#every time I write some kind of description here I feel delirious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-caesar · 2 years

Note

mind writing a Yandere Josuke who very delirious and wants never more to make his female darling happy even having to take by force

Sure! I am not sure which Josuke you want me to write, but since you did not put Hat Josuke, Gappy, or part 8 Josuke, I am going to assume that you mean part 4.

This one was aaaaalmost finished. This is more of an unedited one than an unfinished fic.

Love is unbreakable

Description: Josuke has tried everything to make the person he loves happy.

Pairing: yandere!Josuke x female!reader

Warnings: Technical kidnapping, stalking, unhealthy relationships, depression, angst, murder, gore, death, abuse, suicidal/self harm themes, yandere themes.

Josuke could remember the exact moment he got feelings for her. It had been her first day at school and she was too nervous to really talk to anyone. Whenever someone tried to approach her she would flinch away and find some excuse to leave.

He hadn’t put much thought into it until he ended up seeing her on the roof of the school. It was where he usually met up with his friends when all of their other places where taken. She was sitting on a bench, picking at her lunch and looking down at everything on the ground bellow. Maybe she was deep in thought. It was hard to read her, but there was something distant and sad about it that he couldn’t put his finger on.

It made him want to do something about it.

He sat down next to her, grinning. He could see her grabbing her food in surprise, probably getting ready to bolt now that there was someone else out there. But he held up a hand, hoping it would stop her for a second.

“Hey, don’t worry! I’m not here to bother you or anything! I just thought you looked kind of lonely, you know?”

He could tell she was still uneasy, but she seemed to relax just the slightest bit. Maybe she was thinking it over?

“Thanks...”

“Don’t mention it! So did you just move here? I know you’re new to this school.”

“Yes...I just moved here last week actually.”

“If you don’t know much I would be happy to show you around town some time, you know?”

He could feel his heart flutter when she gave him a very small smile. Nothing too overwhelming, but enough to let the moment of peace slip through.

“I would like that.”

That was the moment when Josuke had truly fallen. He didn’t want to see her looking down at the ground with the veil of gloom she usually had. He wanted to see her give him that same smile every day. He wasn’t sure why, but there was just something about it. Something about her.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it and it had been months since they met. While she was still too skittish to be around the other people that liked to hang out with him, Josuke was happy that she had at least opened up to him. He was pretty sure that he was her only friend, but he didn’t have a problem with that. It made them more personal in a way. Something just the two of them could share.

It was like a date, wasn’t it? Were they already dating? They might as well be.

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

Things continued like this for a while. Both of you decided to stay in town after graduating, which you were happy about. Josuke was your best friend and you weren’t sure what you would have even done on your own without him if you had decided to leave and go to some strange alien place with no one you knew.

He always knew when you were having a bad day and would do whatever he could to cheer you up. These included taking you out to get your favorite food, watching your favorite shows with you, playing your favorite games, and many other things. You can’t remember when you told him about your interests, but you’ve been buddies for so long that it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

Yet still....there were things you just couldn’t tell him. There were things that followed you in your mind on your bad days that kept you from being completely happy. It wasn’t that you meant to look sad all the time, it was just that you had a hard time hiding your true emotions, even if you didn’t want to drag anyone else into your problems.

Every time you were asked about it, you gave him some excuse or another. You turned in a homework assignment late. You didn’t get the job that you wanted. You spilled tea on yourself before going out and had to go back in and change.

While most people would have probably caught on after a while that you were lying, Josuke never seemed to question what you said. He always wanted to believe you and just wanted to make you happy. And you wanted it to stay like that, even if it wasn’t enough sometimes. You didn’t have anyone else. Josuke was the only person who really cared about you.

But as time went by, the amount of disappearances in the town started to go up again. Everyone thought that since the killer was caught, this wouldn’t happen. That people would be safe. But that wasn’t the case.

And to make matters worse, the people that went missing were always people that you knew. Sure some of them had been rude to you. A lot of them had even been outright mean. But that didn’t mean that you wanted them dead. In fact, the whole thing made you very sad and afraid.

Knowing that Josuke had a hand in catching the town’s killer, you decided to confide in him about it, but he never seemed to take it seriously. All he said was that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. And that he would always protect you. It always made you feel better in the moment, but when you were alone you had your doubts.

This was a conversation you were having today as Josuke walked you home from work. You still lived with your parents because you had not yet saved up enough money to move out of the house, but you were already looking at options that were closer to where Josuke lived.

“Hey y/n, how come I’ve never met your parents?”

“Oh, you know. They don’t really like it when I bring other people over. It’s just a rule they have.” You look away from him.

“Even someone like me?” You laugh at that and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Even someone like you. Now I have to go. I’m not supposed to be out after dark and you know that.”

“Yeah.....I know. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.”

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

After you shut the door behind you, Josuke just stood there for a few minutes. While he had walked y/n home a few times and he would sometimes follow you around when you weren’t looking, he had never had it in him to actually peek on you when you was at your house. Maybe it was out of respect. Or maybe it was because something always seemed.....off about the place.

Today was different though. He wasn’t sure why, but he was just frozen there. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just peek in your window. It’s not like you would get mad at him if he was caught. You were too close for that and he could just say he wanted to see you which was never really a lie.

Looking around, Josuke was able to find a fire escape that he could use. It was old and looked like it was broken in a lot of places, but that wouldn’t be a problem for him when he had Crazy Diamond. No one would think to check there either since most people wouldn’t be able to climb it. And it went right up to the top floor!

Being careful not to make any noise, he slowly started to climb up the structure, repairing it as he went and keeping his eyes on the windows. Most of the lights were on so he could get a pretty good view inside.

It looked basic enough. There was one bathroom and two bedrooms on the second floor. You had left a tube of chapstick open near the sink next to a basic razor and some toothpaste. Part of him wondered what would make you leave the room in that much of a hurry, but another part of him thought about how you probably spread it all over your lips every morning. Now he was thinking about your lips. How soft they would be. Would they taste like the chapstick when you finally kissed him?

A shadow of movement caught out of the corner of his eye pulled him away from though thoughts. Something was moving in one of the bedrooms! He quickly pressed his body against the wall, moving close enough to get a good look.

You were sitting on your bed, doing something on your phone. You looked cute when you were slightly tired, but there was something else there under the surface. It wasn’t just the usual sadness. It was something a little bit more...tense. Like you were trying to relax but something was holding you back.

He watched you suddenly jump up at something and scramble to put your phone away, but apparently you weren’t quick enough to do it before someone unlocked the door from the outside. Someone walked into your room that he assumed must be your father, going over to the window. Luckily he seemed to have his back turned and wasn’t looking out of it.

He couldn’t make out your dad’s face, but he could see yours becoming pale and blank. There were some words exchanged that he also couldn’t make out from where he was, but your eyes just kind of....glazed over. He had seen that look on your face before, usually on some of your worse days where you needed him to cheer you up extra hard.

After a while of just sitting there and not really being able to tell what was going on, you finally walked over as slowly as you could and handed your phone to the man. Huh. Your family must be kind of strict about this kind of thing. It was weird for him to be treating you like that when you were an adult though.

Suddenly, your dad turned around to stare out the open window and Josuke only had a moment to side away from it before he was spotted. Unfortunately, he didn’t pick the most stable place for his footing and the rusty metal fell out from under him, leaving him dangling by the railing he had grabbed onto.

Crap, did your dad see him?! Did you see him?!

He just hung there for a few minutes, not making any move to drop down to the ladder or pull himself up just yet. It felt like they dragged on forever. He was just waiting to see a face in the window that would ruin his chances of ever seeing you again. His chest was as tight as a vice grip and he felt like he was struggling to breath normally.

But after a while there just....wasn’t one. No face in the window, no voice screaming at him and telling him to leave. It was weird, but he let out a sigh of relief, feeling his whole body relax as he slowly pulled himself up before making his way back to the ladder. He was still in the clear, but it was probably time to leave. The plan had been kind of risky from the beginning, even if seeing you was worth it.

As he went down each rung, he wondered if he could try this again sometime. Maybe find a way to actually take something that smelled like you. Or tasted like you. He still couldn’t really get over the chap stick.

When he finally got to the ground, his foot hit something hard that was just laying there, making him flinch.

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

You ran down the street as fast as your legs could carry you. Of the terrible things that could happen, being late to work on one of the most important days was something you really wanted to avoid. You didn’t have an alarm to tell you when you needed to get out of bed, so you ended up sleeping in an extra hour. On top of that, you couldn’t find your work clothes ad you had no way of calling in.

When you got there, you were of course fired on the spot. You wish you could say that this was the first time you had been put in this situation, but it really wasn’t. You had a streak of being late like this. It didn’t happen every day, but it had happened enough for you to get several warnings.

You knew there was a good chance this would happen, but that didn’t make this suck any less. You just wanted to have money to spend on things for yourself. You just wanted to save enough to eventually move out. The money you had would last you until you found another job, but all the hours you spent breaking your back at the job you just lost were for nothing.

You walked over to a park nearby and sat down on a bench, shaking. It could have been from either anger or fear. You felt like you were going to cry at any second, but the tears just wouldn’t come out. You just wanted to scream. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t! You just felt so helpless!

You felt someone sit down next to you and put a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. But when you noticed that it was Josuke, you relaxed slightly. You weren’t sure why he was here or how he managed to find you, but his presence was a welcome one.

“Josuke? I thought you were working today.”

“They gave me the day off. Did something happen...?”

“Josuke I.....they fired me. I came in late because the alarm on my phone wouldn’t go off.”

“Yeah, it usually doesn’t go off when the whole thing gets smashed like that.”

You gave him a confused look before he reached into his pocket and fished something out, handing it to you. You almost dropped the object when you saw what it was. It was your phone! Completely intact and unbroken like nothing had ever happened to it!

“How did you....?!”

“Let’s just say I’m really good at fixing things. It should be working too.”

You had no idea what to even say. Your phone was basically your lifeline since you weren’t allowed to have a computer. Without it, finding a job could have taken you even longer and you would be isolated from looking at the world or talking to you best friend late at night. Really, it was one of the only escapes you had sometimes.

When you heard the loud banging outside last night after it was dropped out the window, you were sure it was done for. You couldn’t see it on the ground when your father left the room and you were able to check, but you were still pretty sure it hadn’t survived the drop. But now? Josuke was just handing it to you like nothing ever happened to it.

You quickly turn it on and see that he’s right, it’s working like he said it was. You reach over and pull him into a tight hug, which looked like it really caught him off guard, but he quickly returned it, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you buried your face in his chest. You could finally feel the tears coming out as your body allowed you to let go.

You had hope again.

“Thank you Josuke. I’m....I’m not sure what I would do without it. It’ll still take me a while to find another job but-”

You felt one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly.

“Hey, it’s fine. I have a lot of money y/n. I don’t mind helping you out for a while until things get better. I can support you for as long as you need me to.”

“You would really do that....?”

“Of course I would y/n. I would do anything for you.”

You just leaned against him and smiled as he held you close, listening to his heartbeat. Something about him just always felt safe and comforting. You knew he was right. He was always there when you needed him even at the most unexpected times. It was like he just knew.

You had never had anyone care about you this much in your entire life.

You can feel your own heartbeat racing now as you pull your head up to stare into his blue eyes. He really was beautiful, wasn’t he? Had you just never noticed it before?

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

Everything went perfectly! He gave the phone back and you even hugged him and let him touch you! He originally just wanted to do it to make you happy, but getting the affection meant that the two of you were almost MEANT to be together at this point. He could tell from the way you looked at him!

Of course, he probably shouldn’t have waited to return the phone. He was upset to hear that your boss fired you over something like that. If he had known you didn’t have an alarm clock he wouldn’t have kept it for so long. Your old boss would have to be punished now. But part of him couldn’t resist the urge to look through it. It was only fair since he was the one who fixed it for you, right?

The first thing he checked were all the text messages that looked like they might be from people your age. He wanted to make sure that no one else was trying to date you. It wasn’t that he thought you weren’t loyal to him, but you were pretty enough and people like your co workers wouldn’t know you were already taken.

While he was satisfied with what he saw from most of the people you knew, something in his gut was telling him to search through the conversations with one more of your contacts.

The conversation started with your father telling you to call him. Josuke could vaguely remember that you had stayed late that day after having to cover for one of your co workers. Something about it seemed kind of demanding. Maybe how it was phrased?

Or maybe he was looking into it too much? But the replies didn’t get much better. There was nothing but continuing demands for you to talk to him. The last thing he texted said that he would come and find you and you “wouldn’t like it”. This was when you decided to reply to say what happened and the conversation stopped.

He bit his lip. Maybe jumping to conclusions wasn’t the right move. Maybe he could find out more. He was lucky enough to spot an app that might give him some answers. It was a cute one with an animal on it, but he recognized it as one that was made for tracking mental health.

He opened it up and scrolled over to a calendar function where the user could track their good days and their bad days. He winced when most of the thing was filled up with red frowning face symbols, but he also wasn’t surprised since he knew your mood was pretty low when he ran into you most of the time.

He tapped one of the red symbols on the calendar and a bubble popped up over the day saying “Anxiety”. Were you scared that something bad was going to happen...? He tapped on another one. This time it read “Nightmares”. That seemed to add up. He remembered how tired you were that day. He bought you some coffee and it seemed to help a little bit. Every time you smiled it was etched into his memory. In fact, pretty much every moment he spent with you was.

Then he tapped the one matching the day from the text conversation, his eyes widening at the words that appeared on the screen. Maybe this wasn’t real. Maybe he was seeing things. You wouldn’t....

Josuke had seen enough. He quickly closed the phone, clenching his fist and trying not to break the thing again.

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

You got home late after wandering around and checking out some places you saw job listings for. Despite the fact that Josuke had offered to help you, you felt a little bit bad taking his money. You really didn’t want to be a burden. It would be better if you got a new job as soon as you could so that you could pay him back.

You went to grab your keys and unlock the door but it was....already open? That was strange. Your dad probably just forgot to lock it this time. Oh well. It’s probably better this way since he’ll be pretty angry at you if he catches you coming back this late.

As you step into the house, you notice that the lights are off and it’s really quiet. It looks like you got lucky this time around. He was likely in bed if he wasn’t by the door waiting for you at this point. You would get to have a peaceful relaxing night without worrying. You probably needed one of those.

As soon as you set foot in the kitchen though, you hear a voice that fills you with a cold dread. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours?”

Your father is standing in front of the door to your room. You can’t make out the look on his face in the dim light, but you don’t need to to know that you weren’t going to get a night to relax after all. You mentally curse yourself for thinking you were safe.

“You mean Josuke? No we aren’t...he isn’t my boyfriend. I was just looking for another job.”

“Enough.”

You go silent. Your brief attempt at arguing your case had failed and you knew from experience that nothing could change what was about to happen. He had already made up his mind that he was going to punish you before you even walked in the door. Reason wouldn’t help you anymore.

“You know you aren’t allowed to stay out late. You’re a smart girl. I raised you better than this. I raised you to be a problem solver, not a problem maker.”

You just nod, instinctively backing up. Your mind was on leaving, but you knew you couldn’t. You didn’t have anywhere else to go and he was standing right in front of the door to your room so you couldn’t escape there either.

“You should stay away from that boy. I caught him climbing all over the fire escape the other night. He can’t be up to anything good.”

“I’m sure it must have been a cat or something. Josuke wouldn’t have any reason to be out there.”

You hear a fist slam into the wall and you jump, your whole body preparing itself for the worst as you tense up again. Damn, you knew you should have just kept your mouth shut. Why did you feel like you had to defend Josuke to him at all?!

“I’m a parent and I know these things. Stop making me the bad guy. I’ve done everything for you. I feed you. I give you you a roof over your head. How can you be so cruel and heartless y/n? Don’t you trust me? Your mother would have never wanted this.”

You could hear the volume and tone in his voice rising with each word, like a scalding pot about to boil over. At the mention of your mother you grit your teeth. You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw things. But you couldn’t. You had to stay calm. You were an adult. You could leave after you had money. You just had to wait a little longer.

“This is the third time you’ve been late this month. Just be glad she’s not around to see what you’ve turned into.”

You’re about to let everything out. To just let go of the last little bit of control. But before you can scream, your dad beats you to it. At first you think that he’s going to try to break your arm again, but then you realize that it’s a scream of pain, not anger when you notice the liquid dripping onto the ground in the brief light from a car passing by outside.

“Shut the hell up!”

You pull out your phone for a flashlight and stare wide eyed at the scene in front of you. Josuke was standing behind your father with a look on his face that you had never seen before. You had witnessed him losing it a few times when someone insulted his hair, but this went well beyond that. It was something much more wild and dangerous.

Your father coughed and grasped at the fresh hole in his abdomen. You had no idea how he had done it or how it was possible, but Josuke had made it go clean through. You could see the wall on the other side as the organs spilled out onto the ground, painting the floor with more fluids as they did so.

You don’t know how to react to this, or even how to process it. It was like you were watching something out of a horror movie. You knew you should be sad. That you should be scared. That you should probably run. Josuke had broken into your house and killed the person that had raised you.

But you weren’t feeling those things. Instead under all of the layers of shock, there was the knowledge that he would never be able to hurt you again.

As the body slumped to the ground, that blind rage that Josuke had been in seemed to immediately end as his eyes turned to you and softened with concern and he ran over to you.

“Y/n? Are you ok? Did he do anything to you?”

He quickly pulls you into a hug and you return it, squeezing him as tightly as you can. None of this felt real. None of this could be real. What had just happened? You didn’t know how to answer the first part his question because you didn’t actually know if you WERE ok.

“Shh....it’s ok Y/N. Let’s go back to my place. You probably shouldn’t stay here.”

He was right. You still had a million questions for Josuke and you weren’t sure what was going on, but anything would be better than staring at the dead eyes that you had spent your whole life trying not to look at on a face that sung one last song of how you were a failure in every way and didn’t deserve to be happy.

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

After making sure you were safe at his house, Josuke went back to your place to clean up the mess he made and grab some of your things. It didn’t take him very long to clean up the body. All he had to do was repair it to get everything back inside and the ground was spotless after all of the organs and blood were sucked back in like pasta being put in a bag. It made him look a lot more peaceful, like someone who died in their sleep while having a nightmare and woke up at the last second instead of a monster that was about to do something horrible to Y/N.

It was more than the sick bastard deserved, but it couldn’t be helped. At least he could make sure his eyes were still open. That way he could imagine that his soul was stuck in there somewhere as one final punishment for everything he had ever done. Josuke made sure to kick him one last time for good measure.

After fixing the body, Josuke stepped into your room. He had never been in here before because you had never been allowed to have him over. He smiled. Everything in it reminded him of you. It was decorated in a way that really matched your personality. He could just imagine himself laying in bed with you while the two of you cuddled and talked. It was a shame that you wouldn’t be able to come back here, but maybe he could help you make your new room like this.

He moved to the dresser to start packing up a few pieces of your clothing. He could always get you some really cute new outfits, but he knew that there were some things that you really liked to wear because he had seen you in them and memorized the key ones.

When he gets back to his house, you’re still in his bed. You’ve been like this ever since he brought you back. You don’t say anything to him. You just hide in the blankets and stare at the wall.

Josuke sets the clothes down next to you and sits down on the bed, putting a hand on your side. You don’t seem to react to it at all.

“Hey. I brought you some things in case you need them. How are you doing y/n?”

You still didn’t respond. He needed to kick it up a notch. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he just let you sit there like this? He was sure with enough care you would be yourself again. It would be fine.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into another hug.

You still didn’t respond.

“Y/n?”

You slumped over with your eyes wide open. Something wasn’t right here. Something was very wrong. And there were some things that Crazy Diamond couldn’t heal. Neither could his love for you.

Josuke’s tears kept falling as your body got colder. But you were already too far gone to notice as the pill bottle slipped out of your hand.

#jjba yandere #yandere josuke #josuke x reader #abuse #death #suicide #gore #angst #Omg there is so much angst #unedited work

66 notes · View notes

dabisangel · 4 years

Note

Hey boo you write Dabi beautifully! You deserve lots of love💖 if I may, can I please request an angsty fic where Dabi has a near death experience, really thinks it's his end and civilian!reader somehow saves him (right place right time) he think he dreamt her up before he almost dies and they some how cross paths again and becomes infactuated with her ? (Sorry it's super long) if you're not feeling this it's all good 💖💖

OMg thank you for sending this ask. I kind of went out of control and wrote 4k words for it. I hope I did your idea justice! 💖

“Infatuated”

Pairing: Dabi X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Near-death experience, stalking.

Word Count: 4619

——————————————————————————————————

Dabi was no stranger to being in dangerous situations, but then again life comes at you fast.

His body laid on the cold pavement. Heaving sounds leaving his lips as his chest rose and fell quickly.

‘Is this really how I meet my end?’ his mind began to swirl and every alarm for survival was blaring in his head.

He knew that it was only a matter of time before he bled out.

The bastards that ambushed him made sure of that.

They’d followed him after recognizing him at the infamous “Blue Flame”, wanting to see if he was as strong as they’d heard he was.

As he laid on the pavement he retraced the moments in the alley just moments before. He had already been tired before they attacked, and he was nearing his limit with his quirk. Under the dull ache of his stab wound, he could still feel the burning sensation on his skin. They’d attacked him relentlessly, and he couldn’t manage to defend himself. Much to Dabi’s surprise, when it came to the final blow, the tallest of the 3 men stopped suddenly.

“It looks like you’re not nearly as strong as the media makes it out to be.” The men loomed over his body, making eye contact before crouching close to him.

“And now…..” he grinned widely. “You’ll die in the street. Like a dog.”

Dabi didn’t have the energy to respond, and he clutched at the deep stab wound in his side.

The men kicked at him a few times before leaving, snickering as they sauntered away from the alley.

It had been 10 minutes since then. And he was in absolute agony.

Tears pricked his eyes as he stared up at the night sky. ‘There are so many’ he’d thought to himself as he stared at the stars. Suddenly he regretted never looking up at the sky like this before. He regretted that he took so many small things for granted. He regretted everything.

He wheezed more as he heard footsteps approaching.

———————————————————————————————————

You turned the corner while tapping at your phone tiredly. Your other hand held onto a few grocery bags, which held the ingredients for your dinner.

As you turned into your usual shortcut alley, you froze.

Your eyes met the man on the ground, and the pool of blood next to him.

Your whole body froze before something clicked in you, causing you to drop your grocery bags and sprint over to him. As you kneeled next to him you breathed heavily, waving your hands frantically “oh my god are you okay. Jesus. I’ll call an ambulance oh my god.”

His eyes stared blankly at the sky, not budging to look over at you. “D-Don’t.” He struggled to speak.

You ripped a piece of your shirt, pressing it to his wound. From his lack of reaction and the way he laid limp on the concrete, you could tell he’d lost a lot of blood. “Don’t!? Are you crazy? You’re going to di-“

“I never realized.”

Your eyes moved from his wound and up to his face for the first time.

“The night sky is so beautiful.” His words were slurred, and you could tell that he was becoming delirious.

After a few moments of staring at his bloodied face, you recognized him. His eyes were a clear blue that were all too familiar. You had seen those eyes. Many times on the news, accompanied by flickering cerulean flames. Instantly you recognized him as one of the members of the LOV.

The reality of the situation in front of you set in as you began to shake. A villain was dying in this alley.

And you had no idea how to navigate this situation.

You hesitated to speak, as you pressed onto his wound. You winced as you felt the warm liquid soaked through the piece of cloth, and you repositioned yourself next to him.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Dabi.”The name came out so quiet that it was nearly a whisper. You began to worry he would lose consciousness. Studying his eyes you noticed that were dangerously low and his breathing was becoming increasingly more shallow. The stab wound in his side certainly wasn’t doing him any favors either.

“Dabi?” You spoke uncertainty

He didn’t respond.

“If I don’t help you. You’re going to die.”

A small smile painted his lips as he hummed gently, closing his eyes completely. “I feel so light. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Can you feel it too?” His words turned into rambling before he wheezed again.

“Dabi keep your eyes open.” You spoke softly. Fear began to collect in your chest as he didn’t.

He was clearly very delirious.

You weren’t sure what you should do. You knew that he was a villain, but he was no threat here now. You knew that if you called an ambulance, the police wouldn’t be too far behind to take him away. And as you stared at his broken state your heart panged with sadness.

“Dabi. Look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open at your words, clearly struggling to keep them open. He glanced over to you, his azure eyes staring straight into yours.

“Wow.” He breathed raggedly. “You are an angel”

He continued to stare at your face for a few more moments, studying each feature carefully. “Are you taking me to heaven or hell?” You watched as his eyes flicked up to the sky again.

You were taken aback as he spoke. An angel? A blink was the only response you could muster.

“You belong up there, you know.” His eyes watered a bit, up towards the sky. “Do you think I do, too?”

He coughed roughly, and you continued to apply pressure, your mind racing.

“I’m…. I’m gonna die here, huh?” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“No, you’re not. I promise you.” You pulled out your phone and dialed a number frantically, shaking as it rang. Hoping that the number was still in order. Praying they would pick up.

When you heard her voice over the phone you sighed in relief, finally relaxing a bit.

“Hey, it’s y/n. I need a favor. And I need you not to judge me for it.”

———————————————————————————————————

One month later

He woke from his sleep in a cold sweat, gripping at his side. Slim fingers ghosting over his stitches as small pants left his lips.

Eventually, he gathered the energy to swing his feet over the side of the bed, as he raked his fingers through his hair.

Every night since then he had the same dream. Over and over. He was dying in that alley, shrouded in misery and darkness. Until eventually, an angel descended from the sky, taking him into her arms and saved him. She was so beautiful. He was certain he’d never seen the woman in his dreams before, but he couldn’t get the face out of his head. Every feature was so clear as if he’d seen it a million times in person.

He couldn’t remember if you were real or not.

Shaking it off and he made his way into the bathroom. The soles of his feet pressed against the cold tile, as he looked into the mirror. That day truly haunted him.

Getting his revenge on the men that attacked him was the first step he took when he regained his strength. It was a spectacle. One that placed a newfound fear into the hearts of anyone that dared to think of harming him in the same way.

