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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Three

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, ptsd/ flashbacks, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, jealousy, scenting, fingering, recollection of non-con trauma (for the plot), alcohol consumption/drunk character, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Sorry this one took a while, been a hell of a week. It's got a lot of angst, so prep yourselves guysss. Ends with smut, ofc. I hope you guys enjoy 🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

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“Y/n. For the love of Christ, you better tell me that the storm held ya up last night.” Jakes voice rings in your ear, waking you up.

Oh shit.

You look to your left to see the first rays of sunlight shining on Ralak’s sleeping, naked body, chest heaving slowly from his unfaltering breaths. Perched on his side, his face sits in his palm, as if he’s fallen asleep partially sitting up. Two fingers still nestled inside you, his facial muscles are slightly tensed, like he’s ready wake up any minute and tend to your every need, just like he’s been doing all night long.

“Get your ass home. Now.” Jakes irate voice brings you back to reality.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

What were you going to tell Jake? That the storm did keep you up? He’d never believe that. Not for a second. Either way, if you didn’t go now, this man would skin the love of your life. Unmated, in his bed, all before your second iknimaya? He’d try, at least.

“Sst-ah.” you let out a shaky breath, grimacing as you pull his fingers out of you. They’re covered in your cum, so much so that a thick string of slick connects you to his fingers when you pull your pelvis away. You scramble to your feet, wiping yourself up with the already damp cloth next to his bed.

I’ll be back, my love. You think, looking over at him one last time before rushing out of his marui.

On your way to the cave, you try to assess your state. It’s hard to tell, given the fact that your heart is pounding at a speed only an ikran could attain. Anxiety streams through your veins, but otherwise, you feel fairly normal. Maybe a little bit like you did after your first iknimaya, when you passed your dream hunt and had one too many glow worms. But nothing unmanageable.

Guess it’s over.

Finally arriving at the cave, frantic eyes search the body of water for your loincloth. It’s floating at the far end of the lake, so you dive in. As you’re swimming, you catch a whiff of your own scent, mixed with Ralak’s. You bring your arm to your nose and take a deep breath. “Fuck.” you curse under your breath, submerging your entire body in the water, trying to bathe his scent off you.

You knew you scented each other, but you didn’t know that it would linger this long. You scrub your body, paying extra attention to your chest and neck. Time is going faster than you can move. But it’s like the more you scrub, the more you rub it into your skin – into your essence.

“Forget this.” you huff, grabbing your loincloth and swimming back to sand. You wring it out, slip inside and tie the knot hastily. One last look back on his marui pod, and you’re gone like the wind – quick and silent.

The trek back home is nerve-wracking, you feel so uneasy that you could feel something in your throat. A lump. You swallow repeatedly, trying to get rid of it, but it grows a little bigger for every step you take. By the time you’re at your marui door, you feel like you can’t breathe.

Neteyam smells you first, wreaking of a male na’vi, nose scrunching at the odour. He huffs a harsh breath through his nostrils, attempting to rid the lingering scent from of his lungs. He examines your condition – clammy skin with little colour left in it. Eyes trailing up to your face, he could see the fear written all over it, along with something else. Something like –

“Jesus, what the hell were you thinking?!” Jake hisses through clenched teeth.

“D-dad. I-I can explain.” you stutter, throat so tight you can barely speak.

Jake pulls his head back, eyelids blinking furiously. It’s as if the scent quite literally hit him, square in the jaw. With his suspicions confirmed, his lips stretch into a thin line, his go to expression of disapproval. The type that makes your ears lay flat against your skull, and bottom lip jut out.

“I can smell him on you.” Jake brushes past you. “Stay with your brother.”

“Dad, please.” your voice is strained, fighting against the lump in your throat. “Where are you going?”

He stops dead in his tracks, back still turned to you, a hand flying up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “To Tonowari, kid. Tsireya will teach you from now on.” He heaves a heavy sigh and walks away.

The anxiety quickly morphs into anger, bubbling in your veins and sizzling your skin. Your short fuse blows. How could he take this away from you? You weren’t a ‘kid’ anymore. You had passed your iknimaya back home, and you’re on the brink of passing it here, too. Despite that, he always treats you like this, like the late bloomer you are. He didn’t even care to know what really happened.

“Not a fucking kid!” you shout after him, only for him to shake his head and continue walking.

“Sis.” Neteyam mutters, gently guiding you into the marui pod by your arm.

You shrug him off, storming past him to dive into your bed, burying your face into your pillow – damp from last night’s tears. It only becomes wetter as your fresh tears stream down your face. You couldn’t help it, you cried whenever you felt overwhelmed with anything. Sadness. Happiness. Anger. Frustration.

The sound of your privacy curtain being drawn back snaps your head up from your pillow. It’s Neteyam, standing over you with a face of concern, a bowl of steamed fish in one hand and a cup of water in the other. He sighs quietly, crouching down to come eye to eye with you. “You were in heat, weren’t you?” He states, already knowing the answer. “You should eat and drink something.” He places the bowl and cup on the floor next to you.

You sit up, supporting your torso with your arms behind your back. Neteyam. The older, caring bother, always looking out for everyone but himself. Of course, he would be the one to care enough to find out what you’ve been through the past day. “Yup. Late bloomer finally got her heat.” you speak of yourself harshly, taking the cup of water and chugging it.

“You smell gross.” he chuckles breathily, nudging the bowl of fish closer to you.

“Thanks, big brother. Appreciate it.” you giggle between cries, nudging it back to him. “Not hungry.”

His arms rest on his knees, braids swaying in his face as he looks behind him before dropping his head. “Agh.” he lifts his head, staring at you for a few seconds, as if he were contemplating something. “You should not have done that. Not before your iknimaya.”

“I didn’t! Nothing... like that happened, Tey. Ralak isn’t like that.” your head hangs low as you utter the words. “He’s... a gentle giant.”

Neteyam scoffs, straightening his spine. “Gentle giant? He looks like he eats na’vi for breakfast.”

“Hey –” you sniffle, glaring up at him, “I like him, Tey. A lot. He’s good for me.”

Neteyam’s features soften. As if hearing your words plucked a string of sympathy in his heart. As much as he wants to help you, he can’t. Not with a direct order from his father. He shakes his head, eyes closed, and brows furrowed.

That’s his way of saying, ‘Sorry. Can’t’.

You sigh, bringing your knees to your chest to hide your face. You can smell Ralak’s scent now that your nose is near your thighs. It fills your lungs with every breath you take. His pheromones. His aphrodisiac. His arousal. He left it all on you, rubbed into your skin so deep it seems to have altered your own scent.

Is this what scenting does?

Soon you’re breathing heavily, trying to savour what left you have of him – of last night. It makes you heavy in the head, like all the strength has left your body. You feel your face warm up, the heat spreading to the tips of your ears. You’re tired. Defeated.

“Neteyam! Neteyam!” Lo’ak’s faint voice sounds frantic.

You hear Neteyam shuffling to his feet to go and check what his brother is on about. “Stay here, got it?”

“Mhm.” you hum, too tired to even lift your head.

The sound of Lo’ak yanking back your privacy curtain makes you jump out of your skin, nearly knocking over the bowl of steamed fish. You stare up at him wide eyed, to see him motioning over to the door of your marui. Your brows kiss in confusion, unsure of what’s going on.

“Heard you were in... hea-a situation. Just gonna borrow big bro for a second, cool?” he raises his brows, nudging his head towards the door in an emphasized manner.

A smile pulls at your lips once you realize what he’s doing for you. You wipe your puffy eyes with the back of your hand and shuffle to your feet. “I owe you, Lo’.”

Ralak’s POV

Ralak rouses to an empty bed. He sits up quickly, scanning his marui for any sign of you. Nothing. The only thing that remains is your potent scent flooding the room. The only proof that you were ever here. “Oh, y/n.” he groans, head slumping into his hands.

You were gone. Gone like you were never here to begin with. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he tried not to assume the worst. But what if – what if it was the worst? To be used and discarded like an object. All over again. Surely, there’s no way that you would do this to him, not after opening-up to you like that. Not after last night. Not after the words you uttered to one another before going to sleep –

‘I love you’.

But why does it feel the same? The same as that day. The day he was in a marui pod like this one, young, bare skinned and short haired, kneeling before his own karyu. His chest tightens, the walls of his throat closing in on one another. He can feel it creeping up his spine. The flashbacks. The tremors. The nausea. Rushing to his feet, he makes his way over to the shelf well-stocked with bottles of ‘fermented fruit’ – pxir [beer; alcohol].

A poison to many, but an antidote to him.

Dust had settled on the bottles since the last day he reached for them. The day you became his tanhì. That’s why he had never brought you up here, he never wanted you to see the truth. The way he copes with his emotions – bottling them up and then chugging it down when they became just too much.

The bottle opens with a pop, strong, bitter scent wafting up his nose, replacing the scent of you in his lungs. He takes a quick swig, baring his teeth from the sting of it trickling down his throat. “Ahh.” He sighs a breath of relief, feeling the alcohol already taking effect, loosening his chest, and clearing his throat.

Yet he can still feel the shiver of his spine, and the churn of his stomach.

“Shit.” he curses, taking another swig. Cursing himself for trusting another after he made the vow to never trust again. Another swig. For facing the part of him that he’s denied since he came into adulthood. Another swig. For letting someone in. Another swig. For allowing himself to love you.

Alas, a clear mind and body – rid of the memories of his past.

He readies himself for his bath, something he often did to relax. Just like he did last time you left him.

----

Time is of the essence. With no idea of when Jake will be back, you move quickly. You weave through the webbing of the mangrove roots, ducking and dodging those that jut out. You take a short cut, bouncing over the netting of a cluster of marui pods on the way to Ralak’s.

Eyes guardedly stuck to your feet, you bump into Ka’ani, the man who replaced Ralak’s role as fisherman – faceplanting into his bare chest. Arms instinctively wrapping around you, he holds you close until you regain your balance. Admittedly, he’s a little too close for comfort, his face nestled in the crown of your head. You hear quick, nasally breaths, muffled by your hair.

Is he... sniffing me right now?

You shove him off you, probably a little too rough to be considered friendly, and take a few steps back. “Sorry, Ka’ani.” you mutter, gingerly walking around him.

“No problem, at all.” he smirks, raising his hands and making space for you to leave.

With a quick shake of your head, you continue making your way to Ralak. The closer you get, the more a giddy smile spreads across your face. Though you were the bearer of bad news, you can’t ignore the flutters in your stomach. The same flutters you had when you first laid eyes on him – the day Eywa herself told you he’s the one.

Your mate.

Your legs move faster, as fast as they can go, until the sand slackens your steps. Silky, fine sand – always the first thing to let you know that you’ve arrived. You can’t help the excitement bubbling from your tummy and up your throat. “Ralak!” you blurt out, eager to find your love.

A tall figure in the distance catches your eye, it looks as if he were going into the cave. You wave your hands above your head, shouting his name as you lope towards him. “Ralak!”

The figure stops, turning around to acknowledge your calls. He stands still for a minute, before walking towards you with a stagger in his step. Tail perking up instantaneously, your hand flies to your bare hip, searching for your medicine pouch. You’re running on the tips of your toes again, concern and worry replacing the flutters low in your belly.

“Wha-t is it?” you shout, voice wavering as you close the distance between your bodies.

You crash into him with a smack, making the typically sturdy giant wobble. Now your ears art alert, perturbed by his odd behaviour. Gently pushing you away, his large hands grip your upper arms, fingertips touching once another. Blue, hazed orbs peer down at you, extra glossy and lidded.

“Are you sick? Wounded?” you question, resisting his gentle pushes to search his body.

Nostrils flickering above his pursed lips, he leans into your neck. He pulls back with a huff, blowing hot air through his nose, onto your face. Your eyelashes flutter, face of concern quickly morphing into one of confusion.

Everyone is sniffing me today.

Head snapping to the left, his eyes search the webs of the mangrove roots off in the distance. A guttural growl rumbles deep in Ralak’s chest, thinned lips curling over his canines, flashing them before your eyes. You watch in awe as his brows lower, knotting together to turn his eyes beady. Ears flat against his skull, the scent of another na’vi scrunches his nose.

That’s a new look.

“Ralak.” your voice is breathy and small – laced with fright.

His growl grows louder, coming from the pit of his stomach, deep and powerful. Lengthy fingers tightening around your arms, he spins you around and tucks you behind him in one swift move. His name slips off your tongue once more, quick, and unsure. He has one hand perched on the dip of your waist, holding you close behind this towering frame.

“Come out.” he growls gruffly, straightening his spine to present at his full height.

The two words double-knot your stomach, sending you wiggling into the sink of his back, face peeking through the crack of his arm and side. Your eyes flicker from side to side, looking for whatever – whoever he’s talking to. Meanwhile, your fingers grip the band on his loincloth, the only thing available on his body to hold.

Silence.

“Or I make you.” He rasps the warning through his four, pointed fangs.

Perhaps if Ralak wasn’t here the knots in your belly would have tightened by now, to the point where you would feel queasy. But the hiss fizzling from the back of his throat puts your nerves at ease – your body sensing its safety in his presence.

Out comes a brawny, wide na’vi, from behind the large, thick roots of the mangroves. His hands are splayed out, representing something of caution. No – surrender. He approaches Ralak slowly. Warily.

“Sorry, brother. I did not know she was yours.” Ka’ani says impishly.

Jaw snapping open, his hiss comes out full force. It’s loud and thick, almost grating. Much like a roar. Though you knew it wasn’t for you, it shook you up, tugging at the string in your grip as your body jolts forward into his.

“She belongs to no one.” His top lip twitches as he spits the vile words, stinging your heart in the process. Am I not his? What about last night? You think, tightening your grip on the band of his loincloth.

“It looks as if she belongs to you, Tak.” Ka’ani leans to the left, chin jutting out as he tries to catch a glimpse of you. “Look at her, holding on to your –”

“Lewng! [shame]. Tracking her scent.” Ralak hisses, turning his body to hide you from his predatory eyes. “Leave.”

“Ah. Come on now, brot-” He spreads his arms wide, walking around Ralak towards you.

Ralak takes a step forward on his last word, nearly coming chest to chest with the shorter na’vi. A moment of silence passes between the two, as Ralak stares him down with vengeance in his eyes. A hand flies up to his hip, gripping the knife sheathed in its casing. “Now.”

Ka’ani straightens his back, eyes flickering between Ralak and yours that peek from behind him. His hands retract, hovering either side of his head as he retreats. Ralak maintains his position, with a hand keeping you tucked away whilst the other rests on his hip. Once Ka’ani’s figure is no longer visible, Ralak sighs, and turns his heel to make his way back to his much-needed bath.

“Thanks...” you huff, walking close behind him.

“You women and your heats.” he mutters as he walks faster, ripping his loincloth out of your grip.

“Ex-cuse me?” your words bounce as you try to keep up with him. “You have no –”

“Do you understand what would have happened had I not been here? Do not be so reckless.” He tsks, as his feet come to a halt, balling his hands into fists.

“Reckless? All I did was walk here!” you shout, almost bumping into him again.

“Because you left to begin with.” he whispers through clenched teeth.

“What?” the question is breathy, hands perching on your knees to rest.

He turns around quickly, prompting you to stand at full height. Breathing heavily, he presses his warm body against yours, chin tucked into his chest to peer down at you. Instinctively, you perch on the tips of your toes, eyes lidded in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, he brings your wrists up to his nose, heated lips pressing against your supple skin.

“He scented you.” he mumbles quickly, lips pulling into a thin line before letting go and backing away.

“Why? How? I only bumped into him.” you walk towards him, watching him turn his heel again. “Hey –” you reach out for his arm to pull him back around.

First you leave him this morning, then come back scented by another na’vi. He shrugs you off, hands now fiddling with the knot above the base of his tail as he nears the entrance of the cave. The knot of his loincloth comes undone, heavy, sheathed hunting knife silently making impact with the sand.

“Because he wants everything that’s mine.”

So, I am his. You think, one corner of your mouth curling upwards into a smirk.

“Oh, Ralak.” You stand at the cave’s opening, waiting in silence for a response.

He continues to keep his back turned to you, dips of his clenched glutes on full display. Despite last night, seeing him naked still makes you shy, cheeks turning red and hot from the blood that rushes to them. You watch him hastily put his hair in a sloppy bun as he submerges himself in the water.

“I need to speak with you about this morning” you mumble, eyes locked onto the ripple of his back muscles.

“No need. I understand.” he answers lowly, shimmying over to the bottle of fermented fruit propped on a rock in the cave.

“Understand what? It’s about –”

“You made a mistake. It was your heat. It is fine.” he mutters quickly, taking a swig at the last word.

A mistake? My heat?

The realization hits you, hard. You’d been so out of it, so delirious from your heat you hadn’t given a second thought about his confession. His trauma that he confided in you, in this very cave. It’s like stones in your heart – no, boulders. Weighing it down so heavily that it feels like there’s a pulse in your stomach.

How could you be so cruel? So thoughtless? So insensitive? To not even wake him and utter the words to his face. To allow him to wake up to an empty bed after letting down his walls and being so vulnerable to you. To be so caught up in your own head you couldn’t even bat an eye at the man who helped you through your first heat.

“Oh. Oh, Lak. No. No, it’s nothing like that.” you sputter out a trembling voice, sliding into the water to rush over to him. You rest your hand on his upper back, taking in the warmth of his skin. He feels feverish – hot to the touch.

What is he drinking?

You rub his back gently, bioluminescent freckles dancing from your caresses. Yet, he’s rigid. Cold. Distant. He’s not the Ralak you know, swaying side to side as he brings the lip of the bottle to his mouth.

“Stop, my love.” you coo, sliding your hand up his raised arm as you walk around him. Pulling the bottle away from his lips, you cautiously place the pxir on a nearby ledge. “Ralak.” you whisper, staring up at him with worried eyes.

The sound of his name falling from your lips tilts his head back ever so slightly, like it pained him to even look at you. Curly, loose stands of hair frame his face, accentuating his angular features. He attempts to fix his mask of indifference to his face, but you can see through it. You see the anguish glossed over his lidded, inebriated eyes.

Ocean blue eyes.

tw: flashback

His mind is elsewhere, dissociating back to the day of the incident. The night of his iknimaya celebration, where his own karyu cornered him in his family marui, engulfing him with her pheromones. Manipulating him with her heat to take care of her. To touch her.

He can hear the waves crashing into the shore, the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the marui, the roll of the thunder – her whispers in his ear, ‘I’ve been waiting too long for this. You are officially a man now. Make your karyu feel better, right here...’.

The smell of her pheromones is suffocating, more potent than any fermented fruit he’s ever had. It frightened him, feeling like he had no self-control. No way to stop his movements, no matter how much he screamed at his body to move, run – anything.

It is what made him vow to never lose control of himself. His composure.

He can feel the heaviness of his body. The lethargy. The way his lungs refused to fill, no matter how hard he tried to breathe. When he woke, he was alone, sitting in the corner in a pool of his own sweat, curled in on himself. His karyu left, to never return. Leaving nothing but the lingering smell of her heated scent behind.

tw: end of flashback

“My karyu” you hum softly, placing his hand on your chest.

