sound?”

You turn around, careful to not touch him. You worry that if you do, you’ll go right through him and it would shatter the flimsy illusion that he’s a living, breathing man.

“Fat chance. You might just” you wave your hand in the air, “disappear without warning. Besides, I need money.”

“Mmm?” he hums delightfully, voice picking up at the back as it rises in pitch.

Tendou peers down at you from where he stands, tilting his head to the side as the corners of his lips curl into a wry smile. He gives you enough space to breathe. There is enough room between the both of you that he’s not touching you, his body angled forward so that he encroaches on the edge of what you would consider to be your personal space bubble. Still, you can’t figure out if he’s too close or if he’s too far.

You duck beneath his arm, feeling the velvet touch of his skin as it slips past yours. You’re relieved that he didn’t vanish. That there is at least something slightly tangible to him. Still, touching him feels frustrating. You want to feel the push of pressure when you tap him. You want the give and take of physical objects interacting. It is increasingly frustrating that you can’t dig your fingers into his arms and feel blood pulsing beneath his skin. Instead, touching Tendou is like touching velvet with the tip of your finger. Slightly soft and almost unregisterable if you weren’t feeling for it.

Tendou’s gaze follows you as you move about the room, his eyes slinking across his waterline. You can feel the familiar prick of the hair at the back of your neck and you’re vaguely aware of the all-too-teasing smile that graces his dulled features.

“Maybe if you’re here when I eat lunch we can hang out,” you say, spinning around as if you were conceding something.

Tendou tilts his head to the side. “I’ll try to stick around, then.”

You watch him for a moment before grabbing your mug and heading to the front door of the apartment. It’s too early to open still but you need the breathing room. Satori wishes you a good day from within the apartment and you find that it sounds like the walls themselves have spoken to you. Your cheeks heat and you sip your coffee to pretend that it’s the reason why they do.

—

Celine comes in with the mail today, bouncing through the door.

It’s been a few weeks since you’d asked her about Tendou and in that time, she’s asked you every morning if you ever got to the bottom of things. You always wave her off, smiling at her while making a comment about how it must have been a joke because Tendou Satori hasn’t been around lately.

You suppose that it’s not entirely a lie. Tendou hasn’t been in the shop lately but he has been upstairs, lounging around the apartment you pay rent for like the ectoplasmic freeloader he is.

Celine waves a familiar envelope in front of you and sets it on the counter. You look down at it, recognizing it as the second rent check you’ve received from your landlord. It marks the beginning of your third month here and you pause thinking about how it’s felt like a lifetime.

“Not as exciting the second time around, is it?” She asks, french rolling off her tongue easily in a thick, honey-coated accent.

You laugh a little. “It’s certainly lost at least a bit of its charm.”

She smiles, leaning forward on the counter and resting her head on her outstretched arm. “That guy still bugging you?”

Bugging you? He’s plaguing you. He’s a disease.

“Nah,” you shake your head, “I told you before that he hasn’t come around.”

Celine furrows her eyebrows a bit. “Still, I think it’s weird.”

“Yeah well… he was a weird guy,” you respond.

You notice that it’s the first time you’ve referred to Satori in the past tense. Not someone who is, but someone that was. It’s an odd thought and you spend a lot of time thinking about it once Celine leaves, her mail bag bouncing with each step she takes.

You eye the silver clock on the mantle above the register. It needs to be shined soon, it’s silver becoming dull with the regular wear of oxygen on metal. The second hand ticks by slowly and you heave a sigh as you turn your attention back to the near-empty storefront.

Thinking about Tendou is like falling down a rabbit hole of uncertainties and by the time lunch hour rolls around, you’re almost eager to finally get upstairs and ask him. It’s not so much one solid question but more so a collection of them, all coming together to form this puddle of uncertainty at your feet. Who was be before? What was his favorite food? Did he have a favorite outfit? A well worn comfy sweatshirt? How did he take his coffee?

You walk to the front door, glancing out into the open street where people move along the sidewalks and cars whizz down the road, sliding the small key into the lock and turning it. You’d almost forgotten that there was an outside at all, only reminded of the world beyond the shop door when you step out to get groceries. The lock makes a pleasant clicking sound, thick and heavy, as it slides into the door frame and you tug on it three times after to make sure that it’s really locked.

When you get upstairs and push the door to the apartment open, you find that Tendou is nowhere to be found. You call out to him as if it could summon him, voice ringing through the apartment and bouncing off the walls, but to no avail. The sound hits them and ricochets right back at you, giving the space a hollow and empty feeling. Part of you thinks that he might be hiding, leaning into the somewhat playful aspect of his personality, but when you check the adjacent two rooms, you find nothing.