Remembering the way it felt as he laid on the concrete, and the feeling that washed over him in that alleyway confused him. The moments replayed it in his mind more times than he could count. He remembered staring into the sky and feeling absolutely at peace. It sent a shiver down his spine.

The entire situation was something he truly wished that he could forget about.

After shaking his head again, he studied himself in the mirror.

All he could do was think back to that face. The one that graced his dreams, and how he longed to see it again. He longed to thank you. But he couldn’t tell reality from his dreams anymore.

He remembered being attacked, and the horrifyingly calming feeling of bleeding out on the pavement. He remembered the delirium. And then nothing. A blank slate, before waking in his bed with toga watching over him nearby. A groan left his lips as he remembered her taunting him and saying something about “it’s about time you woke up.”

The entire time he was out, all he could dream of was your face. And your eyes. And your voice.

But everyone in the league convinced him that there was no girl that fit the description he gave. And that he was alone in that alley until Toga stumbled upon him.

He thought he was going mad.

Deciding against more self-reflection he left the bathroom and began to get dressed.

As usual, he planned on spending his night outside of the hideout, hating the claustrophobic feeling it gave him. He went into town, with his hood up, walking the cold street at night.

It had been about 20 minutes since he’d departed from the hideout, and he made his way to the only part of town he could stand. It was a small section of the city that contained bars, restaurants, and shops. Tons of things to look at, and keep his mind busy. As he walked toward his usual bar, he stopped in his tracks as he heard your voice. It sounded so familiar.

Moving to hide behind the corner he brought his hand to the cold stone of the side of the building. His eyes widened as he saw you, and his heart began to race. An unexplainable feeling filled his chest. Happiness, relief, fear? He couldn’t tell.

As he watched you speak and laugh with your friend he held his position and began to shake. He couldn’t begin to explain the feeling, but one thing he knew for sure was that he was elated.

He watched you for about half an hour in complete awe. His memories of you began to come back slowly, the real ones. Not distorted dreams.

Remembering how you tended to his wound. How you said his name. How you saved his life.

Some things were still foggy, but one thing that was certain was that he owed you his life.

Tearing his eyes away from you he decided that he needed to get home. As a wanted villain, he didn’t like staying in one place for too long. But he didn’t want to lose sight of you, in fear of never seeing you again.

Thoughts jumbled in his head for what felt like an eternity before deciding to stay.

He watched as your friend left you for the night, and you said your goodbyes.

He watched you as you left the bar.

He watched you as you walked home.

He almost felt wrong as he followed behind you, aware that you were oblivious to the fact you were being followed. He hated that you took no precautions, and put yourself into danger this late at night. He wanted to protect you.

After he saw to it that you were safe and sound in your apartment a smile graced his lips and he walked home.

———————————————————————————————————

One Week Later

When he saw you again, chatting at the bar with your friend he didn’t hesitate. His mind went blank as his legs carried him over to the bar quickly.

“We need to talk.” He interrupted

You looked up in response to the intrusion and a gasp left your lips as you met his eyes.

It took you by surprise that he was here, and seemingly recovered.

He looked different this time. Fully alive and well, and that made you smile.

You excused yourself from your table and went to the front of the bar with him.

Neither of you said a word for a while, you figured there was something he wanted to say.

You weren’t sure if you could trust him.

“You saved my life.” He stared down at you with a look you couldn’t decipher. He looked confused. “I thought I was crazy.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re okay.

“Why did you save me?” He furrowed his brows.

You swallowed hard as you remembered the sight of him in the alley, and his continuous ramblings as you stitched him up. You were certain he wouldn’t make it. But you didn’t give up. And here he was.

“I-I couldn’t let you die.” You spoke honestly.

“I remember you saying my name. You knew who I was. Why would you do something like that for a villain.”

You gave a half shrug. “You were…” you took a breath “fading in and out.” Your eyes met his.

“In that moment. Things were…different.”

He blinked, waiting for you to finish.

“We were just two people.”

He blinked again.

“In that moment you weren’t the big bad villain they write headlines about. You were a man. And you were dying.”

He felt numb.

“And what about know.” He asked

You blinked and took in a raspy breath.

“You’re still a man. And we’re still just two people. And I’m glad that I was able to save you.”

His heart skipped a beat.

“Why aren’t you scared of me.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You said with a laugh “I’m just…not? Do you want me to be?”

He stared ahead. “That’s your choice.”

Silence lingered over the two of you for a few moments too long.

“I can’t really remember what happened.”

It felt odd to speak to him so casually.

Your eyes flicked to the stars above you. “You were pretty fond of the sky.” You looked over at him “you asked if I thought you’d go to heaven.”

He grimaced.

“I thought of you a lot after that.” You said honestly, which gained his attention.

“I kept looking at the news. Over and over and over.” A small laugh left your lips. “I kept looking for you.”

His mouth went dry. “I’ve been looking for you too.”

It warmed his heart a bit that you had been looking for him all of this time. It made him feel better about the fact that he had been thinking of you nonstop. At least the feeling was mutual.

“I wanted to….” he shifted uncomfortably “I wanted to thank you.”

You smiled sweetly

“I kept having this dream. Over and over.” He frowned. “Everyone kept telling me I was crazy. And that you weren’t real. But I couldn’t get your face out of my head.”

“You dreamt of me?”

He ignored your question

“I felt like something was missing. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You couldn’t believe how honest he was being.

His eyes met yours intensely which caused you to shudder.

“I owe you my life.”

Your eyes widened, and you raised your hands in protest, “Hey hey. No, you don’t.”

His stare didn’t falter.

“I do. I would’ve died in that alley if it weren’t for you.”

You were flattered honestly, but you were no hero. In your heart, you felt it was just the right thing to do. What kind of person would you be if you let a man die in the streets?

“What is your name.” His voice snapped you away from your thoughts, causing your attention to turn back to him.

“It’s y/n.”

At that moment he remembered fully and everything clicked into place for him. Every memory of that night flooded in as he remembered you calling someone on the phone, frantically trying to save his life. He remembered as you told him your name, and applied pressure to his wound. He remembered Toga coming to your aid. And he pondered how you knew her in the first place. But above all, he imagined The risk it must have took.

He pulled a box from his pocket and held it out to you. It was a blue velvet jewelry box. His eyes flicked up to yours.

“This doesn’t even begin to repay you. But I feel like it’s a start.” He pushed the box towards you.

In the past week, he had seen you stare at it in the window of a department store. You groaned to your friends about how expensive it was, and how you would kill to get your hands on one for yourself.

Taking the box into your hands you eyed him curiously. “What is it?”

He nodded at the box “open it.”

You followed directions and slowly lifted the lid. Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as you looked down at the necklace. It was a dainty silver chain, with a beautiful teardrop diamond pendant hanging at the bottom of it. You admired the way it shined in the night lights, your mouth agape. No one had ever gotten you anything like this.

“Y-you got me this?”

He nodded, “I happened to see you staring at it.”

You ignored his mentions of stalking.

“I-I…it’s beautiful. But… I can’t take this. It’s too expensive.”

Your eyes flicked up at him as you remembered the price tag “This was at least $1000.”

“Take it.” He said plainly “I need to repay you somehow.”

You asked him to hold the box as you began to put it on, you caught your reflection in one of the shop windows near you.

He admired you silently. You really were just as beautiful as he’d dreamt.

He gave you the box back and began to say his goodbyes. You stopped him, grabbing onto his wrist as he turned away. He froze and stared back at you, which caused you to let go quickly.

“Will I ever see you again?” You asked. You also hadn’t been able to get him out of your head. Since Toga had shown up to the alley and taken him away, you wondered what had happened to him. You really hoped that he would make it.

And here he was. Standing in front of you.

The corners of his lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “You will.”

Watching as he disappeared your heart panged.

Days passed and you never saw him, no matter how hard you searched. There wasn’t even anything on the news.

Days later, when you returned to your apartment, you noticed a box at your front door. You brought it inside and inspected it. Inside was a top that you had admired in a store a few days ago. It was obvious that he had been watching you, which made you feel uneasy. Although you felt as if it didn’t creep you out nearly as much as it should’ve.

Your head immediately snapped up and you rushed to your window, peeking outside. He had to be out there somewhere.

On one hand, you’d realized how creepy this was. The feeling of being watched, and receiving gifts. It was a textbook creepy stalker. On the other hand, you felt as if you had bonded with Dabi, regardless of his unconventional method of ‘repaying’ you. When someone is in their dying moments, they tend to get very personal. Sharing things that they’d never shared with anyone. You didn’t fear him, though. Even though you realized you probably should.

This carried on for weeks

Random gifts placed delicately outside of your apartment door. A dress here. A necklace there. Always something.

You had a strange feeling about it, and you knew that you should probably be afraid.

But as time went on you could tell that these gifts weren’t of creepy infatuation, but rather endless gratitude. They weren’t strange ransom notes covered in blood or a doll made from human hair. Instead, they were expensive. Really expensive. Thoughtfully picked out gifts, colors of each one complimenting the other. Matching earrings for the necklace he’d given you. Shoes that matched the color of the satin dress you’d received earlier that week.

You felt guilty that he kept leaving you such nice things. You didn’t feel like he owed his life to you.

But you could tell he did.

You headed out that night, on a mission. You wanted to put an end to this game of never-ending cat and mouse. And for some inexplicable reason, you just really wanted to check up on him. The plan was already set in motion as you headed to the bar that he’d approached you at the first time. You ordered a drink, sat, and waited hoping that he would show up.

———————————————————————————————————

He felt indebted to you in a way that he had never felt for anyone.

Knowing that this infatuation was probably unhealthy he knew that he should stop.

But he couldn’t.

He left you present after present, hoping that he could fill the hole of debt he felt for you. But he couldn’t.

It would never be enough.

He headed out to the bar, hoping to drink enough to wash away all of his feelings. The trauma of a near-death experience and his fixation with you were two things that weighed at him like nothing else ever had.

Taking a seat at the bar he quickly ordered a drink, downing it as soon as it was given to him.

He groaned as he felt someone slip into the barstool next to him.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you greeted him.

He looked at you in disbelief before giving a wry smile.

“I’ve got quite the stalker, don’t I?”

His comment caused you to roll your eyes as you settled onto the barstool.

“I think I could say the same”

He took a sip of his second drink and raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘touché’.

“Where have you been?” your voice came out a little angrier than you had anticipated.

Taking another shot he ignored you, tapping his fingers on the bar steadily.

“You told me I would see you again and you disappeared.”

You thought back to all of the gifts he’d left for you. And how he knew where you lived, and how he watched you. Your ears began to heat with a mixture of emotions. Anger? Frustration? You couldn’t tell. You couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just come to see you, rather than leaving ominous packages.

“And what’s with you giving me all of this stuff?”

“I told you.” He said taking yet another shot. “I need to repay you somehow.”

Truly, he was struggling. And it was very apparent. He couldn’t begin to wrap his head around the fact that material things wouldn’t be enough to dig him out of this hole. To get rid of this feeling. To wash away his debt.

He knew that drinking probably wouldn’t help either.

“You’ve already repaid me.” Your voice was soft as you broke the silence.

“And not with all of the gifts.” You lowered your voice. “You repaid me by pulling through. By living.”

He turned to you. His eyes narrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know why. But I feel close to you. Like I understand you.” You trailed off, as you fondled the necklace that rested on your collar bone, instantly feeling guilty. “But please…. stop giving me gifts.”

He didn’t know what to say. He pondered saying thank you again, but he was sure that’s not what you wanted to hear.

“Okay.” He spoke plainly, staring ahead

Both of you stayed quiet

His hands gripped the glass cup before he spoke low enough for only you to hear. “That night. Was my darkest moment ever.” He took a breath. “It haunts me.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched his eyes and the despair that floated inside of them.

You didn’t initially peg him as someone that even had a weakness or would be afraid of anything. But it dawned on you just how deeply a near-death experience could affect someone and the way that they live their life.

You realized just how traumatic it was for him.

He continued to speak, not daring to look at you. “And out of that darkness, and trauma… the worst experience of my life….” He looked up, and into your eyes. “Came you.”

You felt an emotion that you couldn’t quite explain crawl into your chest.

“I don’t know what fuckin endorphins you triggered in my head but I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Watching as he fumbled over his words you bit your lip nervously. You had never had someone express such deep emotions for you.

“Every time I see you. It’s. I don’t know.”

You watched him carefully, in awe. While you weren’t sure you felt as intensely, you certainly felt the same way. Then again, you weren’t the one that almost died.

His alluring mystery definitely added to the fact you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The fact that no one really seemed to know much about him, including the internet. You knew because you’d spent hours showering the net for the slightest bit of information on him, but of course, not much turned up.

“I think about you all the time too, you know.” You tapped your fingers on the bar. “You worry me to death.” You cringed at your choice of words, but it didn’t seem to sway Dabi.

“I watch the news all the time. Just looking for a hint of flames anywhere.” You whispered to him, careful that no one overheard you. “I don’t know. Seeing you like that, it just made me afraid it would happen again. That I might find you like that again. It was really scary.”

He looked over at you.

”And I know we barely know each other but I think it’s pretty clear that we’re bonded already.”

You stopped your rambling and studied his face. You could tell he was tired. He probably wasn’t getting much sleep these days.

“Can we just. I don’t know. Stick together?” You blurted, placing your palms onto the cold countertop.

He lifted his eyebrows at the suggestion.

“Well, clearly you follow me around. And I’m pulling my hair out daily, trying to find you, hoping that you’re still okay.”

He continued to stare.

Realizing that you were rambling, you wondered if he’d ever speak up.

Your words were teetering on the line of desperate. Not really knowing if you could convince him. “So can we at least just stay in contact. Please? No more sneaking around, or gifts.”

Again, he said nothing.

“I just want to know you, and to know that you’re okay.” You shifted uncomfortably and began to worry that this was all a mistake in the first place.

He didn’t speak for a while longer, processing everything that you’d said. He couldn’t help but agree with you. He wanted to stay close. He wanted to keep you in his sight.

“If you want to give me anything, this is what I want.” You spoke cautiously, hoping that he would finally speak.

He blinked before reaching out for your hand and giving it a light squeeze.

“Okay,” he replied with a small smile, staring into your eyes. “God, you sure do talk a lot.”

You squeezed back and laughed a bit.

“You have to swear.” You spoke seriously making sure that you didn’t waver

He’d never say it out loud, but there was truly nothing in the world that he wanted more than to stay close to you.

“I swear.” he squeezed your hand again before staring into your eyes seriously. “You have my word.”

#dabi x reader #dabi imagine #mha dabi #dabi bnha #bnha dabi x reader #mha imagines #mha x y/n #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #mha fanfiction #mha ask #bnha ask #anon #request

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the-darklings · 4 years

Text

—WE WERE A FIRE WITH NO SMOKE;

pairing: santino x reader (V) x (+john)

wc: 1.4k+

an: HAPPY NEW YEARS YA FILTHY ANIMALS!!! A little surprise something-something to tide you all over and flex my writing muscles to see how I’m getting on after 4-day detox from writing. I’m honestly exhausted and short on sleep which made me half-delirious and this little drabble wayyy too h*rny but here we are. Also, the title/lyrics for this piece comes from Troye Sivan’s “DKLA” and I highly recommend you listen to it while reading.

warnings: some bad words and a lot of sexual tension 👀

timeline: post chapter 1 of COA, pre-Tokyo (not their first meeting).

Santino D’Antonio does not know nor understand subtlety.

No—that’s not quite right. His “business” instincts are sharper than most of your blades and that’s just facts. He can effortlessly weave between disarming charm and rage that spills blood in a blink of an eye. He’s a good mobster. Truly Italy’s—Camorra’s—finest. But he’s irritatingly arrogant in his insistence that the world revolves around him and his needs alone. Even quicker in betraying those he doesn’t like and cutting loose ends with people who so much as question his authority.

Egoistical. Inpatient. Spoiled. Bloodthirsty. Willing to step over anyone to get his way.

There isn’t much to like. Certainly nothing worthy of trust.

But he pays good money. And—despite what he may think—he’s easy to read. He wants what everyone in the underworld wants. More power, more pleasure, more money. But most importantly, to be the next Camorra head.

He’s powerful. And not the kind of powerful you need as your enemy so it’s easier to play nice. You know that the reason you got off as easy as you did with that threat to his life was simply because he wants to sleep with you. Because he sees you as a challenge, a conquest, something interesting and out of his immediate reach.

He’s handsome, that much is true. He’s beyond rich and has influence everywhere because he’s Camorra. Because he’s a D’Antonio. He’s all sly, seductive suggestions and eyes so bright they devour.

There’s only one problem.

He’s not John.

John who is a comforting shadow for you to curl into. Who is a steady, ever-present by your side. John is—

John is the only person you trust—the only one you could ever trust in this world of liars and backstabbers. Your mind drifts towards him constantly and never more so then when you work with D’Antonio. They’re as different as day and night.

John is a comforting embrace of the dark, quiet and patient. Deadly and terrifying to others but never you.

Santino D’Antonio is an open flame. He devours, he burns, and rages. He leaves only blood and damage in his wake.

John you love.

D’Antonio on the other hand…

“Target has his eyes on us,” you speak directly into his ear over the sound of blaring music, and tighten your arms around his neck. Noting the way you’re being watched, you hiss a soft, “Pull me closer.”

He doesn’t need to be told again.

His already wandering, lingering, greedy hands and eyes explore further. Your eyes meet for a moment; his hungry and hooded, while his fingers sink into the swell of your hip, massaging the skin there before pushing your hips together. You sway with him, pressing against him—into him—one hand snaking up the hot skin of his neck and into his hair. The styled curls crumble under your unyielding grip and you pull him even closer, your foreheads almost touching and breaths mingling.

Wrapped my thoughts around your mind

Wrapped your body around mine.

You have to be convincing, you remind yourself.

You have to appear as nothing more than another whore on D’Antonio’s arm.

You have to be a nobody, a shadow, a shell without purpose other than this man’s pleasure.

You think about John with every press and brush of your skin.

Think of John’s hands on you and John’s obsidian eyes caressing you like you’re lovers moments away from kissing each other.

You take my breath away, you know I'm bound to choke

When I close my eyes. I still see your ghost.

But Santino D’Antonio doesn’t touch you like John does.

He caresses, and claims, and consumes with a startling amount of intensity. You feel that fire of his singeing your edges, dangerous and seductive in its overpowering heat.

His fingers are sunk into you, not enough to hurt but enough to feel held, guided, desired and the music becomes nothing more than a pulse.

His hot, wet breath burns against the hollow of your throat and you feel him mumbling something into your skin. It could be a prayer or damnation or both but all you know is that it sears into your skin. A mark, a show, of his raw desire for you. It tingles and tickles, kicking your heartbeat up a notch and your grip on his curls constricts; a warning, a question—

You don’t even like him. In fact, you only tolerate him because he’s willing to throw money at you for jobs that can help you get your freedom from Tarasov faster.

But human bodies are so simple. The draw on a purely physical level is there despite your lacklustre opinion of the man himself.

He doesn’t make it any easier when his eyes lift to you, his stare almost a physical weight of heated want. A man starved; a man who is staring at your mouth like it’s the only thing that can save him right now. Like he needs it, craves it, above everything else.

If half the stories about his sexual exploits are true, then it’s a look many have crumbled under. Truth be told, looking at him right now, you can’t blame them. There is, admittedly, something so raw about Santino D’Antonio that you can’t help but wonder what kind of lover he is.

So what do I do now?

I don't keep love around.

But Santino D’Antonio is nothing in your heart. Your heart is John’s in its awful, worn entirety and you won’t trade that in for meaningless sex no matter how good D’Antonio might be.

The tempo of the song changes again and he tugs you closer, his hand coming to rest against the curve of your neck. His cool Camorra ring grazes your skin lightly, and your head tilts to the side exposing your neck to him. He leans into it, his lips ghosting over your pulse, hungry and eager as he inhales deeply over the thrum of music. But across the sturdy line of his shoulder, you watch your mark intently.

“D’Antonio, he’s moving—”

“Santino,” he breathes hotly into your ear, his arm around your waist tightening. “Call me Santino.”

It stills something inside you for a second.

The heavy, naked need that lowers and wrecks his voice just so.

It’s an honour. An heir allowing you to address them by their first name, considering that you hold no real power or title of your own. But something about how he asks for it leaves you cold, caught completely off guard.

It feels like too much.

There is a boundary you will never step over with him.

Some arrogant Italian princeling who only wants your body for quick gratification.

“Should I pursue?”

He stills. His breath still fans against your neck but his expression is serious when his head lifts. His fingers trace up your bare arm, slow and sensual, and he grins slightly, coolly. Neon lights dance over his features and wonder what you both look like, tangled in each other and suddenly still in a sea of movement.

“Bring him to me.”

You do.

No loose ends.

The man you only know as Flynn Hill dies with your poison eroding his veins from inside out. In the darkness of the alleyway, Santino D’Antonio looms over him, smiling and satisfied, his appearance once again immaculate.

“Everything has a price,” he says coldly in Italian with a clinical tilt of his head and a small scoff when the man stills. “Pathetic.”

He turns dismissively, shrugs on his overcoat, and glances towards you. His eyes sweep over you, up and down, unhurried and hungry as always.

“Coming, cara mia?”

Cara mia?

You turn to face him, and repeat his earlier gesture by looking him up and down. His gaze sharpens at the challenge, and you don’t miss the way he straightens slightly.

Just like you thought—he doesn’t know subtlety. It could smack him in the face and he still won’t know it.

“The drinks are on you and I’m not cheap,” you hesitate for a beat, considering the man in front of you as well as his pack of guards scattered around you. “Santino.”

You sidestep him, heading back towards the club but hear the man chuckle in delight behind you.

“Everything has a price,” he repeats softly as he falls to your side promptly. Close, a bit too close. “But it’s one I am happy to pay in this instance, cara mia.”

You bite back an irritated sigh. Let him have this. He no doubt thinks this is a victory.

That night is the first time he uses those words and that nickname.

It’s far from last.

. . .

an: well this literally had one read through as an edit so if this is awful and full of mistakes.....guess that’s tomorrow kat’s problem lol. just wanted to see how I get on with writing again (and surprise you lot <33 thank you for supporting this series so much oh god oof).

This piece dips back a bit more into my old style (description heavy and more internal) but writing V who is like “this man clearly wants to bang but it’s a no from me, thanks” is so funny. If I wasn’t half dead I would have tried to write this as more snarky (as V indeed was back in Chapter 1-2) but that actually requires brainpower and wit so nahhhh.

also, let’s make 2020 ours. no more putting up with anything!!! let’s go!!!! this year we all channel V and become stronger and fight through our problems no matter how long it takes us.

#santino d'antonio x reader #john wick x reader #santino d'antonio #john wick #john wick imagine #john wick fic #fic: children of ares #s: i can wait

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years

Text

Patet omnibus libertas

AU belongs to @pistachiolan and the first scene is inspired by this post. Check the notes for more info!

See the wonderful fanart!

Read on Ao3!

General taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Word Count: 3,048

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Thomas, Remus (mentioned)

Pairing(s): Prinxiety

Warning(s): Major character death (apparent), graphic descriptions of violence, blood, kissing. (The majority of these warnings are for the first scene but it's a nightmare, you can skip to "Virgil surged up on his bed")

Summary: Conflicted feelings in a time of disorientation. Virgil, a former Heretic, had been captured and is now back to his village, thanks to a ... little deity's will. Roman, the knight protector of that land, had been against his return since the beginning. Things of course change the more he gets attached to the boy and, with the help of poetry, things could finally bloom.

A/N: Get ready for literary chronological discrepancies because I love quotes you can fight me. Okay I may or may not have added a bunch of ideas or details of mine for narration purposes oops-- Anyhow, I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy it too! And sorry for that first weird bit but I wanted to see if I was able to write a gruesome scene. Don't forget to check out @pistachiolan's profile for their fantastically marvellous au which you can find in their blog under the #TsCultAu tag, I tell you guys, their idea is MINDBLOWING and the art is just as good and it's so so so worth to follow if you don't you're straight. So yeah, I'm here to fix their angst with some nice fluff (after some more angst), enjoy your time here~

✾

The first image of red Virgil noticed was a flash of light in the corner of his eye; something pressed hard against his back and forced his downfall to inexorably begin.

He crashed against the earth, his nails digging in the dirt as pain numbed his senses only to regain them again and devastate his perceiving.

Failing to get back on his feet he could only manage to roll on his back and be met with the worst fate he ever feared.

There Roman stood, in all the mighty glory Virgil had always pleasantly basked under. Looking down at him with a distasteful expression adorning his face.

And his hand ghosting over his weapon.

Virgil's eyes widened, his fight or flight senses overproducing a shot of panic over his chest; he may have yelled, cried for someone's name or help, but everything felt so blurry and his limbs just too heavy.

It was as if he was … remembering instead of experiencing.

He remembered calling Remus's name in vain, as he noticed his expression growing blank as though in a daze.

The twin binding. A connection that messed with his mind so much that a simple hesitation caused by it could determine the adverse outcome of the Fates.

Time had slowed down, its passage becoming almost imperceptible.

« Die, you demon! »

And, when it started up again, it was no longer a memory.

Virgil sealed his eyes shut as Roman's sword swung in his direction, wishing for some kind of invisible protection to be laid on him, or, even better, for him to wake up and realize-

It was too late.

All lies, the ones that granted feasibility when you wished upon a star.

Nothing came for Virgil. Nothing but a steel blade slashing right through his body. His lungs filled with blood, the vermilion substance roughly rose up to his throat and stained his lips with doleful spatters, a trickle dripped down his chin and splattered against the fair skin of his hand.

He had … turned human again?

Virgil was hunched over himself, placing his hands on the exact meeting point between his chest and the sharpness of the sword. His hands were smeared with blood and red started being all he could feel and see around himself.

Just like that, Roman withdrew his sword only to dive back in and push the blade further in, tip protruding on the other side and loudly dripping with the same red vital fluid.