When you first called him that, he almost grimaced. But as time passed, you made the word bearable. You gave it a new meaning, a new feeling. Eventually filling him with eagerness to hear it fall from your flushed lips. In tones of excitement, frustration... pleasure.

You hold his thumb, and give it a squeeze, trying to bring him back from wherever he is. Your heart weighed even heavier, seeing him drift away and detach when he’s right in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Feel me. Feel my heartbeat. Focus on it and come back to me.”

The words echo in his skull, reverberating between the thick bone. He can hear you, feel you. With each thump of your heart, the heaviness of his body lifts, the scent of her fades, the pitter-patter of the storm subdues until nothing, but that thump can be heard. His eyes finally flicker down to yours, ears and brows twitching at the pulse of your heart.

Only a bottle could do that for him. Bring him back. Yet, you did it with the mere sound of your heart.

“I’m sorry, Lak. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was so thoughtless. I’m sorry... that happened to you.” the words are shaky, flowing over your quivering bottom lip. “I would never. Ever. Ever. Ever –” you blubber, shaking your head, “Ever, do that to you. I-I had to leave because of my father. He’s punishing me. Forbidding me from seeing you. Having Tsireya teach me instead. I should have woken you.”

Another arm snakes around his waist, bringing him in closer to you. You slump your head into his chest, letting the tears flow and stain his skin. “I don’t regret a thing. I meant everything I said. I-I see you, Ralak” you sputter, breath hitching from the crying.

“Tanhì” he croaks, kissing the crown of your head as he wraps his arms around you to hold you closer.

“I love you” The three words are said in unison as you cling onto one another.

Alcohol still coursing through his veins, Ralak’s heavy body slumps into you, slowly shifting you both against the cave wall. He presses your back against the rocky surface, unwrapping his arms from your waist to support his body weight with a hand on the wall. He leans in, brushing his cheek against yours.

“I will miss you.” he whispers huskily next to the shell of your ear.

“I’ll miss you, too.” you whisper back, head pulling back to meet his gaze.

Your eyes lock for a moment, an undeniable tension now budding in the air and making your breaths quicken. He inches even closer, lips brushing against yours as you exchange the same hot breath until you’re light in the head.

He kisses you roughly – sloppily.

Tongue slipping into your mouth, you get a taste of what he’s been drinking all day. It’s a little sweet, with undertones of various fruits native to the reef people. But once the sweetness wears off, the bitter aftertaste makes your brows gather. He pulls away, revealing heavy-lidded eyes with thin blue rings for irises, flickering side to side as they stare into yours.

Chests heaving in synchrony, you both struggle to catch your breath. Hands cupping each other’s face, your lips crash into one another again, body language hungry and desperate for each other’s touch. Ralak shoves his knee between your legs, providing you with the friction your body has been begging for. Your body moves on its own, humping at his thigh as best you can in the water.

“I-I want... you.” The desperate words part your bruised, flushed lips, hand sliding up his back to caress his kuru [queue].

He shakes his head, brows gathering tightly. “Not now. Not here. We do it the right way.”

“Then...” you pant, voice laced with desperation as your hands make their way to his hips, dainty fingers wrapping around his hardened girth, “...give me something else.”

Breath turning raggedy, he struggles to maintain his composure. The influence of the alcohol surging through his body proves it to be an even more difficult task. He takes a deep breath, withdrawing his knee from your legs to spin you around in one quick motion. Ralak tries his best to be gentle with you, shoving you into the wall to press his aching cock against you.

A soft moan parts your lips; thin, fuzzy tail wrapping around his thigh in attempts to bring you closer. Eywa, did that push him closer to the edge. Your tail had been one of his favourite things about you from the day you first locked eyes, so slender and delicate. Nothing like his. It not only fascinated him. It aroused him.

It makes him push into you even harder, tip of his cock throbbing against your lower back. He craves to be even closer to you – to be inside you. To rut into you until your voice becomes so hoarse from screaming his name. Over and over. Again, and again. Fingers hurriedly fiddling with the knot of your loincloth, he pants a few greedy, rough kisses along your upper back.

“Oh! Ralak, I-I think –” you moan lowly, his touches throwing you into a daze.

“What?” he huffs, fingers coming to a halt in fear that he’s being too rough with you.

“I think I’m still in heat.” you lie, or maybe it wasn’t a lie. You feel so woozy in the head that you’re not even sure what’s going on anymore. All that sits at the forefront of your mind is him claiming you as his.

“Is that so?” he lets out a breath of relief, a chuckle if you will.

“Yes. Can you help me?” you pant, trembling voice feigned with innocence.

“Ah. Let me check, little one.” He buries his face into the nape of your neck, pulling back with a loud sigh through his nose. A growl rumbles in his chest and up his throat. “I can still smell him.” The scent of another so deep into your skin makes him want to mark you. To sink his lengthy canines into your neck for the smell to seep out, only to be replaced by his.

“Then fix it.” you breathe, head dipping forward to open yourself up to him.

“Oh?” he smiles open mouthed, brushing his pointed fangs against your silken skin, making your back arch on instinct. Submitting to him and his touch. Open mouth lingering over your neck, his jaw closes to graze his teeth against you. He sucks lightly on your skin, puckered lips pulling off with a pop.

Of course, he’d make you wait for that too. He was only ‘helping’ you, right now.

He kicks your feet apart, spreading your legs for him to settle in closer behind you. A string of your slick connects your thighs together, breaking apart when he rubs his cock against your bare cunt. He begins rubbing his face into the back of your neck, scenting you as his.

“Mine. Yes?” he growls, thrusting himself against your slippery slit.

“Yes.” You spread your legs further apart, standing on the tips of your toes to provide him with better access. “Please.” You let out a pathetic mewl.

He grunts in frustration. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you, stretching your pussy out with his huge cock. And with those little, sweet pleas, it’s almost too hard to resist. But he does. He pulls away, gaze snapping down to the rope of wetness connecting your most intimate parts together.

Cocking a brow, his hand comes between your sticky pelvises, fingers coiling around the string of slick before they glide over your pussy and spread your folds. Your wetness drips down his digits, pooling in the palm of his hand. “So wet. Maybe you are in heat.” he mumbles, pressing his lips against your back, peppering kisses down the curve of your shoulder.

Ralak fondles with your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles into it with his slickened fingertips. Your hips squirm around from the white-hot pleasure tightening your core. It’s just not enough. Perhaps it’s just residual heat, but you feel so, so empty. A yearning deep in your womb, to be filled and stretched. Your hips buck forward, slipping his fingertips to prod at your entrance, before pushing back on him to try and sink them inside you.

Needy body language riling up the giant behind you, his harsh kisses move their way up to your ear. “Say it, tanhì.” he groans lowly, positioning his finger at your tight hole.

“I n-need you inside of me!” you cry desperately, shoving yourself back into him.

“You listen so well, paysyul.” he exhales a hot breath into the shell of your ear, sinking his thick finger inside you, twisting his wrist so that he can curl it right into your sweet spot.

“Oh, shit.” you moan breathily, cheek pressed firmly against the rocky wall.

“That is why you learn so quickly.” He fingers you roughly, expertly working out a squelch with each curl of his digit.

The feeling is like heat, shooting down your spine and pooling in your pelvis. It makes your hips spasm, chasing the fiery sensation in hopes to put it out. His finger brings relieve, satiating the itch as your sweet spot swells from pure bliss. He knows exactly where to touch, and how to touch.

Yet, it still isn’t enough.

“More! ‘ts not enough!” you cry, writhing underneath him.

He finds your little cries amusing, letting a chuckle evade his lips. How could something so small act so mighty? He slides another digit in, feeling your tight pussy walls stretch to accommodate him. He hears the little whimper bubbling up your throat, letting him know you need a moment to adjust.

“Taking my fingers so well, hm?” he praises you with a shaky voice, planting a gentle kiss behind your ear.

“Mmmn! Please!” Another plea falls from your lips, a plea for him to move – to make you cum. He sets a relentless pace, stimulating the sensitive spot in your gummy, hot walls, working lengthy moans and mewls from you.

With the way he’s fingerfucking you, it feels as if your nerves are on fire. The coil tightly wound in your core ready to snap any second now. Your brows pinch together in fervour, mouth falling open to allow heavy, hot breaths to escape.

“Close! So close! Gonna! Gonna –” Your words catch in your throat, leaving you breathless and tense around his fingers.

“Make yourself cum.” he orders gruffly, stopping all movement once he feels you tighten around his digits.

You gasp, hips moving on their own to chase the orgasm he just took away from you. “No, no. You know I can’t. Please.” you sputter, pushing against the wall to ride his fingers.

“You can. And you will.” he growls, bending his fingers as encouragement.

You quickly accept your fate, holding on tightly to whatever pleasurable feeling remains and running with it. You push back on him, squirming around as you try to make yourself cum. Closing your eyes, you tune into your body, feeling what feels good and where. But the position that you’re in makes it even harder to do it yourself.

“Just fuck me!” you cry desperately, frustration so pent up you couldn’t help the outburst.

“Language.” he hisses, shoving his fingers so deep inside you that your slick coats his knuckles.

“Fuck! Please.” you beg, reaching behind you to grab his wrist.

“No.” he smirks, looking down at how your cunt sucks in his digits, listening to your pleading and begging.

He just wants to hear a little more. To hear how badly you want him. He loves the way you squirm around, sputtering nonsense from being so fucked out by just his fingers. He loves the little noises your pussy makes for him and can’t wait to hear how they’ll sound once his cock is stuffed inside you.

“Ralak. Please. Please make me cum!” you cry, using his wrist as leverage to fuck back into him.

He slides his hand down your stomach, fingers playing with your swollen, neglected clit. He’s pumping his digits in and out of your dripping cunt, feeling your slick dribble down his hand. It doesn’t take long for you to near your climax, pussy walls clamping down around his fingers.

“Let go. Cum for me.” he groans, swollen tip of his cock oozing beads of precum onto your lower back.

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck!” you let out a hoarse cry, entire body shuddering underneath him “Cumming! Cumming!”

“That’s my girl.” he hums proudly, scissoring his fingers open to stretch you out.

You let out a high-pitched whimper, hint of pain making your eyes water. Then a wave of ecstasy ripples through you, leaving your legs trembling beneath you. He snakes his arm around your waist, holding you up while you ride out of your high, sprinkling your shoulder with kisses.

Once you come down from your high, you lean back into him, resting your head against his chest. Huffing and puffing, you try to catch your breath as you turn around to cup his swollen balls. “My turn to make you feel good.”

To your surprise, he rests a hand on your arm, pulling it away from him. He looks down at you through blown pupils, arousal plastered all over his face. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples, wet strands of curled hair stuck to his cheeks, he sighs the words. “Not today, tanhi. I must get you back, now.”

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joels6string · 5 months

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home

RE4R Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Leon's home from Spain and the only thing he needs is a familiar face.

18+ only MDNI

content: a little hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, creampie word count: 3k

There were fewer things in life more pleasant than the feeling of a warm mug clutched against your palm, a thick, fuzzy blanket in your lap, and a book resting on your thighs. Your fingers are flicking at the corner of the page as you took in the words written so elegant yet simple on the page, transporting you to world’s beyond. It’s raining, and the brisk autumn air begins to nip when the sun sinks below the horizon, but you’ve been nestled totally content in your home since well before the light had begun to dwindle. Dinner was forgotten after a quick shower to scrub the day off your skin, the world so colorfully illustrated in black and white sucking you in too far for you even to feel the passage of time.

Heroes and heroines, love stories and daring rescues, it isn’t your usual genre, but after enough recommendations you’d decided to give it a try, swallowing your pride to admit the praise was well earned to your friends when they asked.

Knock knock

The sound of a fist slamming brutally against your door has your heart skipping as you squeak in shock, your eyes shooting to your clock to find it was nearing 1 AM, a time well beyond acceptable visiting hours. Another two bangs, and your spine goes rigid with fear.

“Are you home?” Even through the door, the sound of that slurred voice has your terror ebbing and annoyance flowing in its place. “Can you open the door? Please?”

Though you already know who it is, you peek through the small round glass, a mess of dirty blonde hair hunched against the doorframe greeting you. Muttering under your breath, you undo the chain, wrenching the door open hard enough to have none other than Leon S. Kennedy toppling over face-first at your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you spit, your tone laced with so much venom even you feel its poison.

“Just needed to see you,” he practically whines, groaning against your cheap wooden floors.

“We’re not doing this, Leon. I told you, I’m done.”

“Please, Bug.”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s almost embarrassing watching him try to stand, the thick arms that usually sweep you off your feet with ease barely able to push himself up, his face falling into your stomach as his foot gives way beneath him seconds after getting himself onto one knee. Instinct has you catching him from falling, and he wraps himself around you like a life raft, breathing in deeply as if he’s been trapped beneath the rolling tides and just found the surface. The desperation of it plucks at your pity chord, and your fingers thread into his hair and scrape against his scalp in the way you know he likes, soothing hushes falling from your lips as you cradle him close.

Your past with Leon is tumultuous, he is a man torn in two by the duties he’d sworn to uphold and the one thing that could convince him to give it all up and walk away. You’d met by accident, crossing paths with him at an event and leaving when his eyes as blue as a summer sky had consumed you completely. He was as sweet and playful as he was dark and deadly, and he’s careful to keep that latter side as far away from you as he could. And that quest had begun keeping him away for longer stretches, his ability to lock away the pain and anguish that plagued him beginning to fail.

Spain had been his last location, he’d told you before he left he’d be overseas for an undetermined amount of time. It had been months. After weeks of checking reports and news articles to see if Officer Leon Kennedy had been killed daily, you’d given up. The thought that maybe he’d lied had passed through your mind, maybe it was his way of finally cutting whatever co-dependent cord that attached you to each other. Someone had to be brave and strong enough to do it, and you were certain that couldn’t be you. But here he is, drunk off his ass and clinging to you with every ounce of strength he has, and whatever his alcohol-induced plan is, you hate to admit it’s working.

You knew he was back, it had been all over the news, “President’s Daughter Saved by Hero!” That happened two weeks ago. Seeing him applauded had made your chest swell in pride until you recalled telling him this drawn-out sham of a relationship was over when he’d brought you the news of his latest assignment. You couldn’t take it anymore, the distance and the secrets, the months away and the lack of contact. It was practically debilitating, but it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t your concern anymore in those months he was gone. It felt worse than waiting for an email he’d sneak in or a spotty phone call where you could barely make out the words but the sound of his voice still washed over you like a soothing balm.

It’s why you couldn’t truly be angry now.

“Let’s go,” you finally urge, your tone gentler now, “Bed.”

It takes every bit of your strength to pull him into your bed, whiskey heavy on his breath when he collapses on top of you while mustering enough decency to kick his boots off as he sighs in what must be relief. Your lights are still on, and you’re certain the door is unlocked, but there’s no moving now, he’s too heavy and warm and familiar. You can’t be mad, because then you’d have to admit that you didn’t want this, that you hadn’t thought about the way your mattress just feels more comfortable with his weight dipping it down to the perfect point. It would be a lie.

“Leon?” you whisper into his hair–it smells like a bar, stale, musty cigarettes and sweat–but he’s already out cold, too comfortable and content in your embrace now to stay awake.

He sees more horrors in a week than most do in their lifetime, and he finds safety here. It’s something you take for granted, especially in the long stretches of his absence filled with solo dinners and lonely nights, but it’s impossible to forget as he’s curled into you as much as his large frame allows, his breathing slow and easy. The familiarity of it drags you under, your eyes drifting closed as your fingers scratch soothingly up and down his spine.

******

Butter crackles and pops over the hum of your podcast coming through the small speaker beside the sink. Early morning light filters in through the paper shades still drawn in the kitchen, the tiles cool on your bare feet while you chop fruit and various toppings for the omelet you’ve been thinking about making since last night.

Leon was still in bed, getting out from beneath his heavy body without waking him could be considered your morning workout. He hadn’t moved an inch all night from where he’d fallen asleep pressed to your chest. When your rumbling stomach had become too much to bear you’d had to pull away, despite how little you found yourself wanting to.

“That smells good,” a sheepish voice calls from the doorway, your head turning to find Leon slumped against the frame scratching the back of his head, his eyes avoiding yours, “I’ll go. I’m sorry for showing up like this. Thanks…for not kicking me out onto the street.”

“You can stay. Just take a shower. I can smell you from here.”

He laughs, his face lighting up enough to wash away the harrowing look he’d been wearing, “You didn’t throw my clothes out onto the curb?”

“I didn’t, actually. I like your shirts.”

“Well, they look better on you anyway.”

Ten minutes later as you plate fruit and omelets and pull two slices of bread from the bag on the counter, you hear him approaching, and you don’t even try to suppress the happy little smile settling on your lips. Flicking the toaster on as you spin, you soak in the sight of him turning into the room that always looks smaller when he’s in it. His hair is still damp and hanging loosely in his face, the shirt that was too tight months ago now on the verge of tearing at the seams when he reaches up to comb his locks out of his eyes. He looks better, the color returning to his face and the glow to the sea glass eyes you’d swam in so many times before. Your throat seizes for a moment when he flashes you a content smirk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, your breath hitching when his arms cage you against the counter, his lips centimeters from yours.

“I forgot how pretty you look in the morning,” he whispers, his thumb and pointer tipping your chin up softly.

He gives you no time to comment on the blatant deflection, his pouty lips pressing to yours as he cups the back of your head, groaning when you reciprocate eagerly. Immediately, your hands find the warm, solid stretch of his chest, your hand falling instinctually to the steady beat of his heart. You’d learned early on that every symphony it beat into your ear as you laid on his chest could be the last, so the gentle taps against your palm are a welcome reminder that he’s still here. The dangers he faced had yet to lay claim.

“Missed you, Bug,” he murmurs against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

“Missed you, too,” you finally confirm, his relieved huff of laughter hot on your skin as he sighs in relief, kissing your forehead.

“Still mad at me?”

“Not til the next time you leave.”

“Gonna let me in the house when I get back?”

“If you’re lucky.”

It’s easy to tell he’s trying to control himself, the hardened bulge pressing against your inner thigh giving him away. His lips can’t stop pressing against yours, taking advantage of every pause in the conversation to peck at your still-speaking mouth, your arms finally wrapping around his neck warmly, his head burying into the crook of your neck. You lean your head against him, cradling him in the way you know he loves, his deep, content breaths heating the thin skin of your throat.

“I’m never lucky,” he sighs, and your heart aches for him.

This time is different, and you don’t know why. He always comes back battered and bruised both mentally and physically, but this time seems to have affected him even more than all the others. You don’t ask for details, he won’t tell you anyway, but you know he can work through it here, however slowly.

“You have a key, Leon,” you remind him with a chuckle, threading your fingers into his hair, “You can get in whenever you want.”

“You have to want me here,” he mumbles, “I have my own bed to sleep alone in.”

“I want you here.”

With those words, you pull his head up to stare into his tired eyes. You do want him here, and though your last outburst certainly had given him reason to think you didn’t, you hope he believes you now in the warm, soft realm of your embrace.