You eat your lunch alone. Well, not really. The eyes are always there, heavy creased and double lidded, but—for all intents and purposes—you are alone.

—

Fingers. That’s what you register when you first enter your dream. You feel them creeping down your waistband. As you blink in the syrupy feeling of dreams, you realize that you’re once again face-to-face with Tendou. You’re back in the same dream you always have, with his body positioned above you and his hands wandering aimlessly down the center of your stomach.

There’s no pressure. The feeling of being touched is almost imaginary, as is customary of dreams, and you squirm like it will give you a better feel of him. His fingers drag across the dips in your stomach, pads of them pressed firmly to the skin there. You can see the way it dips and bends around his digits, wells of flesh created by his wandering hands.

You’ve picked up in the middle of your usual dream this time, towards what would normally be the end. Around this point, your dream always comes to a frustrating climax in the form of waking up.

Satori toys with the waistband of your shorts, his finger slipping under and sliding side to side beneath the elastic material. You watch with an open mouth, beginning to pant as desire drips into your belly from Tendou above you. You study the boney curves of his hands. They’re fair and pale, almost glowing, with an even tone and somewhat purple hues. You admire the veins that run up the back of them, ignoring the fact that any blood within is stagnant—if it is present at all. They go all the way up his forearms, creating slightly raised lines that look like they would be soft to the touch. If you could, you would feel them.

His eyes go between you and his fingers. Tendou watches as he toys with you, his gaze occasionally flicking up to meet yours. In them, you find low-lidded curiosity. They bubble with something akin to desire and you find yourself gasping at the intensity of them. In this dream, everything Tendou does, he does with intention.

Then, he takes his other hand and slips your shorts down your thighs. You feel the way the fabric of your panties sticks to your cunt, shifting your hips upwards so that they’re easier to take off. This is new. You’ve never dreamt this before and you can feel yourself salivating at the idea of going further, nudging your chin up in the hope that maybe this time he’ll kiss you too.

Tendou runs his hands up your thighs and you note that, in your dream, they’re warm and fleshy. Though you know that you’re feeling imagined touch, you relish in it. Tendou doesn’t feel like this in waking hours.

His fingers slide up the inside of your thigh, running along the crease where your cunt meets your leg. Tendou’s so close to where you need him, smearing his fingers across your cunt and giving you the sensation of pressure without there being any.

Then, his thumb comes into contact with your clit and you struggle to find your voice. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular—a frustrating culmination into something unplaceable—but even just watching makes you feel good, like you’re starving and he’s dangling a meal in front of your face. It’s not graspable and you know, from the way your gut swirls, that this is your brain making up an explanation for the perpetual arousal you experience on a near-daily basis. Still, you imagine it to feel good.

You watch as Tendou slides one long spindly finger into you, curling up. Just watching it is enough to make your breath swell, finally finding your voice as you let out a low moan that hums in your chest. He tilts his head to the side, his cool facade breaking for a moment to reveal a pleasant and mischievous smile.

Everything feels weighed down with sand, like it has gone slightly numb. Your limbs are weighted, body heavy and inexplicably sweet. His face, only a mere inch from yours, breathes warm breath across your cheeks and you push your chin forward to kiss him. Instead, you feel only the ghost of his lips, fluttering by your open mouth as you writhe and gasp for more stimulation.

You feel the beginnings of a climax. It’s at your fingertips, starting to swell within you as it bubbles intangibly from your chest and down into your stomach. You pant, breasts rising and falling as his fingers speed up with your breathing.

Just as you are about to come, sandbag legs beginning to tremble with imagined pleasure and clumsy fingers heating as you come to the crest of the wave, you wake.

It’s less gentle this time as you writhe at the unplaceable loss. It’s always strange waking up from a wet dream before you come, you always realize after the fact that there was something missing.

Your forehead sweats. Beads of it have collected above your eyebrows and you groan as you rub your eyes and turn your head toward the blind-covered windows. You can see the early wisps of morning light coming through, still blue in hue as the sun hides behind the horizon, and you sigh, unwilling to begin the day.

“Are you okay?”

You turn with a start, making out Tendou’s silhouette in the doorway. He leans his shoulder against it, body curved in a delightfully casual way with one foot crossed idly over the other. Your face heats, eyes widening in the dark of the room.

“What do you mean?” You say, half mortified.

“You were groaning in your sleep,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Wiggling around too. Thought you might have been having a nightmare.”

You shake your head, giving a small laugh. “No, I don’t think I was.”

You feign uncertainty and Tendou walks over to the edge of the bed and sits. It doesn’t dip. He tilts his head, leaning to the side on one hand.