Virgil gasped for air that never came, instead, the void filled him, ready to take over what was soon to be his lifeless body.

Everything was red. His vision, his clothes, his skin. Roman.

Roman was red and he had learnt to love it.

Now Roman had caused that terrific madness of red all around them. Should he love that, too? Should he welcome it, at that point?

It was a tragedy that had made him delirious. Maybe he deserved that, he was sure the other would have agreed, rendered in that condition.

« You do. » venom words hit Virgil's face as Roman leaned in, still pressing the weapon angrily against the boy's chest.

What? He … wasn't … talking?

« The ones of your likes, » he began, watching as more gushes of blood dirtied the grass and contrasted the white in his own clothes in an almost blinding manner. « Deserve to cease existing at once. »

Virgil hadn't noticed Roman was now aiming at his heart. He didn't mind anymore, as he had already broken it by tearing it apart for so long.

And, when the distance between the sword and the entrance to his heart coincided, Virgil closed his eyes and, to his destiny, he miserably resigned.

And he woke up.

Virgil surged up on his bed, breathing heavily in a way he couldn't have done in the nightmare, as if he were regaining the air that had been neglected to his oniric self.

His trembling hands went at once to his chest were his untouched skin was covered by a layer of thin clothing, almost as white as his arms looked under the moonbeam.

Not real. Virgil's hands covered his eyes while he tried to steady his heartbeat.

Nothing of that happened. It's not real.

Time had passed before he decided to get up; who cares if they caught him awake at abominable hours and sent him suspicious glances. Ironically enough, he did need air.

Like an undead monster wounded by the bothersome hunter, Virgil dragged his feet against the cold pavement, a hand resting against the wall in support.

Adjusting to the darkness, he noticed the entrance to a room lit up in a faint warm colour. He knew he shouldn't have approached, but it was far too early in the morning to make clever decisions.

Whispers came from the space. Virgil peeked for only an instant.

« What do we even need him for? » that was Roman's voice.

Yeah, he really should have stepped away.

« Now, I'm sure there is a good reason for that. » Patton chimed in.

Virgil's hand brushed the bricks of the entrance.

« We know who he is, Patton. He used to literally look like a monster. »

Then, he retracted it immediately.

« I don't want to hear any of that! » Patton's voice slipped, a bit higher than intended, his eyes growing wide with realization, but Virgil didn't see that as silence fell over the room.

He quietly apologized. « I just … I want to trust Thomas. »

Virgil breathed out deeply. You're going to end up hurting yourself.

« I want to, too, but- »

« Roman, » Logan was there, too? He had just recently joined, not much longer after Virgil's … little incident.

« Virgil seems like a good person. »

« Yes. » Patton agreed softly. « The poor boy looks too scared to even talk, too. » he added with a sad tone in his voice.

Virgil knew Patton had tried to befriend him ever since he had started working with the high priest.

He sighed and looked at his hands. Sometimes, distinguishing reality from mendacity was a matter of a little detail.

Sometimes, Virgil wasn't even sure what had happened in his life and what were mere creations completed in his mind. What one would have been sure of, though, was that he was going to be scarred for an awfully prolonged time.

He had his back against the wall, thoughts going back to his horrible sleep.

Oh, how it stung.

Why did it have to be Roman? Why couldn't it have been a stranger like in everybody else's dreams? No, he was cursed to live his capturing over and over again, but with the worst possible outcomes played in front of his eyes that didn't really ever happen.

But most of all, why did it have to still hurt so much?

« Are you lost? »

Virgil was an inch close to jump right out of his skin. Thomas himself had appeared almost glowing in the dark right behind him in his almighty godly appearance, now peeking at the scene in the room.

« Oh, » he emitted, thoughtfully, as the conversation started making sense to him.

« Don't worry. Just don't break the rules and play nice. I'm sure you will all get along, eventually. »

Keeping up the façade could have been hard if his memories didn't make him terrified at that moment. « I hope so. »

Thomas smiled warmly at him. « Go back to sleep, Virgil. »

Almost automatically, that he did.

✾✾✾

Weeks had passed. Maybe months. Maybe more. Time isn't real when you don't keep track of it.

Thus, Roman was confused.

No, he wasn't confused by the concept of time itself, but how its action affected your own senses.

For instance, relationships.

The passage of time permitted one to develop their relations with others. Even for the better!

That was what confused Roman.

He had been hostile to Virgil since he joined, sure, but it was time that made things different and strange.

Because it made him tolerate Virgil more with every interaction, it made his chest feel lighter when he learnt new things about him. It made him grow so accustomed to the boy that, at times, Roman himself was the one to seek him out.

Yet …

« I feel like there's something wrong. » he had told Patton one day, when he looked for the best person's opinion he could find on the subject of feelings.

« With? » Patton tilted his head to the side, encouraging him to elaborate.

« Myself? » Roman shrugged slowly, then he pursed his lips. « I feel like a hypocrite. »

« Why would that be? » Patton's tone clearly stated a subtle “I assure you you're not.” « Did you have an argument with someone? »

The knight made a face. « I've had too many. »

The other made him sit down on a stony surface within the frontal garden.

« It's … Virgil. I- Well, it's weird. We're getting along now, despite everything that's happened. All I've said. » he sighed and brushed his face for a moment. « It doesn't feel right on my account. »

« Well, if you feel bad about it, why don't you simply apologize to him? That'll lift some weight off of you. » Patton offered, while his feet tickled the radiant flowers on the grass.

« Maybe … » Roman still didn't feel entirely convinced, as if some limit were preventing him from opening up completely.

« Tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'll understand. »

The knight stifled a laugh. « I don't even want to admit to myself how I feel. » his voice had gotten softer, the same way the gentle breeze kissed his cheeks.

Patton turned to him, he waited because he knew there was something more to that. When his friend spoke again, he fought a wide smile to spread across his face.

« … About him. » Roman finally finished, looking at the ground as though he were to stare at the sunset in the distance after a victorious journey. Eyes narrowed and clouded memories.

« You don't have to tell my anything you don't want to. » Patton watched as the other nodded slightly. « Just know that he'd love to hear what you have to say. »

That was when Roman had enough willpower to get up. « Right. Thank you. » he didn't look away from the building, a buzzing feeling in his chest.

« Ro- »

« Yes? »

Patton blinked a couple of times. Was that how anxiety looked like on other people?

« You can find him in the library. » he informed, subtly amused.

A “thank you” was heard as Roman practically sprinted towards the construction; Patton let out the laughter he had been holding.

Roman was surely one of the bravest knights he had ever met, but he still did manage to be that endearing when it came to being sentimental.

« Goodness gracious. » he shook his head and went back to his task.

✾✾✾

And the library was where Virgil was, lost in thought as his eyes skittered over yellowish pages of ancient manuscripts, different alphabets tried to confuse his mind.

His sensed heightened as he heard quick steps growing closer; he shut the book he was holding between one of his fingers and turned to the entrance, almost expectant.

When Roman appeared, he had to kill the profound joy that threatened to manifest on his face.

« Hey. »

« Hello. »

The knight approached him, unsure of how to act. Virgil noticed he was far more nervous than how nonchalant he acted any other day.

« Am I bothering you, or ...? »

Virgil pointed to his book. « I was merely reading. »

« Oh- sorry, may I visit another- »

« Roman, » he almost snorted. « It's just poetry. »

Roman's face lit up in an instant. « I love poetry! » he stepped closer, so that he could see the cover of the book.

« Archaic Greek lyric. » Virgil clarified, showing a page full of poets' names; the knight, curse his ignorance on the matter, had never heard any of them.

As he tried to implement some names in his mind, Virgil closed the book again.

« What are you here for? »

Okay then. Let's do this.

« I realized I never really went back on all my wrongdoings to you. » he admitted. « So I wanted to apologize for all the things I've said in the past. I am truly deeply sorry. »

« It's alright, just like you said: they're in the past. » Virgil's expression actually hinted at gratefulness.

« Please, you must accept it or it won't stop eating at me. »

He really had to stop himself from tackling him in a tight hug.

« Yes, okay. I forgive you, Roman. » Virgil's eyes glanced at him with a soft gaze.

Roman responded with a sweet smile. « Thank you. » then, when the silence felt enough for both of them, unable to say anything more despite everything they felt for each other, his interest went back to the book.

« So, you like ancient stuff? »

« It would be ironic for me to learn ancient Greek and then despise all the literature behind it. »

« Wait, what? » Roman's pitch got higher with shock. « You learnt it? »

« It's fundamental to the kind of education I wanted to get. » Virgil shrugged, opening the collection once again to avoid the other's stare.

Until he felt Roman's hands place on his arm and pulling him towards the stained glass window.

« Read for me? » the hopeful veil on the knight's face was almost impossible to ignore and not satisfy.

The boy looked down again, his fingertips going over the verses; when he read the original version, it all sounded like a kind chanting that seemed to make actual sense if Roman had only known what it meant. Virgil's magnificent voice was able to let him understand the themes of the poem through the honey-like melody the metric allowed.

« This is Sappho. The 31st fragment. » Virgil still didn't look up.

« What does it say? »

« He seems like the gods’ equal, that man, whoever he is, who takes his seat so close across from you- » a pair of hands went over his, pushing the book down so Virgil wasn't able to check it.

Roman's face seemed to say "I know you can do it." but actually meant "I saw your eyes didn't move while reading, you know it by heart."

And also a subtle "I'd like to dream you're dedicating this to me."

«A- and listens raptly to your lilting voice, » Virgil stammered at first, trying not to get mesmerized by Roman gazing directly into his eyes, almost as though he were expecting something out of him.

« And lovely laughter, which, as it wafts by, sets the heart in my ribcage fluttering. » he felt the unanimity between the poem and himself. « As soon as I glance at you a moment, » silence lingered in function of the other hemistich. « I can’t say a thing, and my tongue stiffens into silence. »

The warmth of Roman's skin was still surrounding his hands. « Thin flames underneath my skin prickle and spark, a rush of blood booms in my ears, » Virgil's were slightly ringing. « and then my eyes go dark, and sweat pours coldly over me, and all my body shakes, suddenly sallower than summer grass. »

The last verse was Virgil's favorite, he savored every syllable on his tongue. « And death, I fear and feel, is very near. »

Bewildered by the boy's knowledge, Roman was almost unable to understand he had finished.

Virgil, obviously panicking upon realizing what he had just recited and how long he'd been daydreaming of dedicating it to the other, tried to rely on his education to fill the silence.

He looked down. « This- Uhm, this was also written similarly in Latin by Catu- »

« In vain I have struggled. » Roman barged in, he both looked like he needed to get the words out and like he was still looking for said words.

« It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. » he was gripping so tightly at Virgil's hands that the book fell between their feet, with a thump none of them actually cared about hearing.

Almost automatically, he intertwined their fingers. « You must allow me to tell you, » a sensation of deep adrenaline took over his chest and his utmost impulsive tendencies pushed him to reveal his deepest sentiments.

« How ardently I admire, » and when push comes to shove, you can't ignore the violent crashing of your heart against your chest. Roman's hands traveled up to Virgil's cheeks.

« And love you. » the shove became the dive into the abyss and the wish became reality when Roman kissed Virgil's lips soft and longingly, telling him everything poetic and literary words couldn't.

As they parted, Virgil fought the instinct to surge forward again; he slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the harsh light coming from the stained glass next to them.

« Pride and Prejudice? » he asked, dumbfounded by what had just happened.

Roman smiled and started stepping away. « Had a sudden thought and needed to let it out. » he took Virgil's hand. « I will gladly speak with you about literature again, when my knightly duties won't come in between our time together. » he then brought it to his lips. « Until then, » and placed a kiss on his knuckles.

As Roman walked away, gifting him one last love-infused smile, Virgil was sure of one thing.

That one nightmare he had a long while back actually did predict the future: Roman was going to be the death of him, after all.

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bluesey-182 · 5 years

Note

could you please write a jurdan sickfic? i LOVE your writing so much it's beautiful!!

ask and ye shall receive! hope you like it, anon :) and thank you for your kind words 💙

--------

Cardan could tell from the moment they woke up that Jude was not well. She tried her best to explain away her cough to him and tried to soothe her sore throat with several pots of tea that she had delivered to their rooms throughout the day. By the time they had a meeting with the council, her eyes shone with fever and there was color high in her cheeks. Several attempts to get her to rest failed as she shot Cardan’s attempts down each time. He thought, sometimes, that she took her place as High Queen too seriously. She was allowed to rest and demand a break for food and take a few hours with him alone in their rooms, but she continuously pushed herself until she could no longer do so. He knew, without her having to admit it to him, that she believed she had to push herself harder than him to get even half of the respect from the fae folk that he had. He also knew without being told that this was true, and he tried at every chance to command that respect from their subjects towards his wife. But, being a mortal, he feared they never would show her the reverence she deserved as Queen.

The council members filed in to the council room one at a time and slowly took their seats while they chattered amongst themselves. Cardan glanced at where Jude sat beside him–two seats sets side by side at the head of the table–and saw her leaning her head into her hands, her brow bright with a thin sheen of sweat. If he thought he could get away with it without her yelling at him, Cardan would send the council away and force Jude to rest. But alas, that would not stand. Instead they sat through the meeting for some time, Cardan largely tuning out every voice but Jude’s, and Jude continued to get more and more agitated. After some time, Cardan had had enough. He was about to dismiss the council after all when suddenly Jude–now standing in her place–fell into an aggressive coughing fit. Immediately Cardan was on his feet and reaching for her and, though she tried to shake him off, she finally relented to letting him help when the violence of the fit sent her pitching forward into the table. Cardan caught her just before she collapsed.

“None of you speak a word of this,” Cardan growled at the council before demanding them to leave. Once the room was clear, Cardan swooped Jude up into his arms and carried her to their rooms. Her skin felt too hot against his as she shivered, holding on to him like she never would have just a year ago. It was clear from the way she half-slept in his arms that she felt safe, something he knew she was not used to feeling for most of her life. The knowledge of it made his grip on her tighten out of a sense of protection.

In their rooms he gently set her on their bed. Half dazed, she was too delirious to rid herself of her extravagant clothes. So Cardan made quick work of stripping the layers off for her as she cooed at him to not bother. From the wardrobe he pulled one of his own shirts–she loved to sleep in them and, damn, did she look good when she did–and slipped it over her head before tucking her beneath the blankets.

“What can I do?” Cardan asked her gently, sitting down on the bed beside her and dabbing at her brow with his sleeve to clear the perspiration away.

“I’m fine, I just need to rest for a minute,” she slurred in her sick state.

“You are not fine, you are sick. And I’m going to take care of you. Now, my Queen, tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Cardan–,” she tried.

“Jude,” he replied in the same tone of voice. He saw the moment she relented–her whole body sinking back into the mattress as she let herself relax–finally. She allowed herself to lean over and rest her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed her damp hair away from her face.

“Send for Vivi,” she told him, “tell her to get some cold medicine and cough drops.” Cardan did not understand what either of those things were, but nonetheless passed the information on to the guards outside their doors to have sent to Jude’s oldest sister. With that done, he went back to his wife. At first glance–she appeared the be sleeping, curled up on her side as her teeth clattered from the chill of her fever–but then her eyes opened, startling Cardan with the gloss over her beautiful brown eyes that now glowed in an entirely different way.

“What else can I do?” He asked desperately.

“I want some chicken soup,” she whispered.

“What is that?” He asked sincerely, not being familiar with that particular mortal food. With a laugh, she explained it to him–chicken and carrots boiled in a broth (he didn’t understand what “noodles” were so she told him to not worry about it) and he relayed the description to another guard outside their chambers to bring to the kitchen staff. With the promise of food on the way, Jude finally let her eyes drift closed. Cardan joined her on the bed, leaning on one elbow as he stroked her dark hair away from her face. Even in sickness she was beautiful.

“Cardan?” Lost in his train of thought, he almost missed her voice. But that sound could reach him meters underwater or miles across land. There had never before been a better sound in the world than that of her sweet voice.

“Yes, darling?” He purred.

“Hold me,” she insisted, “I’m cold.”

“I believe I remember Taryn telling me we’re supposed to get your temperature down, not warm you up with my body.”

“But your body is so nice.”

“Alas, my sweet villain, flattery will get you nowhere in this situation. I’ll get some cold rags.”

Despite her protests, Cardan walked into the bathroom and gathered some cloths. He wetted them with cool water and brought them back into the room where Jude now had the covers kicked off down by her feet. “I thought you were cold?” He teased.

“I was,” she replied, “but now I’m burning up.” Cardan chuckled at her strange mortal ailments and layed a cloth over her forehead. Instantly she relaxed a bit and let her eyes drift closed again. Gratification caused Cardan’s mouth to split into a grin. The same grin he knew drove Jude crazy in more ways that one. His grin quickly fell when she was hit with another coughing fit that sent her into a sitting position as she tried to catch her breath. Helpless but desperate to be helpful, Cardan lamely placed his hands on her shoulders and held her up as she coughed into her hands. When the fit subsided, he stacked two pillows behind her to help prop her up and guided her back against them.

“You know,” she croaked. “It’s pretty unfair that you can’t get sick.”

“Would you like me to try real hard to catch your illness?”

“Yes. Let me cough in your mouth.”

A knock on the door interrupted Cardan’s laugh and soon after Vivi came stomping in to their rooms. Nevermind the fact that no one was supposed to enter without his say so. He tried not to be irritated with the situation since Vivi was, in fact, the Queen’s sister.

“I can’t believe you’re sick,” Vivi said like an acquisition. Like somehow it was Jude’s fault. She dropped a plastic bag that said “THANK YOU” on it way too many times onto the nightstand and began pulling the contents out of it. There were a few bottles of colorful liquid, a flimsy box, something that read “Vaporub” and a stuffed whale. At both Jude’s and Cardan’s questioning looks at the stuffed animal, Vivi crossed her arms over her chest. “Oak wanted to help.” She thrust the animal into Jude’s arms. “Now love that thing or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Why are you in such a mood?” Jude demanded.

“Oak has been driving me nuts these last few days.”

Once again there was a knock on the door. Cardan left the sisters to talk about their brother in order answer it and was met with a servant holding a tray of food. What must have been the soup was in a bowl in the center of the tray and Cardan had to admit it smelled delightful. He took the tray from the servant, who bowed deeply before him, and shut the door with his foot. Back in the bedroom, Jude was holding a tiny plastic cup full of orange liquid and scowling at it like it had offended her.

“Jude,” Vivi said, “you poisoned yourself for months on end, you can take the stupid cough medicine.”

Cardan, shocked by this statement, said, “What?!”

Jude, annoyed by this statement, said, “Bite me.”

In one swift motion Jude put the cup to her lips and threw the contents back in one swallow. She grimaced. “Almost twelve years away from the mortal world and they haven’t managed to make this shit taste any better than when we were kids,” she choked out while motioning with her hand for Cardan to pass her a glass of water, which she promptly threw back in the same manner as the medication.

“Your soup is here,” Cardan said, indicating the tray of food now sitting on the bedside table. Jude accepted it gratefully and sipped at the broth in her spoonful. She grimaced again.

“Needs salt,” she said. At Cardan’s face, she glowered at him. “It’s on my desk in the other room.”

Well, he had said he’d help however she wanted him to… Carrying the pack of salt like it was a bomb, Cardan brought it to his waiting wife who soon after dumped what must have been half the container into the soup. Cardan and Vivi both watched with twin expressions of revulsion as Jude took another bite of the soup and smiled to herself.

“Now,” Vivi said abruptly, “if that’s all you needed, I promised Oak I would take him to a movie, so I must be leaving.” Without even waiting for a response, she turned around on her heel and dramatically left the room in the same fashion she had burst into it. When Cardan turned back to Jude, exhaustion was pulling at her face. She had eaten half the bowls’ contents, set the rest aside on the table, and was now watching him with a sort of wistfulness. He took Vivi’s place beside the bed and combed Jude’s silky brown hair behind her ears using his fingers.

“I’m tired,” his wife said.

“Sleep, my love,” he suggested gently.

“Will you stay with me?” Jude was already laying back down, curling up into a fetal position with the blankets pulled over her once more. Cardan shucked off his clothes until he was in his sleepwear–which was nothing but skin–and crawled into bed with her, curling up behind her on the bed and wrapping his tail gently around her wrist in the way he knew comforted her.

“Of course,” he whispered as her breathing got deeper. “Of course.”

#jurdan #jude x cardan #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #my writing #the wicked king #text post #okay to reblog

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lurafita · 5 years

Text

Rich!Tony/Artist!Peter, part 1

This was given to me as a prompt in my asks. Here is the original prompt: click me

So this is a no powers au. Tony is in his thirties, while Peter is in his twenties.

This wasn’t supposed to have more than one parts, but, as always, I got lost in descriptions and stuff, and I want to try to not post too long texts on tumblr.

Sadly, nothing really happens here. I mean it, this is the boring part. I will try to get the next part out real soon.

The Art of Science and the Science of Art

The thing is, it's not enough to just be rich and famous. There is a certain song and dance that forces itself into your life and before you know it, you move your legs and swing your hips to it's rhythm.

You don't serve your business partner a glass of a 'good' wine.

You serve them a glass of an 'expensive' wine.

The richer and more important the person opposite you, the more expensive the bottle of wine, even if that person can't really tell what it is specifically, that makes this one bottle more valuable than the cheap one at the liquore store.

Your suit is bespoke, there isn't even a question about that. And it better be from a prestigious tailor.

You can wear comfortable clothes, if they are from the likes of Dolce and Gabbana, or Hermes.

Your cologne? Killian will do in a pinch, but it is better to have a little flacon of Tom Ford or Creed in your bathroom cabinet.

If the watch on your wrist costs anything less than 30,000 dollars, you might as well leave it at home.

Tony has been born into this world of luxury and thrived in it. He knows how to hum this song and dance this dance. And over the years, he has become rich and famous and successful enough to allow himself some leeway. Despite the various scandals of his youth, and the eccentricities of his more mature years, Anthony Edward Stark is still a true pioneer in his field, admired and envied by his peers and competitors, as well as the most sought after bachelor for years now.

If anyone specially invited to a high society event arrives thirty minutes late and in less than stellar clothes, they will become the laughing stock of the circle. If Tony Stark is three hours late and dressed in an untucked shirt and jeans, he is congratulated for his confidence and boldness.

If anyone else is caught having one affair after the other, their social standing will plummet. If Tony Stark is in the news with another man or woman on his arm every other week, his companies stock value is either unaffected, or will rise even more because of it.

It is the rich and famous that get to see the first performance of a high grossing musical, or opera. It is the rich and famous who are invited to theaters for a first viewing of a new play.

The audience for a fashion show of a high profile designer is mostly comprised of those that can afford the price tags. If you aren't invited to a red carpet event? Well, then you simply aren't worth the invitation. If you are invited but then fail to show? You just committed social suicide. If you are Tony Stark, however, those rules are out of the window. Because Tony Stark has to cater to no one.

So unlike pretty much anyone else, Tony could get away with not visiting the grand opening of the very first art exhibit of a new, but already incredibly popular, young artist. And if it weren't for his very persistent personal assistant and good friend, Pepper Potts, he would have.

“Would you stop scowling already? I'm making you attend an exciting art show, not a firing squad. Jesus. Has it ever occurred to you that you might just enjoy yourself?”

The question earned two raised eyebrows and a scoff.

“Okay, first, there is nothing exciting about art. Period. It's just a bunch of lines and paint on a canvas, or your run of the mill sculpture, depicting someone long dead, and usually nude. And don't get me wrong, because I am without a doubt a great admirer of the naked human body, but that doesn't mean I feel in any way drawn to or aroused by a block of cold clay. No matter how much detail is put into making the nipples look like they just puckered up, or how smooth the curves happen to be. And second, if you were actually taking me to a firing squad, that at least would be exciting. Guns I know. Guns I understand. Art is just... there.”

Pepper gave him a very unimpressed look, from where she was sitting opposite of him in one of the company's spacious town cars.

“Please keep comments like that to yourself when we get there. Consider it an early birthday gift to me.”

“...Wasn't your birthday last week? I'm pretty sure I sent you a cake.”

“My birthday is in two months. But yes, you did send me a cake. A strawberry cake.”

“Which you love.”

“Which I'm allergic to.”

“Oh...Well, at least I remembered that strawberries held significance to you. I feel like I should be getting points for that.”

A moment of awkward silence spread between them, in which the redhead treated her boss with the most cynical stare in existence, before Tony threw his hands up in the air.

“Fine, fine. I promise to walk around a boring room and look at boring paintings on boring walls and talk to boring people and keep all of my very true, but possibly degrading comments about the unimportance of art to myself. Happy?”

“Delirious.”

She even smiled as she said it. Then she slipped her hand in her ridiculously small designer purse (honestly, why even bother with these things if you can't fit anything practical in them? Like your phone. Or a screwdriver.), and pulled out a folded flyer.

“Here, that's the theme of tonight's exhibition. While the artist is pretty new to the scene, he has already made some noise in the community. Many think he is going to be the Van Gogh of this century.”

Tony accepted the flyer, but rolled his eyes.

“Van Gogh... isn't that the one who cut off his ear? That kind of comparison doesn't exactly ignite a whole lot of trust in me, concerning the next sure-to-be-a-waste-of-my-time hour of my life. I'm not exactly squeamish, but I'm really not into gore.”

He unfolded the piece of paper and read the caption with an almost sneer.

'The Art of Science and the Science of Art'

Great. So the artist was one of those pretentious 'art is everything and everything is art' snobs. He was not looking forward to meeting... what was the guys name, anyway? He scanned the paper quickly and found the name at the bottom, underneath a short introduction text to the kind of display that awaits the guests.

Peter Parker.

_________________________________________________________

See? I told you this was the boring part. Well, hope you liked it anyway. As always, anyone who comments will automatically be put on the tagging list. If you don’t want to be tagged, but still with to comment, just write ‘no tag’, at the end.

Now, remember to have fun and enjoy what you love, and ignore any nay-sayers. Life can be short, don’t bother yourself with toxic people.