“I want you here,” you repeat, “I want you here. Not there. Do you know what it’s like when you’re away?! I make myself sick, obsessing over the news and…and obituaries…”

You pull away to read the guilt falling over his features. It had come out harsher than you intended to, but the point was made.

“I love you,” you whisper and then watch as he shatters.

“Saying things like that might make me consider retirement,” he chokes out, closing the space you’d made and leaning his forehead against yours.

“Oh yeah?” you respond, a sultry lilt to your tone as your hand drifts to the waistband of his sweatpants. “And what might convince you then?”

Before he can answer, your hand grips his already stiffened length, the way his breath trembles as you tug slowly sending a surge to your core. It takes him a moment to recalibrate as you drag your hand over him, and when he does, the ease at which he hoists you onto the counter makes you yelp, your arms wrapping around his neck as he wrestles your shorts off your hips.

As soon as you’re free, you spread your legs wide, ready for his body to notch between them in a perfect fit, but instead, he sinks to the floor. Teeth graze over your inner thighs, just the thought of how close his mouth is makes your cunt clench around nothing but anticipation. Rough hands loop around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge before pressing his lips to your clit and suckling just enough to make you buck up against his face. His hair is soft when you knot your fingers through it and lean back against the cabinet behind you, his tongue probing into your fluttering hole greedily as he seeks to reacquaint with what he’d missed.

Muffled groans are vibrating against you as he weaves through your slit, lapping at your juices leaking free before petitioning for more at your swollen bundle of nerves. You can see your arousal shining on his face when he pauses to take a lungful of air through a slackened jaw, his eyes as lidded as they were last night under the effect of alcohol. It’s shameless and unhindered the way he takes his fill, not that he was ever very timid before, but this time it feels like he wants and needs more, or maybe like he’d been afraid he’d never get to do this again.

You can already tell he won’t relent until you come on his mouth, so as the coil in your belly winds ever tighter you tug him by the blonde knots in your fist where you need him, enjoying the way he whined against your slick skin appreciatively. Two fingers slip inside you as his lips lock around your nub, curving and pressing the soft patch on your inner wall that has your vision flashing white. Every nerve is standing on edge as you lose control, your toes curling and fingers tugging on his hair hard enough it has to hurt, but he doesn’t stop or protest.

“Leon!” you cry out as you finally release his head to brace yourself on the countertop’s edge, “Lee-hmmm…”

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his tongue pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your scream echoing off the counters and windows. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

“M’gonna fuck you now,” he warns, gripping his cock that’s flushed purple and notching at your entrance, your response is nothing more than blind, sloppy kisses as you clean the taste of yourself off of his lips.

Your body welcomes him eagerly, sucking him in on his first thrust to the root. He sighs, gripping your waist to keep you still during the onslaught he’s set to release after you rip his shirt up over his head. Broad shoulders and thick pecs keep your fingers busy as you rememorize every dip and curve of his body, the slapping of skin on skin drowning out the pathetic whines falling from both of you as the sticky arousal leaking from your pussy soaks the patch of blonde hair at his base and drips down his thighs to pool on the waist of his pants he’s pulled down just enough. He’s not gentle, taking everything he needs with every hard piston of his hips, your legs quivering around him as you take every thick inch of him with no resistance.

Leon wants to slow down, to savor the friction of your silky walls over his dick that’s craved anything but his own calloused hand for months, but he can’t. Not when you’re so wet it takes all his concentration to not slip right out of your gaping hole that’s pulling him in with a vicelike grip. He wants to flip you around and bend you over the counter, take you from behind where he can arch your back by tugging your hair, your ass rippling from the force of his thrusts, but you’re still kissing him so sweetly as he fucks you this hard, his throat currently being lavished by your affection instead of strangled by a monster. And it’s that reminder that sets him over the edge.

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill your cunt as his head falls to your shoulder, his thumb flicking over your clit as he steadies his breath and his cock softens. It doesn’t take long for you to find release once again, gentler this time, quieter than the wildfire of the first and you let it ember as the mix of your releases leaks free, drenching you both and dripping onto the floor.

When he lifts his head to smile at you, his cheeks are flushed rosy pink, his eyes sparkling like gemstones before he cups the back of your head and kisses you in a silent thanks.

“I, uh, think we burnt the toast,” he chuckles, kissing you again before you can utter an unnecessary apology as the smell of charred bread finally registers, “Good thing I already had breakfast.”

Masterlist

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #re4r leon #leon kennedy fanfic #leon x reader

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sanjisprincesswifey · 28 days

Note

Congratulations on 3k followers!!💕✨ could I request for song 1 for ace with an afab!reader?? sfw if you don’t mind:)

same difference (or finally opening up ft. portgas d. ace)

notes: ace is coaxed into telling you how he feels. ace x implied female reader. no cws! 800+ words! thank u for participating <3 !!

“move,” you firmly say. arms knitted across your chest while an unamused frown teases your lips.

the man before you only chuckles, obliging with a second thought, hands caught in the air in defense.

your heels click against the floor as you take a few cautious steps before coming to a stop. the burn of the man’s gaze intently watching your every move has your inner core burning with an alcohol infused desire.

random men at random bars usually did not have this much influence over your prowess, especially not when you were already a couple drinks in.

but the way his dark hair fell around his face and the scattered freckles coated his cheeks, he was too resemblant of a certain man to pass up this opportunity. it wasn’t every day that ace look alikes begged for your attention.

“just one drink,” you concede, earning a cocky grin from the brunette. his hand snakes your waist, tugging you closely to his toned body.

the warmth he provided was nothing of familiarity. it was cold, purely driven by a seed of lust as he pushes the freshly made cocktail right into your hands.

though the physical comparison was uncanny, his attitude and demeanor left something to be desired. he was eager, impatient, ready to get you to bed without so much as a minute of foreplay.

pathetic.

you down the drink anyway, figuring if you got one or two more of these in you, none of that would matter anyway.

at the end of the day, what was the point in comparing if the original didn’t want to be with you regardless?

just as he’s about to call over the bartender, a large hand slams on the counter right in between the two of you.

both the noise and action startle you as the space that resided was minuscule.

“think the lady’s had enough for the night pal, why don’t you just leave her alone.”

speak of the devil.

your eyes shut as tightly as you could. annoyance and anger would be your immediate reaction if embarrassment hadn’t colored you white.

the replica had begun an argument, angrily calling ace names and throwing insults in his face purely for his ego. the commotion had caught the attention of a few onlookers, too many for comfort.

so, in all the commotion, you dash for the exit. with the alcohol in your blood, tears unwillingly pool in your ducts.

“y/n, wait!” ace shouts, jogging slightly to catch up with you. “damn, even in heels you’re fast,” he chuckles, though your scowl doesn’t break.

“leave me alone, ace,” you mutter, not in the mood to argue. you even try to quicken your pace, your stride leaving him behind, but he doesn’t get the hint and is hot on your tail.

“were you really gonna go home with that guy?” he questions, stepping in front of you and preventing further movement.

despite that being the clear intention of the aforementioned, the genuine thought made your stomach churn. now that ace was the one to illustrate these ideas, it seemed distasteful rather than desirable.

“i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

his brows knit together. “of course it’s my business, i thought we were—“

“—we were what?” you redirect, his eyes immediately darting to the ground.

this was not the first time you had confronted him with this issue, determined to be treated generously rather than some casual lover he seemed fond of.

abnormally, something in ace felt deviating today. it was not a feeling he could properly explain to himself, let alone you, but as he reaches for your hand and you do not retract, he knows he has to try.

ace’s hand nearly envelopes yours whole, rubbing the smooth of your skin over with his thumb.

“look y/n, i don’t know what we were are, but i do know that i…” his grip on you tightens, but he remains gentle, making sure to hold you so carefully.

the tremble in his voice makes your heart skips a beat, jaw loosing slack as manage to make out a twinkle in his eye.

“…i love you y/n. i really, really, love you,” he confesses. his dark brown eyes manage to swallow you whole, purging you of any conflicting feelings you could’ve had. “please tell me that you love me too,” he begs, cupping your face inbetween his hands.

ace’s eyes are so soft once he has you in his palms, a forlorn smile grazing his lips.

his sullen admittance had you at his whim, but as you clearly had him wrapped around your finger, you assumed the feeling was mutual.

you nod, laughing softly as he whispers an excited ‘yes!’ underneath his breath.

without warning he plunges down to meet your lips, a passionate kiss melting over you. like always, ace loved to guide you, lips moving any which way he desired, but tonight he was feeling incredulously feeble, dissolving into your body.

“now, let’s get you home,” he mumbles against your lips, poorly guiding you away before he could get sucked into another kiss.

celebrate 3,000 followers with me! :)

#portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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ectologia · 2 months

Text

BEAUTIFUL IS BORING

TOMURA SHIGARAKI, TŌYA TODOROKI (DABI), KEIGO TAKAMI X FEMALE READER

CONTENT ♱ COLLEGE AU, QUIRKLESS AU, PROFANITY, MISOGYNY, DRUGS, SEXUAL ASSAULT (DABI ON TOMURA), BULLYING, PUBLIC MASTURBATION, MALE MASTURBATION

THIS IS AN UNFINISHED PROJECT, AND PROBABLY WILL NEVER BE FINISHED but here it is anyway ;p

“Can I sit here?”

“I dunno’ can you?”

You draw back at his harsh tone and grating voice. He glares at you with the hint of a smile playing on his chapped lips. He was a peculiar looking fellow. His skin was pale enough to appear almost translucent like moonstone, while his hair sat a muted blue of kinked wave’s across his forehead and partly down his neck just reaching his shoulders, it would be easy to mistake him as albino if it weren’t for his leaden brows and eyelashes. His attire, bland, a black hoodie dusted in lint and white hair, his jeans sported the same but with ominous white stains sat flaking on the denim fibres.

You recollect yourself. “That’s my seat.” You gesture to the chair bowed beneath his tattered sneakers.

“You think?” He places his feet back on the ground with a simper, allowing you to settle down.

You catch how he scoffs at your colourfull stationery, murmuring something about “Women.”

“Why the fuck are you so close?” He hisses, scooting his chair to the left. You turn to him with your mouth agape, preparing to challenge his accusation with a remark of your own before the abrupt slam of a door has you both snapping your heads up to the front.

“Late again, Mr. Todoroki” Your teacher emits a long, audible breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose, turning to his computer.

“Traffic was bad.” He snickers feigning an apologetic pout as he greets a blond man sat at the front, grasping his fist in a tight hug and clapping him on the back while they laugh obnoxiously.

His hair, although dishevelled, glossed in a velvety palette of stygian, the thick locks dancing like silk ribbons against the light as he bounces. His skin is decorated in swirls of black, the tantalising illustrations streaming from his jaw, down to his neck and across his arms, sleeving him in a coat of ink. The contrast of the man’s overcast appearance pales in comparison to the bewitching cerulean of his eyes, placed amongst his pierced metal features.

You find yourself gazing at the man for an exceedingly long while as he saunters to his desk, slumping down into his chair with spread knees.

Shigaraki glowers at your shameless ogling, muttering complaints.

You ignore his mumbling, instead turning to him with a keen interest. “Who is he?”

He groans at your curiosity, turning back to face the front without responding.

“Hey, who is he?” You persist, leaning over the desk to garner his attention. From this angle, you’re able to behold every inch of his features. You notice the swathes of scarlet and flaking skin along the path of his neck and surprisingly angular jaw.

He glances to the side at your hovering form. From this angle, he notices just how your plush tits spill over the rim of the desk as you curl over it, the pliant flesh moulding and squashing as you stir.

His tongue writhes in his mouth, licking over his teeth before speaking. “Dabi.” He has to refrain from visibly recoiling, not only from how you beam at the information, but at the contemptibly stomach-churning taste of his name.

You turn back to the man in questionon, brilliant half-lidded sapphires hypnotising you. He licks his lips, the metal ball of his piercing clinking as he sends an intoxicating smirk your way. You watch as he leans over to his flaxen companion, the two conversing as their eyes flicker in your direction.

“Who’s the blond?” You ask, your eyes locked on the two.

“Keigo.”

The curt answer satisfies you. You take one last look before holding up your pen, a playful smile hidden beneath your hand. Shigaraki sees this, livid at your display before speaking once again. “I’de stay away from him, if I were you.” He trails of by the last few words.

“Who?”

“Both of ‘em.”

He takes his pen back up, turning away after his ominous declaration.

“Why?” You push, intrigued by his distinct contempt towards the two men.

He doesn’t answer. Collecting his belongings, he chucks his books haphazardly into his shoddy backpack before tossing it over his shoulder. “Just stay away from them.” He leaves you bewildered as you watch him filter through the crowded exit of the classroom, the group of students parting through the middle for him as if he were a disease ridden mongrel, his static waves flouncing against his face as he shoulders past the cluster of frowning pupils.

A cold sweat accumulates on the small of Tomura’s back. Travelling down across his taint and underneath his heavy ballsack as he pumps himself feverishly — stimulation his tip with his thumb and two forefingers, massaging the swollen glands as he humps the air. The subtle, wet fap of his cock echoes within the stall he had chosen to lock himself in. Chucking his head back, intoxicated by the pleasure. He braces himself, planting his feet on the tiled floor of the bathroom as his hips speed up, stuffing his chubby dick into his palm, fisting the overstimulated appendage to climax. “Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..” He was entranced, spell-bound by you. The image of your glossy doe-eyes curtained by your long black lashes set on him, how you leant over the desk — how your fat tits practically spilled over onto his paper as you spoke to him, how you smiled at Dabi. He wanted it all to himself.

If it wasn’t clear, Tomura was not exactly popular, let alone with the ladies. You were the first ever female in his life time at this shit-hole of a school to actually give him the time of day, and not just to glare and snicker at his appearance and disturbed demeanour. He wanted more. He wanted you, dangerously.

He pleads to nobody, the hem of his hoodie clamped between his teeth while his jeans are shimmied to his mid thigh. Normally when he’d choose to masturbate in public he’d only ever expose himself as much as necessary, pulling his hardened cock out from the slit of his zipper to pump himself.

He couldn’t risk blowing his load all over the place, but then again..

“Come on, come on. Cum. Cum.” He chants to himself in a frenzy as though he was motivating the arrival of his orgasm, one harsh stroke after another.

“Yo! Tomura!”

The harsh crash of a fist swinging against the flimsy door startles Tomura, the abrupt spike of adrenaline causing ropes of milky white shooting from his puckered slit across his lap, squirting onto the floor. He grasps onto the side of the toilet seat, hitting it for relief as he twitches in a disturbed state of orgasmic euphoria. Squeezing his eyes shut as he grinds his teeth into the cloth of his hoodie.

“Stop jerking off your little pencil maggot and get out here.” Tomura flinches at the husky voice of the man stood outside, no doubt with his vexing accomplice.

He quickly tucks his softening member into his boxers, zipping his jeans up over the pudgy bulge of his cock and balls while he clumsily slips and slides in his own semen, the rubber sole of his sneakers squeaking in the slippery mess.

“Tomur—aaaa.. come out, come out.” Keigo sing songs, joining Dabi in his endeavour to beat the bathroom door down before Tomura has a chance to open it.

“Fuck, just a wait a second you pricks, I’m coming!” Tomura growls, cringing at the milky sheen coating his fingers as he mops the floor clean with the cheap, school grade toilet paper hung from the wall.

Dabi and Keigo halt in their ministrations, turning to each other with equally foul grins as they chuckle to themselves at his miscommunication.

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Dabi sniggers.

Tomura groans, roughly swinging the bathroom door open, missing Keigo by an inch as he jumps back, curling his brows. He shoulders past the two, his nose wrinkled in discomfort after having his orgasm ruined. He makes no effort to acknowledge either of them as he looms over the sink, scrubbing at his hands beneath the tepid stream of water. His eyes flicker up to meet Dabi’s fiendish stare, flinching as he sees a tattooed hand raise from his side.

“So..”

“You got the stuff?”

A heavy arm slings itself around Tomura’s boney shoulders, jostling his frail body side to side. Keigo stalks nearer to the scene with an equally hedonistic smirk plastered across his handsome face.

“Yeah, yeah. Just gimme’ a second, fuck.” Dabi is shrugged off as Tomura rummages through the adjacent slot of his backpack, carefully pulling out a miniature zip-lock bag stuffed with a snowy white dust.

“Holy shit.” The plastic is swiped out of Tomura’s pinched fingers instantly. Keigo raises it in the air, squinting at the powder through the rays of artificial white light.

While Dabi leaves Keigo to his drug-addicted, junkie shenanigans, he saunters closer to Tomura’s hunched form, staring at him through slitted eyes.

Tomura shifts under his scrutinising gaze. “What?”

“Who’s your new girlfriend then, Shiggy?”

“What?”

He sounds like a broken record.

Dabi chuckles, popping the joints in his fingers. “Don’t play dumb with me, Shigs.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, I don’t even know the bitch.”

Keigo appears on the scene like clock work, weaselling himself in next to Dabi, still clutching the non licet packet in his fist. “Woah, Tomura finally got a girlfriend?” He claps him on the back, a little to roughly for his liking as he’s almost sent forward on his feet. “Congrats man! I always knew it’d happen one day.” Keigo grins. “Now you can stop fuckin’ your fist ev—”

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend!” A set of crooked fingers raise to claw at his slender neck.

“Ah, we’re just messing with ya’ Shigs.” Dabi exhales. “But she’s pretty cute, no? Nice tits.”

Tomura grumbles and huffs under his breath, slowly sinking into the cotton of his hoodie. “I don’t care..”

“Sure ya’ do.” Keigo hovers in-front of him like a pesky fly while Dabi shadows him from behind, hooking to thick forearms underneath his.

“Bet’cha dicks all hard just thinking about it.” The two howl with boyish laughter as a tattooed hand comes down to squeeze Tomura’s bulge, jiggling the sizeable package in his palm.

Tomura thrashes in his hold. “Fuck off!”

The moment Dabi retracts, he’s cupping his crotch defensively. “Prick.”

By time Tomura’s managed to cool himself down from the direct assault, both men are slinking out of the bathroom with a curt flick of Dabi’s wrist.

“See ya, Shigs.”

Dabi stops in his tracks, allowing Keigo to glide past. “And don’t go talkin’ to any bitches without my permission, yeah?”

The way his figure slumps into the seat with a zealous glide has you perking.

“How come you’re so hap—”

The mismatch of red to yellow has you frowning.

“Hey, there.” Keigo props an elbow onto the desk, and with that, a chin in his palm, sleazing a lop-sided smile.

“Oh. It’s you.” You twirl and twist your pen in between your fingers.

His tongue darts out to wet the rosy, plumpness of his lips. “Disappointed?” Golden eyes squint at you from the creases of his seemingly never-ending grin.

“No, I—”

He shifts closer with a chuckle. “Excited?”

The corners of your mouth quirk up into a curt smile at his incessancy. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

He cocks his head like a raptor.

“According to who?”

The way you drift, scanning your surroundings as you attempt to think up a valid answer has his brows slanting.