“Then what did you dream about?”

He seems to be asking genuinely, eyebrows furrowed in the center, though it’s too dark to really tell.

“I can’t remember,” you lie, laying all the way back down in bed.

Tendou hums inquisitively. It sounds like he’s onto you, tilting his head further to the side so that he can keep looking at you.

He’s never been in here so early in the morning. If he’s around when you wake up, he sits in the living room or kitchen waiting for you to get up. Today, however, he appears in the doorway the same way he does in your dreams and you’re made hyperaware of his proximity to you.

Tendou lays down on top of the covers beside you. His body bounces but the bed doesn’t and you briefly wonder if everything in this world has a ghostly counterpart. You imagine things like they are only one side of a coin and the other is one you can’t see.

“Do you… always watch me when I sleep?” You ask, voice quiet through embarrassment.

Tendou tilts his head to the side, smiling as his eyes crinkle in the corners. “Not always.”

You nod, taking in that information and trying to swallow down the mortifying ordeal of being caught immediately post-wet dream by the exact person you had a wet dream about. Rubbing your legs together to ease the ache.

“Why?” You croak.

Tendou gives a small laugh, eyes following the lines your face makes. You see them travel down your cheeks, to your nose, and then to your lips.

“What else is there to do when you’re dead?”

“Good point.”

#tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #tendou x reader smut #tendou satori x reader smut #ghost!tendou #haikyuu smut #kinktober 2022 #[ 📕 – writing ]

[golvio]

Calamity Ganon’s emphasis on overgrowth/possession, plus the emphasis Harbinger Ganon had on the consumption of other entities…it felt like a sort of perverted attempt at Twinrova’s fusion magic to me. It always struck me how lonely its occupation of Hyrule Castle felt, too—a totally isolated entity attempting to make a home in a hollowed out shell, to the point of trying to merge itself with the architecture. But his fusions are always incomplete, impermanent. It’s not a complete fusion because whatever will he has left always insists on dominating, remaining separate, rather than allowing itself to blend together with whatever it’s trying to become part of. Once he’s killed off, the part of the combination that’s “Him” vanishes in a puff of smoke, leaving no trace. The writing ultimately chalks up Ganon’s motivations to simple greed and purposeless sadism, but what if, on a more fundamental level, it was about loneliness? Some warped yearning to feel like a part of something, anything again?

#loz thoughts #legend of zelda #calamity ganon #ganon

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

I'm tired of temporary people, why won't anyone stay?

#lonely #sad #emotional #relationships #breakups #temporary #impermanent #longing #stay #permanent #forever #loyalty #commitment #pleasestay #dontleave #alone

[imaginedreamwrite]

Brat Taming: Part 8

A/N: Suggestive/light smut in the second half

The sudden jerk of the plane as it touched down against the tarmac elicited a startled and strangled gasp from your lips. Your moment of fear was countered by the affectionate display from Steve, and his whispers that you would be okay and the plane would stop soon.

He had kept his hands on you the entire flight assuring and reassuring you that nothing would happen. Steve’s verbal and physical reassurance had also come with the gentle caress of his scent as your alpha that coated and surrounded your own, allowing you and your hindbrain to back down from the edge.

When the flight could start to be disembarked, Steve stood first and helped you gather your things back into your carry-on. He had grabbed both bags from you and helped you stand on your shaky legs, his hand constantly flush with yours. He was your steady presence and the sole source of comfort that you had adhered to from the plane to the arrival gates, through to the baggage claim, he was there as a steady presence.

Even when you had your bags and he had ordered an Uber to take both of you to his place, he had a hand on you. He had kept you safely tucked against his side with his scent projecting and creating a density that you leaned into because you needed it. Steve’s only care was for you, he was only ever aware of your wants and needs when you were with him.

“It’s cold out,” his last act while in the airport was to give you his leather jacket before you left, his hands steadily and swiftly securing the coat around your body, “I don’t want you getting sick.”

By the time the Uber arrived, you were tired and ready for bed. The fear of flying had been a vacuum that sucked all the energy from within you, leaving you drained and willing to fall asleep wherever you landed. It was only natural that your head would rest against his shoulder as your hands toyed with his grey shirt, mindlessly watching the city lights passing while he was humming softly.

It felt like a blur from the airport to the Uber, from the Uber to his apartment. You felt like you were in a daze as you followed Steve up the stairs to his apartment, your yawns pulled repeatedly from you as sleep and a warm bed were being denied.

“I know you’re tired,” Steve set his bags down inside the door, a hand on your lower back gently nudging your forward into his place, “do you want to go right to bed?”

“Your place is nice.” Your voice was low; quiet.