#starker #au #fic #prompt #rich!tony #no powers au #artist!peter #peter parker #tony stark #op lurafita

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choices-betch · 5 years

Text

Lost on You (Mona x MC): Chapter II

Book: Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance Pairing: Mona x MC Warnings: Just cursing. Chapter Description: Mona and Lexi come face to face with the realities of past and present. Notes: I feel like this story is going to be longer than 4 parts, but I have commitment issues so I’m not going to sell my soul to specifics. It’ll be as long as it is lol thank you to all who liked/commented/reblogged my other stories! It’s so validating and drives me to want to write more❤️ let me know if you want to be tagged for future chapters!

Tags: @maxwellsquidsuit @scarlet-letter-a0114 @whoinvitedalx @zoe6111 @pauclaws

Chapter Song: oh my god - Ida Maria

Chapter II: The only thing to do was go

Lexi laid in bed, staring at her closet...the one housing the yet to be opened mystery gift. It’d been two weeks and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, but some part of her was afraid to open it. She had been plagued by all the possibilities from the moment she thought she saw a glimpse of Mona at her graduation, but it was impossible. Then she came home to the gift, and it created a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. She didn’t know why; she’d been waiting years for Mona to do some sort of grand gesture, but a bigger part of her was scared about finding that it wasn’t from her. Realistically, how in the hell would she have gotten a gift and handwritten tag from prison? So instead, she avoided.

With a sigh, she threw her covers off and headed to the shower. After getting ready for the day (and another few glances at the gift), she grabbed her belongings and headed out the door, unsure of where she was going but knowing she needed to be away from the reminders that plagued her. She wandered aimlessly down the streets, lost in thought.

It had been a weird two weeks. She’d had positives, of course; graduating, spending some time with her Dad and Riya (who had to do a same day trip due to work). But she’d also slept with a complete stranger then ghosted in the middle of the night to have a complete meltdown, gotten repeatedly, deliriously drunk alone and swiped right on one too many people she regretted in the mornings, and, as always, she was broke and still unemployed. Only now she didn’t have the excuse of being a student.

As Lexi’s existential pondering continued, she ended up downtown, heading into a coffee shop. After six years of an intensive combined law degree program plus volunteer work, she was fairly certain her insides functioned solely on caffeine at this point. She ordered her usual and headed over to the bar to wait, still distracted by questions of when her life became so complicated again. For years things had been slow, predictable. Boring, Lexi mused internally, her brows furrowing. She was beginning to sense a theme of self-destruction when the waters were too calm that hadn’t emerged in years.

Lexi’s name was called at the counter and she grabbed her drink, thanking the barista with a small smile. Right as she turned toward the exit, she came face to face with none other than Jordan.

God, she thought internally as she stared at Jordan wide-eyed, unsure of how to react. Could this day get any worse?

—-

Mona leaned against a tall magnolia tree, scrolling idly through her phone. She looked up every so often, both ensuring she was safely hidden and to give her a good line of vision, but she’d been standing there for at least twenty minutes and was restless.

“This is stupid,” she grunted to herself with a sigh, putting her phone away and folding her arms across her chest. Why was she even here? When she was about to be released she told herself she wasn’t looking back, and that included Lexi. But then she got that stupid letter which forced her to acknowledge that she had hadn’t let go, and that was infuriating. Mona prided herself on not getting attached, on being able to cut out and start over on a whim, and out of nowhere a stupid 18 year old girl messed it all up.

Mona snapped into focus as she saw said stupid 18 year old girl walking down the street, except now she was an educated, 24 year old woman. And still damn gorgeous, Mona mused. Her eyes followed Lexi’s path until there was a safe enough distance to tail her, then Mona set off in the same direction. Mona was fully aware of the creep factor in her behavior, but she justified it by telling herself she was just making sure she was safe; that she was happy. Whatever that meant, at least.

Mona continued walking behind her, growing increasingly irritated at the lack of awareness Lexi had of her surroundings. Mona could have easily grabbed her on so many corners and nobody would have been the wiser, but Lexi always was far too trusting of others’ intentions and naively confident in her ability to defend herself.

As Lexi approached a coffee shop, Mona stood a few stores down, debating on risking being seen in the coffee shop. After Lexi didn’t come out for almost ten minutes, she thought fuck it and gathered her hair, pulled her hood over her head and placed shades on her face before walking in. Thankfully it was moderately full, so she stood out less. Mona ordered an espresso under another alias, scanning the room for Lexi’s face. She found her sitting at a table with another woman, her eyebrows furrowed just slightly as she chewed on the corner of her lip.

Mona grabbed her coffee and sat at a table in the back corner, blowing on it as she watched the profiles of the two women across the shop. Mona had to laugh at herself. It was almost comical how she continued to allow herself to get in giant messes despite spending her every waking moment not getting involved with anything that wouldn’t directly benefit her. And yet here she was. Former her would have risen from the dead to kick her ass.

Mona continued observing and narrowed her eyes, watching Lexi laugh with a bashful look, tucking her hair behind her ear. She remembered that look. It was a look Lexi frequently got around her. Mona frowned; what the hell was she doing? Who had she turned into that she was following a kind-of-ex around in an effort to “check up”? When the hell did she start giving a shit? Thoroughly irritated, Mona grabbed her espresso and hastily exited the shop, pulling off her hood as she got outside and made her way literally anywhere else but there.

—-

Lexi sat across from Jordan at a table in the cafe, wondering why of all places did she have to walk into this coffee shop. She didn’t want to do this now, or ever really, but she supposed she owed Jordan this much.

“So..” Lexi started, fumbling with her cup as a distraction.

“So…” Jordan repeated, “wanna tell me why you bailed?”

“Not really,” Lexi stated bluntly, her eyes widening as she realized she said that out loud. “Sorry...it’s just…”

“Complicated?”

Lexi grimaced and shrugged slightly. “Kind of.”

“Well, lucky for you I am the queen of complicated, so I probably have a solution to your problem.”

Lexi smirked against her will, chewing on her lip and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she contemplated the offer. She hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about it, really. Riya didn’t ever fully understand the complexities of her actions back then, nor the impact of the relationships she formed. It was an unspoken rule that she didn’t speak to her dad about it after she wasn’t needed anymore.

“Were you the secret love child of a handsome Romanian prince and a commoner mother and therefore your ideas of love are completely fucked?”

Lexi stared at Jordan in confusion then snorted in laughter, covering her mouth. “How many cheesy romance novels have you read in your life?”

“I had to suffer through my mother’s recollection of her Norah Roberts books,” she joked. “Nah but seriously, what’s the deal?”

Lexi started to reply when a flash of black caught her eye. Her stomach and face fell simultaneously, her immediate thought wandering to Mona. She had absolutely no reason to think that could possibly be her, but something in her gut…

“Lexi? You okay?”

Lexi shook herself out of her thoughts and immediately began grabbing her things. “Yeah...yeah, sorry, I...I have to go. I’m so sorry. I’ll...I’ll talk to you later, I swear.”

Lexi ran out of the coffee shop, leaving a bewildered Jordan behind. She looked around frantically, panic building in her chest. What the hell is wrong with me? She walked briskly to the corner of the street, looking every which way again for a figure in black to no end. Lexi snarled in frustration, startling a few people passing her at the corner. She ran her hands down her face and focused on her breathing to gain composure, then headed back home. Clearly she was not meant to be out today.

—-

Mona had no idea where she was headed when she left the coffee shop in a hissy fit, but eventually she stopped walking and caught her breath, scowling at how out of shape she was. TV always made prison look so much more active.

With a heavy sigh she once again questioned what in the goddamn hell she was doing. She came all the way to Oklahoma to see Lexi graduate, cryptically left a gift on her doorstep, tailed her on and off for weeks, and now what? She was just going to take off because six years later Lexi wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking of her? That’s what Mona wanted, right? For Lexi to forget her?

Mona scoffed and shook her head at herself, then pulled up directions to Lexi’s address. She was acting like a little bitch, and Mona did not bitch out of things. With a new determination she headed toward Lexi’s place, hoping she’d beat her there.

As luck would have it, Mona did beat her there. She perched on Lexi’s doorstep and scrolled through her phone for distraction. Mona never was one for patience, but she was sick of having loose ends.

It didn’t take long for footsteps to approach. Lexi was distracted with her keys, not paying attention to her surroundings, as usual.

“How did you survive 24 years without falling into a manhole?” Mona blurted before rolling her eyes at herself. Real fucking smooth. Lexi dropped her keys and looked up, startled, then the color slowly drained from her face. “Jesus,” Mona muttered, standing up and dusting off her pants. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Haven’t I?” Lexi whispered hoarsely, staring at Mona in shock. How was this possible? Had Lexi gone full on psychotic? Was this a hallucination? Lexi rushed forward without thinking and stomped on Mona’s foot roughly, causing Mona to curse loudly.

“The fuck was that for? Goddamn,” Mona hissed, nursing her foot.

“Making sure I wasn’t going crazy…” Lexi trailed off, the shock of seeing Mona in front of her not having worn off enough to realize the hysteria of her actions.

“I think that ship has sailed, sweetheart,” Mona snorted, still grimacing in pain. “You planning on letting me in? I think I need to elevate my foot thanks to you.”

Lexi stared at her, baffled. Was she serious? For weeks Lexi had thought she was completely losing it, seeing glimpses of what she thought was only her subconscious desires in random places, and now she shows up like nothing? Like the last six years hadn’t happened?

Lexi picked up her keys, still stunned, and unlocked her door, leaving it open behind her as she headed toward her couch and sank down. Mona followed suit, closing the door behind her and sitting a safe distance from Lexi on the couch. Mona took in her surroundings, immediately spotting multiple familiar drawings displayed around the space. If she were a good person she wouldn’t have felt some sort of pride in that, but she never was one for taking the moral high road.

“What are you doing here?” Lexi asked, breaking the silence.

Mona paused, taking a deep breath. “Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mona?”

“Ooh, when’d you get a potty mouth?” Mona teased with a wink. “Hot.”

Lexi’s eyes flashed and Mona smirked, lifting her hands up in a peace offering. She sighed heavily,

“I don’t know, okay? I got your letter and...I guess I just wanted to make sure I didn’t get shot for nothing and you hadn’t ruined your life. Again.”

Lexi gave her a dubious look. “And you couldn’t have done that in a response to the hundreds of letters I sent?”

“Writing isn’t really my forte,” Mona replied with a shrug.

“But leaving unidentified boxes on people's’ doorstep is.”

“Ah yeah, how’d you like it?” Mona inquired with a grin.

“I didn’t open it!” Lexi screeched, throwing her hands in the air. She felt like she was completely losing her mind.

“Well that’s rude,” Mona teased, leaning back. Lexi stared at her wild eyed.

“It’s absolutely infuriating that you’re so calm. You know that, right?”

Mona shrugged. “It’s a special talent.”

Lexi’s nostrils flared as her jaw clenched in anger. If ever she had wanted to smack someone into the next century...

Mona looked away and covered her mouth by pretending to scratch under her nose to avoid further triggering Lexi. She was really trying here, but it was difficult to take her seriously when her face looked like that.

“What do you want me to say, Lexi?” Mona sighed. “I didn’t come here to rehash history—“

“Then why. did. you. come. here.” Lexi interrupted, gaze intense. Mona stared back at her, all traces of humor gone from her face.

“I told you, I wanted to see that I didn’t go to prison for nothing,” Mona replied through gritted teeth. Clearly Lexi didn’t lose her annoying persistence over the years.

“Bull,” Lexi retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Be honest or get out.”

“Because I still give a shit, okay?” Mona yelled, her face screwed up into a scowl. “Though I’m really questioning why at this point in time.”

“Why now?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I’ve spent the last six years of my life writing to a ghost, Mona. I’ve gotten nothing from you, and I’ve just been...stuck for years, and then you show up and want to chat it up like it’s nothing? I don’t understand you!”

After a tense moment of silence, Mona responded quietly. “I don’t have the answers you’re looking for, Lexi. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m here now.”

Lexi didn’t know how much time had passed since she got home; it could have been ten minutes or three hours, but she was exhausted. Mona took Lexi’s silence as her cue to leave; she wasn’t going to grovel. She said what she came to say, saw what she needed to see, and that was that. She stood up, running her hands up and down her thighs to get some feeling back in them before turning to stare at Lexi intently.

“Look, do what you want with the gift. Keep it, burn it, use it to wipe your ass. I don’t care. Talk to me, or don’t. But stop straddling the lines for once. Make a decision. You have to take a chance on something eventually.”

With that, Mona dropped a slip of paper on the couch - unbeknownst to Lexi - and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Lexi sat curled up on the couch in a daze, losing track of time as she got lost in her thoughts. What had Mona meant? Lexi reflected on the last six years of her life, trying to connect the dots; trying to see how many chances she had missed out on, how many times she had held herself back for one reason or another, and she came to the sudden realization that Mona was right. Even after all these years, Lexi still couldn’t figure out what she wanted; always stuck between the past and present, what she knew and what she wanted but never fully invested in anything.

Lexi stood and started toward her bed, but a flash of white in her peripheral caused her to do a double take. A scrap of paper laid where Mona sat. Lexi eyed it for a moment before curiosity got the best of her. She walked to the couch and grabbed it, unfolding it cautiously to find what she assumed to be the name and address of a bar scribbled inside.

Lexi bunched the paper in her hands, standing still for a moment before walking to her closet. She took a deep breath before grabbing the box from the shelf. She sat on her couch and slowly took the lid off, her breath catching as she looked at the contents. She pulled it out, her fingers running down the plastic protecting the cover of a first edition print of On The Road by Jack Kerouac. Her eyes welled with tears and she closed them, memories flooding back to her.

“God‍‍, do you ever do anything outside of school?” Mona said with exasperation as she entered the game room in the garage, plopping down on the couch next to Lexi and eyeing Lexi’s book. “I mean, aside from jacking luxury cars.”

Lexi rolled her eyes and smirked. “This is purely for fun, rest assured.”

“Nerd,” Mona teased, throwing her feet up on the arm of the couch and resting her head on Lexi’s lap. Lexi paused, blinking at her a few times as Mona grinned in response.

“Uh...do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Mona quipped, settling in further. “Hey, you’re pretty comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Lexi replied sarcastically and rolled her eyes, as if her heart wasn’t beating double time at the contact. Comfortable silence ensued as Lexi went back to reading, Mona still resting her head on Lexi’s lap as she stared at the ceiling.

“Why that book for pleasure?” Mona questioned. Lexi sighed softly, thanking for a moment before shrugging.

“I guess...freedom? I don’t know. I felt trapped for so long. Like I had no idea what I was doing or what my life was supposed to be about. It was nice to escape...to think about exploring what life has to offer, being spontaneous, careless...”

“More careless than being involved in a street gang?” Mona retorted with a raised brow. Lexi flicked Mona’s hair teasingly, earning her a scowl in response. Silence enveloped the room once again and Mona closed her eyes as Lexi went back to reading. Mona hesitated a moment, second guessing self-disclosure as she always did, but maybe she wasn’t as safe as she thought.

“It’s one of my favorites, too.”

Lexi held the book to her chest for a moment before placing the book back inside the box and setting it on her coffee table. She jumped up, walked determinedly to her closet and began grabbing clothes; she was going to be spontaneous and carefree without reservation for once.

#mona x mc #mona x mc fics #mona rod #rod mona #mona ride or die #ride or die #playchoices #choices stories you play #pixelberry

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serenlyss · 5 years

Text

Reach

(Alternatively titled: Reach (for things you thought were gone forever))

Rating: G Pairings: ritshou, very small background terumob Summary: “Are you an angel?” Shou croaks, suddenly very sure that he must be dying, because this boy is so different from the rumors he’s heard from the people in his village that there’s no way he can be a harpy. He finds himself smiling despite the realization that his death is soon approaching, and murmurs, “You’re beautiful. If this is what dying is, I don’t think I’d mind going with you.” As it would turn out, not all fairy tales are born from imagination. Crossposted to AO3: Reach

Oh my gosh it's finally done. This AU was born from a half-baked desire to write a wings au with ritshou and I've been feverishly writing it for like 5 days now. I'm really excited to share it and super proud of how it turned out, so I hope you all enjoy it too! I had a lot of fun writing in a more poetic, descriptive style. Depending on how the inspiration hits I may write more of this au in the future as well, and make it into a little series. For now though, have this 12k+ word monstrosity.

---

Shou’s starting to regret not telling anyone where he’d planned on going.

His thoughts had started out innocently enough. The rumors of mythical creatures and terrifying monsters that lurked in the thick woods near his little village had always intrigued him, drawing his attention to the shadowy woods he’d been reminded from the time he could walk to never wander into.

Some of the stories are very obviously untrue, like the one that claims that a fearsome dragon sleeps within the shade of the forest’s tallest trees, guarding mountains of gold. They’re the kinds of fables meant to scare people from wandering off too far, but everyone is aware that dragons don’t exist. Even if they did exist, Shou doubts one would choose to live in a place as boring and uninteresting as this.

The other tales are slightly more believable to Shou. They’re stories that had probably sprung from a person’s real memories, stories spun with bravado and just a little extra embellishment each time they’d been told until they’d evolved into fairy tales in their own right. These are the ones that speak of monsters lurking beneath fishing boats, waiting to snap up any poor soul who happens to tumble from the safety of their ship, of human-faced animals that draw you in with sweet words only to lure you to your own inevitable death. Terrifying and malevolent creatures whose only interest in a person is to tear them apart.

Of all his people’s myths and fables, there’s only one that manages to pique Shou’s interest enough to draw him away from the safety of his town. These are the stories about the harpies, a horrifying combination of bird and man, a creature with the talons of an eagle and the face of a woman that could never be satisfied, always ravenous, searching endlessly for its next meal. They’re said to be terrifying, bloodthirsty, beautiful creatures, and Shou can’t help but want to meet one in person.

He knows, rationally, that he’s as good as dead if the rumors are true, but it’s not like he has anything more to go off of, or anything better to do. He’s terribly bored of his uninteresting, lonesome daily life, where the only exciting thing to come to his front door is the salesman trying ceaselessly to sell him things he doesn’t need. So, one day he packs up a bag with his sketchbook and some art supplies and a snack in case he gets hungry and sets off into the woods without a word. He knows that if he tells his neighbors where he’s going, they’ll try to stop him, and that sounds like more of a pain than Shou’s willing to put up with, so he doesn’t tell them. It’s not like he’ll be gone for long, anyway.

---

As it turns out, Shou is very, very wrong about the length of time it’ll take to reach the thicker center of the forest, and even more wrong about being confident in his ability to read his map. By the time he’s a few hours into his walk, he can’t tell what direction he’s moving in anymore, and he’s turned the map over half a dozen times trying to reorient himself. Eventually, he gives up and crumples the map into a ball, shoving it into the pocket of his backpack in frustration. Way to go, idiot, he scolds himself, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he continues to trudge ever forward, you’ve screwed yourself. This stupid forest is impossible to navigate, and now you’ve gone and gotten yourself lost.

The forest is like a maze, trees so close together that it’s impossible for Shou to see more than a few hundred feet in front of him at any time. It’s huge, too; Shou swears he’s been walking in a straight line since he entered the forest hours ago, but he still hasn’t reached the other side. His feet are starting to ache from the uneven terrain beneath his shoes and his neck is slick from sweat that beads from a combination of the hot, humid weather that accompanies the transition from summer to fall and the fact that he hasn’t stopped walking since he first stepped foot in the woods. He hasn’t even brought any water with him, certain that he’d be in and out in a few hours at most.

Shou walks and walks and doesn’t let himself stop to rest, too worried that if he stops he’ll forget what direction to walk in and never find the edge of the forest. It isn’t until the sun has fallen behind the horizon and the trees in front of him are almost too deep in the shadows to make out that he finally stops to sleep, curled up in the thick grass and undergrowth with his jacket wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

After five days of waking, walking, unfolding his crumpled map and futilely attempting to find his way back to his village, the lack of food and water is really starting to get to him. He hasn’t come across anything salvageable, not even a forest stream he could drink from to stave off the dehydration that makes his limbs feel heavy and his tongue thick and dry in his mouth. His skin shimmers in an ever-present layer of sweat as the liquid slowly seeps from his pores, and he’s powerless to do anything about it. Even though the sun doesn’t touch him very often through the trees, the humidity and heat grips him strongly, their fingers digging in and wringing every last drop of water from his body until he starts to feel the telltale dizziness and nausea shutting him down from the inside out. His brain turns to fog and his legs to jelly, but still he walks, knowing that the moment he stops is the moment he gives up on living.

In the end, it’s a gangly tree root that does him in. It catches him around his toes and makes him lose his footing, and he lets out a hoarse yelp as he’s thrown swiftly and certainly to the ground. He hits it shoulder first, arms not quick enough to catch him on his hands, and the shock of it sends cramps up his arm and down his back. He winces, sure that it’ll leave a terrible bruise.

He attempts to push himself to his feet, to continue his endless walking, but his legs won’t listen to him anymore. His arms can hardly support the weight of his torso, and after a few fruitless seconds he lets himself flop uselessly onto his back. The sun is setting, spots of white appearing against dark blue as the last rays of daylight throw long shadows across the forest floor and plunge his surroundings into a thick and unyielding darkness.

He blinks slowly, eyes falling shut for a few seconds before he forces them open again. His limbs are heavy, not an ounce of energy left over to lift them with, and as he stares up at the open sky above him he finds himself unable to make out the stars anymore, vision too fuzzy to separate the white from black. He lets out a shaky breath, feeling the weak breeze stir the hair that arches away from his face. Why did I come here? he wonders to himself, regret creeping under his skin and settling there. This was so stupid… He feels a tears leak out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his face and disappearing into the creases of his ear. He hadn’t thought he’d have any water left in his body to cry with, and yet here he is. He can’t even reach up to wipe the trail of wetness away.

Behind his head, he hears the sound of tall grass rustling under soft, light footfalls. He doesn’t even try to turn to see what animal has stumbled upon him, eyes half-lidded. He knows he’s as good as dead, and whatever scavenger has happened upon him must know it, too. By morning, he'll be long gone, and the animals will pick him to pieces until there are only bones remaining. Maybe one day, he muses to himself in a delirious haze, some scientist will finally make it out here and find my skeleton. They’ll say I was killed by the harpies, and make up stories about a fantastic battle I must have been in… I’ll become the story they tell their kids to scare them away from the forest. The thought brings a bittersweet smile to his face, a brief flash of humor that quickly dies as the feather-light footsteps draw closer.

He listens as the creature approaches him, crushing grass and dry leaves underfoot, until it pauses right behind his head. Its form casts a shadow over him, and through his hazy vision he sees it bend down to look at him. He furrows his brow, fighting to focus his blurry eyes enough to make out the thing that most certainly will be eating him once he finally kicks the bucket, and finds that it’s not an animal at all.

The creature lowers itself to its knees, half-crouched over Shou’s head. Two hands reach out and brush against his cheeks, soft and incredibly careful, but the touch is not quite human. Through his eyelashes, Shou can make out slim shoulders and a slender neck that leads to a head that is distinctly human-shaped, and he can see the shock of black hair that falls into the creature’s face and frames shining eyes with its long strands. Shou’s eyes open wider, a gasp of awe caught in his throat. Two sprawling, shimmering wings curl around the creature and shield Shou’s upper body from the outside, falling over him like a dome and blocking out what little light the half-set sun provides. Hundreds of pitch-black feathers hover over him now, like the ones from the crows he sees outside his modest house, picking at the neighbor’s garden. Something about this creature’s wings is ethereal, however, the kind of vision that can only be conceived in lucid dreams and supernatural visions. His expression swims into focus gradually, revealing an impassive, boyish face framed with those same dark feathers. There’s something melancholic about his expression, a wistful, empathetic look in his eye that makes Shou’s failing heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Are you an angel?” he croaks, suddenly very sure that he must be dying, because this boy is so different from the rumors he’s heard from the people in his village that there’s no way he can be a harpy. He finds himself smiling despite the realization that his death is soon approaching, and murmurs, “You’re beautiful. If this is what dying is, I don’t think I’d mind going with you.”

The boy doesn’t react to Shou’s words. He doesn’t even know if this mystical, ominous, alluring creature can understand his language, though he likes to believe the near-imperceptible lift of his eyebrows is an indication that maybe he can after all. If he does, he makes no effort to respond, simply slides his hands along Shou’s cheeks to gently cup his face between them. He leans over Shou’s unmoving form until his face is mere inches away, his warm breath ghosting over Shou’s skin. Shou wrinkles his nose instinctively against it, feels feathers tickling the bare skin of his arms, and then the boy closes the gap between them.

Shou feels lips press against his, warm and soft, and he draws in a shocked breath through the corners of his mouth. The kiss is careful and awkwardly angled, Shou’s head turned in the wrong direction for it to feel natural, but there’s no discomfort behind it. The dark-haired boy lets out a long sigh against his lips that fills his lungs with fuzz and butterflies, the sensation sending tremors down his spine and raising goose bumps along his arms. A numbness starts in the pit of his stomach and spreads outward, a comfortable heaviness weighing down his limbs and making his eyelids droop as though he’s about to fall asleep. So this is what dying feels like, he thinks, the last thought his brain can manage before his eyes fall closed and he succumbs to the darkness pulling at his mind for good.

---

Shou regains consciousness in phases. The first thing to return to him is his sense of touch, poking at the edges of his foggy mind in the form of a weight that pushes him down into something soft. He feels pleasantly warm and cozy, his head cushioned by a material that reminds him of the soft wool he sheers off of the sheep in his village every summer. His fingers twitch when he realizes he can feel them again, but he doesn’t dare move lest he ruin the comfort of the moment too quickly.

The next thing to return to him is his hearing. He registers, faintly, the sound of movement not far from where he’s laying, the clang of metal on metal or the shifting of fabric nearby. At one point he hears the sound of someone humming in a voice he doesn’t recognize, a melody that comes across only slightly out of tune. The humming is incredibly alluring, and the more he listens, the more he’s desperate to find the source of the voice so he can tell them how mundanely beautiful it is.