“Come on, I ain’t gonna’ bite ya.” He leans forward, spidering a hand across the spine of your chair. “Unless you’re into that kinda’ thing.”

Warmth prickles the surface of your cheeks at his bold innuendo and proximity.

You can’t help but admit it makes you feel hot under the collar, being practically cornered and squished and squeezed between the ridge of your desk and Keigo’s pumped, muscular arms snaking around your back.

You’re unaccustomed to the scent of heavy sandalwood and spice. You’ve been sat next to Tomura in this god-forsaken class room for so long. You forgot what it’s like to be in the space, in the company, of a real man. A handsome man, a good-looking, charming, athletic, lady’s kind of man.

You trace his sharp features, where an exotic, smooth tropical caramel replaces rough, pale milky-white skin. Where sunset streaks of thick, flaxen copper and wheat replace threaded, creeping white tresses of silver locks. And slitted, rusted golds of pooling honey over-shadow deep, blood-red crimson rubies.

He’s handsome, that’s a given. He probably has women of all ages fawning, falling, tripping all over him. Begging to be taken out on a date just to be seen with him, or at the very least, to suck on his cock, for that teensy bit of stardom.

But he’s definitely not him.

“Get out of my seat.”

Two sets of eyes snap up to address the raspy croak. Shifting to meet Tomura’s stoic gaze.

“Oh, hey there Shiggy.” Keigo’s still smiling with those pearly white teeth, even making a point to slouch back even further into Tomura’s chair. “How’ve you been? I was just talk to your g—”

“I don’t care. Move.”

Keigo’s expression is unwavering, despite the sudden gloom that creeps behind his eerie grin like a dark storm-cloud.

“Now.”

Keigo unravels his crossed legs and leaps from his position within two beats, tutting.

“Sure thing, buddy.” A lazy hand rests atop the frail bones of Tomura’s shoulder, gripping and digging into the delicate surface. His petalled lips move to whisper into Tomura’s ear with a hushed growl. “Was just keeping it warm for ya.”

Tomura rolls the balled joint, shaking Keigo’s clawed hand off of him before collapsing into the chair with an incoherent grumble

“Hi, Tomura.”

“What?”

You click your tongue at his shifty antics, opting to turn back to the front.

“Why were you talking to him?”

“I wasn’t, he came ov—”

He scoffs, not even sparing you a second glance. “I told you to stay away from him.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“Just don’t talk to him. Or Dabi, they’re bad.”

“Bad, how?”

“They’ll hurt you.”

“And how do you know?”

The way his boney fingers tangle themselves into the cotton of his hood has you frowning “I just do.”

You find it best to just leave it there, as is. “How come come you’re late?” The way you cock your head has him feeling queasy.

“None of your fuckin’ business.” He grunts, adjusting the pudge of his crotch before folding his arms against his stomach and sinking down into his seat, the length of his spread legs completely encompassing the space beneath the desk.

You’re addled by how large he really is in comparison. Were is thighs always that thick, or had his pants just shrunk? He never takes his hoodies off so you’re in the dark about what kind of big, bulging muscles he could have under there. All it takes is a quick glance to your right to notice those veiny bear paws gripping his pen for dear life. His fingers are lithe and crooked, like they’d been broken again and again, whereas his knuckles were bruised all the same. A wall puncher perhaps? You already knew he had a bit of a temper.

UNFINISHED.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha smut #dabi #hawks #keigo takami #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut

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distant--shadow · 3 months

Text

When Imogen wakes it is with an ache in her neck

a drop into reality unusually cushioned

a hand combing through her hair

and she can’t help the smile that breaks when she meets Laudna’s watchful eyes peering down at her, flushes shortly after.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep?”

Laudna smiles back at her, halts the hand playing with her hair.

“You did.”

An unspoken mutual agreement allows the moment to stretch in silence –

that or time is still fucky from Imogen only just waking up. It gives her enough of it to contemplate.

The sun must be high, the atmosphere muggy and the fauna all bustling as if it were a market day and the critters had stalls to set up and produce to bring home for their litters in the burrows. She feels the layer of sweat on her skin wherever the sun directly touches it, smells in waves where it heats the floor and diffuses the groundcover as if it were potpourri-

Above her, backlit - Laudna’s wearing a halo. The giant leaves of the giant trees are so high above them that the scale almost looks normal, the light breaking between the canopy in beams, sparkling in places where it catches insect wings and pollen, silhouetting edges of wiry strands of hair that act as though curtains on a canopy bed, all giving cover from the storm (should it come). It all feels so hazy, could be the vision starting to turn to grains of sand in her eyes like before a migraine but it’s also unusually clear, her head weightless despite the aching neck – funny what a handful of hours of good sleep can do.

The unspoken mutual agreement is ended.

“Did you rest well?” what did you dream about?

“I did, yeah...”

Unintentional, excusable really - waking with her defences down.

Wouldn’t be outta the ordinary to share.

“…dreamt we were back at Oddrún’s, was nice-” she withholds the details, just to save a little face. Exposes it anyhow, when she finds herself inadvertently taking the hand that had stilled in her hair, holding her palm up above her head with Laudna's lying flat on top of it “-then the roof caved in again and the place got swarmed with birds.”

“Birds?”

Imogen's thumb traces the knife-edge of the long nail on Laudna’s.

“Birds.” Imogen confirms, distracted, half-awake, giddy. The word already sounds funny; thrown back and forth between them. She chuckles at how her lips form around the repetition of it, says it again in Marquesian to see if it feels as abstract- that causes Laudna to quirk her brow from behind the fan of their fingers. “All different kinds, real cute and stuff, mostly. Place got furnished in feathers, was pretty chaotic - parakeets nestin’ in the cups and saucers and kingfishers in the rafters…” Laudna exhales a single syllable of a choral chuckle and Imogen has never felt so relaxed. “There was a kinda shady lookin’ big one standin’ on one leg in the corner by the hearth though, kept squawkin’.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, think it was a shoebill. You ever seen one of those?”

“You know, I’m not sure. I wonder if there was any significance…”

Their fingers interlace, under Laudna's initiative. Imogen stares at the long nails now reaching to her wrist like plates of fine ebony gauntlets.

“I could try draw it for y’all, but I don’t think it’d help…” comes out audibly distracted, the points of Laudna's talons gently making contact with Imogen's scarred skin-

“Allow me to get my notebook~” Laudna enthusiastically sings – nearly cutting Imogen, their hands separating - and Imogen is left staring at the empty space that was occupied by the shape that the two of them made, wonders if there is a word for that, like ‘bird’ - each hand a wing of some amalgamation, dream chimera, released between palms.

Probably a word she doesn’t have the language for.

(passage and illustration from @picturesofthegoneworlds ' intertwined)

#imodna #imogen temult #laudna #critical role #fanart4fanfic #ficdaddy #whilst I'm on the social medias I suppose I should put this drawing out of reblog hiding #look I'm not saying there's any significance in the hand and finger arrangement #but also everything is drawn with intention when it ain't ai so

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mrs-lockley · 5 months

Text

Once Upon a December

Pairing: Hades & Persephone AU, Miguel O’Hara x WOC!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Arranged marriage, implied age gap (reader is a couple centuries old and of age), mention of death and a child death/funeral (no actual death graphically described or specified), dark imagery of the Underworld, use and mentions of Greek mythology, conflicted feelings, magical realism, no time period specified Summary: In the early decades of your marriage to the god of the Underworld, you resented him for abruptly ending your maidenhood. As the decades go by, you learn that there is more to the man who rules the dead than you realize. One day, your husband takes you to Tartarus, the depths of the Underworld, to suggest a proposition.

Author's Note: Hi my little doves, I'm semi-back with a new fic! To be honest, this fic has been in my draft for 3 years (date of origin: 12/30/2020) with First Order!Poe originally, but I thought Miguel suited Hades much better. I have a few fics in my wips and it's honestly like Russian Roulette because i did not expect to complete a Miguel fic before a Jake fic, lol. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings and @v4mpires0ap for supporting me in completing this and giving me feedback! This fic was also deeply inspired by this comic illustrated by @katadesmoi, another take on the Hades & Persephone myth. If you like to listen to music while reading, I highly suggest listening to this Once Upon a December playlist on Youtube. Happy reading! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs make my heart go warm 🤍

Tagging: @soft-girl-musings @v4mpires0ap @venting402 @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub but only if you would like to read it!

You have seen this place before. The place where the stars fall to the earth, where the roots meet the soil, where the ocean meets the shore.

Where the dead meet the living, where the living meet the dead.

Your reflection mirrors you in the sky as you look up to the clouds with the whispering images of Earth shining down on you. On Earth, the clouds weep at the loss of the sun, but other clouds have gone soft with crystals catching the last kiss of sunlight before nightfall. Other places show the yellow sun shining over glistening forests and beaches, and some a starlight projection over snowfall.

A snowflake flutters from the sky, and you stretch your palm to watch it melt on your skin.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Underneath the moonlight, the trace of a smile tugs at your husband’s lips. He moves to stand beside you and the two of you gaze at the glassy sky above.

Miguel keeps his distance, a shadow’s length between the two of you.

For a brief moment, a sparkling ember is reflected in those brown eyes, only to quickly disappear within a blink and a slight shake of his head.

Your husband was not malevolent, nor was he benevolent. Miguel was a man whose moral conviction strongly aligned with the laws of nature, life, and death. He takes no sides, but only stands in the middle, seeing nothing but carnage to his right and hearing the wailing of tears to his left.

You met him once before your arranged marriage. You and your mother were at a banquet one evening, your first banquet after the war when he caught your eye. Standing at the side of the hall with a glass of red wine in his hands, everyone fell into a hushed whisper. It was rare to see the god of the dead at a gathering like this, especially since the collapse of a universe.

As your mother mingled with one of her sisters, your curious eyes drifted into his orbit. It was as if the darkness of the Underworld followed him into the light, but you were entranced by the shadows that caressed the contours of his face. Centuries of carnage and war clouded his eyes a deep brown, but in the dim candlelight, you could see that in spite of witnessing the heaviness of humanity, there were traces of his youth in smile.

A pair of older women passed you, whispering quietly about him.

The wine looks too much like blood in his hands, one of them remarked with disdain.

But not to you.

It was difficult to not notice him with his imposing height and stature. Even as he stood to the side and in the shadows of the banquet hall, the wine in his hands reminded you of the deep crimson of a pomegranate, waiting for you to cut it open so you could taste its juices.

Smoothing your hair, you quickly averted your gaze and distracted yourself by listening to your mother discuss the upcoming spring harvest. You smiled at your aunt as she pitched in, acknowledging how the winter rain would help water the crops and contribute to a bountiful spring for the mortal universe.

But as the conversation continued, your skin prickled. It was as if something was burning you, a small flame lit on your skin and was rapidly growing into a thunderous wildfire that consumed everything in its wake.

You tried to ignore the sensation as you listened to your mother and your aunt's plan for the harvest, but the longer you ignored it, the hotter the fire burned your skin. It was as if you were thrown into a wildfire with the smoke filling your lungs, traveling to your throat, and threatening to spill from your mouth. Their voices began to fade into the distance as the roar of your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

Unable to ignore the feeling any longer, you began to look around to find the cause of your discomfort.

Your innocent eyes met his, and you could barely breathe.

His brown eyes darkened into what you would believe to be the darkness of the Underworld. It was as if he was pulling you into its depths– not seducing you into temptation– but revealing all of your secrets into the light.

All you could feel was the blood rushing to your face as he looked at you. You could not read the expression on his face as his eyes drank you in, but you could not tear yourself away. You were caught in his snare.

But as your eyes met, you saw something else. As he was reading you, you were reading him, trying to translate the pages of a book that was presented to you in an ancient language you discovered for the first time. The introduction was breathtaking, but the first chapter was consuming and inviting.

His eyes only left yours when you saw your father call and approach him. As he looked away, you too turned your eyes back to your mother and her sister. You could not hear what your father and Miguel were discussing behind you and your mother’s back, but you would soon learn that the god of the dead was blessed by your father for your hand in marriage.

There was no warning. One day, you were laying under the sun in the springfields with flowers in your hair, singing a love song from days of old. The next day, you were escorted to the world below you, climbing your way through its webs to become queen of the dark kingdom to your betrothed.

“I know you have assumptions about me.” Miguel’s voice is quiet as he speaks, barely above a whisper in the snowfall. “I cannot change them or how you feel, nor do I intend on changing your mind, but …”

His words trail off, his voice fading into the distant sound of the winter winds howling in the cavern.

Looking back up at the dome above you, you catch his reflection. A shadow crosses his stern face, its fingers stretching across his tan skin. In the dim moonlight, you could almost catch streaks of silver in his dark waves. The centuries have taken a toll on him, and while you were a couple hundred years younger than him, you, too, felt the heaviness in your chest.

“I’ve heard stories,” you tell him quietly.

His eyes remain on the sky above with an unreadable expression. The only sound between you is the silent snowfall and the white clouds that puff around your lips with each breath you take.

“Do you believe them?”

His question catches you by surprise. Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering in your throat as you think about how to answer him.

Your husband turns to you then, a stormy look on his face as he looks at you.

You remembered the stories and cautionary tales your mother told you about him. While you were tending the rose garden one day, your mother shared with you the stories she heard from the other gods after attending a banquet.

He was the reason one of the universes collapsed. He meddled into the mortal realm when he should have stayed where he belonged- in the depths and shadows of the dead.

He chased a young boy to the edges of the Underworld, all because the poor boy wanted to save his father from dying. Imagine how cruel a man could be to stop a boy from saving his father.

That man shows no mercy or remorse for the dearly departed. He only sits on his throne as he listens to their tears of sadness and cries of anguish. He would not even show mercy to a mortal man who ventured into the Underworld to bring his lover back to life– instead, granting an impossible task that doomed the poor man from the start.

Decades ago, you might have believed the whispers of the gods, goddesses, and other celestial beings as they spoke about him behind his back. For the first few decades of your marriage, you resented him for taking you away from your mother and the mortal realm. He stole you away from the sun with just a simple blessing from your father, and he had not even spoken a single word to you before making you his bride and queen.

What he did not know was that once, you ran away.

As Miguel was in the heart of the Underworld, you briefly escaped its darkness. It was winter in the land of the living, and somehow, you managed to sneak past the hounds, the souls, and the suspecting ferryman who stood at the crossroads between realms.

(Whether he knew your plan of escape or not, he did not say. The ferryman merely watched with unknowing eyes as you slipped past him.)

Your lungs ached as you climbed your way out from underground. Soil crusted beneath your fingernails, your skin covered in earth when the light of the winter sun nearly burned your eyes upon your ascent.

You did not know how long you wandered, but you walked until the soles of your feet burned crimson. The skies darkened into icy shades of gray and white before weeping for the loss of the sun and your fingertips mirrored the color of your feet.

Day turned to night, and before long, you stumbled upon an evening wake.

Outside the church, the deceased’s family mingled in the winter night. Their eyes burned with tears as their voices trembled with each word spoken. Loved ones gathered around them to offer their condolences while the children sat outside on the steps, playing with makeshift paper dolls and animals to pass the time.

You wondered if anyone saw you, but the thought of someone recognizing you never crossed your mind. While your mother advised you to stay out of mortal affairs, there was something pulling you towards the coffin, urging you to stay.

It did not take long for your heart to break.

Tears pricked your eyes as you gazed at the little girl laying inside the wooden box. You remembered her youthful spirit and jovial smile as she would sit under your favorite tree, weaving flower crowns and sharing fruit with some of the wildlife that dwelled in the forest. The nymphs and dryads spoke fondly of her whenever she visited the lake, and a few times, you remembered picking up the blooming flowers that she left behind as an offering.

Overcome with grief, you placed your hand over hers, whispering words of assurance and comfort to her. Her skin was cold to touch, but you did not shy away as you left behind a small white lily in her embrace.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, you immediately stepped aside. You assumed the man who approached the coffin to be her father as you watched him place the coins over her eyes, whispering to his daughter in their native tongue with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Your heart ached for the girl and her family as you watched them gather around her coffin. No one noticed you while you walked away, following the fallen petals of dried flowers to guide you back to the world below.

It was as if nothing changed since your brief departure. The ferryman merely watched you with apathetic eyes when you returned, his boat filled with souls as he carried them over the Styx.

You did not meet with Miguel that day, but as you wandered the Isles of the Blessed, you heard a familiar voice ring in the air.

Not wanting to be seen or scolded for wandering off, you quickly hid behind a tree. Peeking from behind the trunk, your heart warmed to see that same little girl playing in the field with a man holding her hand.

Miguel.

You watched as he knelt down to her height, a gentle look on his face as he held her hands. You could not hear what they were saying, but from the smile on her face, you knew that he was nothing but kind and gentle with her as she adjusted to her new life in Elysium.

“What is your name, little one?”

“Gabriella.”

“Gabriella,” your husband repeated as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. His fingers paused over the lily tucked behind her ear. “This is a beautiful flower you have in your hair.”

She smiled as she removed it from her ear and offered it to him.

“I had it with me when the ferryman took me here. I don’t remember how I got it, but he told me to keep it.”

You held your breath as Miguel held the lily in his hand. It was not unusual for flowers to spring wherever you went, and you wondered if he knew that you snuck into the mortal realm under his watch.

To your surprise, he smiled at her as he tucked the lily back in her hair.

“He was right. You should keep it.”

You have not seen Gabriella since that day, but you never forgot her. Whenever you walked near the Isles of the Blessed, you could hear her laugh in the wind with the river twinkling in the shape of her smile.

His question hangs frozen mid-air as the snow crystallizes around you.

Did you believe the horrid tales, after what you have seen?

His eyes search yours as the two of you stand under the shadow of the earth, its roots tangling around you.

Of all the myths and legends you heard about Miguel, it would be easy to sway you into believing he was an apathetic man who ruled the land of the dead. He stole you away from spring, but in the decades that followed since your marriage, you realized that not once did he ever try to hold you back. There were countless times you snuck away into the mortal realm, and every time he could have held you back or ordered the hounds to follow you. Yet, he never did.

Perhaps you have judged him too harshly before learning about the man beneath the mask. While a part of you still resented him for the marriage, you could not bring yourself to truly hate him.

“I would have,” you answer him quietly, “once upon a December.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, amusement briefly flickering across his eyes as the ghost of a smile tickles his lips.

In the mirror above, snow continues to fall like kisses from the earth. Its kisses leave droplets on your skin, but as you turn to your husband, you could count the snowflakes like stars in the night sky as they melt into his dark hair and brown skin.

It was one of those rare moments where there was nothing and no one else in the world but the two of you. While Miguel was known to mortals under a different name and had a duty to follow in his realm, he gave you freedom to roam his world as you pleased without fear. You were his queen, and he treated you as such in his own quiet way.

While he kept you at arm’s length, you were no fool.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The cavern almost seemed to engulf him as the moonlight shined upon him. Whispers of snow glistened in his hair, and the perpetual scowl on his lips appeared to soften the longer he gazed at the sky.

He pauses, calculating his words.

“Long before the mortals named me, I stumbled upon this place by chance. It is safe to presume that the deepest depths of the Underworld to be a frightening place of terror and grief, but it is more than what the legends say.”