His apartment was immaculate and every visible part that you could see was exuding comfort and coziness from the entrance to the single couch sitting before an aged coffee table.

The kitchen was clean with basic and minimalist details added to the area. There was a single bowl of fruit on the counter and a basic radio that had been turned off. The front of the fridge was empty, save for a single card for the VA held by a plain magnet and a number had been scrawled on the bottom.

“It feels lonely.” Steve had admitted, watching you as you slowly explored the kitchen and the living room. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart.”

“Why did you want to start online dating?” You questioned Steve, stepping before a bookshelf. “A man like you, you’ve got to have had women and men lining up out the door.”

“There’s a difference between men and women who want the reputation of screwing someone like me and someone willing to mate for life.” Steve had followed you, taking the same path until he was standing flush behind you with his chest against your back.

“Do you think people are more interested in sleeping with you than mating you?” You repeated his statement back to him in a question, then you leaned against him and yawned.

“There’s more value placed on sex and who you managed to sleep with than who you’re committed to.” Steve gently raised a hand to your neck and brushed loose tendrils of your hair off your neck.

His fingertips tracing your scent glands and the lack of marked skin, save for Ransom’s temporary impermanent mark. There was slight pressure behind his touch that stirred your desire and want, that made you feel weak and simultaneously invigorated with the gentle strokes.

There was a comfortable silence between you two while you studied the spines of books he had stacked and organized on the shelves. His fingers brushed against your skin above the waistband of your jeans, his lips moving delicately against the shell of your ear while he hummed a slow and crooning song. The moment was tenderness manifested, you reading the titles of books and Steve whispering in your ear.

There was no rush to be anywhere, to do anything. It was the feeling of affection and connection, the draw of his breath across your flesh and the steady beat of your heart. Steve was acutely adorning your body into his while you were opening yourself up, physically and figuratively. You had chosen to trust the alpha to who you were going to give yourself, even before Ari and Ransom.

“You’re tired,” Steve muttered into your ear, taking your state of more yawns than not and concluding that you would need bed more than anything. “Let’s get you settled.”

He grasped your hand and lift it to his lips, gently kissing your palm before he showed you where his bedroom was. It too, like the rest of the apartment, was clean and minimalistic with only a few art pieces or photographs on the wall and an old record player on a side-table set by the dresser.

The bed was bigger than your own, likely a king which seemed appropriate given Steve’s height and size, and had bared two fluffy-looking pillows that had been covered by a thick navy blue blanket.

“Did you want me to get your luggage?” He brushed past you on his way to the curtains hung above the window, the material pushed to the sides of the clean glass.

“Can I borrow something of yours?” You sat upon the bed and rest your hand against the soft blanket, your fingers curling against the surface.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Steve had passed by you again, only stopping to kiss your forehead, and then he had approached the closet and yanked a plain white shirt from the hangar. “Is this okay?”

When Steve handed it to you, your first instinct was to hold the material against your nose and inhale the lingering scent of your alpha. The natural spice that hung onto the edge of his scent was mouthwatering and comforting in such a way that you wished you could have wrapped yourself in everything that was Steve Rogers. It wasn’t just the hint of spice in his scent that had drawn you in, it was the added touch of some kind of citrus that reminded you of a warm spring morning when everything was clean and crisp.

“You smell so good.” You chirped once, and then again.

“So do you.” Steve had crossed his arms over his chest watching you with a half-smirk on his face, the feeling of detrimental loneliness dissipating with every passing moment that you had remained in his apartment and sat on his bed.

“Give me ten minutes sweetheart, and then I’ll come to bed.”

“You’re telling Jake we got here safely?” You wondered, calling after him when he left the room to handle a few things.

“Jake already knows, doll. He texted the minute we landed.” Steve called back to you and having been satisfied by his answer, you fell back against the bed and sighed softly.

“She’s fine, Jake.” Through the camera, he can see you sleeping in Steve’s bed with the blanket pulled up over your shoulders.

He knows that you don’t like flying, he knows that even a short flight could render you an anxious mess. He had seen it firsthand the way you had been rendered nervous and panicky, with exhaustion quick to follow.

It was as if your fear of flying had taken every morsel of energy from you, and Jake was worried about you during that short flight. It wasn’t as if it was long enough for you to sleep, the flight was under two hours and even if you could have slept Jake knew that you’d just get to sleep and have to get up again.

“She’s sleeping, she’s safe,” Steve confirmed again, relating the reliving news to his other omega who was worried about his longtime love despite being with an actual superhero.

“Before you ask, I’m taking her to the MOMA, and we’re going to see a Broadway show. I’m taking her to ballet, and showing her around my old neighbourhood.”