It’s this desire that prompts Shou to open his eyes at last. He blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the light that filters into the room from the skylight overhead. He wiggles his feet experimentally, legs shifting beneath a thin blanket that’s been tucked around him securely. He takes a deep breath, then rolls onto his side with little difficulty, propping himself up on one elbow so he can orient himself in his new surroundings.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that he’s not dead after all, the pains in his head and soreness in his shoulder from when he’d fallen an indicator that this isn’t the afterlife. He lifts one hand sluggishly to rub his eyes before glancing around, taking in the humble room he’s found himself in.

He’s laying on a bed atop a mattress stuffed with sheep’s wool and feathers, it’s edges carefully shaped to allow for a flat, comfortable surface to rest on. The afghan now bunched around his waist is also made of wool, dyed and knit by hand from the looks of it, and Shou takes a moment to run his fingers over the surface of it admiringly before he slides his sluggish legs out from under it. If it isn’t for the ache in his head and shoulder he might think he’s dreaming, with the way his fuzzy mind doesn’t quite grasp reality and the soft but constant hummed tune tries to lull him back to bed. He feels like he’s crossed over into another world, bare feet sinking into the coarse fur of the elk pelt that covers a portion of the house’s wooden floor.

The whole house appears to be one single room. The bed Shou is sitting on is set up against the wall furthest from the front door, nestled comfortably in the corner under a window. A shelf housing rows of neatly-folded clothes sits beside an identical empty one, and on the other side of that he can see a second bed, a matching knit afghan neatly tucked around it. It looks like it’s been tucked in very carefully and deliberately.

Gripping the shelf at his side, Shou hauls himself uncertainly to his feet. He sways slightly, reaching his other hand up to his face for a moment as a wave of dizziness washes over him. It passes, though, the dark spots clearing after a few seconds. He releases his hold on the shelf, taking a shaky breath to steady himself before he continues to explore the little cottage.

A neat kitchenette is set up against one wall, a large wood stove and oven taking up most of the space. A stone chimney rises from it to vent the smoke, disappearing through the sturdy roof of the house. Wooden countertops line the rest of the wall, held up by thin, hand-carved beams slotted into holes in the floor, and on top of them lay bowls of fruit and jars of various spices, filling the house with a mixture of aromas that make Shou’s nose tingle. Above the countertops, rows of shelves hold bowls, pans, pots, plates, and even some utensils. Large spoons and spatulas hang in rows from hooks underneath them, each one just a little different from the others.

In the center of the room is a modest kitchen table, made from smooth wood and accompanied by four matching chairs. In the center of it, a woven doily cushions a tall, thin glass vase, inside of which are resting a handful of sunflowers. A few brown, dry petals have fallen from them, but they look otherwise healthy and alive, their clipped ends half-submerged in clear water. Shou smooths his hand over the natural wood, feeling the veins and notches beneath his fingertips. The table is finished with a lacquer that gives off a pleasant floral scent, like lavender. Shou’s never seen a table this nice before, not even in the huge houses of the richest people in his town. He can’t help but marvel at all the personal touches he sees all over the place, each and every item in the house handmade with a skill and precision that he’s only seen from the master carpenters that come to sell their wares in his tiny village.

The house’s third wall is lined from floor to ceiling with shelves. Some of them contain little trinkets - shiny rocks, wooden carvings, stuffed dolls with embroidered eyes and patchwork limbs, beaded necklaces and polished rings - while others are filled entirely with books. They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes, brightly colored spines propped up next to black ones. Some of them look like they’ve been bound in a factory, their pages perfectly even and titles printed on, while others are bound with string and leather and are labeled by hand with dark ink. Shou can tell their owner has organized them very intentionally, but he can’t quite figure out how. Fiction novels sit beside textbooks on physics and mathematics, historical journals lay propped between children’s picture books, and in one corner he even manages to find a few books in a different language, all of them written by hand.

He pulls one out and thumbs through it briefly, and finds it filled with still-life drawings between lines of text he can’t read. There are illustrations of mountain scenery, of lakeshores sprouting cattail reeds and waterfalls careening over jagged cliffs. There are sketches of fruits and flowers, animals and cloudy skies, each of them incredibly detailed and true to life. He has to resist the urge to touch them, a habit he might indulge with the paintings and photographs in his home, but he really doesn’t want to smudge art like this.

He turns the page once more and finds himself in awe all over again. Staring back at him is a beautiful sketch of a boy, sitting in a grassy field with his legs drawn up to his chest. His back is facing Shou, his head tilted up to stare at the sky above, and stretched out from his back are two massive, gorgeous wings. They dwarf the boy with their sheer size, and yet they seem to fit him perfectly, arching up over his head and sloping back down until the ends of them just barely brush the grass behind him. On the boy’s face is a serene smile, eyes soft with fondness and bright with innocent admiration. His hair is carefully shaped, blunt bangs brushing his ears and forming a ring around his head, and Shou has the fleeting thought that his haircut would look incredibly stupid on anyone else but him. Instead, the subject of the drawing manages to make it look charming, in a plain sort of way, and Shou can’t help but wonder how accurate the drawing is to how this person must really look, if he exists at all.

Shou closes the book and replaces it as though he’d never touched it at all, and finally wanders toward the open front door of the house. The closer he gets to it, the louder and more clear the humming becomes, the soft sound quickly swallowed by the noise of the empty fields around them. Shou leans against the door frame and peeks around the corner, breathing stalling when he lays eyes on the source of the noise. He recognizes him instantly.

The boy is young, that much is clear to see. In fact, he looked to be around Shou’s age, or maybe a little older. He’s taller than Shou is, though not by much, but his build is much slimmer, a lightness to his stature that Shou doubts he can replicate. Everything about him is long, from his legs to his arms to the fingers loosely holding the handle of the broom that he sweeps in gentle arcs, chasing fallen leaves from the porch’s wooden floor. His skin is sun-dark, turned a muted copper as a result of long hours outdoors, and his back and shoulders are nearly entirely bared by the backless halterneck top he wears. Shou finds his eyes drawn immediately to the soft edges of his shoulders and the gentle curves of his arms, slim but toned, like a runner’s, and to the divot in the small of his back where his spine curves and disappears into the waistband of his pants. His thin feet are protected by a pair of sturdy-looking leather sandals, held unmoving by the fitted leather straps that secure them.

The most amazing part about him, however, is the pair of pitch-black wings that sprout from his shoulder blades, framed by the seams of his backless shirt. Their feathers shimmer in iridescent hues, sometimes appearing more blue or purple or red depending on what angle the light hits them from. Even half-folded, they take up a great deal of space, even more so than the boy himself does: they’re easily almost as tall as he is, the tops of them level with his head and the ends of his flight feathers hovering at the curve of his calves. They’re beautiful, like something from a fairy tale or a fable, and Shou has to stop himself from rushing over and impulsively threading his fingers into the downy feathers that poke out from between the boy’s shoulders just to see if they’re as soft as they look.

Shou isn’t sure how many seconds he stares before the boy notices his presence, instinctively turning his head to look at him with eyes that are wide with surprise. His humming stops abruptly, as does his sweeping, and he stumbles over his own movements just a bit as he straightens himself up and holds the broomstick to his chest in a distinctly protective manner. “You’re awake,” he says, then winces at his own obvious observation.

Shou can’t help the grin that comes to his face. “Nah, I’m just sleepwalking,” he replies teasingly, shifting his weight off the doorframe to just stand on the threshold of the house. Now that he’s not staring at the floor, Shou can get a good luck at the boy’s face, and he takes advantage of it to give him another once-over. His tan face is all soft curves, and his cheeks still hold just a hint of leftover fat from his childhood years, giving it a rounded look. His hair is short on the sides and longer on top, and it spikes out wildly in every direction. Shou can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, but he can’t help but find it charming anyway. Some of the untamed hair falls into his forehead, framing eyes that aren’t quite humanesque. It takes him a few seconds to realize that the boy’s eyes are pale yellow where a normal man’s would be white, and his irises are all black, not a sliver of color coming to them. They flit over him restlessly, taking in his appearance the same way Shou is taking in his. Now that he’s getting a closer look, he can see the small, dark feathers that sprout in odd places, like the strips of skin between the corners of his eyes and his ears, or along the curve of his shoulders. It’s simultaneously fascinating and just a little bit unnerving, seeing someone who looks so much like him but still so different.

The boy’s brow furrows at Shou’s unwithheld snark, lips pursing in a minute frown that Shou finds surprisingly endearing. “Right…” he murmurs uncertainly, moving to balance his broom against the rail that surrounds the porch. He clears his throat into his closed hand, clearly uncomfortable, then adds, “How do you feel?”

Shou hums, grin softening into something a little more genuine in response to the boy’s concern. “Well, I’m not dead, so that’s good,” he answers. “Thanks for taking care of me, by the way. I was, uh, pretty sure I was gonna die back there, before you showed up out of nowhere.”

The boy nods. “Yes, you mistook me for some sort of angel,” he confirms. Shou sees the corner of his mouth twitch, like he wants to smile but has stopped himself before he can. “There’s no need to mention it. You’re lucky it was me, though, and not another human, otherwise there would have been nothing they could have done.”

Well, if that isn’t ominous, Shou doesn’t know the meaning of the word. “I was that far gone, huh?” he sighs, raising a hand to push a few loose strands of hair back into place, slicked away from his forehead. “How did you manage to bring me back from the brink, anyway? I remember that you kissed me, which was… well, it was weird, I guess, and then I totally passed out.” From the time he’d lost consciousness on the forest floor until now he has no memories, no way to know how much time has passed since then.

“Kissed you?” the boy echoes, looking confused for a moment before he seems to realize what Ritsu’s talking about. “Oh, you mean when I lent you my breath? That was just a spell. I put you into a coma, essentially, to conserve your energy output before you starved to death.”

“You can do magic?” Shou breathes, eyes wide with awe. “That’s amazing! No one in my village can do magic, they don’t have the genes for it. Human characteristic, apparently, but I’ve always thought it would be cool to learn. What other kinds of magic can you do?” The words tumble from his lips without much forethought, even as the boy shifts uncomfortably on his feet in front of him.

The boy lifts a hand to absentmindedly rub at his opposite arm, glancing away. “Why don’t we sit down?” he suggests after a moment of silence, gesturing toward the table sitting, lonesome, in the middle of the one-room house. “I think there’s probably some stuff we should talk about, and you should really get something to eat if you want to get your strength back.” That said, he moves into the open front door, not bothering to wait and see if Shou’s following. The wings on his back rustle quietly as he walks, and Shou has to keep himself from falling into another speechless stupor as he watches the way the light touches them.

The growl of his stomach is what saves him this time, and he stifles a laugh at its fantastic comedic timing. “Yeah, food sounds pretty sweet right now,” he agrees. Before he goes inside, though, he drifts over to the rail and peeks out at the scenery that surrounds them. The house is set up on the bank of a river that rushes down from a tall mountain behind them and disappears into the thick forest on the house’s other side. Shou doesn’t recognize the scenery at all, but he can’t bring himself to worry too much when this new change of location is so pretty.

After a few seconds he moves back into the house, spotting the black-winged boy sorting through the bowl of fruit on his countertop. He pulls a few pieces out and moves them into another, smaller bowl, alongside a small loaf of sweet-smelling bread. He looks nervous, Shou notes, and when the boy glances sideways to meet his eyes he’s quick to avert his gaze again. Shou wonders if he looks as strange to the boy as the boy does to him, if they’re both anomalies of their separate civilizations. Judging by the empty scenery all around the little cottage, though, the boy doesn’t have much of a civilization to fall back on, so maybe he’s just nervous to meet another person at all.

“What’s your name?” Shou asks, sliding into one of the four sturdy chairs. It doesn’t even rock under his weight, each of its four legs the perfect length to sit level on the floor. He can’t help but feel another surge of amazement that nearly everything in this house has been crafted by hand.

The boy turns and slides the fruit and bread onto the table between them, hesitating for just a second before taking a seat across the table from Shou. “It’s Ritsu,” he replies, tone soft and uncertain. “What’s yours?”

Ritsu. The name is surprisingly mundane, the kind of name that, if Shou heard it called in his own village on any given day, would blend right in with the rest of the locals. “Call me Shou,” he says, leaning one elbow on the table in front of him and propping his chin up in his hand. “Where is this place? I’ve never been to this side of the forest before. Seems peaceful,” he continues, conjuring up a map of the area surrounding his village in his head. He wonders how far he’d managed to walk before passing out, and his much farther Ritsu had carried him in order to end up here.

Ritsu nods his head, letting one hand rest on top of the natural wood table while the other reaches for a slice of the bread between them. He tears a piece off of it to eat, and it’s then that Ritsu notices his hands. They’re flecked with tiny feathers that sprout from his wrists and shift when he moves, and they’re tipped with talons that look much sharper than Shou’s blunted nails. They remind him a bit of the unnecessarily long nails that the rich women in his town wear, painted in gaudy colors and long enough that it makes it difficult for them to do something as simple as holding a pencil properly. Ritsu seems undeterred by them, however, pulling apart the bread with coordinated hands that are simultaneously gentle and precise. “Not too far from where I found you. I would tell you what I call it, but it won’t mean anything to anyone other than me,” he replies in a very unhelpful way. After a moment, he reaches out and picks up a second slice of bread, holding it out to Shou.

Shou blinks, meeting Ritsu’s expectant gaze across the table, and accepts the bread from his outstretched hand. He tries to ignore the way their fingers brush against each other as he does, tries not to shiver when he feels the little feathers at his wrist tickle his fingertips. “Thanks,” he sighs, bringing it to his mouth and taking a bite of it without bothering to pick it to pieces like Ritsu is.

“So… what’s it like being a harpy?” Shou asks after another moment of tense silence. “You’re so mysterious out here, living by yourself. The stories say harpies thirst for their next kill and are never satisfied, but you don’t seem so bloodthirsty to me.”

Ritsu looks up at him with an expression that Shou can only place as offended, eyes narrowed and brows knit together. Then he scoffs, face screwing up in unhidden condemnation. “Humans will come up with any excuse to rile each other up, won’t they?” he replies contemptuously. “And I’m not a harpy, don’t compare me to those folk tales. Harpies don’t exist, that’s just the name the humans gave to my people after finding traces of us. We’ve never hunted humans.”

Shou tilts his head, leaning a little further forward in his seat. “Then what should I call you?” he asks.

Ritsu huffs out a breath, tearing another piece of bread from his slice. “You can call me by my name. It’s not like you’ll ever meet another one of me again,” he answers quietly, and the bitterness in his words is palpable.

Shou purses his lips, a bit unnerved at the sudden tenseness in the air, and casts a glance at the untouched bed, nestled in the corner beside the empty shelf. “What about the extra bed? It belongs to someone, doesn’t it?” he asks, watching Ritsu’s face carefully to gauge his response.

Ritsu stands up and turns his back to Shou, moving over to the counter and filling two glasses with water from a pitcher. “It used to be my brother’s,” he answers after a quiet moment, “but he’s not around to use it anymore.”

Curious as he is, Shou’s not so confident he should parse this particular subject. He can practically see the muscles in Ritsu’s back tense up as he speaks, his shoulders hunching up a little closer to his ears and his head purposefully turned away. “I see,” he just says instead. By now, his bread is long gone.

Ritsu returns to the table after another minute or so, sliding a glass of water in his direction. “You need to drink lots of fluids to replenish the ones you lost,” he instructs. “It was the dehydration that got to you first. How long were you in the woods for, anyway?”

Shou cups his hands around the glass and sighs. “Five days. It was stupid of me to think I could make it through the forest,” he grumbles, feeling his regrets from his days of walking catching up to him now.

Ritsu just nods, face carefully impassive. “In the late summer heat, it’s no wonder you got so weak so fast. You probably sweated out most of your body fluids in the first couple of days,” he explains. “Speaking of which, you should really change out of those sweaty clothes, they reek.”

Shou jumps, feeling a rush of mortification as he looks down at his bedraggled appearance. Now that Ritsu brings it up, he can definitely smell his own body odor clinging to his shirt, and he’s certain he must be covered in dirt and grass stains. He screws up his face in disgust, nodding his agreement. “Ugh, you’re right, how did I not notice before?” he sighs. He downs the rest of the glass of water as Ritsu moves over to the shelf where all his clothes are carefully arranged, then stands up to follow him, hovering a foot or so away as Ritsu peruses his wardrobe.

Ritsu turns to face Shou for a moment, looking him up and down, and Shou does his best not to squirm under his sharp, meticulous gaze until the winged boy turns away again and begins thumbing through a pile of shirts on one of the middle shelves. At least, Shou assumes they’re shirts, but they look nothing like the tee-shirts and button-ups Shou usually wears. When Ritsu pulls one out of the pile and holds it in front of him, his suspicions are confirmed.

“Wear these,” Ritsu instructs, pushing the top into his hands alongside a pair of loose-fitting cloth pants. “They’re thin and have good ventilation, so you won’t overheat as easily.”

“Uh, thanks,” Shou responds awkwardly, laying the fresh clothes on the bed. He changes his pants first, which is easy enough, then reaches over his head and grabs his shirt by the collar, pulling it up and over his head in a smooth, well-practiced motion. Then he reaches for Ritsu’s lent top, and pauses when he sees that it’s less of a shirt and more of a flat piece of fabric. Backless, like Ritsu’s current top is. “Um, not to sound ungrateful, but how the hell am I supposed to wear this?” he asks, incredulous. “It’s got no back on it!”

Ritsu casts him a confused glance, tilting his head. “Of course not, it’s kind of hard to wear a shirt with a back on it when you have these,” he points out, gesturing to the sprawling wings that sprout from his shoulders. “It’s not totally backless, anyway, it has hooks at the bottom that clasps in the back.”

“This is super weird,” Shou mumbles, mostly to himself, but Ritsu’s indignant snort says that he’s heard as well. Still, it’s better than nothing, so he slips the halter neck of the shirt over his head and fiddles with it until it lays somewhat comfortably against the back of his neck. It rides high in the front, brushing the bottom of his throat, then swoops down below his arms to hug him around his waist. He moves his hands to clasp the back of it like Ritsu had described, his fingers finding the little copper hooks, but as much as he tries, he can’t get the pieces to fit together. “This thing is so complicated,” he curses.

Ritsu lets out a sigh that’s probably meant to be annoyed, and he takes the hooks from Shou’s fingers. “Let me,” he says, more of a demand than an offer to help, and deftly fits the little metal hooks together so the shirt is snug around his waist. The pants are high-waisted, riding up past his belly button, but even with the extra fabric in place the shirt still leaves slivers of his stomach exposed.

“You really wear this stuff everyday?” Shou asks, tugging at the edge of the top and attempting to stare at his own back to confirm that it really is as bare as Ritsu’s is.

“Only in the summer,” Ritsu replies. “Summer clothes are easy, since I don’t have to worry about covering the skin around my wings. My winter clothes are a bit more complicated.” He gestures to his bottom shelf, but without picking up one of the aforementioned winter shirts and looking at it himself, Shou has no way to gauge what ‘complicated’ could possibly mean. “In the summer it’s easiest to wear these kinds of tops, or just not wear a shirt at all.”

Shou nods, figuring it makes about as much sense as it possibly can considering he’s currently standing in front of an honest-to-god winged person.

Ritsu takes a step back and admires his handiwork now that the outfit is properly in place. “You look much better now,” he comments. “Your dull clothes are ridiculously boring, you know. You’d think humans would have some sense of color.”

“We do, that’s just what I usually wear when I go hiking,” Shou replies, scooping up his faded brow tee-shirt and laying it out carefully. “And if you ask me, it’s you who looks more ridiculous!”

Ritsu makes a sound half between a sniff of disdain and a laugh, and when Shou glances over he sees the dark-haired boy fighting another smile. It makes Shou wonder why he feels the need to keep his reactions to himself, what kinds of reservations he has about Shou that keep him from letting loose and expressing himself. “Say, Ritsu,” he starts, moving to fold up his tee-shirt and pants until he figures out what to do with them later, “why’d you save me, anyway?”

The question makes Ritsu stop in his tracks, halfway to the table to gather and replace the bowls and glasses he’d used for breakfast. “Why do you ask?” he retorts, answering Shou’s question with one of his own, and it comes across defensive.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem terribly fond of humans,” Shou says, sitting down on the edge of the bed he’d woken up in. He shifts uncomfortably in his borrowed clothes, trying to ignore the way he can feel the drafts on his back now. “I mean, I can see why, humans do some pretty shitty stuff all the time, so what made you want to stop and rescue someone like me?”

Ritsu swallows, picking up the glasses and bowls and dropping them in the sink to be washed later. He lets his hands fall against the rim of the sink, bracing against the surface of it, and is quiet for a few long moments, brows knitted together so tightly that lines form between them. A deep frown tugs at his lips, lips that Shou knows to be soft and warm. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment, quiet and contemplative and maybe just a little lost.

There’s really nothing Shou can say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

---

Shou finds himself in very little rush to get home, and to his surprise, Ritsu doesn’t rush him to leave. When Shou asks, he brushes it off with empty words, telling him he isn’t back to full strength yet and that he should wait another night, but three days later, when Shou is back to feeling well again, he still hesitates to leave.

He’s not quite sure what keeps him rooted to this barren, empty space. Ritsu is the only humanoid creature for miles, which would normally make Shou ache for the bustle of the marketplace or the empty chatter of the village women gossiping by the church, but instead he finds himself soothed by the noise of the wind in the trees nearby and the lull of Ritsu’s soft humming in the early mornings when he doesn’t realize Shou can hear him.

“Aren’t you weirded out?” Ritsu asks him once, when they’re sitting in the twin porch chairs underneath the hand-thatched awning overhead. The woven straw back of it itches against Shou’s exposed shoulders, but he’s growing more used to it every day. Ritsu continues, “A person with wings like a bird’s, clawed fingers and a feathered face. Doesn’t it make you even a little afraid?”

Shou laughs, loud and unwithheld. “Of course I’m weirded out, you’re like something out of a fairy tale. Afraid, though? You haven’t done anything to make me afraid of you,” he replies, flashing Ritsu a bright grin in return. “You saved my life, after all, it would be kinda rude if I was scared of you after all that.”

Ritsu hums, soft and thoughtful, and runs his fingers absentmindedly through the feathers of one wing. Shou’s caught him doing so a few times now, has watched the way he straightens the crooked feathers and lets the loose ones fall to the ground to be swept up later. He’s preening, Shou realizes, and the thought causes a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. The little quirks he manages to catch Ritsu indulging in only endear him more to his new friend, if he can consider this friendship, and he finds himself feeling just a bit more fond of Ritsu with each day that passes. “I suppose it’s a good thing, that you’re not afraid,” Ritsu says after a long pause, his black-eyed gaze fixed in a point in the distance that Shou can’t follow.

Shou simply shrugs in reply. “I think it is,” he offers, and sees the way Ritsu softens to it, ever-so-slightly.

There’s a stretch of silence between them, comfortable and calm, and then Ritsu blurts, “Let’s go somewhere.”

“Okay,” Shou agrees immediately, sitting up in his seat, and he tries his best not so show how elated he is at Ritsu’s sudden, impulsive request. In the few days they’ve been together Ritsu has already proven himself to be thoughtful to a fault; he refuses to make even small decisions without thoroughly considering all of his options, so that fact that Ritsu has decided to do something without noticeable forethought sends a thrill of excitement through Shou. “Where should we go?” he asks, curious about what destination Ritsu has in mind.

Ritsu pushes himself to his sandal-clad feet, shaking his wings out and scattering a few dark feathers on the porch. “Someplace I used to go a lot. Get what you need, and we can go now.”

Shou doesn’t wait to be asked twice. He ducks into the house and grabs his tennis shoes, the ones in which he’d walked miles to get here, and slips them on over his sockless feet. Then, as somewhat of an afterthought, he snatches up his backpack from where he’d propped it up against the mostly-empty shelf by the bed he’d claimed and hefts it over one shoulder.

When he turns to head back out the front door, he spots Ritsu standing in front of one of his many bookshelves, holding a hand-bound book in his clawed hands. He runs the fingers of one hand over the cover of it, eyes downcast, and Shou is struck by the wistful, melancholic expression that crosses his face for just a moment before he slides the book into his own bag and settles the strap of it over his shoulder. A question perches on the tip of Shou’s tongue, a quiet curiosity that he has to hold himself back from voicing. There are plenty of things about himself that Ritsu’s hasn’t told him, and that’s okay with him. After all, Shou has plenty of things about himself that he hasn’t told Ritsu, either. It doesn’t keep his mind from wandering, though, wondering what those things could be.

They walk, because even though Ritsu says flying would be faster, he’s adamant that walking will be easier. Shou’s not sure whether or not Ritsu can support his weight and fly at the same time, anyway, and he doesn’t mind walking. The hardest part is scaling the hill behind the house, which is steep and a little slippery from the morning dew that still clings to it, and by the time they reach the crest of it both of them are just a little out of breath.

Shou’s breathlessness is partially due to something else, though, as Ritsu gestures with one feathered hand to the little valley nestled in the hills and Shou’s eyes land on what is quite possibly the most beautiful sight he’s seen since leaving his village all those days ago.

At the bottom of the hill is what appears to be a field of wildflowers, though most of them have wilted under the late summer sun’s glaring rays already. The few that are still standing are bright against the green of the rest of the valley, poking out of the tall grass so that their bright petals can be seen by all who pass by. Most notably, clumps of little sunflowers like the ones in Ritsu’s vase at his house can be seen cropping up all over the field, the bright sunlight only serving to make them look even more vibrant than before.

“Woah, this place is awesome!” Shou exclaims, face blooming into a broad grin. He finds himself reaching for Ritsu’s hand on instinct, fingers curling around his palm and pulling him down the hillside. The surprised yelp he lets out only serves to make Shou’s grin widen, but he’s conscious of the way Ritsu squeezes his hand back so he doesn’t lose his grip.