Miguel takes a step forward until he is directly underneath the center of the mirror. Behind him, the outlines of a tree stretched its branches around him with its root tangling your shadow with his.

The wind continues to howl like a wounded wolf in the dead of night. While the mortals would call this place Tartarus, it was not what you imagined.

A deep ache settles in your chest, its roots ensnaring the heart in your ribs as the winter breeze fills your lungs with sharp knives of ice.

“Only once in a blue moon could I walk into the world above, but here … it is the only way I could see the mortal realm without leaving mine behind.”

His eyes seem to mist in the moonlight, and your heart softens. The fortress of the castle he built around him begins to crumble, and for the first time, you see the lone king that resides within the darkness of its walls.

The longing of the sun, the yearning for something warm, for someone to hold.

As you look up at the mirror, you remember a time when you wandered the meadow in your youth and stumbled upon a stream where the carrion birds often flocked to. The nymphs, dryads, and your overbearing mother advised you to never venture near the river, but your youthful curiosity overcame you against their best wishes.

The birds followed your movements as you stepped towards the river. Dark clouds gathered in the sky above with thunder rumbling in the distance, but you remained steadfast. White peace lilies and roses bloomed underneath your feet as you fell to your knees to peer into the murky waters beneath.

Darkness swirled around your reflection as you gazed at the water below. The longer you looked, the more confused you were as you tried to decipher what lurked underneath the surface. What could cause the dryads and nymphs to urge you to stay away from this place? What worried your mother that you found a secret beneath?

You never told them about the river, nor did you ever return since that day, but as you look up at the familiar mirror above you, you wonder if the forbidden river drifted into the Styx. Perhaps the carrion birds were the ones who guarded the river in the mortal realm.

Perhaps as you wondered and peered into the dark waters, another face watched you from below.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, urging you to look at him.

“I know a part of you must resent me for taking you away from your mother — and I do not blame you for it — but this…” He gestures to the mirror above, a soft expression relaxing the curves of his face, “is the only way we could see into the mortal universe. If I could bring a piece of the mortal world to you, it is the least I can do.”

Snow continues to fall with the winter winds howling around the two of you, causing a small flurry of snow to surround your two bodies. Frost begins to crystallize at your feet, indicating the official arrival of winter in the world above.

Your husband illuminates in the moonlight, a serene glow casted across his frame as he keeps his gaze on the sky. The corners of his lips curve into a lazy smile, and you could not help but think back to all the legends and myths you were taught about him, and the river that your mother warned you to stay away from.

If this was the face that watched you from below, how could you despise him for bringing a piece of your world back to you, especially when he was not welcome in the light?

“It is the winter solstice in the mortal world,” you tell him softly. The sky darkens above you, but you do not feel the cold as much anymore, not with the snowdrops beginning to surface from the frost. “The shortest day and the longest night of the year.”

You wonder what flowers would bloom in the spheres of the universe, what sky and stars the mortals see as they bask in the moonlight. While your marriage to the god of the Underworld dictated the seasons above, you lived long enough to know that the worlds above adjusted to your absence or presence in their own ways.

The first winter you spent in the Underworld, you were inconsolable. While Miguel tried to comfort you, you were distraught, crying tears of anguish into your pillow as the darkness surrounded you. For the first time, no flowers bloomed where you stepped or where you lay. Instead, only roseless thorns and weeds gathered where you walked, and in the world above, it was the worst harvest the mortals have seen in decades.

While your parents argued with your husband about the conditions and length of your stay, you blocked out their voices. The only sounds you heard were your cracks splintering through your heart as you mourned the warmth of the sun and the endless blue sky. As much as Miguel tried to coax you out of your chambers and into the dark gardens of his kingdom, you planted your roots into the ground, refusing to be anywhere near him.

Only for the winter, your father proposed. Your mother wept by his side, but your husband nodded in agreement, sealing your fate as swiftly as the seasons changed.

It took some time, but throughout the first few years of your marriage, you began to be civil with Miguel. Much like him, you kept him at arm’s length, watching him and trying to understand what kind of king he was to his subjects in the world below. While you heard the whispering lore and legends of him in your ears, you soon learned that he was not everything that the people believed him to be.

A cloud storms in his brown irises as he looks over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “If I may ask, are you happy here?”

A bitter laugh threatens to spill from your lips, but you quickly bite your tongue.

It has been decades since you were taken to rule the world below. While you may not have lived long enough to control your godly emotions, you still felt an aching pain and loss as you grieved leaving your home.

“I did not have a choice in becoming your bride,” you answer, your voice laden with sadness and despair. “What say do I have as your wife?”

You were a younger goddess who lived only a couple centuries, but you had yet to learn the complexities of the universe. You still needed to experience the worlds around you, both above and below, but your maidenhood was cut short by the man your father arranged to be your husband.

Even with the decades behind you, time had yet to fully heal the part of your heart that grieved for your maidenhood. You were conflicted in your grief and loss when Miguel had been cordial and respectful, in his own sentimental way. A part of you may resent him, but you still did not completely understand the feelings you held towards him.

His brown eyes soften at your words, his lips slightly parted as white cotton clouds flutter in the air from his breath.

“You are not a prisoner here,” he assures you gently, approaching you as if you were a skittish deer in the woods. “I am truly sorry for the pain I brought upon you.”

You look up at him slowly, seeing nothing but remorse in his gaze. You wonder if he would ask for your forgiveness, but it was too late for that. It has been half a century since your marriage, and the world already recorded the event in the stars and the sky.

Miguel was a man of many things, but you know in his eyes, he is lawful. With the living and the dead, he merely rules over the departed to balance the universes. He only follows the rules of nature, but in godly matters, he follows the customs and traditions. A marriage only needs a father’s blessing for his daughter to be wedded without the husband needing to court or ask the bride. He broke no laws, but he did not fully understand the depths of your grief.

His voice is gentle as the winds quiet around him.

“I know it will take time for you to fully accept me as your husband, but I am a patient man. All I ask and plead is for you to give me a chance.”

The winter winds pull the air out of your lungs as Miguel turns with his hand outstretched towards you.

As you grieved the sudden end of your maidenhood, you reflect on everything you have seen. The gods and goddesses may indulge in heresy and scandals whenever they pleased, but from what you learned from their whispers, some of their stories did not reflect what you have seen.

The god of the dead was not cruel, nor was he kind. He often deals in absolutes and ultimatums, with the universes remaining in balance as he ruled over his domain.

Even so, you remember Gabriella’s smile as he held her hand in Elysium. A child taken too soon, but found comfort in the man who guided her to the Isles of the Blessed.

Perhaps he was kinder than you believed.

Snow gathers in his palm as he holds his hand towards you. It would be easier for you to turn away and loathe him for the rest of your days, but something stirs in your heart.

Darkness may have taken its hold over the mortal realm, but it has not fully consumed yours.

Your fate is already written in the stars, your marriage bound in a godly affair. While you are still a younger goddess in a single web of the universe, perhaps it would do you no harm to trim the thorns that protected you and allow a rose to bloom.

Slowly, you take his hand, his skin oddly warm against yours.

Your husband smiles gently at you and raises your hand to his lips.

“I promise to love and care for you,” he whispers, “as long as you are by my side.”

Snowdrops and hydrangeas begin to bloom from the frost that dusted the ground beneath you, tangling with the roots of the tree as you walk beside him, allowing him to guide you away from the moonlight and towards the river from where you came.

A comfortable silence falls upon you as Miguel rows the boat along the Styx, the water calm and quiet on the journey away from the darkness. The winter winds begin to fade into a distant echo, and as much as you wish to turn back to gaze at the world above one more time, you keep your eyes forward.

The winter solstice may have begun in the mortal realm, but the spring solstice has begun to blossom in the world below.

And in the depths of the Underworld, the tree that holds the mirror above sprouts a single crimson fruit, a small pomegranate in the start of spring.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x woc!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman-2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara imagine #spiderman 2099 imagine

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lizaluvsthis · 6 days

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Sparks in the air

This fanfic is dedicaded to @shygirl4991 and @alianarepasa for Mothers Day! Thank you for being our found family!

Summary- Smg4 receives an official invite from a group of famous content creators such as himself to work with them.

It's always been a dream for him yet he has to leave his home and friends forever. After careful consideration, he decided to pursue his dream and packed up his things.

His friends threw him a going away party, and he was sad to leave but what bothered him the most was that he hasn’t seen too much of his meme guardian partner lately since he announced he was leaving...

INSPIRED BY - The show “Friends”

References:

Notebook (from Spiderverse Part 1) -Liz

Holding hands episode -Aj

Written by @itsajanea and @lizaluvsthis

Illustrations by @lizaluvsthis

Gmods by @itsajanea

COMBINED IDEAS BY THE EGG N’ BEEG DUO

[AJ]

3rd Pov

“GUYS, GUYS LOOK WHAT I HAVE!” Smg4 yelled excitedly, running into the room, and waving what seemed to be a half-open letter. The crew looked at him with confusion but expected it was good based on his reaction.

“ I got an official invite to work with the best content creators!!” The blue meme guardian starts jumping up and down, waving the letter in the air.

The others were happy for him and celebrated with him.

Something slipped from the inside of the envelope and fell onto the floor, Meggy picked it up and stared at it before turning back to look at the happy Smg4.

“Ummmm Smg4, did you read the ENTIRE letter?” Meggy calls out to him, catching everyone else's attention as she waves a small plane ticket.

Smg4 looked back at the invitation in his hand and took out the letter from the envelope only to realize it was also talking about him moving away from his current residence

“Oh, it says that I will be going away for a long time…” What once was happy cheers turned into a sad moment of silence, until Mario shuffled up to him and gave him a big ol hug.

“Mario understands how much this means to you, and Mario is very happy.” He softly said, hugging the other tighter while he held back some tears. Smg4 hugged the red plumber back and soon everyone joined in the group hug, it was nice and comforting for the man.

All except for one, Smg3. He looked back at the group making sure no one noticed him hiding his tears before running off.

Smg4 Pov

It's been a couple of days since I got that invite… I should be finished packing by now, yet I don't want to move.

I’ve been lying here, staring at the ceiling for quite a while and I hear some noise outside.

They told me earlier that I should stay in here for a while so they’re probably throwing a party for me which is nice but… something feels wrong.

I sat up and looked at the boxes surrounding the room, I finally got up and walked around the place, reminiscing about the time I spent here.

I spotted a glimpse of a certain picture inside the box and I took it out. I smiled seeing the picture of me and the gang, we all looked so happy, I pulled out another picture from the box and it was of the two of us.

“Three…” I frown just thinking of him, I haven’t seen him in a while since I said to everyone that I accepted the offer.

And even when I DID see him, he’d just avoid me.

I bet he’s just mad that I got a good deal instead of him. I rolled my eyes and shoved the picture back into the box, walked away, and found myself looking back at the box.

Even though I'm a little mad at him… I’ll still miss him, like everyone else but I think I’ll miss him the most. But we know that I have to leave soon, so I better finish packing.

I grabbed an empty box and started packing some stuff in it, later on, I finished packing all my stuff so I took off my hat, lay on my bed and I stared at the wall to my right.

I waited for a while for the others to finish outside but I can’t help thinking about him. I turned to the left, looking at that space beside me and for some reason, I felt something was missing in that very spot.

I closed my eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.

…

Suddenly I felt a gentle breeze, I opened my eyes and found myself sitting on the grassy plains, staring at a purple sky, It was a sight to see and reminded me of someone-

I looked around the beautiful plains and saw 3 in the distance, I got up and rushed over to him yet I had a weird feeling.

When I called out his name, he looked at me with an enraged look, clenching his fists and what shocked me more was when he spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Congratulations Smg4, you got what you wanted, now you can go off with your new friends.”

He then started walking away, I tried catching up, pleading with him to understand what he meant. I thought he would understand.

I tried reaching my hand out to him

and then the next thing I knew… I woke up, realizing I was reaching for something that wasn’t there

I tried relaxing my mind because it didn’t matter, for now, maybe I’d see him later and we could talk if he would be here.

“Oh ES-EM-GEE-FOUR!” I hear Mario’s call, which means I can finally come out now. I fixed my hair, put on my hat, and was ready to get out.

When I stepped out, I noticed all the decorations and everyone I knew. They all yelled out in excitement and came rushing towards me. I was overjoyed, even though it may be the last, I'm glad to see everyone again.

While chatting with one of my old friends, I see Smg3 just standing there.

I excused myself and walked up to him til Mario just popped out of nowhere. I was stuck talking to him for a while and saw 3 leaving the party too soon. He looked at me with a cold stare before disappearing from my gaze.

What did I do wrong?

3rd Pov

It was after the party that Smg4 couldn’t sleep, that look 3 gave him shook him to his core. It made him angry for some reason. Why couldn’t he be happy for him just once, just because he was the one who got an amazing offer?

4 could’ve tried sleeping, his flight is in the morning but it bothered him too much to the point where he decided to go march over to 3’s place and give him a piece of his mind.

He took his hat and entered the shop, while riding down the elevator he thought of what to say and then

Ding

He got off the elevator and yelled out

“THREE! WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN AVOIDING ME THIS PAST-”

Smg3 sat on his bed, hugging himself while he cried in anguish. Surrounded by a mess and Eggdog, who was trying his best to comfort his beloved father he still weeps.

4 felt devastated, he felt sick to his stomach seeing the other in this state. He had never seen 3 in such a terrible state like this before.

“Three…” He softly says, slowly approaching the other before 3 stared at the man intensely, his eyes were red and puffy, and he kept gasping for air and felt his body tremble.

“Get out.” 3 quietly answered, pausing to wipe his face on his shirt. “Now…”

“But I-”

“I SAID GET OUT, GET OUT NOW” he raised his voice and threw the nearest object he could find at 4.

4 was able to dodge it but he still had goosebumps. Before he could speak, 3 threw another object at him and kept throwing more and more objects while yelling at him

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!”

[Liz]

A moment without thinking, he threw the only thing that felt important to him…

His secret diary… his notebook… the one that he hides most often when he’s around with four or any other of the crew members.

“Three! Please stop- we can talk about this-” Four trying his best to cover his face with his arm on defense.

He was brought by surprise just the second he saw a notebook coming closer that was about to his face.

It was too late for him to dodge it, right after the split second he noticed that it was SMG3’s diary. The sharp corner hit his forehead and fell to the floor.

“OW!” SMG4 knocked himself back to the ground, with his eyes closed. His hat fell off to the floor, and the amount of pictures and notes flew out of the pages from three’s notebook.

Like how it exploded in the air.

The notes and pictures that scattered across the room, gave Three a quick moment of realization then his face turned pale. Feeling shocked after realizing what he had just done.

Seeing Four has a tiny scratch from the impact and the purple notebook he owns. Just right in front of him…

Three starts to panic after he gave himself a second to think, he f-cked up pretty badly…

“SHIT- SHIT- SHIT!” he hurriedly grabs the photos and the other notes lying on the ground, and Four rubs his forehead then finally opens his eyes to see papers falling.

As one of them falls and lands in Four’s hand, he slowly picks up the note to try and read what the handwriting says.

Three’s handwriting is oddly new to him since he’d never seen much of his writing before, looking a bit closer now. He reads a simple note of-

“Today, Four made me laugh. I honestly hated how soft I am to this baka but the joke was funny tho.”

Then to the bottom after the text, it shows a doodle of him and Three laughing together, just the two of them sitting on the bench.

“What…” he saw two marked pink colored hearts, one beside four and one beside three.

Three’s heart started pounding, this can’t be happening to him right now. But then again it was too late to stop him.

As Four carefully placed the note down with now seemingly widened eyes, his other hand moved to the other side reaching out for another picture.

It was a picture of him and Three back when they were both in their recolored designs. Back when Three seemed to like Four a little bit…

The picture is back on Christmas when Four insists on taking a selfie with him and Three while Mario is the one to use the camera. SMG3 felt a bit uncomfortable with the idea but Four still insisted.

Grabbing him around the shoulder, Three is seen blushing red in the camera while Four just smiles casually.

[AJ]

“You kept this….” 3 took the picture away from him, his face was red and he was extremely frustrated with 4.

[Liz]

“I…” Three wanted to respond but never dared to. SMG3 felt like his whole world tore apart right after a single thing he’d done. Now everything about his friendship with Four is destroyed.

Four tilted his head from side to side seeing all of the notes that were all mostly drawings of him and the pictures Three and him have been together or even without three and just him only marked with pink hearts all over.

“Three… you… you’ve been hiding all of this from me this whole time…?” Deep silence caused Four to get more upset. “Three… please…” “Stop.” The notes three were holding are now crushed right after clenching his fist.

“YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING AT ALL!” He slapped Four’s hand away after trying to reach him.

“Then just tell me-”

“FOR MEMES SAKE- WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO DENSE? I LIKE YOU IDIOT?!”

Three snapped out to Four as soon as he kept pushing Three to finally admit these feelings that he’d never given to him years from now.

Four, still lying down on the ground, looked up at Three to see the tired look on his face. His red cheeks were visible enough and had been caught in tears streaming down from his eyes.

He took a harsh breath and began to avoid his stare, he looked down to his side. “There…” he took every second to catch up on his words, taking deep breaths to regain his stamina.

“Now… you know…” his eyes kept watering, it made him want to wipe it off. He was still mad at him during this time, he just wished that Four would go away.

Yet the man refuses to leave him alone.

Smg4 Pov

“Why didn’t he tell me…?”

My thoughts wandered from his act, I had never seen him like this before.

But when he finally said that he had feelings for me… I didn’t know why it just stabbed my heart after hearing him this broken.

I spoke right to his front, trying to understand why he kept avoiding me.

"But why 3... if you felt this way, then why didn't you at least see me one last time?"

“Was it selfishness…? Was he jealous…? Did he hate it when I said I was leaving…?”

Three as soon as he wiped his tears, he turned to me and stared right into my eyes with hatred and pain.

"BECAUSE IT HURTS FOUR! It hurts so bad seeing you leave and I CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT IT…"

…

Oh…

(shit… I fucked up pretty badly… didn’t I…)

As much as I want to follow the path I’ve always dreamed of achieving, I promised myself to never hold back. Never LOOK back. But just seeing Three like this I don’t think I could ever say no just by baring to look at his eyes.

“Three… you know we both have been friends right…?” I saw him backing away from me and avoiding my glances, He kept picking up other of the notes that were left on the floor as soon as I saw the notebook right in front of me, one of the pages seemingly read as “SMG4” which was my name, is written on the lines.

“Dear Diary, I wish that SMG4 would have stayed here. But there's nothing that I can do now, I guess no one ever stays the same once there is one important thing way ahead in people's lives.

He’s leaving too. I don’t want him to, there's so many things that he’s done here. And now that he just started to leave? What kind of idiot does that man think he is? It’s not fair.”

There was a space gap in the paragraph, the last sentence is crossed out of the line. I leaned in closer to read the final letters. “I wish I could tell him- about how I feel-” The notebook is shut closed in my face as Three snatched it away.