“She’ll like that.” Jake sighed, happy for you but naturally protective since this is the first time in a while that you’ve been separated. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

Steve and Jake said their goodbyes and the video call ended. Despite that, Jake had sat on the couch and stared at his phone, his mind idly wandering. He was lost in thought, and he was worried that you may not have been as ready for a mark as you said you had. Even though, Ransom was already halfway there with you.

“Pup,” Ari crooned and beckoned Jake from the living room to the kitchen, “come eat.”

Jake had set the device down then raised his hand and touched his fingers to the healing mark that claimed him as Ari’s, and soon Ransom’s. It was one of three that he had needed, one of three that would be captured on his flesh to bind himself to them, and in return them to him. It was a step toward becoming a full-fledged pack that would support and care for one another, and then Jake and yourself would truly be safe. There would be no pressure to be away from each other, there would be no divide between the two of you.

Your relationship was going to be a turn-on for the alphas, Jake already knew it would. In that same thought he had known that when it came time for them to know the truth about your relationship, he knew that Ari, Ransom and Steve wouldn’t treat your relationship with Jake as if it was nothing more than a kink. They would respect your lifelong love for each other and help protect the predisposition that made you and Jake so close.

Or at least he had hoped so.

“Your thoughts are loud.” Ari had stepped by Jake, brushing his fingers against his waist and smirking when Jake had shivered against his touch. “Something on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Jake had shrugged it off, saving his inner thoughts and stipulations to himself.

“Come eat, I can hear your stomach growling.” The point was made again, and Jake dropped to the cushioned seat with haste.

Dinner had come and gone with gentle conversations and the back and forth between Ransom bitching about his family, and Ari talking about work. Jake had added his comments in between however he was stalwartly quiet for the moment, a symptom of how much had weighed on his mind.

The time spent on dinner had bled into the desire-fuelled aftermath, the draw of three bodies to the living room where they had anticipated and hoped for an intimate finish to the night.

“You need a distraction.” Ransom’s hands were nearly idle, he had led Jake from the dinner table to the living room, guiding him to sit and even feeling the tenseness in his shoulders.

The light glow from candles had cast delicate shadows upon the walls of Ari’s home, turning the moment of collision between Ransom, Jake and Ari far more intimate than it already was. It was the addition of the soft glowing candles and the touch of wine-induced passion that had aided the date in becoming so much more than two alphas treating their omega to a nice time.

It was a deeply connective and intimate time between the three with both alphas showering Jake with all the heated and tender strokes of their flesh against his. He was trapped between one and the other, his lips locked with Ransom as Ari pulled Jake back to lean fully against his chest.

Jake was leaning against Ari and trapped against Ransom’s chest, every part of him was entangled with his alphas. He was trapped between the two, held at the mercy of his alphas who wanted him as much as he wanted them. There was not a single moment that he wasn’t occupied and busied by their hands on him or their lips captivating his own.

Ari’s hands had started to wander beneath his graphic t-shirt, his fingers trailing along Jake’s stomach and chest, tracing invisible patterns into his flesh. Every soft stroke of his hands upon Jake had made his omega whimper in need or harshly suck in air.

While Ari was feeling Jake tremble beneath his hands, Ransom had shifted how he was positioned and started to drop to the floor. He had kneeled on the floor and run his hands up and down Jake’s thighs, feeling the powerful muscles clench beneath his touch.

Ransom’s hands, like Ari’s, couldn’t be idle and he had busied his fingers with the remaining barrier between Ransom and Jake’s cock. He had popped the button and undid the fly, allowing the poor omegas’ cock to be freed, and the beads of pre-cum to freely roll down his shaft.

“Someone’s hungry,” Ransom growled low in his chest and licked his bottom lip, studying the swollen and reddened head, ultimately teasing Jake by making him wait before Ransom would start giving Jake what he wanted.

“Please, fuck-!” Jake had bucked his hips, so turned on by the image of Ransom before him and Ari behind him, a single touch could have made him cum already.

“Since you’ve been so good…” Ari crooned in his ear, synchronizing his speech with Ransom’s sudden action. “Such a good puppy…”

Jake hissed in pleasure when Ransom had first tasted the pre-cum dripping and rolling down the shaft, his pleasure from his alpha was unbound. He had bucked his hips with need and dug his nails into Ari’s thighs, his voice strained as all he could do was whine and whimper soft pleas for Ransom to do more for him.

Ransom’s lips had twitched, he had smirked against Jake’s cock and part his lips to lap at the swollen and throbbing head. He had teased Jake, he had relentlessly edged him with soft laps of his tongue and the gentle swat of his hand against his balls.