Shou doesn’t let go until the ground beneath their feet evens out again and he finds himself in one of the little sunflower patches. He drops Ritsu’s hand and flops unceremoniously down into the grass with a laugh, kicking his feet into the air in a burst of energy. The grass and dirt is rough against the exposed skin of his back, but he can’t bring himself to mind as he stares up at the great blue sky and the fluffy white clouds that occasionally cross it. The sun is warm, but not unbearably so, and its rays make everything around him look and feel so much brighter than he’s used to. He takes a deep breath of the sweet-smelling air, limbs flopping out all around him starfish-style, and lets himself be blessedly still for a few minutes.

Ritsu continues past him, black wings folded comfortably against his back as he drifts deeper into the field. Shou cranes his neck back and manages to catch glimpses of him through the tall grass as he walks, stopping periodically to bend over and touch the flowers that poke up through the grass. He looks peaceful, Shou notes, expression holding the closest thing to a smile Shou’s ever seen from him, but there’s a hint of bitterness behind it, too, that makes Shou’s own high spirits dip just a bit. He sits up, turning to give Ritsu a proper look, and watches as he sits down cross-legged in the grass not too far away and plucks a small but bright purple flower from the ground. He twists its stem between his fingers, quietly observing it, and Shou is suddenly and surprisingly reminded of the pencil sketch he’s stumbled upon during his first morning at Ritsu’s house.

Hit with a sudden urge, Shou quickly snatches up his backpack from where he’d discarded it at his side and opens it up, removing his sketchbook and a tin of pencils he’d brought with him from his home in his village. He shifts himself to sit cross-legged on the grass, flipping the book open to the nearest empty page.

He’s not sure if he can consider himself an artist, at least not by trade, but the scratch of his sketching pencil on paper is a familiar and comforting noise. Sketching has become somewhat of a hobby over the last few years, a way of relieving boredom or filling time when he has it. Sometimes he sketches memories, or tries to copy down the faces of people passing outside his window. This time, he finds his eyes drawn to Ritsu: to the not-quite-bittersweet expression on his face, to the little purple flower he twirls between clawed fingers, to the long grass that half-hides his legs and sways gently in the warm summer breeze. It’s like a painting, the kind of image that’s surreal enough that it shouldn’t be able to exist in the real world, and yet Shou sits, and stares at it, and has the undeniable urge to cement this moment for posterity in graphite.

His sketches are fast and rough at first as he focuses on copying down the base image and plotting out his canvas with light lines and geometric shapes. He roughs in the shape of Ritsu’s form sitting in the grass, cross-legged, one hand propping himself up in the grass while the other lightly grips the little bloom he’d claimed for himself. He sketches the curve of his shoulder and the arches of his wings, stretched out to accommodate their length while sitting, and attempts to capture the effortless messiness of his wild, untamed black hair. With softer, more deliberate strokes, he brings to life the line of Ritsu’s jaw and the slope of his nose, all soft edges and muted curves. There isn’t a sharp angle on him, and when he moves he does so with effortless grace and purpose that just serves to add to his ethereal beauty.

Shou would be hard-pressed to deny at this point that he does find Ritsu beautiful, and not just for his shimmering feathers or the way he seems to glow in a way only mythical creatures can. There are little things that bring this thought to mind, like his slender, careful fingers, or the annoyed little frown he gets whenever Shou tries to tease him. He’s never seen Ritsu really smile, but he imagines his smile must be beautiful, too. There’s no way it can’t be, coming from him.

He moves his pencil to capture the set of Ritsu’s mouth, but when he looks up to get another look, he finds that his companion has moved. He blinks, momentarily confused, until a distinct shadow falls over his sketchbook.

“What’re you doing over here? You look really intense,” Ritsu comments, leaning over Shou’s shoulder to get a look at what he’s working on. His expression quickly changes from confused to surprised when he recognizes the rough sketch, though. “Is that me?” he asks.

“You moved! Now it’s ruined,” Shou groans melodramatically. There’s no real anger or annoyance behind his words, though, and his sketch is mostly finished, anyway. “Don’t you know that the first rule of modeling is that you have to stay still? Otherwise the artist has to start over.” He tips his head back and offers Ritsu a smile, if only to reassure him that he’s really only joking.

Ritsu raises a brow at him, unimpressed, and turns his attention back to the rough sketch in Shou’s hands. “I didn’t know you were an artist,” he says, rather than trying to pick apart Shou’s attempted joke. “Why me, though?”

Shou shrugs, setting down his pencil for now and craning his neck back to look at Ritsu upside-down. “I just thought it would make for a good drawing,” he replies honestly. “I can leave it unfinished if you’re uncomfortable.”

Ritsu moves to sit at Shou’s side rather than leaning over him, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine, you can finish it,” he replies, and one of his hands drifts to the bag draped over one arm. He hesitates for just a moment before reaching inside and pulling out the hand-bound book Shou had seen him stow away earlier. He turns it over in his hands once, twice, then holds it out to Shou. “I guess you could say I’m a bit of an artist myself. I sketch in my journal sometimes, when I see something nice that I want to remember. You can look, if you want.”

“You’d let me read your journal? Hope you don’t have any deep, dark secrets in here you don’t want me to know about,” Shou quips, cracking open the book’s leather cover.

Ritsu snorts out what might be considered a laugh, tapping the first page with one long nail. “I wrote it in my mother’s language, you won’t be able to read it anyway,” he points out, quirking a brow in an amused manner. He drags a finger to the top of the page. “This is my handwriting, and this,” he adds, running his finger down the page to where the shape of the unfamiliar words changes just a bit, “is my brother’s handwriting. We used to take turns writing little passages in these books.”

The implied “before he left” hangs in the air between them, unspoken but felt and understood all the same. Shou nods, noting the way Ritsu’s neat, even script contrasts with his brother’s more messy, sloped style. He flips through a few pages of indecipherable writing before he reaches the first aforementioned drawing, a sketch of a new garden filled with tiny green sprouts. Each row of plants is meticulously labeled with a little sign written in that same language, unreadable to Shou, but it’s an impressive sketch all the same.

Most of the sketches in the book of are a similar calibre, still life drawings or landscape sketches of places Shou has yet to see. “You’re really talented,” he tells Ritsu after flipping through a few of them. In between the sketches, Ritsu and his brother’s alternating handwriting take up most of the extra space.

“I’ve been drawing since I was a kid,” Ritsu replies, reaching over Shou’s arm to flip the pages of the journal of his own accord until he reaches one in particular. His hand lingers on the page before he sits back and lets Shou look at it himself, pale yellow eyes trained on his expression from beside him.

Shou blinks in recognition when he lays eyes on the sketch Ritsu’s chosen to share with him. It’s different from the rest, far more detailed, and it takes up an entire page of the little journal. The only writing on it is a few letters written in the corner with Ritsu’s neat handwriting: some sort of caption, Shou guesses. A name, or maybe a date.

The sketch is of another boy, one that Shou recognizes, because he has the same face as the boy from the sketch he’d seen in Ritsu’s other book just a few days ago. He looks like he can’t be more than a few years older than Ritsu is, his face carrying the same soft, childlike curves that Ritsu’s does. On his face is a small, tentative smile, shy, like he’d modeled for this but could never get quite comfortable enough to make the emotion come across natural. Faintly, Shou can make out laugh lines around the corners of his eyes, and dimples at the edges of his mouth where his smile shows his teeth. Like the other sketch, his hair is cut bluntly all the way around his head, leaving straight bangs that fall nearly into his eyes. There’s something undeniably endearing about the sketch, as though it’d been drawn with a great deal of affection. “Is this him?” Shou asks. He doesn’t need to clarify who he’s talking about.

Ritsu nods. “His name was Shigeo - is Shigeo, I mean,” he says, catching himself as he begins to refer to his brother in the past tense. “He’s about a year and a half older than me, though he never could really keep up with me, growing up. Where I was quick to pick up concepts and new skills, he always took just a little longer. My parents worried about him a lot.” As he speaks, his eyes flick down to the sketch in the journal, something undeniably sad in the way he speaks.

Shou swallows, watching Ritsu’s face as he speaks. “Where did they go?” he asks. Surely they couldn’t have abandoned him?

“My parents passed away a few years ago,” Ritsu says, letting his hand fall away from the book. He draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, hugging them close to his body. “They were hunted by humans who were scared of them and their magic. They would have killed me, too, but Shige protected me.”

“You care a lot about him,” Shou murmurs, “and he cared a lot about you, so what changed?” After all, Shigeo isn’t here anymore. His bed and shelf are empty and there are no traces of him in the little house that used to belong to both of them, but at one point he’d been as active and present as Ritsu is now.

Ritsu’s expression darkens, and he leans forward to rest his chin atop his bent knees. A frown tugs at his mouth, and his gaze is distant. “He fell in love with a human,” he replies, the words barely travelling over the gentle noise of the wind, and Shou catches the way his voice wavers in an attempt to keep his emotions from coming through. “I didn’t like him. I tried to tell Shige that it was bad idea to get involved with humans, that he’d only get hurt in the long run, but he wouldn’t listen. Growing up, we always got along well, to the point where we only had a few silly little fights as brothers, but this was different. Neither of us was willing to change our mind.” His wings shift slightly against his back, drawing in around his shoulders as though to protect himself. “I said terrible things to him, about how I didn’t want to be his brother if he was going to choose a human over me. I told him that if he was going to make such a terrible decision, he might as well just leave. I didn’t think he’d take me seriously, at the time.”

Shou stares down at the sketch of Shigeo laying open in his lap and tries to imagine him standing beside a younger version of Ritsu, one with wide, dark eyes and arms that are a little shorter and chubbier than the ones he knows. He can easily picture a loving and dedicated siblings relationship between them, the kind Shou has never experienced himself but that he’s seen countless times in the children from his village, can easily wrap his mind around a protective Shigeo eager to please his genius little brother. It makes his heart ache to imagine what such a bad fight between the two of them must have felt like. It’s a vulnerable memory, the one that Ritsu has chosen to impart to him. “Why are you telling me all this?” he asks after a moment, folding the journal shut and holding it tightly with both hands. “Why save me, why let me hang around you for so long, why tell me about your family? I thought you hated humans.”

“I do hate them,” Ritsu says immediately, squeezing his knees closer to his chest, and his gaze hardens with regret and anger and loss. “They took my parents, they took my brother.” He pauses to take a breath, shaky and tense, and buries his face in his arms so that Shou can no longer see his face. “I hate them… but I don’t hate you.”

Shou forgets to breathe for a moment, stunned speechless. He’d known, of course, that Ritsu can’t possibly hate him, but it’s still shocking to have it laid out so plainly. Shou had never considered that he might be the exception to the rule, the lone redeemable human that Ritsu has chosen to place his bets on. That if he had been someone else, Ritsu might not have deigned it necessary to try to save his life. “But why me?” he repeats, desperate to know what part of himself was the part that Ritsu had seen and decided was worthy of saving. “Why am I different from everyone else who tried to cross that forest and never made it to the other side?”

Ritsu lets out a long breath into his arms before he raises his head once more. He still can’t look Shou in the eye, though, and he stares stubbornly at the patches of bright flowers instead. “Did you ever realize why the forest seemed so endless and impossible to navigate?” he asks. “It’s because it’s guarded by a magical trap. My brother and I laid it when our parents were killed, to keep humans from ever finding this place again. Anyone who walks into the forest is cursed to wander it until they die from starvation or are killed by wild animals.”

Shou hums, remembering the way his map had become all but useless once he’d walked deep enough into the forest. Without magic of his own, it would have been impossible to sense a trap laying in wait for him. “So that’s why I could never find the end, even after five days of walking,” he murmurs.

Ritsu nods. “Well, we both helped to lay down the spell, but Shigeo was always far stronger than I was when it came to magic. His powers are deeply rooted in people’s emotions, including his own, and it made it difficult for him to control them,” he continues, picking at the purple flower still pinched between his fingers. He tears a petal from it and lets it fall into the grass, nervous. “His powers created a link between the two of us and the emotions of those who would enter the forest. We could feel their anger and their killing intent, but we could also feel the fear they felt in their final moments, their regret and desire to keep living. I tried to ignore it, but Shigeo never could. He never admitted it out loud, but I could tell it tortured him inside, even as the people walking into the forest become fewer and far between. I think that his connection to the trap is part of what led him to start caring for the humans.” He pauses, lowering his gaze, and adds, “Empathy is a powerful thing.”

“So, you knew I was in the forest the whole time?” Shou clarifies, leaning forward and looking up into Ritsu’s face.

By this point, Ritsu’s plucked the flower bare, nothing but its brown middle left attached to the stem until Ritsu pinches that part off, too. “Yes,” he replies. There isn’t an ounce of regret in his voice, but after hearing his story, Shou can’t find it in himself to be annoyed by it. Ritsu continues, “As soon as you entered the forest, I knew you were there, but you seemed… different from the others. You weren’t scared, and you weren’t angry. You weren’t lost, either, like the children would that sometimes wander into the forest without knowing where they were. There was something driving you, I could tell, but it wasn’t a desire for revenge or self-preservation like the hunters that used to come after my brother and me.” He drops the flower’s browning stem, lets it be swallowed up by the tall grass around him. “I saved you because I could tell you didn’t come to hurt me, and because part of me was curious to see if a human really did exist who could look at me without fear or anger. I thought that maybe then, I could start to understand the feelings that would make my brother want to leave me behind.”

Shou swallows, glancing down at his legs, splayed out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. It hasn’t occurred to him until now just how insanely lucky he is to be alive right now, now fortunate it is that Ritsu had decided to let him be the one to change his mind about humanity. “Do you think you understand any better, now?” he asks, voice soft and curious.

Ritsu squeezes his legs impossibly tighter against his chest. “Yeah, I think I do,” he admits, but when Shou chances another glance at him, he doesn’t find peace or closure in Ritsu’s gaze like he might expect. Instead, Ritsu just slumps with regret. His dark eyes are clouded with grief, as though this discovery has condemned something within him. “I do, and that’s the scary part.”

---

Neither of them speaks on the way back to Ritsu’s house. The sun is beginning to set behind the horizon by the time they make it back, and Shou’s stomach is grumbling. He grabs an apple from the fruit bowl to graze on while Ritsu sweeps the feathers and early fall leaves from off the deck, and he tries not to think too hard about the implications of the day’s revelations. He plops down on the edge of the bed that used to be Shigeo’s, a person who Shou now has a name and a face to attach to it. A person who still has a place in this house, should he ever come back to reclaim it. It’s not a place that Shou can keep for himself much longer, and he knows it. Guess I have to go home sometime, huh? he thinks to himself, and the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Ritsu comes inside and closes the door behind him, leaning the broom up in the corner by the coat rack. He moves quietly over to his shelf to change into his night clothes while Shou lays on the soft mattress, and when he’s ready to climb into bed himself, he turns to face him. “Shou,” he says, hesitantly, fiddling with the fingers on one of his hands. “I want you to know, I’m… I’m really glad I met you.”

Shou sits up in the bed, eyebrows raised in quiet surprise, but his reply is caught in his throat when he sees the small but undeniable smile on Ritsu’s face. It’s shaky, like he’s fighting the urge to stifle it the way he has so many times already, but it’s still there. It’s slightly crooked and, Shou notices, entirely humanesque, holding the same blunted incisors and sharp canines his own mouth carries. The sight of this little smile, simultaneously remarkable and unremarkable, is enough to send Shou’s heart somersaulting in his chest, the words on his tongue dying before they have the chance to see daylight.

It’s irrevocably beautiful, to Shou.

“I-I’m glad I met you, too,” he finally stammers, once he’s managed to get a grip on his thoughts long enough to form a coherent sentence, though he can’t quite suppress the awe-struck stutter that accompanies his words. “You’re a good friend, Ritsu. I’m really grateful that you decided to save me, that day.”

Ritsu doesn’t say anything in return, just flashes him another little smile and, oh, Shou could definitely get used to seeing that. Then he blows out the candle keeping the room dimly lit and plunges it into darkness, crawling into his own bed for the night.

---

Shou decides the following morning that it’s past time he returns to his village. He has a house and a job waiting for him at home, after all, or at least he hopes he still does, and while he doesn’t have any really close friends, his neighbors are bound to be wondering where he’s gone off to by now. He tells Ritsu as much as he packs up his sketchbook and his pencils and prepares to start the walk back home.

He pretends not to notice the way Ritsu stifles his disappointment under a layer of practiced calm. “Are you sure? If you need an extra day, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal,” he offers, but Shou just shakes his head and offers Ritsu a bittersweet smile.

“No, I can’t do that. This was never meant to be permanent, anyway, I’ve just been borrowing your extra space from your brother. He’ll need it once he decides to come home,” he replies, gesturing to the empty bed and shelf nestled into the back corner of the house. “Although, it may be a good idea to invest in, like, a bedroll or something, in case he decides to bring his boyfriend with him.”

The suggestion makes Ritsu screw up his face in unhidden disgust, drawing a loud laugh out of Shou’s mouth at the sight of it. Ritsu rolls his eyes, long-suffering. “Yeah, alright,” he sighs, and follows Shou to the door to he can give him a proper send-off.

“You’re sure I won’t get lost again in there?” Shou asks, pointing to the magically trapped forest that lays sprawling in front of him. “I just walk straight, and I’ll make it home?”

Ritsu snorts, raising an incredulous brow at him. “Of course, I know what I’m doing,” he assures. “My brother may have been the one strong enough to lay the trap in the first place, but the illusion on it is all from me. I can manipulate it in any way I want. I won’t take you more than an hour or two to make it back without the trap getting in your way.”

Shou nods, taking comfort in Ritsu’s confidence as the two of them stand side-by-side facing the woods. “Well then, I guess this is goodbye,” he says, and tries not to let show the way the words make his heart fall and his throat feel just a little tighter.

Ritsu shakes his head, laying a hand on Shou’s shoulder. “It’s not ‘goodbye’, it’s ‘see you later’,” he corrects, and lets slip one of those small, kind smiles. “I don’t expect you’ll be able to resist coming back anyway, even if I tried to stop you, so I may as well give you permission to come visit before you end up lost in the forest again.” He plays it off in a casual manner, but the way his neck flushes just slightly pinker than usual gives away his true intentions.

Shou doesn’t bother to fight the grin that comes to his face at this, and before he can think better of it he pulls Ritsu in for a quick, tight hug. He catches the little squeak of surprise Ritsu makes in response to it, but his friend doesn’t pull away, lifting his arms to tentatively return the brief embrace. One of Shou’s hands finds its way into the downy feathers between Ritsu’s shoulders, soft as cotton between his fingers, while Ritsu’s splay against his back and squeeze him once, gently.

“Come back soon,” Ritsu mumbles against Shou’s shoulder before he pulls away, letting his hands linger for just a moment before he lets them drop back to his sides.

“Count on it,” Shou replies with a bright grin, offering Ritsu one last clap on the shoulder before he turns and begins to walk toward the forest. “I’ll see you later,” he adds over his shoulder, raising a hand in an energetic wave as he reaches the edge of the trees. He watches just long enough to see Ritsu return his wave before he turns and disappears into the forest, homeward bound.

---

When he would reach his lonely little house just under two hours later, his neighbors would greet him with worried words and frightened expressions, and when he would tell them where he’d gone and why, they would ask him if he’d found anything worthwhile after so many days away from home.

“No,” he would say, with a helpless little smile. “Nothing at all.”

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #ritshou #kageyama ritsu #suzuki shou #kageyama shigeo #fanfiction #mp100 fanfic #wings au #reach au #winged ritsu #winged shigeo #alternate universe #dehydration #near death experience #serendipitousfics

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sigynpenniman · 5 years

Text

Just Sick - a very fluffy Julian BashirxReader one shot

In which Julian Bashir is a very, very good doctor.

Author note: I write best in first person so first person it is. It’s still a reader insert in my mind though, just insert yourself lol. Also, not really a romantic relationship here, just an affectionate and close one. This is pretty much just a warn, fluffy, “Julian Bashir cares for you while you are very ill”. Fluff, H/C, not-really-romantic, tw/cw for hospital/medical stuff, descriptions of being very ill and mention of needles. Tbh this is the fic I wanted to exist, but it didn’t, so I just...wrote it. @a-star-that-fell - based on that message you sent me, I think you might enjoy this one!

I woke up before I opened my eyes. I wasn’t even sure what had woken me up - it was silent in the room save for the persistent beeping that permeated every space on the station. I shivered. It was freezing cold; or, more accurately, I was freezing cold. And someone was after me. Or were they? I felt my heart rate rise, slightly. Where was I, even?

I opened my eyes and looked straight ahead at a blueish grey wall. Right. The infirmary. I pushed my hand into the bed and pulled myself into an upright position. It was then that I felt it, all over. The overwhelming misery. I hadn’t been that miserable when Julian had left me here - not great, not even good, but okay. He had diagnosed me with some disease with an alien name but a routine and nearly harmless prognosis and sent me home. I had one too many experiences with illnesses that felt like nothing but then weren’t, and so I had asked if I could spend the night in the infirmary instead. Julian had, of course, said yes.

I put my head in my hands. My brain felt like warm syrup, and my whole body felt like I was dying. I swallowed. It sent a wave of electric pain through me. My throat felt as if someone has scoured it with steel wool. I started to cry. The misery was overwhelming; there was nothing to do but cry. My brain struggled to keep up. It was like thinking in molasses. I tried to figure out exactly why I was crying, but I wasn’t quite able to think clearly enough to know. I only had single words flash through: miserable, cold, scared, tired. I heard a rapidly approaching set of footsteps, and Julian leaned into the room and looked at me.

“Are you alright? I thought I heard crying.”

“Julian!” I nearly yelled, through my tears.

His eyes grew wide with concern. “Anne, what’s wrong?” He asked.

I started to open my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a panicked sob.

“Hey...hey...you’re okay. You’re alright.”

Julian spoke warmly and crossed the space between us in a few, long strides. He reached out and gently rubbed my shoulder. “Hey” He said again, quietly.

I made eye contact with him. “Julian...” I repeated. I was having a hard time collecting things to say that weren’t just his name.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked. He sat down on the bed next to me.

I hunted for words. They came out all once, and a little bit incoherent, between sobs.

“I feel so bad. I feel...so bad. My throat hurts so much. And my head, too. I can’t...think? My brain is moving kinda slow. And thick. And sticky? That makes no sense. I’m not even sure what’s real. I’m pretty sure I was having a dream about someone being after me...”

I paused and locked eyes with Julian in a panic. “Is someone after me? No one’s after me right?”

Julian smiled slightly, an affectionate, slightly amused, but deeply concerned, smile. It was the kind of look you give anyone you love who’s just looked at you and tearfully asked a nonsense question. He shook his head. “No, no one’s after you. NoTHING is after you. You’re safe.”

I nodded. Moving my head made my brain feel like it was rattling in my skull. The sudden, pounding pain caught me off guard and I put my head in my hands again.

“Are you cold?”

“Very.” I answered.

“Look at me.”

I removed my hands from my face and picked my head up. Julian pressed a cool hand against my forehead.

“You’re absolutely melting. That’s why you’re a little delirious too - high fevers can cause delirium, in some cases.” He removed a tricorder from his pocket and scanned me, studying it intensely.

“How high?” I asked.

“One hundred and three. And you’re very dehydrated, as well.” He tapped the Rs in “hundred” and “three” slightly in his proper English accent and I couldn’t help but smile despite my overwhelming misery. He caught this out of the corner of his eye, and smiled back at me.

“Ah! That got a smile! Though, I’m not really sure why that’s what got a smile.”

“I just never get tired of your accent.”

“It’s been three years” – He stuffed his tricorder back in his pocket – “And you’re still not over my accent?”

I shook my head.

“Julian, I will never be over your accent.”

I coughed, several times. My throat felt as if it was being ripped through. Julian, who was still sitting next to me, rubbed my back. The ripping pain in my throat put me back over the edge and tears began to bite at my eyes again.

“I’m going to try and make you feel better, okay? Let me do a quick symptom rundown here, and you tell me if I’m missing anything: fever, headache, throat hurts, general malaise. Did I miss anything?”

I shook my head.

“Alright. I’m going to go gather a pile of medication for you, and we’ll see how many of these things we can take the edge off. I’ll get you some water as well, you need to keep drinking. Got any further requests?”

I shook my head again. I knew if I opened my mouth to speak I would just start crying again, so I kept my answers to nods.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Julian asked softly.

Another nod. Julian stood and walked out of room. I gave up trying to keep it together and melted back into heavy sobs. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been too sick to stop crying, but it wasn’t an experience I was enjoying.

When Julian returned a few minutes later, I was sitting, knees pulled to my chest, sort of balled up on the bed, with the blanket wrapped around me. I was still sobbing. I didn’t even realize Julian was in the room until he rested his hand on my shoulder. I jumped slightly and looked up, and straight into Julian’s dark, kind, worried eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s just me.” He spread a hypospray and an assortment of tubes full of medication out on the bed next to me and handed me a glass of water.

“Drink. You have to stay hydrated. You’re already headed towards dangerously dehydrated as it is - if you don’t want an IV in your arm, I recommend that you start knocking back the water.”

“Thanks” I answered with a heavy sniffle. I took the glass from him and took a long sip. Even the water hurt my throat going down and I went back to crying. Julian frowned and wrapped his arms around me, the whole ball of knees and weeping that I was. I buried my snotty face in his uniform. He stroked my hair.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be alright. I’m going to try and make you feel better, okay? I can’t promise it’s enough, but I’ll going to do my best. And I’ll be right here with you, no matter what. I’m not going to leave you alone again.”

I nodded, which mostly just meant rubbing my face on his uniform a bit.

“Can I let you go, briefly?” He asked. “I need to tank you up. I want to get all these meds into your system as quickly as possible so they start working. How about this – let me let you go for a minute and medicate you, and you drink some more water, and then you can unfold yourself and I can hug you properly.”

“It’s a deal” I answered. Julian unwrapped me from his arms. I leaned my head to one side and presented my neck. I watched my ever affectionate, ever concerned doctor loading one of the tubes of medication into the hypospray in his hand.

“You know” Julian began, in the tone that meant he was about to launch into a list of facts of some kind or other. I made a hum of acknowledgement as Julian steadied my head with his hand and pressed the the cold metal of the hypospray into my neck. “You should be glad you live in the 24th century. The Hypospray is a pretty recent invention - if we were in the 21st century, I’d be sticking needles in you right now.”