“You’re moving away from us today… Leave me be… I don’t want to discuss any of this anymore” Three puts the remaining notes back on the pages and puts them back in the drawer, shutting it loudly.

Third Pov

“You should leave… Before you might miss the airport” Four got up from the ground and picked up his hat, putting it back on his head. “Can we just talk this out?”

“You don’t want to know how heavy it is to me when you’re gone.

I’ve waited every OTHER MOMENT of our time to get together but NO!

You wanted what you wished to get and you already had your time here, you enjoyed the celebration, the party, your friends, Mario, and everyone who was all up to support your dream. But me?

I’ve already run out of time, thinking about what could happen between the two of us, when you’re not by my side…”

Four wanted to speak to him, he wanted to hug him tightly. If he had to choose between the options of either leaving or staying, he could never decide.

What will he ever listen to? His heart or his head? But he could never decide about this, not with the one he loved, his friend that he broke his attachment to just because of moving far long away.

Which one should he decide…? Even though it was his dream… his partner…

He had already decided that following his dream was the only choice for him to do so, yet he also had no choice since he accepted that letter.

“I’m sorry…” Four backed away and ran to the elevator, Three was left alone from the scene.

—--

Four had finally had his luggage packed and was hugged by Mario and then by every other of his crew members.

“Mario’s gonna miss you very much!”

“I agree with Red, things are never the same without you around and…” Meggy and Mario gave each other looks and went completely silent right after they gave a sad one.

“Guys, what’s the matter?” They both looked at him with sad eyes as Meggy spoke the second time.

“Three was barely seen around the party. It seems like me and Mario wondered that it’s worrying him that you’ll be gone…”

Mario pulled out a meme quote out of the random. “Mario smells GAY DRAMA from you” His mustache grew as he sniffed him.

Four couldn’t help but think about what happened back to his lair. Was it all true? Did he- as in SMG3 have this kind of romantic feeling for him?

He tried not to think much about it since he was running out of time.

He knew he had to go but there's just something wanting to let him stay there, someone… who in particular was Three.

“Oh, yeah right. Him…” He immediately felt bad about the words he said to him, he couldn’t ever forget about it, it felt like the words were stuck to his head.

“SMG4- did something happen with your boyfriend? Did you both fight or something?” SMG4 flinched after hearing Mario say the word.

He began to back away from his words defending himself “What? We’re not boyfriends! He and I just had a misunderstanding- "On what exactly?” Meggy grinned in curiosity.

[AJ]

A honk of the bus caught everyone off guard, They all knew this moment would come sooner or later and they all had to be strong for their friend.

The crew gathered for one last hug before Smg4 stepped onto the vehicle.

He sat down and looked outside the window, seeing everyone waving him goodbye while the bus began to move.

He had one last glimpse of them, the showgrounds and Three’s Coffee shop.

He only saw for a moment, but swore that he did see Three watching him leave before going back inside.

The man in blue felt blue once again, he put on his headphones and watched some memes to make him feel better but nothing helped…

Smg4 then closed his eyes for a little while, waiting for him to reach the airport.

—--

After he was cleared for inspection, Four got on the plane earlier than expected. He should feel excited, overjoyed, and thrilled even for this wonderful opportunity yet he still feels upset.

He felt tired, he took his hat off for a breather and ran his hand through his hair. Looking at the lights and looking back down at his hat, noticing a small folded-up note inside.

Smg4 opened it up, expecting it was a fun quirky letter left behind by his friends but instead he was greeted with an old photo he took with Smg3 not so long ago, before the whole YouTube thing.

He had convinced Three at the time to take a selfie with him, Four giving his usual goofy grin while Three who was looking at the other just smiled, with his face colored with a bright tint of red.

There was also an added note written in purple ink, “I just love him and his goofy ahh smile so much” dotted with hearts.

The whole world felt like it stopped for Four, he held the picture close to face and he now knew for sure that deep down in his heart.

“I love him”

Smg4 Pov

“I love him, I do love him!” After so long I finally understood, I always felt that we were just more than friends. GOD I’ve been such an idiot, It's been so obvious this whole time!

I just love him so… but if I do love him, What the heck am I doing?

I look around me to see the plane filled up, If I do love him what am I still doing here?

This whole YouTube thing can wait, I need to see him, I need to get off the plane.

I put back the picture and wore my hat, grabbed my bag, and was determined to go after him.

Jumped out of my seat and rushed down the aisle, I could feel the stares of people I passed by but It didn't matter.

“Sir, you need to go back to your seat.” The flight attendant lady stood in my way, denying me the exit that was right there.

“But Miss-” I replied “I need to get off, I need to do something”

“I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to leave-” We felt the plane shake as it began to take off.

Oh no.

—-

3rd POV

After a long day of serving customers, 3 placed a sign on the front door saying “We’re Closed”, grabbed a broom, and cleaned up. He sighs, wondering what could have been. If he had told 4 sooner than later, Would they have been happy? Would they still have to come across this problem? But, It's too late anyway, 4 made up his mind and he has to deal with it.

Smg3 kept on sweeping and sweeping, then he heard somebody enter.

“Oi! Shops closed!” He didn’t bother facing the person, he wasn’t in the mood at all.

“3…”

He recognized that voice, it was impossible. He turned around to see if it was real.

“I got off the plane” It was Four, standing in front of him with a sincere smile.

[Liz]

Smg3 scanned the area where Four dropped his suitcase.

The suitcase tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, and it landed face down, the wheels clattering against the floor.

Three’s face contorted into a surprised expression, His partner darted forward, sprinting to embrace him and open his arms wide.

Four’s arms held tightly to SMG3’s waist, and he lifted him into the air, spinning him around quickly, with their faces beaming with joy.

SMG4 carefully lowered SMG3 back down to the floor, their reunion now complete.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you for so long, you idiot…” Three said softly. They turned to look at Four, who was now facing them with a rage-filled expression.

He, however, was not so quick to forgive and forget, and he let go of SMG4’s arms. Turning around as he punched him in the face, with all of the anger and resentment he had pent up over the years. “Ow, that hurt-” “Well that’s what you get for leaving me!” Three said.

Four rubbed his cheek after the punch, his face hurting yet understanding why SMG3 reacted the way he did.

After all, he had left him without even saying goodbye, acting like a true jerk-face. “I guess I deserve that. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Four said trying to reach for his hand to mend their relationship.

Three backed his hand away from him, he couldn’t bring himself to meet Four’s gaze, avoiding eye contact with him. He started to speak, but stopped his sentence, realizing something. “You didn’t make it to the flight…?” He asked as if it had just clicked in his mind.

“I came back to tell you something…” Four replied. “To tell you how much I loved you…” He offered his hand once more, and this time, Three accepted his hand, their bodies finally close as they embraced each other.

Three’s voice rose in an upset tone as he asked, “But what about the invitation? The content creations?” Aren’t you supposed to be following your dream?”

Four gave him a soft and warm smile and replied “I decided to follow my heart, the path I want to choose. I chose you, and our other friends.” He hugged SMG3 tightly and said. “I’m sorry for leaving you…” his response surprised Three.

“So- you’re not leaving?” Three questioned with wide eyes, feeling so much relief that a smile spread across his face. Four shook his head in reply and said, “No, I’ll never leave you or anyone else. I promise.”

Three’s eyes welled up as all the emotions flooded his mind, he felt relieved and overcome with happiness.

SMG4 noticed this and quickly wiped the tears away from the man’s cheek, saying “Hey, you’re crying.”

Three gave him a laugh and replied, “I’m just glad that you came back…” He then gave the man in blue a kiss.

Four was taken aback by the sudden display of attention, he was not prepared for the display of affection that Three had recently given him just now.

Four’s eyes immediately closed as Three pulled him in for a kiss. The long, drawn-out kiss was now the end, and all that could be seen was two lovers locked in a passionate embrace.

-THE END-

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #my art #shygirl4991 #alianrepasa #itsajjena #smg3 x smg4 #smg4 x smg3

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queenofhearts7378 · 2 months

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“So this is Jake's fault, right?” Randy asked.

Danny made a noise of agreement as they continued running down the hallway, red flashing against their eyes and alarms ringing through the air.

And okay, it wasn't really Jake's fault they were being chased by a killer robot after breaking out of some holding cells.

Ever since Jake had turned 16, he'd been getting more duties outside of New York, really stepping up into his role as the American Dragon. NYC was still his home, his main area of protection, and the main capital of the magical community; he wasn't leaving anytime soon.

But occasionally a smaller community would reach out, asking for help with bigger problems they couldn't handle and he couldn't answer over the phone or e-mail. So Jake began traveling (through mundane or magical means), and solving the problems in person.

And occasionally dragging his out-of-town friends along with him.

Which is how the four of them ended up here: in an off-the-books government facility in Horrible, Arkansas, and made up of the same branch as the GIW.

(Danny had groaned out loud in his and Rand's cell, thunking his head against the bars when he heard that.

The agent that was interrogating them gave him a weird look.

“He's from Amity Park.” Randy said solemnly, patting Danny’s shoulder.

The agent went white so fast Randy honestly thought he was about to pass out before fleeing the room.

“Wow,” Randy said, “Y'all's city really is a curse.”)

The four of them had literally stumbled onto the grounds, got searched and had most of their stuff taken away, and thrown into holding cells where agents would periodically come to interrogate them on how they found the place and who else knows about it.

Danny had phased them through the back wall as soon as they were left alone, and accidently ran directly into a wall of weapons that fell on top of them both. Randy only got a sore shoulder, but something zapped Danny and he hadn't been able to transform since.

Which was when the alarms went off.

And when they discovered that the facility used killer robots as security and were all too happy to shoot a couple of teenagers.

Now they were running for their lives trying to find their stuff and their friends without getting shot by the robots or the agents.

They skidded around another corner, and Danny grabbed open the nearest door, throwing it open to check for their stuff.

Instead they were met with two startled agents in the middle of grabbing their weapons.

Randy didn't waste the chance and spun around Danny, landing a kick in the first man's diaphragm and then bringing his knee up just as the man bent over to gasp for air.

(The ninja suit let him be faster, stronger, more bouncy, and protected him from hard hits. The lessons and training of 800 years worth of ninjas were pressed into the fabric enabling him to fight when he had never done it before. He still had training though. He spent hours in the Nomicon practicing the moves and katas his brain knew but his body didn't. Following the footsteps and marks the Nomicon drew out around him, mirroring the poses the illustrated samurai and dragons went though. And lately, following along next to the First Ninja as he performed the moves next to him, occasionally fixing his posture, as Plop Plop chattered nearby.

Being the Ninja wasn't all cool flips and awesome weapons. Even without the mask, Randy was still a ninja.)

Danny took the chance to leap onto the other agent's back trying to get his weapon, throwing the man off balance right as he tried to shoot Randy.

The shot went wide and hit the wall, leaving a faint scorch mark on the white plaster. Randy dived under the shot, rolling forward right past the agent. He kicked his leg out, catching him in the back of the knee, right as Danny yanked the weapon out of his grasp and leapt off the agent's back. Between the teenager using him as a springboard and his leg giving out on him, the agent hit the floor hard. Danny didn't give him the chance to get his bearings and swung the weapon, clocking him over the head.

He swayed for a minute before hitting the ground. He wasn't unconscious but he wasn't getting off the floor anytime soon.

Randy and Danny high-fived before fleeing back out the door.

“Randy, that was awesome!” Danny exclaimed as they checked the other doors for their stuff. “I didn't know you could do that!”

“I know, I know, I'm the Bruce McCheese. Hold your applause,” Randy bragged as he opened the last door in the hallway to reveal yet another supply closet. Running past Danny, he punched him in the shoulder, “I'm still a ninja without the mask Casper.”

“What was that? I couldn't hear you over your ego getting in the way!” Danny laughed as he turned the corner, only to catch a metal leg in his stomach. His back hit the wall and his stolen weapon went flying away from him.

“DANNY!” Randy screeched, knowing he wouldn't get there in time as the security bot charged up to fire.

His feet and hands moved before he could think about it.

‘Separate - Gather - Free’

Randy could feel the energy pool through him, starting with his feet (“Your stance grounds you,” First Ninja said, “It centers you. It's the most important part of using the spells.") and surging upwards through his body in a way he's never felt while in the suit. Randy could feel the air thicken in his palms and he thrust out his hands just as the energy hit his palms and the top of his head.

“Ninja AIR-FIST!”

He could see the ninja magic hit the security robot and smash it into the wall. All the energy that had surged through him faded out, leaving Randy feeling like he just played Grave Puncher for two days straight.

He swayed for a moment, exhaustion hitting him like a brick, before he stumbled over to a gob-smacked Danny.

“Since when could you do that?” Danny asked as he scrambled to his feet.

Randy braced himself against the wall, “Uhhhhhhhhh……now I guess?”

Danny looked at the dented wall, then back at Randy. “Can you do it again?”

“Nngh….think I'll pass out if I did.”

“Alright, last resort then. And I still can't go ghost.”

Randy groaned. “Man we are shoobed.”

“We just need to find the others…..and our stuff.” Danny crouched down in front of Randy. “Alright hop on. You look like you're about to pass out now.”

“Pretty sure it'd just slow us down.” Randy said, even as he wrapped his arms around Danny's neck.

“Dude it's like I'm holding a couple of grapes. What are you, 80 pounds soaking wet?”

“Screw you too.” He dug his heel into Danny's thigh, “Giddee up. I think I hear the others breaking things up ahead.”

Jake and Adrien were indeed in the next hallway over, both transformed and absolutely wrecking anything they came across.

“Hey guys!” Chat grinned at them, impaling the last security bot with his staff. “We were looking for you!”

“Yo Ribbons! What happened to you?” Jake flew over to hand them their backpacks.

“Turns out Mister Ninja over here can use his ninja magic out of the mask.”

Jake blinked at them, “You can do that?”

“Apparently,” Randy said as he slid off Danny's back, “if I want to feel like I went ten rounds with a hoard of robo-apes.”

“Oof.” Jake shook his backpack at them as Randy pulled on his mask. “Well we found the main computer room, stole a bunch of hard drives that I'm going to give to Spud and Tucker, and Chat broke like, everything in there with a Cataclysm so no need to worry about cameras.”

“And we found out what they are called.” Adrien chimed in, “Beings Under Government Surveillance. They had a sign.”

“Bugs?”

“B.U.G.S.!”

“No wonder the GIW are such pests!” Danny and Adrien said together, high fiving. Randy snickered at the pun.

“Yeah, you're all comedians, can we go? The missing fairies are running loose and I've got to figure out if they need to move, or if they'd be fine with some more magic barriers around their town.”