“Should we send a video to Toy Soldier and kitten?” Ransom hummed against Jake’s shaft, his teeth gently scraping against the engorged shaft. “Should we show them how badly you need it?”

“Please! God, please-!” Jake shuddered cry, his deepening desire was unhinged.

“Good boy,” Ransom lightly smacked Jake’s balls again and then he had risen to his feet, intending on getting the camera, “let’s make kitten a little gift.”

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#alpha!ari levinson x omega!reader x alpha!ransom drysdale x omega!jake jensen x alpha!steve rogers #alpha!ransom drysdale x omega!reader #alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!Reader #alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!Reader fluff #alpha!ransom drysdale x omega!reader x omega!jake jensen #omega!jake jensen #Jake Jensen x reader #Jake Jensen x ransom Drysdale x ari Levinson #brat taming series #brat taming masterlist #brat taming part 8 #brat taming #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega #smut below the cut

[21u004]

kageyama tobio is a persistent and prideful man. he isn't going to lose to you or lose you that easily.

tobio is used to impermanence.

he never set too high of an expectation—hell, not even just an expectation—when it comes to people coming into and out of his life. the cycle of coming and going isn't unfamiliar territory to him, and he even welcomes it with open arms whenever it comes around. people could pity him all they want, but it's how he's gotten from there to then. he's built an armor for it, attempting to numb everything.

however, how he's gotten through then to now is a different story. instead of an unfamiliar lone path, he feels he's taking on one he knows, because with every step he takes, he believes its on its way to you. this path feels right, and so he doesn't fret when you hold his hand and let your minds wander.

and through the bits of doubt either of you find yourselves having, you've only managed to build a religion out of a once faithless love.

tobio is used to impermanence, but he's so much more used to you.

so when the threat to what you've built comes, he tries to take it as a joke, in hopes that maybe, you just weren't in the right mind. maybe you just needed someone—him—to knock some sense back into your head. maybe you just wanted to scare him, see how he'll react like what those people online do (he doesn't understand the fun of it though, still, he'll forgive you for this one, like he always does,) but he sees how heavy the burden weighs on your eyes and hands, endlessly tiring you out since it came into your life.

so he hopes again, another one that he's gotten down.

this time, he doesn't know what to hope for when the truth is laid in front of him.

he's not a religious person, but he's on his knees with his heart holding itself together with the faith that you can both hold onto this forever, begging and praying that you're not just another passerby or phase.

but no one and nothing hear his pleads, something that he's gotten used to too.

"you didn't sleep enough last night, did you?" tobio furrows his brows, a seemingly provocative expression on his face.

you frown in disbelief. "tobio, my sleep schedule doesn't concern this. it just feels like-"

"oh yeah?" you wish he was kidding, but he's nothing but serious, especially at 3 am. "last time i heard that it does! you know, remember when you were so caught up in how-"

disappointed, your voice echoes in the room. "tobio, quit running away from the issue!" even if you wanted to run away from it too.

"then tell me, what led to this?" his hands grasp tightly on the sheets as if it was you he's holding.

the tension's too thick to cut through or breathe comfortably in, and there's nothing to do about it other than to cross your fingers and wait for it to go.

(and maybe it'll only go if this breaks.)

he's caught off guard when the bed gets soaked with your tears, and he's aching to wipe them away from your eyes. he reached out, only for you to turn away from him and wipe them yourself.

"if you can't even point out what's gotten us here, then there's no point in arguing," begrudgingly, he lies back down.

he refuses to face you, the guilt, and the truth. still, he doesn't escape feeling the weight of it.

tobio rarely ever makes sense when it comes to stuff outside volleyball. between the two of you, if there was anyone deemed sensible and responsible between you two, it would definitely not be him. that's what everyone would usually say, but kageyama's got more to his brains than just volleyball, especially since you.

"nothing feels right."

tobio isn't sure if he understands or not. some part of him is saying that he feels the same way, that he knows how destructive how a single crack could be in the long run.

on the other hand, he's still figuring out what doesn't feel right, or how to even know if something's right or not.

uncertain and hesitant, he swallows the lump in his throat. "it'll pass."

every part of you is desperate for sleep, to the point that if it weren't for this, you'd be something close to peacefully dead.

you could let him have the last word, but his persistence to have this conversation and prove that he's right, moreover, that you don't have to go, doesn't dissipate even the slightest, and only intensifies by the minute.

"it's been months, tobio. months."

it's choking you both, but he doesn't back down. never when you're just one step away from the edge.

"and it'll let go of you if you hold on tighter."

despite the firm front he's put up, even he isn't sure if what he's saying is helping or not. tobio tries to imagine it in someone else's point of view, and he's certain that nobody understands what side he really is on.