“I’m glad every day.”

Julian finished unloading the various medicines into my neck. I sat up straight and Julian pressed the glass of water back into my hand. I took another long, painful sip and handed it back to him.

“Can I be honest?” I asked, my voice sounding like gravel.

“Of course.”

“I don’t think any of that helped at all.”

“It won’t, immediately. It’ll probably take about 15 minutes for the medication to start working.”

“Then it’s normal that I still feel like I’m dying?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“...was that thing you said earlier about a hug a promise?”

“It absolutely was. Can you unfold yourself?”

I nodded tearfully and removed my knees from my chest. Julian sat down on the bed next to me.

“Is there anything else I can do?” He asked.

“Just hug me. Please.” I sniffled. Julian pulled me into a tight hug.

“You’re going to be okay” he reassured me, as I leaned into him.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. His uniform was crisp and cool under my cheek, but his body was warm, and I snuggled as close to him as I could and did my best to soak it up. I was still freezing cold.

“You’re shaking!”

“I’m still so cold. It’s like I’m cold to my bones. But you’re warm.”

Julian squeezed me tighter. I adjusted my head on his shoulder and realized I could hear his heart beating; quiet, slow, rhythmic. I inhaled deeply and did my best to relax the varying parts of my body I had been tensing for some reason or another. Julian was a thin man, but a soft one. He made for a very good snuggle. I still didn’t feel good, I was still sick as a dog, but I felt better in his arms.

“I bet you never thought you’d just be snuggling one of your patients.”

Julian gently rubbed my arm. “Is it helping?” He asked.

“So much” I whispered.

“Then I’m just doing my job as a healer.”

I took another deep breath. “I think it’s a natural gift you’ve got. You’re not a healer for your skills or training. It’s just your aura. All that legit medical attention...” I paused. “And I think just being snuggled helps more than any of it.”

Julian tucked my head under his chin. I yawned. I felt the most like falling asleep I had in forever. It seemed like the easiest thing in the world, safe and warm and entangled completely with Julian.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course” Julian answered, dutifully.

“Can you...stay? I know you’ve got other things to do and places to be, but I feel so much better like this. I’m so tired. I could just fall asleep just as I am.”

Julian laughed. It was a warm, loving, slightly amused laugh. “I said I wasn’t leaving you I wasn’t kidding. I absolutely can stay and I absolutely will. Can we...rearrange this?”

I laughed too.

“Of course.” I removed myself from Julian’s hug. He pulled himself up to the head of the bed and leaned against the back wall. He stuffed a pillow behind his back and extended his arms to me. I crawled back into his lap and he wrapped his arms around me again. I resumed my position, resting my head against his chest, his heart beating quietly under my ear. All the noises of the infirmary beeped quietly in the background. Julian had tucked my head under his chin again and was gently rubbing my arm. This was, I felt sure, the most comforting place in the world to be. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting immediately.

“Goodnight Julian” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head.

“Goodnight Anne.”

The next time I woke up, it was only briefly. Julian, bless him, was still holding me close. He was, however, also fast asleep. I grinned at his sleeping face and fell back asleep myself.

When I woke up for good I was alone. I pulled myself out of the bed and took a couple questioning steps towards the door. I felt like a different person than the night before. I walked out of the back room of infirmary and into Julian’s laboratory. He was studying something on the computer.

“Good morning!” I exclaimed brightly. Julian spun around in his chair and smiled at me.

“Good morning! You seem much better!”

“I am. Thank you. How did you get out from under me without waking me up?”

Julian shrugged. “Carefully.”

“I know that was a tall order last night. But you stayed with me. I can’t tell you how much it helped.” I crossed the few steps between us and extended my hands to him. He reached out and took them. “Thank you” I breathed. “Thank you, for everything.”

“You said it helped, right?”

“More than you know.”

Julian squeezed my hands. “Then, my dear, I am just doing my job.”

“As a friend? As a healer?”

Julian smiled.

“As both.”

#star trek #fanfic #julian bashir #doctor bashir #fluff #h/c #very g rated #deep space 9 #deep space nine #ds9 #i wrote what i wanted to read and here we are #julian bashirxreader #fanfiction

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moonykiarchive · 5 years

Text

Fanboy!AU ♥

post 23 / ???

Jongin hasn’t been able to look at his phone for the rest of the day & it’s only when they finally make their way home that he looks up to see a couple of texts from Taemin...

“Sorry, I had to go to class... ... I hope you’re having a nice day ... You must be busy now... sorry I couldn’t answer earlier ㅠ.ㅠ ... ... ... Jongin? ... It’s late, I hope you’re not answering because you’re relaxing and not because you’re still working... I hope you at least had a break... ... Rest well ♥”

Jongin can’t help but smile a little as he reads those messages but he puts his phone back into his pocket because he doesn’t want to talk now, in the car, next to Chanyeol who’s doing an insta live so he pretends to be sleeping & he waits until he’s home, showered & protected under his blankets, to open the chat again.

“taemin? i’m home now... are you still awake?”

It takes only a couple of seconds for Jongin to see that Taemin saw his message.

“Yes! I’m here... but it’s so late, ohmy, are you alright? You should be sleeping!”

Jongin smiles & rolls on his bed because even though he’s still upset & worried, just talking with his Taeminnie makes everything better already.

“you should be sleeping too... are you okay?”

“Well, I had a long, rough day and I was kinda relaxing now and watching you uhuhu... since you didn’t appear in Chanyeol’s live, I missed you!”

Taemin sends him a pic of his TV & he’s watching an old EXO show & Jongin doesn’t even try to see which one it is because he has other things in his mind for now but his heart melts a bit.

“♥”

“How was your day? Aren’t you too tired?”

“no, i’m okay now, since i’m talking with you.”

Taemin bits his lip & coos.

“can i ask you another personal question? please”

“Yes, sure.”

Taemin takes a long inhale & pauses the show still playing on his TV & he braces himself because he still remembers vividly how it ended last time Jongin asked a personal question.

“do you have a boyfriend?”

Taemin blinks like an owl & he has no idea where this is coming from but it makes his heart race & he’s trying to decipher why Jongin would want to know that!!

“What?!”

Jongin sends him the pic of him & Jonghyun that he posted earlier that day & Taemin freezes.

“is he your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not! That’s my friend Jonghyun...”

Jongin falls on his back & finally breathes correctly.

“really?”

“Yes!”

“why did you write a heart as a description then? =3=“

“Because I was happy... This morning, Jonghyun managed to change his ticket for your concert, he had a ticket in a whole other area and he found a way to exchange it with a girl next to me... It was like!! a whole adventure!! and it involved seven different people all trying to get to another area than what they had, but in the end, we’ll be able to be together during the show so he’ll be there to pick me up at the end when I’ll be unable to stand on my two feet after seeing you perform!! And so, we celebrated together as EXO-Ls and took a picture. I’m really happy to go to the concert with my friend... that’s it. He kinda went out of his way so I wouldn’t be alone weeping in a corner after seeing you...”

“oh... i see...”

Taemin curls up on his sofa & he’s pressing one hand on his chest but his heart won’t calm down. Jongin is a little bit too interested in his love life for Taemin to pretend like he’s not suffocating with hope.

“so he’s not your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“... but do you have one?”

“No, I don’t...”

“okay!! thanks!!”

Jongin almost wants to get up & barge in Chanyeol’s room just to yell at him that he was wrong & that Taemin is single & that he shouldn’t scare him like this ever again, but he doesn’t, because he’s too comfy in his bed now.

Taemin wants to ask why Jongin is so interested in him having a boyfriend or not because he needs to know but he doesn’t know how to word his question & he keeps typing & deleting & retyping & then Jongin speaks first & he’s sighing.

“also taeminnieeeee~ you said that you’d notify me when you post because i can’t follow you but you didn’t ㅠ.ㅠ ... chanyeol had to tell me that you posted...”

“Oh... I thought you only wanted to know when I posted a cover or something...!”

“no~ho i want to see all your posts... ♥”

“Aw, I’ll make sure to always tell you then! I’m sorry. Don’t pout now...”

“yes! ehehehe thanks!”

Taemin is rolling his eyes & snorting but then, Jongin’s next message takes him off guard.

“taeminnie... is it okay to talk about your love life? aren’t you upset with me?”

“I wanted to ask why you’re so curious, actually. I’m not upset, just surprised to be honest.”

Jongin bits his finger & squirms around & he’s not sure how to answer.

“i don’t know how to say it... i thought your friend really was your boyfriend... it was confusing...”

“You're a bit obsessed with being my favorite, aren’t you?~”

“(//∇//) it’s because you’re so sweet when you say that you like me! i want to be the only one!!“

“You’re very needy 6v6”

“sorry ㅠ.ㅠ ... kyungsoo says that sometimes i’m like a baby because i want all the attention.......”

“My little Jonginnie~ I promise you’re the only one!”

“(//∇//)“

For some reason, Jongin suddenly remembers Junmyeon & Baekhyun, & everyone’s face & his own feelings every time their fans whine that they don’t want them in a relationship & he’s wondering if he’s being that person with Taemin. It makes him feel shitty, all of a sudden & he realizes he’s being so so unfair. He really did make his crush think that his favorite idol wasn’t happy if he were to be in a relationship......... just because he wants to be that boyfriend. He has to do better.

“taeminnie?”

“Yes?”

“do you want a boyfriend?”

Taemin lets out a long sigh because this isn’t going anywhere near a safe place & he’s not sure how long he can keep up with Jongin’s curious little questions.

“It sure would be nice...”

“... i don’t want you to feel lonely. sometimes i feel lonely and i wish i had someone... i don’t want you to feel this way.”

Taemin feels his whole body tense because Jongin just dropped two crucial information. First, he’s definitely single. Second, he said someone. He didn’t say girlfriend. He said someone.

“i like being your favorite, but even if it means i’m not the only one anymore, i just want you to be very happy. but whoever you chose, he must be kind!! i won’t let just anyone date my pretty taeminnie!”

He said PRETTY.

& suddenly, Taemin feels his barriers cumble & he curls up even tighter on his couch.

“That’s the thing. You’ll always be my favorite...”

“♥ yoohoo (//∇//)”

“You don’t know how hard it is to find a decent boyfriend when you’ve put my expectations so high... ㅠ.ㅠ ... they all look terrible next to you...”

“... i’m sorry... ehehe”

“Don’t laugh!!”

“when we’ll meet, i’ll give you a hug ♥ against the loneliness!!”

“Really?”

“yes!!”

“... I should complain more often!”

“ehehehehehehehehehe”

“♥”

“we should sleep now taeminnie...”

“I know.”

“should i send you a selfie so you don’t feel lonely tonight?”

“YES!”

“ehehehe.”

“♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ㅠ.ㅠ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥”

“i want one too!!”

Taemin tenses up & closes his eyes. All of this seems so delirious & he must be going crazy but really no amount of trying to be reasonnable can shake off the feeling that Jongin is actually flirting with him. Too much happened in one evening & to end it, Jongin is asking for a selfie & !!! this is...!!!!!!! too much!!

Taemin breathes loudly & he’s not about to miss such an opportunity & if Jongin wants to flirt, he sure as hell will flirt back!!! so he puts his hair nicely & takes a few pictures before he can decide on the most decent one.

“taeminnie? ... i want a selfie too :(( ... did you fall asleep already? ... noooo~ho....”

“Sorry! I was trying to take one!! But I’m not good at it...”

“♥♥ show meee~”

Jongin rolls on his bed & presses his face into his pillow to whine.

“you’re really good at this...”

“ (*ﾉωﾉ) Thank you!“

“good night taeminnie~ listen to me if you feel lonely~”

“That’s what I always do.”

“ehehe ♥”

“Good night Jonginnie”

#fanboy!au #THE FLUFF #it's super long agaiiiinnnn #also i just want to say #i love having nini constantly calling him 'taeminnie' as if it's punctuation in his sentences #needy baby.... ♥#jgvsdfh

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

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Hey Ellen 💕 I’m a new fic writer and i need some tips, whenever i write a fic i write dan and phil and when i read it back i can barely recognise them sjsjhdbdbdbbd or either they are too similar to each other (i can write i promise) sooo have u got any advice. Also how in the heck do I write smut

Hey friend!

To begin with, I suggest checking my writing tips tag! there are some lengthy posts there with hints and tips for how to characterise DnP, how to create a compelling story, how to plot etc etc.

BUT ladies and gentlemen I realise I have never made a post about smut writing, and I am so pumped. Get ready gang, for here are Ellen’s smut writing tricks lmao:

(nsfw.......... obviously)

1. TENSION

This is my most important tip. It’s a personal thing for sure, but I absolutely think that no matter how good the smut is, it’s nothing without the build-up. Tension can come in a variety of formats, but to get really good smut, I think the best kinds are: prolonged waiting (e.g. they’re at a fancy party and are salivating over each other in tuxes, but can’t fuck until they get home), jealousy, excessive teasing/flirting, or doing it in secret. These added elements, usually put in prior to the actual smut scene, give the reader context, make them wait, anticipate, and be extra satisfied with the final result.

2. DON’T BE VULGAR

Just try and avoid excessive use of the words ‘cock’, ‘ass’, ‘cum’ etc. This is not to say it can’t be dirty, but there are less jarring ways to phrase certain actions. Using a vulgar phrase can pull a reader out of the scene momentarily, which for smut is the opposite of what you want! Smut scenes are meant to be an immersive experience - their purpose is literally just to arouse/thrill the reader. So by all means have Dan riling around on the floor with his balls tied and a gag in his mouth, but maybe refrain from saying it so bluntly.

3. STOP WORRYING ABOUT THEIR HANDS

One of the most irritating things about m/m or w/w smut scenes in fanfiction, is trying to work out, as a reader, what position they’re in now, and if they’re on the bed yet, or if their clothes are off, or if that vibrator is still stuck in Phil’s- A rule that I live by in every day writing is TRUST YOUR READER. It’s my all time favourite rule. Stop over-describing everything. Your reader is intelligent. They have (most likely) read smut scenes before. You do not need to say where everything is every sentence. Not sure how they’re getting from pressed up against the wall to the sex swing on the other side of the dungeon?? Just skip it! You are the omniscient puppet master, you don’t need to justify how it happens, you just need to write about it. I’ll try to give you an example:

Bad: Dan kisses Phil hard and slimily, pushing him with lots of force up against the hood of his green, metallic car. “I’m going to bite you now,” Dan growls sexily, his voice rough and grating. Then he grins, revealing a long line of yellowed fangs. He strips Phil of his red Buffy the Vampire Slayer t-shirt and folds it up, then lays it on the floor next to Phil’s converses, which he put there earlier. Then he opens Phil’s Calvin Klein jeans, revealing his blue boxer shorts. He pulls them off one by one, folds them up too, then slips his right claw under Phil’s left thigh and pushes it upwards. He leans in, eyes blinking two sets of lids, and with his left hand, runs a long nail over Phil’s milky skin. “Let’s move to my paddling pool,” Dan says, then takes Phil by his left hand and helps him off the hood. Phil waddles after him, boxers caught around his ankles as they make their way over to the pool. “So sunny today,” Phil comments - the walk is a lot longer than expected. Dan nods. “Yeah it’s been balmy. Nearly there now.”

Good: Dan kisses Phil hard, pushing him up against the hood of his car. “I’m going to bite you now,” Dan growls, then grins, revealing a long line of yellowed fangs. He strips Phil of his t-shirt, then his jeans, breathing heavily. His claw slips under Phil’s thigh and pushes it upwards. Dan leans in, eyes blinking two sets of lids, and runs a long nail over Phil’s skin.Phil sucks in a breath, delirious from Dan’s venom in his blood. They’re in a paddling pool now, and Dan is thrashing about in the shallow water above him. Phil can’t wait to feel those fangs pierce his wet skin.

Basically, I just took lots of unnecessary description out, which leaves a much clearer plot. You see how I just jumped them from the car to the pool? Nothing is lost by the reader not knowing exactly how they got there. It’s still gonna work, just trust the reader!

4. WATCH PORN

Might seem obvious, but it helps! Also, read lots of smut from other phanfic writers. It doesn’t hurt to get ideas! Just don’t actually steal. And when watching porn, try and find some stuff that you personally find hot, but also stuff that you could totally see happening in the scenario you’re writing. Look at how a twenty-something man might actually give an effective blowjob. What positions could a thirty-something man realistically get into? What kinds of activities might a couple that have been together for ten years do in bed? Would your versions of Dan and Phil be comfortable around each other, and if so, would they be open to kinkier activities such as role-play, BDSM etc? Just do some research, get some ideas!

5. ACT IT OUT

I’m blushing but yeah. Several of my followers have informed me that they use blowjob techniques from Birthday Sex IRL. While this is not something I can do (i am a girl and have a girlfriend), I heartily encourage you to see if certain things are possible sexually before attempting to describe them. For a certain scene in L’Histoire Française, I specifically remember leaning against my door and having my girlfriend kneel in front of me (while clothed you pervs) to see if Phil’s arms would be able to reach certain areas on Dan’s body. Feel free to laugh at this ridiculous image.

6. CHARACTERISE

A pet peeve of mine is when I’m reading a smut scene, and Dan and Phil just say something out of the blue that is just so ridiculous I can’t read on. A specific example of this is overuse of the word ‘daddy’. If you explain the usage, and you can prove to me with your writing and build up that this might be said on occasion, go for it. (Shout out to my fic Daddy Kink) But even if they were calling each other daddy, it wouldn’t be every fucking three seconds. Likewise with other weird pet names (bear, darling, love, baby, etc.) In moderation I suppose you can get away with it. But your best bet is to actually just lie down, close your eyes and imagine your scene. Imagine Dan with his awkward humour defense mechanisms and hang-ups about his body. What might he actually say if he was about to sit on Phil’s face? Would he really say “oh, daddy, yes, i’m a naughty boy!!”, or would he say something more like: “please, for the love of god, tell me if you suffocate. im not explaining to your grieving mother that you died with your face buried in my ass.”

7. IF IT TURNS YOU ON, IT WILL PROBABLY TURN THEM ON

This is pretty self explanatory. Think of what you’d like to read in a smut scene. Think of things that you haven’t read anywhere else, that you think a lot of people would be excited to read. Wrote a long scene about quadruple tentacle penetration that you’re unsure whether to post? If it turns you on when you read it back, if it’s well-written, convincing, and you followed the other tips above, in all likelihood there are gonna be some freaks out there on your wavelength that will fucking love it.

That’s it! Thanks for asking, I hope this helps. Love to all you aspiring smut artists, good luck and keep porning.

#i had such fun writing this omg #i made myself laugh a lot #smut tips #writing tips #phanfiction #anon #ellen answers

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austinpanda · 3 years

Text

Dad Letter 050221

2 May, 2021

Dear Dad--

Sunday! I hope you’re having an excellent weekend so far. Thank you thank you thank you for the new package! I got the book and the smoking materials and they will be much enjoyed. I’m loving them so far!

The past week has largely consisted of me being frustrated by my new job at the casino. There are parts that are fun every day, like in the morning when I have to venture out onto the gaming floor for a brief spell before we open. Being on a casino gaming floor is like being in the middle of a fireworks display; you’re surrounded by millions of little points of moving colored light. (Modern slot machines have deliriously bright, dancing light displays. It’s very, very eye catching, I assume by design.) It’s seriously pretty and very pleasantly noisy.

Then I have to return to my desk and start working, which has been, for me, the daily point in the process where the wheels fly off and I forget everything they’ve taught me. I’ve been taking lots of notes while they’ve been training me, and they’ve been helpful to study, except sometimes my notes will consist of just a single important word with exclamation points around it, like:

!! Widgets !!!!!!!!!

Notes like that make sense when I write them down (This is the step where something dreadfully important happens with widgets.) but they don’t really convey a lot of information after the fact, beyond the existence of the word “widgets.” I’ve since attempted to make my notes a bit more descriptive, so I can read them and know what to do. This has met with occasional success.

My boss Tyler and my coworker Chris are both very gracious about answering my daily fusillade of questions, and if it makes it harder to get their own work done, they haven’t squawked about it. They are a pragmatic bunch; I guess they just understand that the shit is very complicated, it’s going to take weeks for me to attain proficiency with it, and ultimately I’m there to help reduce their workloads by taking some of the auditing off their hands. In the meantime, it’s like trying to take a road trip while stopping to ask for directions every three and a half minutes. I’ll start on a task, and refer to my checklist, and it’ll say to “Do X.” And then I have to consult my recollection and my notes to figure out what “Do X” means in terms of me, and my hands, and my colored pens, and my adding machine and spreadsheets and emails. Then I go ask Chris to help get me started and he graciously does so.

Mercifully, I am past the point when I am nervous every day coming to work. I encounter enough frustration and tension during each work day that I don’t have to artificially generate any between the time I wake up and the time I get there. And I have already isolated a way in which I can go a bit above and beyond, a way I can create something of my own that could perhaps be used as a training aid for the next me that comes along in the audit department. It’s kind of interesting, Tyler and I came up with the same idea, which was a much more verbose and explicit version of some of our work checklists. If we have a checklist that says, “Do X,” it might help a new auditor if you had a more detailed description of X, so you know how to complete the tasks. I’ll be helping to create something like that.

I’ve also identified another area where I can help out, beyond just showing up and doing my best. My area is a bit of a post-apocalyptic hellhole. I don’t know if it’s because of Covid, or because the department is a bunch of guys, but there are small areas in our section that are messy as fuck. Office supplies everywhere. It’s an affront to my sense of tidiness, so I’m going to find time to clean the place up, in a way that doesn’t conflict with my general job-doing. Right now, if I had to give a nickname to our section, it might be The Dark Lair of the Audit Troll, or The Little Office that Cried. After I learn how to do my job, I want to invest some time getting our work area squared away and spotless.

Spring is springing! We have seen our first chipmunks of the year. I got so excited that I marked the first sighting on our calendar. Now begins the period of the year when the electricity bills go way down, because we’re not spending every damn dollar we make trying to keep the place at a livable temperature. The trees are budding, and I no longer greet the arrival of spring with loathing and anxiety like I did in Texas, because spring is no longer just a brief, pleasant pit stop on the way to an unbearable 5-month long fiery furnace of summer. Spring lasts a while here! And all the trees wake up and begin budding, and the omnipresent piles of dirty snow disappear.

I’ve been feeling rather proud of myself recently. Since my goal in life seems to be: be a functioning adult in a place that has snow, I’m achieving the SHIT out of my life goals right now. And in two days, I will get my second Covid vaccine! The boss said to take that day off work. I did the thing I felt I was required to do, which was to say, “But I don’t want to miss a day of work so early in my illustrious casino career!” To which my boss replied, “That’s great, but if you have a bad reaction to the shot, you probably don’t want to have it at the casino.” I am therefore taking Tuesday off. I will get my shot at 6:00 in the morning, because I grabbed the earliest time slot I could, and then I’ll go home and see what mischief the shot will impose upon my person. I predict very little will happen, and I’ll end up having a day off with maybe some body aches. There is always a chance, though, that it’ll just beat the shit out of me, and I’ll have to miss a second day. Boss seems prepared for both eventualities. We text each other, so if it looks like the vaccination is going to cause sudden and irreversible death syndrome, I can let him know as it happens.

I shall include with this letter a before and after shot of my bathroom, now that I’ve received my new custom-designed shower curtain in the mail. I realized a few weeks ago that we just had a shower curtain liner in our bathroom, and not an actual shower curtain to look nice, so I got on Amazon to order one. Our shower stall is shorter than most (4 ft. wide, as opposed to the more standard--I think--72 inches) so we can’t just pop down to WalMart and get one. Right away, on Amazon, I found an option that allowed you to upload a photo of your own, and they’d turn it into a custom shower curtain. I uploaded a closeup photo of our cat Horta. Now you can’t take a dump in our house without staring straight into a four-foot blowup of our cat’s face! We had the option of adding text, so I added, “Whatcha doing?” to the picture, but ultimately decided it was better to just have the huge, big-eyed kitty, otherwise unadorned. I think it’s fucking hilarious, and not for nothing, but it’s beautiful to look at. Horta (as is true of most cats) is photogenic as hell. On the shower curtain, her big golden eyes are as large as saucers. Twenty bucks, and it’s going to turn all future poops into a giant kitty adventure. I may not be good at creating art, but I like to think I’ve filled my life to bursting with little artistic masterpieces such as this one.

More, as always, next Sunday. All my love to you both!

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williamlwolf89 · 4 years

Text

801+ Power Words That Pack a Punch and Convert like Crazy

Power words are like a “cheat code” for boosting conversion rates. Sprinkle in a few, and you can transform dull, lifeless words into persuasive words that compel readers to take action.

And the best part?

You can use them anywhere.

In this post, you’ll learn how to use power words like a kung fu master. Specifically:

The definition of power words (and why they’re so powerful);

The 7 types of power words proven to increase conversions;

Examples of how bloggers, freelance writers, and businesses are using powerful words to boost conversions;

A huge list of power words you can use, bookmark, and reference (again and again).

Download All 801+ Power Words(in one handy, free PDF)

Want to bring your ideas to life, to make them take up residence in the reader’s mind, lurking in the background, tugging, pulling, and cajoling their emotions until they think and feel exactly as you want?

Then you’re going to love this post.

Let’s jump in.

What are Power Words?

Power words are persuasive, descriptive words that trigger a positive or negative emotional response. They can make us feel scared, encouraged, aroused, angry, greedy, safe, or curious. Authors, copywriters, and content marketers use “power words” to spice up their content and compel audiences to take action.

Clear as mud?

Let’s deconstruct an example from the great Winston Churchill. All the power words are underlined:

We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I can say: It is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.

Inspiring, right?

Here’s why:

Power Words = Emotional Words Packed with Persuasion

Smart speakers, as well as their speechwriters, sprinkle their speeches with carefully-chosen power words drenched in sensory details, drawing the audience from one emotion to another as skillfully as any novelist or screenwriter.

And it goes beyond speakers and storytellers.