“And I really gotta talk to the Nomicon. It's wack they didn't warn me about this.”

~~~~

Later in the Nomicon:

First Ninja stared at him in disbelief, “You did what.”

#in which i recently rewatched randy cunningham and now have a lot of thoughts #and decided to write 1.4K words of something i realized Randy could do #and finally had a reason to introduce the SQ's personal Big Bad Antagonists: Beings Under Government Surveillance #yes i did the anagram just so i could make that pun #feel free to ask me about them #anyways try and see how many heacanons i shoved into this little one-shot #queen will write #secret quartet #miraculous ladybug #danny phantom #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #randy cunnigham #adrien agreste #chat noir #danny fenton #american dragon jake long #jake long #beings under government surveillance

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bvidzsoo · 3 months

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Love Me Like A Rockstar (6)

Chapter 6: Spirit

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Warning: cussing really

Word count: 8, 273

Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! This is a chill and soft chapter compared to the mess the past few ones had been lol. I tried out something new with the passing of the week in the story, while illustrating it, I hope it's enjoyable and nice. I thought it was a nice little idea. I think we can say that they are finally headed in the right direction lol. Let me know your thoughts! I'll try to update next week, but with classes back again...I cannot promise anything, I was dreading this moment lol. Please listen before or while reading this chapter to Spirit, this chapter's song. I hope you enjoy, happy reading!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『But it's nice to hear a voice or two

Something's stirring, my conscience is split into two

And it might be a phase

But I swear this shit is clear-view』

The noise was too much—well, it wasn’t any different to how noisy the cafeteria usually was—but my head was thumping violently and my eyes were burning. I hated to admit it, but a cold was catching up on me and that brought bigger despair into my bones than it was necessary. I hated being sick, and it really wouldn’t come in handy right now as I had to study for the upcoming test Seulgi wouldn’t stop yapping about. She had been talking about it since we had stepped inside the cafeteria, and it was only adding onto my growing headache, making me sniff loudly as the hot steam of the—somewhat tasty—soup was blowing into my face, making my eyes sting. I had to consume something hot—and healthy—if I wished to recover faster. I couldn’t help but shudder as I wrapped the warm beige and black patterned jacket tighter around my frame. Considering the state I was in—I should’ve probably worn something warmer—but I had assumed it would be warm outside today—it wasn’t.

“I think the professor said something about checking whether we handed in all the assignment, and how that will count for our final grade too.” Seulgi was still going on about that dreaded test, and I groaned as the spoon slipped from my fingers and rattled loudly against the metal cup my soup was in. Seulgi’s eyes snapped up as she looked at me, her own spoon hanging midair in her hand as she looked at me concerned, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No.” I snapped, holding my head in my hands as I sighed loudly, “You keep talking about that bloody test and I already have a ragging headache—please, Seulgi, for the love of God, shut up!”

“Jesus,” Seulgi muttered at my outburst, very visibly trying to hold back her amused grinned, “when did you become such a drama queen—oh, wait. You’ve always been one!”

I rolled my eyes and flipped her off before grabbing my spoon and scooping up some soup, bringing it to my lips to blow it before eating it. Seulgi just giggled and continued eating her soup. My phone, which was placed on the table, suddenly buzzed, and my eyes traveled to it quickly, reaching out for it with my left hand.

“So, uhm, last night at the concert…” Seulgi trailed off and my eyes lifted to look at her for a second, watching as her cheeks suddenly flushed.

“What about it?” I asked as I unlocked my phone and very aggressively tried to ignore the sudden violent thumping of my heart. Fuck, why was my body acting up so much lately? My fingers were eager as I pressed on the notification from Mingi, opening up our chatroom.

I hate him: how u holding up Me: terribly…my head is on the verge of exploding and seulgi just keeps on going and going

There was a cough and I remembered the soup in my spoon, that I hadn’t eaten yet, and, so, I quickly did as my eyes traveled back to Seulgi. One eyebrow was cocked as she looked at me, but she didn’t say anything just swirled her spoon around in her soup.

“Well, Wooyoung was very nice, he’s—lovely.” Seulgi licked her lips as she averted her eyes when a small knowing smirk grew on my lips, “Yeah, very lovely, anyways, he dedicated a song to me and kept on looking at me while he was singing and—yeah, he stayed by my side all evening.”

Another buzz of my phone, and I had to fight every nerve in my body to not open the message immediately. Besides, I was having a conversation with Seulgi, she was more important right now.

“Sounds lovely, indeed.” I hummed before gulping down another spoonful of my soup. Seulgi’s eyes narrowed slightly, as she leaned forward in her seat.

“Since when did you start agreeing that a man was lovely—let alone Wooyoung?!” She made an expression as if what we were talking about was scandalous, and I scoffed, the phone buzzing in my hand again. My grip tightened around it and I quickly unlocked my phone before looking back at Seulgi.

“If I hate a man, that’s the problem, if I am supportive of the guy you’re hanging out with, that’s the problem. Make up your mind, Seulgi.” I deadpanned, and my best friend just scoffed, leaning back in her seat as she was finished with her soup. I raised my eyebrows at her and she pursed her lips. I couldn’t help it, but my eyes traveled down back to my phone as I quickly read the text from Mingi.

I hate him: seulgi seems like a cool person, wooyoung talks about her all the time is ur head okay? still got a headache?

I have no idea when texting each other become normal, because I still found it weird, and slightly irritating. After last night, I thought things would just…remain the same way. Just because Mingi and I shared some personal things did not mean that we now had to be—like this. Like we were friends or something, because we certainly weren’t. I still couldn’t stand his guts, and my thoughts on him did not change one bit. He was still a self-centered, arrogant, and an egotistical asshole, and yet this morning I woke up to a good morning text from him, eyebrows furrowing, and fingers quickly typing out a text which said that I was blocking him if he sent one more message. And he proceeded to send several more…to the point where I couldn’t ignore him anymore…and just…texted back. And it was weird, because my heart would not settle for one second each time I got a text from him, and I hated this feeling. What was happening to me? Why didn’t I just block him already?

“Y/N, are you listening to me?” I felt caught red-handed as I looked up at Seulgi, who’s eyes were narrowed once again, as she kept looking between me and my phone, suspicion growing on her face. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and despite wanting to ignore it, I quickly typed back to Mingi before placing down my phone and paying full attention to my best friend.

Me: yeah, it’s gotten worse

“I’m sorry, my mom texted me and it was urgent.” I lied through my teeth, hoping that Seulgi would buy it. My mother rarely texted me; she would usually call even for the smallest things, however, there were rare instances and Seulgi knew that, but the look on her face told me that she didn’t fully believe me.

“Okay,” She drew out the word and I went back to eating my, now, warm soup, “I was just saying that…I think I’m falling for Wooyoung.”

I paused as my eyes slowly raised, falling on Seulgi. Her voice had gotten quiet and she was fiddling with her fingers in her lap, cheeks slightly coated pink. I didn’t say anything as I continued looking at her, but she was still avoiding eye contact. In fact, she looked on the verge of passing out and that was very unnecessarily funny—but Seulgi didn’t seem to think the same.

“Stop that!” She snapped, leaning over the table, “I’m serious, I—stop looking at me like that!”

I pressed my lips tightly together to stop another snort from breaking through and looked back down at my half-eaten soup, not feeling like having more of it, but the soreness in my throat was slightly gone, and my body wasn’t shivering as much as before. I had to eat a little bit more.

“He’s too sweet and caring, I can’t help it.” Seulgi went on, voice still quiet in the loud cafeteria, “And he treats me well. Like…he pays a lot of attention to me and remembers everything I say. You should’ve seen him last night, up on the stage, I try not to think about it, but I think the song he sang was…a confession or something.”

“Why don’t you ask him out then?” I found myself asking as I finished my soup too, not having an appetite to eat anything else.

“Well—” Seulgi sighed and leaned back in her seat, “I’m scared I’m just reading too much into things, you know. I might be overthinking everything, and it turns out he sees me just as a friend.”

“I highly doubt that,” I said with a chuckle as I placed my left elbow on the table and my chin in my palm, “Would someone who isn’t into you dedicate a love song to you?”

“I wouldn’t.” Seulgi muttered, cheeks turning pink again. I grinned at her as my head continued throbbing, I tried to ignore it. Now that I had eaten, I could finally take my medicine. This morning when I woke up there was a note on the counter in the kitchen and three pills placed on top of it, instructions on the note from my mother as to when and how to take them. She knows me too well.

“Exactly, you wouldn’t, and neither would Wooyoung.” I told Seulgi and I watched as a small flustered smile made it on her face. It made me chuckle, I felt happy for her. Seulgi deserves someone who treats her right and loves her a lot, her previous relationships have been all close to terrible, her partners not understanding her fully. Seulgi was an artistic soul trapped in a fragile, but warrior body.

“You think I should ask him out?” Her voice was small, I knew she was scared of ruining something which brought her so much happiness. I didn’t want to see her suffering either, so I didn’t want to give her the wrong advice, but sometimes we had to take a leap of faith and see how things work out.

“I mean, at this point I’m convinced he’s into you, so…” As I trailed off, a sudden, and weird, thought popped into my head. I could always ask Mingi about Wooyoung’s feelings towards Seulgi, but that implied two things. One, I was giving away Seulgi’s feelings towards Wooyoung, and perhaps that wasn’t a smart move as Mingi would surely tell Wooyoung about it. Two, it implied that Mingi and I were now on a level of friendship where talking about our friends feelings was alright. And it certainly wasn’t, because—Mingi and I weren’t friends. I don’t like Mingi, and he—just enjoys making my life hell.

“I’ll think about it.” Seulgi said with a hum, and then her eyebrows suddenly furrowed, “But—enough about me and Wooyoung. Are you okay?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at her and shrugged, “Well, my head is on the verge of exploding, but other than that, I think I’m fine.”

“You didn’t sound fine yesterday, Y/N.” Seulgi had a knowing look in her eyes and I realized she figured it out that I had lied on the phone when I told her I had a family emergency, hence why I wouldn’t go to Outlaw with her. I just sighed, feeling smaller as I pulled my jacket tighter around myself.

“I was just—” How was I supposed to tell her that I pretty much had a breakdown and felt like dying because I found out that Yunho was Mingi’s best friend, and that I damn nearly lost my mind when I saw Yunho happy with another woman on Instagram? It sounded crazy even to me and I didn’t want to embarrass myself even more. I knew Seulgi would understand and never make fun of me, but I felt pathetic, and I refused to make a fool out of myself again, “Tired, and stressed. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure?” Seulgi asked softly, her hand reaching over the table and grabbing my arm, her warmth seeping through the fabric of my jacket. It was comforting, “You know you can tell me anything.”

And suddenly I felt like telling her that Mingi and I had been texting since last night, since—since he witnessed the aftermath of my breakdown, and drove me home because it was raining too hard. But it didn’t feel real, I knew it wouldn’t last. Whatever this was—whatever Mingi was trying to do, it wasn’t real. It wouldn’t become anything real. And so, I forced a smile on my lips and nodded at Seulgi, patting her hand with my right one.

“Of course, and I do tell you a lot of things, you know?” Seulgi just rolled her eyes and retracted her arm, making me chuckle. As she leaned back in her seat I heard some commotion happening behind me, but I didn’t turn around to check. Today was not the day where I fed my curiosity, all I wanted to do was go home, get underneath the thick blanket, and sleep for a whole week so that the sickness would be gone.

“I always feel like you know more about me than I know about you—and we’ve been friends for years now, Y/N.” Seulgi shook her head and I chuckled.

“That’s because you talk a lot more than I do.” I teased her with a chuckle and she rolled her eyes, until they suddenly widened and she was sitting up straighter in her seat, making me furrow my eyebrows. I noted the way she subtly tried to fix her hair as they were in two low ponytails, and before I could ask her about what she was doing, I heard two male voices behind me, one of them shrill, while the other one was raspy. I should’ve hated myself for how quickly my body reacted, my heart in my throat as my ears suddenly started ringing due to the rapid thumping of my heart.

“Hi, girls!” Wooyoung’s cheery voice was loud as he suddenly appeared to my left, going around the table. The chair to my right was drawn back and my body stiffened as a backpack was dropped at the foot of the table. Wooyoung pulled a chair out for himself and plopped down in it messily, leaning towards Seulgi, making her eyes slightly widen. Wooyoung pressed a loud kiss against her cheek, and I couldn’t help but stare back at her just as surprised as Seulgi was looking at me. And she’s afraid that Wooyoung doesn’t feel the same for her?! Before I could say something inappropriate and something Seulgi would kill me for, the deep chuckle to my right distracted me, reminding me of my own rapid heartbeat all of a sudden. I turned my head and came face to face with Mingi, who had a soft smile on his lips. My left hand turned into a fist as I didn’t know how to react—how to act. What was he doing here? Why was he here? And why was he looking at me like…he was actually happy to see me?

“Hi.” He greeted quietly as his smile widened and I gulped, trying to ignore the glasses sitting on his long nose. They were close to slipping off, but it didn’t seem to bother Mingi as he didn’t do anything about it, his dark and fluffy hair falling in his eyes, giving him a boyish look. He was wearing casual clothes, light blue jeans paired with a dark purple hoodie, and a few silver necklaces peeked through from underneath the fabric as it fell close to Mingi’s collarbones. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes, noticing that neither men carried trays with themselves. Were they not going to eat?

“Hi.” I greeted back quietly and pushed my shoulders back as I turned my head away, suddenly becoming extremely aware of the two pair of eyes watching Mingi and I with intrigue, but also surprise. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at Seulgi, but she didn’t react. Mingi seemed nonchalant as he noticed the two sitting across from us being weird, and suddenly, a yellow thermostat was pushed in my direction.

“I got you some wild berry tea,” He said as my eyes snapped back to him, growing wide, “since you’re not feeling too well. I hope it helps with the headache and sore throat. Imagine how much worse you’d be feeling if you didn’t listen to me…wanting to walk home in the rain—”

“Yeah, thank you, okay!” I didn’t mean to exclaim, nor blush as hard as I have, but Seulgi’s eyes were boring into the side of my head, and I was scared Mingi would say something which I would have to explain to her later—and I did not want to do that, like at all. Mingi’s smile was amused as he nodded once, resting his hands on the table as he watched me fumble with the yellow thermostat as I tried to put it away in my bag. God, this was mortifying—why would he embarrass me so badly?!

“Now it makes sense why you kept carrying that around with you,” Wooyoung chuckled, and his next words made everything worse, “You hate tea.”

Of course Mingi hated tea, why would he like it? Like any normal person does?! And the knowing smirk on Seulgi’s face was certainly not helping as I cleared my throat, and pushed my hair behind my shoulders before crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Who hates tea?” I found myself muttering with a scoff, trying to diffuse the weird tension, but I really should have just shut up.

“I do.” Mingi muttered back, jutting his lips out into a pout, and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him, hating the way my eyes lingered on his red, plush, lips.

“Whatever.” I found myself saying as Mingi chuckled, angling his body towards me. My eyes darted to Seulgi alarmed, but thankfully it seemed like Wooyoung and her weren’t interested in us anymore as they fell into conversation, their voices loud and eager as Wooyoung explained something to her and Seulgi nodded enthusiastically.

“Did you sleep well? I never got to ask you this morning…” Mingi spoke up again, and my eyes were back on him. I sighed and shook my head no, trying to ignore the weird feeling in my heart. Why was Mingi sitting with me when he could be entertaining his baboons—fangirls—right this second? Somehow that thought was a little more infuriating than it should have been, so I quickly pushed it away and answered Mingi instead.

“Not really, but it’s fine. I had a rough day yesterday.” I found myself explaining, and Mingi hummed, “And you…did you sleep well?”

My voice sounded hesitant, and I found myself feeling unsure suddenly, wondering where this conversation would lead to. What even was the meaning of it.

“Yeah, but it was short lived.” Mingi said with a chuckle, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“I got inspired,” Mingi’s cheeks suddenly flushed a light shade of red, and my eyes narrowed as he suddenly avoided eye contact, running a hand through his hair, “So I stayed up to write lyrics.”

“Oh, I see.” I pursed my lips and found myself wanting to say more, “I know the feeling. I get inspired at the worst of times. I’ve stayed up countless nights just to draw or paint. It’s really a pain in the ass when you have class in the morning.”

Mingi laughed and nodded, “I know, I can’t tell you how often I skip those classes.”

“I wish my professors were that lenient.” I chuckled as I rolled my eyes, making Mingi smile as he leaned slightly closer, making me stiffen as his glasses hung on for dear life on the bridge of his nose. I was itching to push them up his nose—and since when did I get such urges?! I’d rather die than touch Mingi.

“Mine aren’t lenient either, but—” He leaned even closer, and my jaw tightened as I fought every nerve in my body wanting to lean away, “If you’re smart about it, they’ll let you off.”

“Are you calling me dumb?” I narrowed my eyes at Mingi and he chuckled, finally leaning away, back in his seat. It felt like I could finally breathe, but my heart still felt like it would fall out of my ass any minute.

“There it is—I’ve missed her.” Mingi’s words were sarcastic, but the teasing smile on his lips told me he wasn’t necessarily bothered.

“What.” I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest again, “You admit that you act like an ass just to piss me off?”

“I don’t act like an ass, doll,” There it was, that stupid nickname he’d called me by once today already through text, “It’s you who gets bothered by me being simply myself.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you got a shit personality.” I found myself huffing, finding this exchange a lot more familiar, less unnerving compared to the weird amicable conversations we’ve been having since last night.

“Well, that I did not miss.” Mingi’s eyebrows were in a frown, and I suddenly felt—bad. Since when did I care if I hurt his feelings or not? I bit back a groan and sighed loudly instead, licking my lips.

“Whatever, I—thanks for driving me home last night.” I found myself blurting it out despite having thanked him once already, “I would feel a lot worse now if you had let me walk home in the rain…”

Suddenly the yellow thermostat placed on the table next to my hand felt like it was burning my skin, and my cheeks grew hot. No way in hell I was blushing because of a bloody thermostat right now.

“Yeah, I told you so, didn’t I?” Mingi wriggled his eyebrows playfully, and before I could stop and think, my right hand was balled into a fist and I was hitting Mingi’s bicep, scowling at him. It made him laugh loudly as he pushed my hand away, his palm warm against my fisted hand, and I realized my cheeks were even hotter now. Fuck, where can I bury myself right now?! And if seeing the satisfied smirk on Mingi’s face wasn’t bad, the sudden silence coming from Seulgi and Wooyoung certainly was worse as they gaped at both Mingi and I. I knew why, of course, but Mingi seemed not to catch on as he looked at Wooyoung with a confused frown, raising his eyebrows at him. They were very probably shocked by the sight in front of them—Mingi and I being cordial for once? Never heard before, never to be imagined up until this point. And when Seulgi opened her mouth to say something, I just knew nothing good would come out of it, and I quickly kicked my left foot out underneath the table, my boot coming in contact with her shin, making Seulgi yelp loudly as her eyes grew into saucers. Wooyoung looked at her confused and she grit her teeth, brushing off the concerned questions rolling off Wooyoung’s lips, Mingi looking between Seulgi and I confused. I forced a tight smile on my lips and gave Seulgi a warning with my eyes, thankfully successfully shutting her up as she started speaking about the test we’d have tomorrow, coercing both Mingi and Wooyoung into a conversation as I sneakily unclasped the yellow thermostat and took a small gulp of the tea made by Mingi. It was sweet.

『And I'm standing at the edge

I'm just trying to pretend that I want you so deeply

'Cause your spirit sings sweetly to me

Think I'd rather be alone』

Monday

Me: mingiii i passed my test!!! I hate him: omg really?! that’s great, congrats!! Me: told ya, i’m too smart bby lol I hate him: who’s the cocky one now? Me: u

Tuesday

I hate him: can’t remember the last time i ate mashed potatoes Me: lol that’s random? I hate him: lol ik…i’m over at woo’s and his mom made us some fancy dinner everything is mouth watering i think i reached heaven finally Me: aren’t u a bit dramatic rn? u acting like u hadn’t had food in a year I hate him: food t h i s good i certainly hadn’t have also, i’m not dramatic side eye Me: shouldn’t u be paying attention to whatever’s going on there? i mean…woo’s mom did prepare all the food for u don’t be ungrateful, put ur phone away I hate him: yah, why are u trying to get rid of me? i’m in the bathroom, btw so i’m not being ungrateful to anyone dumbass Me: firstly, ew. secondly, asshole I hate him: i’m only washing my hands chillax oh—woo’s calling for me ttyl Me: no, actually don’t text me ever again.

Wednesday

I hate him: have u seen the moon? it’s so pretty Me: mingi?? it’s literally 1am I hate him: i know, but have u? Me: yeah, i’m looking at it rn I hate him: isn’t it so pretty? Me: it is but what’s gotten into u? I hate him: nothing…i just can’t sleep Me: me neither I hate him: so what are u doing then… Me: was trying to draw but it’s not coming to me rn hasn’t happened in long so i was on tik tok scrolling what are u doing? I hate him: idk i’m just… idk i was jotting down some lyrics but it’s not coming to me either i’ve been just restless all day long Me: ik, u’ve said so during lunch did u get to eat that hot dog, btw? or did wooyoung steal it again I hate him: nah, i let him have it then made some for myself when i got home it’s too quiet, i hate it Me: play some music the one you showed me yesterday that one was good I hate him: u liked it? i thought u didn’t Me: i was just fucking with you i’ve been listening to it on repeat I hate him: oh, that’s cool it’s one of my faves i’m glad u like it too now Me: mingi i’m becoming sleepy now… I hate him: it’s okay go to sleep we’ll talk tomorrow Me: sweet dreams, mingi I hate him: u too, y/n … i miss Yuyu so badly

Thursday