"but what if this is the best i can do? kageyama, not everything's supposed to be held onto."

the silence envelopes the room a little longer than either of you liked, but nothing comes up to either of your minds to counter the truth.

the sun's already risen, but the thick curtains prevent light from seeping into the room, creating the illusion that it's still 3 am. that no time has passed since you decided to bring up whatever's on your mind, and in a way, it eases tobio.

even through the pain of it all, you're still beside him. he could reach out a few inches and he'd feel you next to him. he doesn't let fear and anger fester, but instead, tenderly holds empathy and understanding.

it's been 23 minutes since your last word, nearly 24 hours since you've both woken up, and yet neither of you fall asleep in the midst of the emptiness of the room.

tobio thinks, and sits back up. his face looks as if he just had some great epiphany, until he turns to you and sees your back facing him.

"are you saying that this isn't something worth holding onto?"

without facing him, you hold the pillow tighter and closer, and mumble, "it is worth something, but it's difficult when you're broken and bruised from everything else."

"then let this be what heals you."

the silence stays, but the sun peeks a little through the curtains, bringing even the slightest light into the room. though unfitting, tobio gazes at you softly, offering a kind, light smile.

"you're really..."

"cliche," he continues. "come on."

he helps you sit up facing him and pulls you into a warm embrace.

you let exhaustion take over, every thought since midnight disappearing into the fog inside your mind. for the first time in what doesn't seem like 9 months but really is, you finally find rest and peace.

maybe this moment will last for five minutes, five hours, but never continously forever. still, that doesn't mean that comfort is a one-time thing. at some point, you'll always find yourselves back at home, even after venturing out to who knows where for months.

he notices that you haven't been using the l-word, figuring that you don't because it's cliche. but tobio's shameless, and if you're not going to mention it, then he will, if it means preserving what you have, whether for a second more, or for ten years.

"as long as love's here, we'll work on us. don't let the past 4 years be for nothing."

tobio's used to losing, but he's never admitting defeat if it comes to fighting for you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu hurt/comfort #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader #unedited #karasuno #bigger than the whole sky .. yeah #this was supposed to end differently . #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines

[skadren]

2, 3, 6, and 8 for Tseeve~

send me a ship and a number and i'll tell you:

2. what their love letters look like

i don't think tseng has ever written a love letter before in his life. that is both way too easily perceived and way too impermanent at the same time. what if someone else finds it? what if it gets lost or thrown away or burned before reeve reads it?? what if reeve reads it??? his love letters are grocery store shopping lists stuck to the fridge and reminders for reeve to take his medications and protein bars and hot coffee "coincidentally" left on reeve's desk

reeve has diary entries. sometimes they are addressed to tseng: small jokes, the highlights and low points of his day, his current projects, proposal plans. wedding plans. reeve is a planning kind of guy, for everything. and before they got together, definitely pining. all the pining. he also has at least five separate entries wondering about tseng's hair care routine. his meetings notes may or may not be found with their initials doodled all around the borders (with ample questioning over what tseng's last name is. is tseng even his real name? is reeve a bad boyfriend for not knowing?? but wouldn't asking be an invasion of boundaries???)

3. which one outlives the other, and how they cope

both of them expect to die before the other. reeve because of how many goddamn medications he has to take and that must be terrible for his liver, and also he's older so that's how it works, right? tseng because of his line of work, and later on after he retires, because of the lingering issues from his past injuries. and the real reason is that neither of them want to think too hard on what it might actually be like to go on alone.

unfortunately tseng dies first. you can blame @takenbynumbers for that one. you know what you did

reeve puts on a pretty good attempt at going on outwardly unaffected, although he finally retires and passes on the seat of commissioner to someone else, like he'd been saying he would do for ages now. but he's never been very good at remembering to take care of himself; tseng is always the one who bossed him into doing it. so he sort of just... gives up on it?

(vincent accuses him of just giving up and waiting to die. reeve doesn't think he's wrong.)

6. how they decorate their bedroom

neither of them are big on excess so i guess it would be a pretty... normal? bedroom? there is a bed. big enough to fit both of them but not too big, because what if one of them gets lonely at night? the bed itself isn't anything fancy; sturdy and comfortable with enough support for reeve's back. plain sheets. they have two sets of blankets that are horribly mismatched because one reminds reeve of the quilts his ma liked to make and the other is a gift from yuffie that tseng will never admit is the exact same pattern of blanket he remembers his mom using when he was a child.

they both have a nightstand but desks are banned from the bedroom. deskwork is also banned from the bedroom. not that it keeps reeve from trying to sneak paperwork once in a while.

cait also has a cat bed in one corner (even though he really does not need a bed on account of the whole robot thing). he gets exiled regularly but it works out because he does not want to see his dads getting it on, thank you very much.