Email marketing messages, copywriting, infographics, step-by-step tutorials, sales pages, inspirational quotes, content marketing, case studies, call to actions, testimonials, tweets, and other social media posts are all designed to influence the reader in some way. You want to pass along information, yes, but you also want the reader to feel a certain way about that information.

Maybe you want to impress them, get them excited, make them cautious, get them angry, encourage them to keep going, or any number of emotions. The better a job you do at making them feel, the more influential you are, and the better your chances of getting what you want.

So…

Looking for a quick way to give your writing more punch?

Maybe add a little personality or pizzazz — that extra little “oomph” that grabs your reader’s attention?

Then you need to infuse your content with power words.

The 7 Different Types of Power Words

Fear Power Words

Encouragement Power Words

Lust Power Words

Anger Power Words

Greed Power Words

Safety Power Words

Forbidden Power Words

We’ve organized our power words into seven different types, which all accomplish the same goal: Each elicits emotion in your reader.

Let’s go over each type and see why these words work.

1. Fear Power Words

Let’s do a little experiment.

Just for a moment, stop reading this post, turn on the television, and go to a major news channel. Watch it for five minutes, listening for the words below.

Chances are, you’ll hear dozens of them. Here’s why:

Fear is without a doubt the most powerful emotion for grabbing and keeping an audience’s attention. To make sure you don’t change the channel, news networks load up with fear words, making you worry you might miss something important.

Granted, you can overdo it, but in my opinion, most writers don’t use these types of words nearly enough. They really do connect with people.

How to Crank Up Emotion with Fear Words

Here’s an example of a blog post headline here at Smart Blogger that utilizes three different fear words:

Open it and you’re greeted by this fear-packed introduction:

I was in agony.

Waves of pain unimaginable shot down my spine, causing every muscle in my body to contract as if I’d been shocked with 20,000 volts of electricity. My back arched up at an unnatural angle. My arms and legs began to shake.

One moment, I was on a webinar talking to a few hundred people about traffic, walking them through exactly how to start a blog and make it popular. The next, everything went dark. I was still conscious, but just barely.

Pretty effective, right?

Here’s another one:

If I’m working from home, will I lose my sanity if I don’t read this post? There’s only one way to find out. (Click!)

Want to sprinkle fear power words into your writing? Here are a bunch to get you started:

Agony Lunatic Apocalypse Lurking Armageddon Massacre Assault Meltdown Backlash Menacing Beating Mired Beware Mistake Blinded Murder Blood Nightmare Bloodbath Painful Bloodcurdling Pale Bloody Panic Blunder Peril Bomb Piranha Buffoon Pitfall Bumbling Plague Cadaver Played Catastrophe Plummet Caution Plunge Collapse Poison Corpse Poor Crazy Prison Cripple Pummel Crisis Pus Danger Reckoning Dark Refugee Deadly Revenge Death Risky Deceiving Scary Destroy Scream Devastating Searing Disastrous Shame Doom Shatter Drowning Shellacking Dumb Shocked Embarrass Silly Fail Slaughter Feeble Slave Fired Strangle Fool Stupid Fooled Suicide Frantic Tailspin Frightening Tank Gambling Targeted Gullible Teetering Hack Terror Hazardous Terrorist Hoax Torture Holocaust Toxic Horrific Tragedy Hurricane Trap Injure Vaporize Insidious Victim Epidemic Cataclysmic Bufoon Suffering Reckoning Trauma Dangerous Annihilate Invasion Volatile IRS Vulnerable Jail Warning Jeopardy Nerd Lawsuit Wounded Looming Cringeworthy Last chance Fugacious Worry Wreaking havoc

2. Encouragement Power Words

Let’s face it.

When they’re reading, most people aren’t exactly bouncing off the walls with energy and enthusiasm. They’re probably bored, maybe a little depressed, and almost definitely tired.

And they’re looking for something, anything, that’ll wake them up and make them feel better.

The good news?

Your writing can do that for them.

How to Crank Up Emotion with Encouragement Words

Here’s an example email from Mirasee:

With two encouraging words — life-changing and magic — in one email subject line, it’s a message that stands out in most inboxes.

Want to give your readers a pep talk and get them charged up again? Want to encourage them?

Use these persuasive words:

Amazing Jubilant Ascend Legend Astonishing Life-changing Astounding Magic Audacious Marvelous Awe-inspiring Master Awesome Mind-blowing Backbone Miracle Badass Miraculous Beat Noble Belief Perfect Blissful Persuade Bravery Phenomenal Breathtaking Pluck Brilliant Power-up Celebrate Praise Cheer Prevail Colossal Remarkable Command Revel Conquer Rule Courage Score Daring Seize Defeat Sensational Defiance Spectacular Delight Spine Devoted Spirit Dignity Splendid Dominate Spunk Effortless Staggering Empower Strengthen Epic Striking Excellent Strong Excited Stunning Extraordinary Stunt Eye-opening Supreme Fabulous Surprising Faith Terrific Fantastic Thrive Fearless Thwart Ferocious Titan Fierce Tough Force Triumph Fulfill Tremendous Glorious Unbeatable Glory Unbelievable Graceful Unforgettable Grateful Unique Grit Unleash Guts Uplifting Happy Valiant Heart Valor Hero Vanquish Honor Victory Hope Win Incredible Wonderful Jaw-dropping Wondrous Kudos Brighten Lovable Radiant Flawless Classy Affable Stupendous Virtuoso Cheery Openhearted Jovial Beauteous Logophile Adorable

3. Lust Power Words

Like it or not, lust is one of the core human emotions.

Just look at the men’s and women’s magazines in the checkout aisle, and you’ll see what I mean. Nearly every headline on the cover is either blatantly or indirectly about sex.

And it works, not just for headlines in men’s and women’s magazines, but for messages to your email list, subheads in your articles — anything.

Editor’s Note: Adding one or two power words to your subheads will compel readers to stick around longer, which will increase your dwell time — a big deal in Google’s eyes.

As a writer, you can use words that inspire lust to make almost anything intriguing.

How to Crank Up Emotion with Lust Words

See if you can spot the lust words in this headline from Cosmopolitan:

Okay, the orange underlines probably give it away, but my hunch is you didn’t need them.

Power words like captivating and love jump off the page. And if you use them properly, they can stir all sorts of emotions in your readers’ heads. (Want to see your click-through rates soar? Add a lust word or two.)

Here’s a lascivious list of descriptive words to get you started:

Allure Naughty Arouse Nude Bare Obscene Begging Orgasmic Beguiling Passionate Brazen Pining Captivating Pleasure Charm Provocative Cheeky Racy Climax Raunchy Crave Risque Delight Rowdy Delirious Salacious Depraved Satisfy Desire Saucy Dirty Scandalous Divine Seduce Ecstasy Seductive Embrace Sensual Enchant Sex Enthralling Shameless Entice Sinful Entrance Sleazy Excite Sleeping Explicit Spank Exposed Spellbinding Fascinate Spicy Forbidden Steamy Frisky Stimulating Goosebumps Strip Hanker Sweaty Heavenly Tantalizing Hottest Taste Hypnotic Tawdry Impure Tease Indecent Tempting Intense Thrilling Intoxicating Tickle Itching Tight Juicy Tingle Kinky Turn on Kiss Unabashed Lascivious Uncensored Lewd Untamed Lick Untouched Lonely Urge Longing Voluptuous Love Vulgar Pleasurable Charismatic Riveting Obsession Mouthwatering Compelling Magnetic Enchanting Lovely Engaging Intriguing Fascinating Flirt Alluring Lure Wanton Luscious Wet Lush Whip Lust Wild Mischievous X-rated Mouth-watering Yearning Naked Yummy Sneak peek Promiscuous

4. Anger Power Words

As writers, sometimes our job is to anger people.

Not for the fun of it, mind you, but because someone is doing something wrong, and the community needs to take action to correct it.

The problem is, with wrongdoing, most people are pretty apathetic — they’ll wait until the situation becomes entirely intolerable to do anything, and by then, it’s often too late.

So, we have to fan the flames.

How to Crank Up Emotion with Anger Words

The authors of this Forbes headline don’t pull any punches:

I didn’t realize some people get angry over business jargon, but apparently it’s a thing. And this headline, undoubtedly, had such people frothing at the mouth.

If you want to connect with people’s anger and slowly but surely work them into a frenzy, use the power words below.

Just be careful who you target. Lawyers can eat you alive if you pick on the wrong person. 🙂

Abhorrent Money-grubbing Abuse Nasty Annoying Nazi Arrogant No good Ass kicking Obnoxious Backstabbing Oppressive Barbaric Pain in the ass Bash Payback Beat down Perverse Big mouth Pesky Blatant Pest Brutal Phony Bullsh*t Pissed off Bully Pollute Cheat Pompous Clobber Pound Clown Preposterous Cocky Pretentious Corrupt Punch Coward Punish Crooked Rampant Crush Ravage Curse Repelling Debase Repugnant Defile Revile Delinquent Revolting Demolish Rotten Desecrate Rude Disgusting Ruined Dishonest Ruthless Distorted Savage Evil Scam Exploit Scold Force-fed Sick and tired Foul Sink Freaking out Slam Full of sh*t Slander Greedy Slap Gross Slay Harass Smash Hate Smear High and mighty Smug Horrid Sniveling Infuriating Snob Jackass Snooty Kick Snotty Kill Spoil Knock Stuck up Knock out Suck Know it all Terrorize Lies Trash Livid Trounce Loathsome Tyranny Loser Underhanded Lying Up to here Maul Useless Broke Stink Fear Raise hell Sneaky Screw Rant Miff Diatribe Vicious Weak Diminish Provoke Hostile Morally bankrupt Worst Thug B.S. Agitate Boil over Annoy Violent Misleading Violate Lollygag Quixotic

5. Greed Power Words

The legendary copywriter Gary Halbert once said, “If you want people to buy something, stomp on their greed glands until they bleed.” Graphic, yes, but also true.

Skim through good sales copy on an e-commerce site, and you’ll find a lot of power words based on vanity or greed. Many of them are so overused they’ve become cliché, but that doesn’t stop them from working.

The truth is, nearly every human being on the planet is interested in either saving or making money.

How to Crank Up Emotion with Greed Words

Its explicit and implicit use of greed words makes this popular book from Dave Ramsey a great example:

“Money” is hard to miss — it’s probably the ultimate greed word and it’s sitting there in capital letters.

But a title like “Total Money Makeover” also implies another greed word (even though it doesn’t directly state it): money-saving.

(It also gets bonus points for using alliteration and the safety power word “proven”, which we’ll discuss in a moment.)

If you want to stomp on your readers’ greed glands, use these power words:

Bank Jackpot Bargain Lowest price Best Luxurious Billion Marked down Bonanza Massive Booked solid Money Cash Money-draining Cheap Money-saving Costly Nest egg Discount Pay zero Dollar Prize Double Profit Explode Quadruple Extra Reduced Feast Rich Fortune Savings Don’t miss out Fast Giveaway While they last Instantly Expires Never again Premiere Final More Hurry Sale ends soon Value Monetize Big Save New Deadline Handsome Noteworthy Kick ass Moneymaking Knockout Lucky Notable Amplify At the top Attractive Wealthy Ahead of the game Legendary Beautiful Optimal Good-looking Successful Bold Fortunate Sassy Smart Elegant Gorgeous Clever Foxy Quick-witted Genius Effective Elite Drop-dead Crowned Dazzling You Turbo charge Bright Super-human Brassy Booming Boss Unbeaten Undefeated Boost Exclusive Frugal Special Price break Before Running out Upsell Bonus Free Six-figure Freebie Skyrocket Frenzy Soaring Prosperous Surge Gift Treasure Golden Triple Greatest Waste High-paying Wealth Inexpensive Whopping Cheat sheet

6. Safety Power Words

Greed isn’t the only emotion you want buyers to feel. You also want to make them feel safe.

They need to trust both you and your product or service. They need to have confidence you’ll deliver, and they need to believe they’ll get results.

Of course, building that kind of trust starts with having a quality brand and reputation, but the words you use to describe yourself and your product or service also matter.

How to Crank Up Emotion with Safety Words

On the landing page for one of our Smart Blogger courses, we use power words to make sure our potential customers feel safe:

In addition to “legitimate” and “guaranteed” in the screenshot above, our landing page is sprinkled with numerous safety words:

Money-back

Results

Refund

Proven

Risk-free

They work for us, and they can work for you.

Help your customers feel safe by using as many of these power words as possible:

Above and beyond Privacy Anonymous Professional Authentic Protected Automatic Proven Backed Recession-proof Bankable Refund Best-selling Reliable Cancel anytime Research Certified Results Clockwork Risk-free Endorsed Rock-solid Foolproof Science-backed Guaranteed Scientific Moneyback Bona fide Recognized Authority Studies show Because Scientifically proven Genuine Worldwide Authoritative Safety Accredited Fully refundable Case study Well respected Dependable Improved Ensured Expert According to Track record Approved Ironclad Secure Legitimate Sure-fire Lifetime Survive Money-back Tested No obligation That never fails No questions asked Thorough No risk Trustworthy No strings attached Try before you buy No-fail Unconditional Official Verify Permanent World-class Guilt-free Don’t worry

7. Forbidden Power Words

Remember when you were a kid, and someone told you NOT to do something? From that point on, you could think about little else, right? Curiosity always got the better of us.

The truth is, we’re all fascinated by the mysterious and forbidden. It’s like it’s programmed into our very nature.

So why not tap into that programming?

How to Crank Up Emotion with Forbidden Words

This Ahrefs article tempts you with its headline:

What’s the “secret”? Only one way to find out.

Whenever you want to create curiosity, sprinkle these power words throughout your writing, and readers won’t be able to help being intrigued:

Ancient Lost Backdoor Never seen before Banned Off the record Behind the scenes Off-limits Black Market Outlawed Blacklisted Private Bootleg Restricted Censored Sealed Remote Be the first Ridiculous Become an insider Secrets Bizarre Shocking Class full Ssshhh!!! Closet Spoiler Elusive Supersecret Hilarious Thought-provoking Illusive Top secret Incredibly Trade secret Insane Uncharted Interesting Unconventional Invitation only Undiscovered Key Unexplained Login required Unexplored Members only Unheard of Myths Unsung Odd Untold On the QT Unusual Priceless Wacky Privy Zany Psycho Classified Secret Cloak and dagger Smuggled Concealed Strange Confessions Tried to hide Confidential Unauthorized Controversial Uncensored Covert Under wraps Cover-up Undercover Exotic Underground Forbidden Under-the-table Forgotten Undisclosed From the vault Unexpected Under the table Unlock Hush-hush Unreachable Illegal Unspoken Insider Unveiled Little-known Withheld Hidden

Now that we’ve looked at the different types of power words (and gone over a few quick examples), let’s go over all the different places you can use them:

Powerful Words in Action: 14 Places Where Strong Words Can Help You

Headlines

Subheads

Email Subject Lines

Opt-In Boxes

Homepage

Business Names/Blog Names

Product Names

Sales Pages

Testimonials

Bullet Lists

Button Copy (Call to Action)

Author Bios

YouTube Videos

Book Titles

1. Using Power Words in Headlines

Any writer or blogger who’s been in the game for a while knows the headline is the most important part of writing your blog post.

Its purpose, after all, is to entice the reader to read the rest of your content. If your headline fails to get attention, potential readers will ignore it when it shows up in their tweets and social media feeds.

And just one or two power words in your headline is usually enough to make it stand out.

Just look at this headline from BuzzFeed:

The word “Unveiled” makes it feel like a secret is being exposed, and the word “Breathtaking” makes you curious to see what the photo looks like.

Here’s another example from BoredPanda:

People generally love anything adorable, so this headline will easily catch attention. (The fact that it refers to snakes will only make people more curious.)

The headline then drives it home by using the powerful verb “Conquer.”

Here’s one from BrightSide:

While one or two power words are often enough, this headline proves you can use more when it fits.

This headline has four powerful words, but they feel natural in the headline, which keeps it from feeling like over-the-top clickbait.

Last one:

This headline from our How to Make Money Writing: 5 Ways to Get Paid to Write in 2020 post incorporates two greed words: “money” and “get paid.”

It’s one of our most-popular posts, and its headline’s use of power words is a big reason why.

2. Using Power Words in Subheads

Too many writers overlook the value of subheads, which is a mistake. Once people click on your headline, most will scan the post first to see if it looks worthy of their attention.

Adding some power words to your subheads is a good way to make your post look like an interesting read.

For example, here are three subheads from our post on E-book mistakes:

See how the power words in these subheads grab your attention and make you want to read the text that follows?

Adding one or two power words to your subheads will compel readers to stick around longer, which will increase your dwell time — a big deal in Google’s eyes.

3. Using Power Words in Email Subject Lines

Having an email list is of little use if only a handful of readers bother to open your emails.

And these days, most people’s inboxes are flooded, so they’re selective in which emails they open.

You can stand out in their inbox and raise your open rates by including power words in your subject lines.

Just look at this one from Ramit Sethi:

If this subject line would’ve read “The rules of learning,” do you think it would be as appealing? The word “unspoken” is what makes it interesting.

Here’s another one from Cal Fussman:

Both “Triumph” and “Tragedy” are powerful words full of emotion.

And finally, here’s a good example from AppSumo:

The power phrase “Unleash the power” makes you feel this email is hiding something incredibly powerful inside.

See how that works?

When you send out emails to your list, try to add a power word to your subject line so it stands out in readers’ inboxes.

4. Using Power Words in Opt-In Boxes

As a blogger, one of your main goals is to grow a large and engaged readership, and the best way to do it is by converting readers into subscribers.

That means — unless you’re using a blogging platform like Medium which doesn’t allow them — you should have opt-in forms scattered across your website.

You can place them on your homepage, at the end of your posts, in your sidebar, in a popup, or anywhere else.

But no matter where you place them, your opt-in boxes must catch people’s eye and make them want to share their email address with you. Because they won’t give it away to just anyone.

(Remember, their inboxes are already flooded, so they’re not necessarily eager to get even more emails.)

Fortunately, you can use power words to make your offer more enticing.

As an example, here’s an old popup from Cosmopolitan:

This popup had power words everywhere, but it avoided feeling like overkill. I bet it converted like crazy.

Here’s a slightly more subtle example from Betty Means Business:

It’s understated, but still quite effective.

Again, you don’t have to overdo it with the power words on these. A little can go a long way.

Here’s one final example from Renegade Planner:

In short:

If you’re not using power words in your opt-in boxes, you’re missing out.

Big time.

5. Using Power Words on Your Homepage

Your homepage is the face of your website and it’s usually one of the most visited pages. Many people who visit your website will see this page first, so you want it to make a good first impression.

Some people use their homepage to promote their email list, others use it to promote one of their products, and others use it as a red carpet — welcoming new visitors and explaining what their site is all about.

In any case, your homepage is a good spot to add a few power words, as it can determine whether people stay (and take the action you want them to take) or leave (never to return).

Look at this value proposition on the homepage for Nerd Fitness:

“Nerds,” “Misfits,” and “Mutants” are unusual power words that work well for Nerd Fitness’ target audience. These words immediately separate it from all the other fitness blogs out there.

But they push it even further with “Strong,” “Healthy,” and “Permanently.”

Here’s another value proposition from MainStreetHost’s homepage:

It’s quite minimal, isn’t it? They just wrote down three power words and follow it up with a service they provide.

Of course, you don’t have to limit your use of power words to the top of your homepage.

You can use it in other parts of the homepage too, as Ramit Sethi does here in his list of what you’ll get when you sign up for his email list:

Go look at your homepage now and see if you can find any areas you can spruce up with some power words.

6. Using Power Words in Business Names/Blog Names

Having a forgettable name is poison to your website’s growth. So when you start a blog, you want to make sure you have a name people can easily recall.

If you haven’t chosen your blog name yet (or if you’re thinking about rebranding), you should use a power word to give it some punch. It’ll make you stand out from all the boring, forgettable brands out there.

Just take a look at the collection of blog names below and see how well they’ve incorporated power words:

7. Using Power Words in Product Names

Just like you can use power words to spruce up your blog name, you can also use them to make your product names pack more of a punch.

It can make the difference between your potential customers thinking, “Ooh, this product sounds cool!” and them thinking, “Meh.”

Just check out this subscription product from Nerd Fitness:

It has such a powerful name that you’d almost want to sign up without learning anything else about it. Who wouldn’t want to be part of a community of rising heroes?

Here’s another good example from Pat Flynn:

It’s a powerful name for his podcasting course that instantly informs you of the benefit.

So if you’re about to launch a product (or if you’ve launched a product with a tepid name), consider giving it a power word to make it pack a punch.

8. Using Power Words on Sales Pages

You can also use power words to spruce up your sales pages and make them more effective at selling your e-commerce products or services.

They will grab people’s attention when they arrive on the page, they will keep their attention as they scroll down, and they’ll help seduce readers before they reach your “buy” button.

Just look at this headline on Ramit Sethi’s sales page for his product 50 Proven Email Scripts (which also has a power word in its name):

And as you scroll down, you see he keeps using power words throughout his sales page.

His headline is followed by emotion-packed subheads:

And he even uses power words in his guarantee:

9. Using Power Words in Testimonials

Power words are also tremendously effective in testimonials.

Of course, I’m not suggesting you change people’s testimonials to include power words. But you can certainly select the ones that already use them to great effect.

Just look at this example from Betty Means Business:

Or look at this one from Farideh’s blog:

And here’s another example from Renegade Planner:

All these testimonials will lend extra credibility and excitement due to their power words and phrases.

10. Using Power Words in Bullet Lists

Many sales pages include a list of benefits of the product they’re selling. Many opt-in forms include a huge list of reasons you should sign up to their email list. And many case studies use bullet lists to quickly summarize information.

You can use power words in these lists to inspire more excitement in your reader as they read through them.

Here’s one example from Ramit Sethi’s sales page for his How to Talk to Anyone course:

And here’s another example from an opt-in form on Restart Your Style:

Without these power words, these lists wouldn’t convince nearly as many readers to buy or subscribe.

11. Using Power Words in Button Copy and CTA (Call to Action)

Yep, you can use power words in your button copy too — even if you only have a few words you can fit in there.

One of the most common power words used in buttons is “Free” (as in the example below):

But you can be more creative with buttons than you might think.

Takes this button from the sales page for the book The Renegade Diet:

“Immediate,” “Money Back,” and “Guarantee” are all incredibly powerful words, and the author manages to squeeze them all into one button.

Here’s an example from Tim Ferris:

He could’ve used “Send Me the List” as most people would do, but “Unlock” makes it sound a lot more intriguing — like you’re getting access to something that’s been kept hidden away.

Now take a look at the buttons on your site.

Do you see any opportunities to spruce them up with a power word?

12. Using Power Words in Author Bios

Your author bio is another extremely important part of your marketing.

When you guest post for another blog (or write a paid article as a freelancer), your author bio has the difficult job of making readers want to know more about you so they click through to your site.

That means your author bio needs to spark attention and interest. And you usually only get three sentences, so you need to carefully consider the words you use.

As an example, here’s the author bio from Henneke Duistermaat in her post on overcoming writer’s block:

Henneke’s author bio is full of power words. It shows her uniqueness and makes her stand out from other copywriters.

You can tell she has carefully picked each perfect word for maximum impact.

Here’s another example from Sarah Peterson’s post on blog ads:

She opens strong immediately by mentioning her guides are insanely useful. And just the name of her report alone is full of power words: “Free,” “Reveal,” and “Begging.”

Makes you want to get your hands on that report, doesn’t it?

13. Using Power Words on YouTube Videos

If you’re publishing videos on YouTube and you want to get more views, you should use power words in your titles.

All the biggest YouTube channels do this.

They understand most of their views will come from their subscribers finding them in their feeds, and from people finding them in the sidebar of other videos.

In both cases, you’re competing with many other videos for their attention. If you want your video to stand out and be the one they choose to watch, your title has to be captivating.

See how Philip DeFranco does it below:

“Disgusting,” “Punishment,” and “Controversy” are all attention-grabbing words (and that’s besides the attention-grabbing names of Brock Turner, Star Wars, and Kim Kardashian).

Note also how he has capitalized “Disgusting.” It’s another smart trick many YouTube channels use to stand out more in YouTube’s lists of video suggestions.

Style vlogger Aaron Marino often does it as well:

By capitalizing the power words “Don’ts” and “Stupid,” his title catches a lot more attention (as you can see for yourself by the millions of views it’s received).

14. Using Power Words in Book Titles

If you’re interested in writing your own book, adding power words to your titles will help it sell better.

With all the competition in the book market these days, you need a title that grabs people’s attention and makes them want to peek inside.

Here are a few quick grabs from Amazon’s list of bestsellers in the self-help niche:

I’m sure you’ve seen this title before.

You might say Stephen Covey’s use of power words in his title has been highly effective. (See what I did there?)

Here’s another:

Mark Manson’s bestselling title is packed with power.

The power word “Subtle” juxtaposes well with the F-bomb in the title, and his use of “Counterintuitive” will spark some interest as well.

One more:

Lastly, Jen Sincero’s encouraging book title makes you want to flip it open and read it in one go.

The use of “Badass” alone will make it stand out in the self-development section, but her use of “Greatness” and “Awesome” in the subtitle truly seals the deal.

Go Ahead and Tell Me. What Powerful Words Did I Miss?

They’re known by many names…

Emotion words. Good words. Strong words. Powerful words, creative words, sensory words, trigger words, persuasive words, descriptive words, impactful words, interesting words, positive words, unique words, and even — yes, seriously — awesome words.

But whatever you call them; smart, attractive people such as yourself have mastered the strategic use of power words and use them every day to pack their writing with emotion so they can increase conversions.

Yes, this is an enormous list of words, but with so many power words and power phrases available, you’d need a thesaurus or Word of the Day dictionary to catch every single word on the first pass. (Plus, new words seem to be added to the English language every day.)

What are some other good words that seem to have that extra little spark of emotion inside them?

The post 801+ Power Words That Pack a Punch and Convert like Crazy appeared first on Smart Blogger.

from SEO and SM Tips https://smartblogger.com/power-words/

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