8. what they argue about

reeve always tosses his clothes in the general direction of the laundry hamper and misses. tseng's hair clogs the shower and gets all over the floor all the time. tseng hates taking out the trash and reeve never remembers to do it.

more seriously, even if their dedication to their work is something they have in common, neither of them like how little free time it gives them to spend together. it can lead to arguments over exactly how much the other person prioritizes their relationship at all, especially since the way they express their feelings and validation for one another is very different-- reeve's love language is physical affection and verbal affirmation, while tseng's is acts of service. coupled with how reticent tseng is about talking about feelings at all, it can lead to reeve feel like he's lovebombing tseng to little response, while tseng feels like he's never good enough at reciprocating properly.

but their biggest argument of all time is still the one that takes place directly after the turks drop the plate. there is a lot of broken trust between them regarding whether their relationship was as meaningful as reeve really thought it was, how much tseng has been hiding all this time, whether reeve wanted to be with tseng at all or just an idealized version of him. i fondly refer to the entire time they spend separated until they get back together postcanon as their divorce arc.

#skadren rambles #ask game #long post #i'm sorry this is very long. this got away from me

[crimeronan]

i saw you post on wondering how early Caleb left and it got me thinking, in the Princess Luz AU was Belos jealous of Hunter and Luz relationship?

OH YEAH ABSOLUTELY HE WAS. i have actually given this a lot of thought & it plays a role in the actual fic. unsurprisingly. considering how much thought i've been dedicating to how fucked up belos is.

he SAYS (and honestly believes, to a point) that the reason he didn't kill hunter upon adopting luz was bc luz immediately imprinted on hunter. but let's be real. if luz was about kindgertarten-age then it would have been Extremely Easy for belos to dispose of hunter; luz would probably have been lonely and cried for a couple days but then gotten over it. death and grief are super impermanent feelings at that age

the narrative that belos constructs for Himself is: he makes hunter, then god brings luz to him, and he realizes that hunter is a corrupted abomination to the lord and that belos should never have tried to resurrect a human with dark magic. (he is able to abandon the idea of the grimwalkers after centuries despite sunk cost fallacy because he is now free to redirect all of his obsession with purity and with saving a human soul and with Fixing His Brother onto luz.) but then he realizes that his new daughter really likes hunter! so he lets the abomination to the lord live. to be nice to her <3 because he's a great dad <3 who loves her <3 and wants her to be happy <3333

in actuality, belos saw hunter get a proxy baby sister and went "hmm, maybe THAT'S what's been missing. maybe THIS ONE could Actually be caleb. now that he has a younger person to act as role model / caretaker for"

and then of course that works fabulously, by his own metrics, while also being a result that he Fucking Hates. he hates that hunter is so fatally loyal toward and protective of luz when caleb never gave that kind of shit about him (note: i'm POSITIVE that what ACTUALLY happened between belos and caleb and evelyn was FAR more complex than this callous abandonment narrative. but callous abandonment is how belos has chosen to interpret it because that's easier). he hates that luz and hunter's trust in each other is so uncomplicated. he hates that they spend all of this time together and haven't managed to develop a Shred of resentment toward each other. he hates that hunter for all intents and purposes is The Better Caleb that belos has been wanting, but that his energy is directed toward an entirely different person

this simmering jealousy and resentment drives a Shit Ton of his actions in this verse. he has no reason to make hunter's life a living hell and to make hunter constantly scared for luz's safety, except to punish hunter for being a decent person. by pushing all of his Better Caleb buttons constantly. belos's anger toward luz in the third chapter isn't Just because she's questioning his authority and standing in the way of him finishing his unfinished business -- he is ENRAGED by the fact that luz isn't enough like him to betray hunter like he betrayed caleb. he considers this a personal failure on his part, he believes that he hasn't properly raised her to recognize the soullessness and emptiness of caleb grimwalkers. and he's also maddened by what he views as her choosing caleb hunter over him, because she's SUPPOSED to be the answer, the one who actually does things RIGHT. she's SUPPOSED to make the right choice and choose belos. like no one ever has before.

it's. layered. the man is fucked up. Waow.

#delighted by this question and getting to talk about this because luz doesn't pick up on a lot of the jealousy #obviously. she has no context. she doesnt understand exactly what sets belos off or why certain things she does make him so volatile #but the jealousy sure is there. Oh Fucking Boy Is It There. #toh #princess luz au #replies #caleb wittebane #belos toh #hunter toh #luz noceda #horrible mindscape trauma pals #long post