Me: i think i’m stuck I hate him: u need help? Me: with my assignment, mingi… I hate him: yeah, still need some help? Me: what does a music major possibly know about impressionism?? I hate him: i thought that’s ur favorite style? how come u’re struggling?? Me: even the most talented prodigy’s struggle sometimes mingi I hate him: my apologies ur highness, for i have committed such a treacherous act by assuming u are not enlightened enough for this assignment may i propose a recreational method that might help such torturous process to come to an end faster? Me: pls stop talking like that I hate him: i’m actually typing but ok wanna know??? Me: yes, idiot just say it already I hate him: say it out loud Me: i can’t belive u just made a twilight reference i’m blocking u like rn I hate him: so anyways wanna hang out? Me: i thought u had something smart to help me out with… I hate him: t h i s is that smart thing Me: i gotta help mom with dinner in half an hour so i can’t I hate him: and tomorrow? Me: mingi… I hate him: okay, fine…at least i tried… again and again and again Me: told u to stop but u never listen I hate him: ofc i don’t wooyoung told me not to give up u’ll say yes eventually Me: wooyoung is literally the worst person u could accept advice from stop I hate him: he just read this and now he’s crying thanks Me: not my problem ur friends look at ur phone when we’re talking wait— what?! I hate him: lol u’re fucked did u not tell Seulgi? that we’re talking… Me: why would i? we’re not friends I hate him: ouch that one hurt but ok Me: tell wooyoung he’s dead if he says anything to seulgi i mean it, bro I hate him: ok, bro.

Friday:

Me: min are u mad at me? I hate him: why u asking Me: cuz u’ve been ignoring me today and u haven’t answered my texts and u’re still dry is this… because i said we ain’t friends yesterday? I hate him: took u long enough to figure it out dumbass Me: well u are the dumb one, idiot if u don’t talk to me how am i supposed to know?! I hate him: how would u feel if i said we ain’t friends? Me: idk but i certainly wouldn’t overreact because we really aren’t friends min I hate him: pff ok bye Me: are u serious rn?? mingi??? ???????? MINGI?! SONG MINGI?!?!?!? I hate him: stop blowing up my phone Me: mute me then I hate him: ok Me: wait don’t omg fuck okay mingi i’m sorry I hate him: wasn’t that hard to say it was it Me: are we actually friends then? i said that because idk I hate him: yeah we’re friends Me: ok but just for the record I still hate your guts u’re insufferable self-centered egoistical selfish annoying an asshole arrogant and you always piss me off idiot I hate him: weird way to confess but ok ig love u too bestie Me: song mingi.

Saturday

I hate him: y/n the world is spinning Me: lol are u drunk? I hate him: not drunk tipsy definitely fuck i can’t see the letters Me: for someone who claims they can’t see the letters u’re typing extraordinarily well I hate him: autocorrect exists thank fuck damn i need water Me: go drink some then idiot I hate him: ok will u pick me up? Me: lol no get ur ass home i don’t have a car I hate him: u could drive mine Me: did u drive there when u knew u were going to drink??! I hate him: nope lol this is funny i almost slipped off my seat lol woo is so loud and hwa thinks we can’t see but he’s had his hand on hong’s thigh all night long it’s disgusting—not like that! i love them— yn maybe i’m drunk hey, i should probably stop typing doll? Me: mingi u’re shitfaced and funny stop texting me ttyl when u’re hopefully sober take care and… text me when u get home

Sunday:

I hate him: god…i’m never drinking again Me: lol welcome back to the land of living I hate him: haha aren’t u just s o funny rn? Me: i’m always funny my sense of humor is immaculate I hate him: u wish i’m the funny one hongjoong drove me home last night sorry for not texting, but the second my head hit the pillow i fell asleep Me: it’s fine glad u made it back safe and that u’re alive ig I hate him: aww did you worry about me? missed me? omg u’re so cute!!!! Me: blocked I hate him: ik u can’t do it cute Me: fuck off

『Shut the lights

Lock my phone

Close the blinds

Here we go

I'm in motion

So long 'til the dawn』

Today’s theme in Professor Yoon’s class was a painting of your imagination following a style you really love. Impressionism has been a painting style I’ve been obsessed with since a young age, always begging my mother to take me to art galleries which displayed said style. There is something about the fusion of colors, the tracing of lines soft yet accentuated. Perhaps it was the bloom of colors which attracted me to it when I was younger, but as I started practicing it, I realized it was actually the freedom I loved about Impressionism. You could start out with something small, which would lead to something big and beautiful. It looked like it followed no system, yet everything came together once you looked at the whole picture, once you took in the beauty of it all. I had chosen the painting Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge by Claude Monet as inspiration for today’s class, the blues and greens dominating the painting, the lilies having a light purple yet pink hue, never outshining the greens and blues though. It was a color play, giving depth to the painting by using a darker shade, or just drawing over it with the same color until the shadows were created. The painting was a masterpiece, and I was the happiest when my mother gifted me the painting—of course it had been a fake one, but an eight-year-old didn’t care about such things. And I would still not care about it. Of course, owning an original like that is any painters dream, especially mine, but unless I had the money and connections to actually own a Claude Monet painting, I would have to suffice with the fakes that could trick non-art lovers into believing it was real.

The class had been a pleasant one, with classical music playing in the background and with Professor Yoon walking around and helping his students by giving advice or by taking their paintbrushes and sweeping over their canvas, patting their backs with a small smile as he encouraged everyone to keep on going. Mr. Yoon is probably one of my favorite professor’s, always dedicated and soft. Never too rough or demanding. He had always helped out those who needed it and it was very clear he loved what he was doing. Each class he’d bring something new, an idea or a project, and he’d let us explore our creativity and evolve in areas we didn’t think were our forte. If only more professors like him existed, perhaps my years at university would’ve been a little bit more pleasant. But the class came to an end earlier than I wished for, bringing me back to reality as Mr. Yoon clapped his hands twice, a bright smile on his face. He had long light blonde hair swept behind his ears and soft features, he almost looked angelic in the right lightning.

“Very well, class. Today’s lesson is over.” There was a rumble of thunder in the distance as I sighed loudly, “You can bring your paintings to the backroom to dry and we’ll see each other on Friday. We’ll be continuing with today’s project, so have no worries if you couldn’t finish it today.”

There was a murmur of thanks in the classroom and my serene bubble was popped when something to my left crashed loudly against the floor. Seulgi had knocked over the little metal can full of her paintbrushes, and she cursed silently as she bent down to pick them up. A few of the girls around us helped her as I got off my stool, handing her a stray paintbrush as it had rolled over.

“Are you in a rush?” I asked confused as she snatched the brush from my hands and hastily thanked whoever helped her.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, eyes wide, as she took a peek at her wristwatch, “Fuck. I have a date with Wooyoung in an hour and I need to get ready!”

My eyebrows raised. A date with Wooyoung? She never told me they were going out now. Strange. I could’ve sworn she would’ve called me screaming her head off if Wooyoung had asked her to be his girlfriend.

“When did you ask him out?” I managed to ask as I started packing away my own stuff. The chatter in the class was slowly dying down as people were leaving. There was another rumble of thunder in the distance.

“I didn’t ask him out.” Seulgi huffed, pushing her wavy hair out of her eyes. My eyebrows furrowed as I paused to look at her. She glanced at me and rolled her eyes.

“We’re hanging out, it’s not a date date.” Seulgi explained quickly, putting her bag around her left shoulder, “But I think I will ask him out today. I’ve had enough of beating around the bush. If he likes me, good, if he doesn’t—we’ll see what happens.”

“He likes you, trust me.” I gave her a reassuring smile and Seulgi’s expression softened for a second before she became panicked again. I chuckled and grabbed her arm, steering her towards the exit, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your painting too. Get going if you don’t want to be late.”

“Oh my God,” Seulgi exclaimed, pouting, “I love you!”

I cringed away when she pressed a sloppy kiss against my cheek, making her chuckle before she waved and basically bolted out of the classroom. Mr. Yoon chuckled at her antics and I got to work, grabbing both canvas to bring to the backroom before I would leave. This was our last class for today and I couldn’t wait to get home. With the thunder loud in the distance, I would love making it home before it starts raining. I didn’t want a repeat of the night when I got soaked in the rain. It’s been a week and some days since, and I was back to being healthy. Besides, Mingi certainly wouldn’t be here this time too to drive me home. We haven’t spoken yet today and I haven’t seen him in two days. It wasn’t unusual, but lately him and Wooyoung have been hanging out with Seulgi and I during our lunchbreaks. Mingi had said he was busy producing two new songs for his final exam, so I understood he was busy, but it still felt a little weird. I didn’t know where exactly to put this whole ordeal, but if he thought we were friends now, then…I guess I could give in and entertain that thought as well. It didn’t help that we’d been constantly messaging each other, and I tried to ignore the giddy feeling it left in the pit of my stomach with everything I had in myself. I didn’t want to accept the implications of what this could mean. It felt weird. There was no reason for me to overthink something so simple as Mingi and I talking and getting to know each other. If he viewed me as his friend, then I perhaps could put a little more effort into getting to know him and opening myself up as well. My mom—and Seulgi—would certainly be happy to know that I was making friends. Not that I would tell either one about Mingi—because—because. Because it wasn’t anything serious, and even if we were friends, I didn’t expect this friendship to last. Mingi was still a guy, an egoistical and self-centered guy, who could ditch you at any random moment. And he was also Yunho’s friend. That was also saying something about him—but I pushed away the menacing whisper in my head which reminded me that Mingi could be just like Yunho, that he would hurt me just like his best friend did. It was like a never-ending vicious cycle and it felt like it wouldn’t come to a stop. As if the ghost of Yunho would never truly leave me alone. Somehow he was still part of my life unwillingly, and I was letting it happen. It had been going on for too long.

I greeted Mr. Yoon with a bright smile as I got my bag and slung it over my shoulder, bowing my head slightly once I was in the doorway. He returned my smile and waved cutely; his eyes bright but tired. He was always a hard worker and sometimes when I had classes until late in the evening I would meet him at the bus stop, waiting for a man to pick him up. Mr. Yoon was a simple yet elegant man. I have always admired him and respected him, most grateful to him when he had encouraged me after I told him about wanting to start an art club at the university for the art students, but also for those who were simply interested in drawing and painting. Him and Mr. Lee, another professor I completely adored, were quick to proceed in helping me out by finding a classroom suitable enough for our shenanigans. I will forever remain grateful to them.

It was late in the afternoon and the tall stone walls of the building weren’t too helpful in providing light in the corridors as I walked down the art wing, taking a left turn before reaching a smaller circular, but wide, staircase. I quickly ascended the stairs, and was met with a wide hallway where you could head straight, left, and right. In order to reach my exit, I had to turn onto the right narrow corridor littered with doors on both sides. It was the music majors’ wing, their studios lined up on both sides of me with dark wooden doors, each having a small rotund glass where you could peek inside. These rooms were soundproof in order to not disturb anyone, and I let my hands rest in my pockets as I slowly walked down the hallway, feeling my phone with my left hand and picking it up. I took it out of my pocket and unlocked it, checking for any new messages, but there were none. Mingi still didn’t show any sings of life today and I sighed as I locked it and put away, chewing on my bottom lip. I knew he wasn’t mad at me and that I haven’t done anything lately which could’ve upset him, but the sudden weird feeling settling in my stomach felt unnerving. I felt almost restless. Head littered with questions. Was Mingi fine? What was he up to? Why was he not texting me today? I had sent him a meme I found earlier, but he hadn’t even seen it, let alone answered with a silly meme of his own. It was a never-ending whirlwind of questions in my head, distracting me from pressing matters at hand. Like what my essay about the history of arts would be about, because the deadline was right around the corner and I slacked off—once again.

I sighed as I was past the middle of the corridor by now, but the sudden faint music coming from my left catching my attention. I raised my head up and looked towards the dark wooden doors, noticing that the light was on in a studio a little behind me. I pursed my lips and as curiosity overtook my senses, I slowly shuffled backwards, towards the studio, and carefully peeked inside. I tried to remain ominous as one of my eyes looked through the glass, however, soon my whole face was almost pressed up against the small window as I was presented with Mingi’s familiar form. He was hunched forward as he stood, hands pressing against a long table, hands gripping the edge as his mouth moved fast, eyebrows furrowed, and a vein on his neck close to popping. There was a microphone in front of him as he leaned close to it, his lips almost touching it as a headphone was placed over his right ear, leaving the left free. Mingi seemed to be dressed in casual clothing, wearing beige pants, which were a tad bit too big for his form, and a black t-shirt which hung loosely around his form. A longer and shorter necklace adorned his neck, and I gulped as he raised his left hand and starting mimicking something, seemingly hitting the beat as I could feel the muffled vibrations against the door. The sound was very faint, but I could still hear his raspy voice as he rapped, licking his lips once he seemed to be done. I gulped as he was bobbing his head up and down, an attractive smirk appearing on his lips as he started slowly bouncing his body, stepping away from the desk slightly, gripping his left pantleg and then suddenly—our eyes met each other and I gasped loudly as I ducked and swiftly turned around, hurrying off the way I was initially headed towards. The stairs were in my line of sight when I suddenly heard a door opening and then— “Hey, stranger! Freeze!”

My body froze without my own accord and I cursed loudly, face flushing as I heard Mingi’s deep chuckle behind me. I knew I didn’t have much choice now that I had been caught, and so, I quickly composed myself and turned with an unphased expression on my face. Mingi had a smirk on his face as he was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Yeah, stranger, haven’t seen you in days.” I found myself quirking an eyebrow, and Mingi chuckled.

“I’ve been cooped up in my studio, working on this track for my finals.” He explained, reminding me that I already knew this, and now I felt awkward, “Don’t tell me you’ve missed me, doll.”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” I couldn’t help it but feel furious as Mingi watched me with a smug expression, pressing a finger against his plump lips in mock consideration.

“Hmm,” He blinked innocently, “No, doll.”

I rolled my eyes and went to turn around, but Mingi’s question stopped me, “What are you up to right now?”

“Classes are over,” I answered as I gripped the strap of my bag, “so I’m headed home.”

“By feet?” Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed, and my eyes narrowed as I slightly shuffled awkwardly. We haven’t been alone like this despite talking through text, I felt a little awkward, almost as if I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was weird. It was just Mingi. Why would he make me feel like this? I still hated him.

“Of course, idiot.” I rolled my eyes as my answer was a lot snappier than intended, but Mingi just chuckled and looked past me.

“Do you have an umbrella?”

“No, why?” I asked confused and followed his line of sight as I turned around, eyes falling on the big window. It was pouring outside. Again. And I didn’t have an umbrella with me. I groaned quietly and squeezed my eyes shut for a second as I cursed every deity out there for making it rain right now out of all times. I couldn’t catch a cold again; my immune system had barely built itself back up.

“I’ll drive you home.” I heard Mingi say behind me, and when I turned around to face him, he was closer than before, the door to his studio still open. My heartbeat suddenly picked up as I watched his tall frame come closer.

“No need to do that, I’ll just wait for a bus.” I cleared my throat when his strong cologne evaded my senses, “Thanks, though.”

“Don’t be silly.” Mingi scoffed, and slightly leaned down to be eye level with me. The height difference between the two of us wasn’t that great, I’m a tall girl myself, “You’ll catch a cold again, and I don’t have enough tea bags at home to supply you for another week, again.”

“I never asked you to bring me tea.” I found myself all defensive as I looked away, feeling the heat on my cheeks. I refused to acknowledge the fact that I was blushing, but Mingi chuckled, and when I looked back at him he looked amused.

“Yet you never refused me—not even once.” His voice dropped as he teasingly leaned closer and I scoffed, slapping his chest, and pushing him back. He stumbled for a split second, but he quickly regained his balance and gave me a displeased glare.

“Whatever, I’m going—” The warm hand holding me back by my forearm took me off guard as I looked down at Mingi’s ring clad fingers wrapped around my clothed arm.

“I mean it, Y/N.” Mingi’s voice was soft and deep as I looked back up into his brown eyes, “I’m almost finished and then we can go. I promise you won’t have to wait too long.”

I took a deep breath and softly pulled my arm out of his frail hold, biting my lower lip in thought. As if on cue, there was a loud rumble of thunder which shook the building and I jumped, making Mingi raise his eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Fine, I’ll stay. You can drive me home once you’re finished.” I muttered defeated and watched as a bright smile crossed Mingi’s lips, his eyes turning crescent and almost disappearing, his front teeth protruding as he suddenly leaned forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, hurriedly yanking me after himself, forcing me to keep up with his long strides as he lead us towards his studio.

The feeling of his arm wrapped around my shoulders should’ve made me feel disgusted and I should have slapped it off, but I couldn’t help but soak in his warmth and the musky cologne, which was even stronger now that I was pressed into his side, the loud thumping of my heart the only sound in my ears that I could hear.

『Yeah, there's thunder in my head

And it rumbles through the dust on my shelf

Yeah, there's thunder in my head

Unfamiliar like I'm somebody else』

❱❱ Next chapter

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whatyadrawin · 5 months

Text

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 3-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 2,682 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Strong language, use of derogatory terms, sexually suggestive language.

A/n: Two drawings took me so long, I feel very pathetic and unproductive but I am so happy to get the ball rolling. I can't wait to illustrate and submit chapter 4 because oooooh lord Tommy boy gon look good in it. I am also so excited to get writing the next few chapters, I have the fire in me and I don't want it to go out until I get a bunch of writing done lol. Please check the masterlist linked above for updates on progress.

Tag list: @fan-goddess

Chapter 3

The day begins with the sounds of birds happily chirping in the tree shading your backyard; a gentle breeze is washing over the land, cooling the heat away from the ground. You feel good today and decide it’s time for a cute yet practical outfit, so you grab some jean shorts, and a bright yellow tank top with a reliable pair of boots, you were ready to get things done. After eating some oatmeal purchased from Luda Mae’s store, you get your things ready to go drive to the next town and do some serious food shopping.

The car is packed with some water and a snack or two, but before you hit the road you take a trip down to see Dover the farmhand to try and appease him one more time. The morning seems to be the best time to catch him, and you can see him watching TV through a window so you knock on the door gently and hear a groan, he answers the door and when he sees you, he rolls his eyes and says rudely,

“Whadya want?”

You put on a sincere smile and reply “Good morning, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

“Ya interrupted my peace, now what the hell d’ya want?” his tone is aggressive, but you continue,

“I just thought I might interest you in some new stuff for your home? I know you like how things are but I wanted to see if I could make it more comfortable, like a new T.V, or a new bed or whatever else.”

He throws his head back and sighs “Ya just don’ get it do ya? I don’ want yer fancy shit from the city, I don’ need nothin’ other’an this here orchard n’some peace! Why don’t ya just go play dress up with the Hewitts again, see if their retard son will play tea party with ya”

He slams the door on you. You feel sick with anger and knock again, this time more loudly.

Dover opens the door and screams “The fuck is yer problem?”

You try to keep your cool as you reply through gritted teeth “Why are you so mean to me? What did I ever do to you other than be kind and offer you help or nice things! You don’t even know my name!”

Dover’s eyebrows furl into and angry frown “This here land belongs t’me, stupid little girl. I worked fer years under that bitch Tilly, and the fact that she left everythin’ to some no-good kid who don’ deserve it, makes my skin crawl. If I had my way, this place’d be mine”

You look visibly confused “What is that supposed to mean?”

He then pauses and gets all flustered “Nothin’, nothin’ at all. You just let me do everythin’ here, soon ya gon’ realize ya don’t belong here and leave, if ya know what’s good fer ya. Now never come back to this house ever again or I’ll give ya somethin’ to cry ‘bout”

He slams the door again and you are shaking with rage, your eyes begin to well up with tears as you walk away back to your car. You set out on the drive to the next town and it feels like it lasts forever, the road is straight and flat, and the surroundings are just large swathes of yellow grass and wheat rushing past you as you speed up to shorten the distance. The sky is cloudless and the sun is blaring down on you causing your eyelids to weigh down, you decide to put on a playlist that only has bangers to energize you. Eventually you see the welcome sign for the next town and feel a sigh of relief.

The town is small but you are able to spot a large Costco in the distance -Oh hell yeah, I can really stock up now-. You find a parking spot close to the door and as you walk in you get blasted by the air conditioning which feels so nice after that long, hot drive. You take your time through the aisles grabbing as many bulk items as you can, finding preserved goods that won’t immediately go bad, and some produce that would be able to last a little longer than others. Once your cart is fully maxed out with goods you head to the cashier who looks at you funny due to the number of things you are buying. They greet you,

“Hi Ma’am, all this for you?”

You smile, feeling a bit embarrassed “Yeah, I don’t live nearby any stores, just stocking up.”

They smile back “Oh yeah? Where ya comin’ from?”

You reply “Fuller”

The cashier squints her eyes in curiosity “Fuller? Where’s that at?”

You are a little surprised by their response, but with how desolate the town is their response makes sense, you say,

“It’s a... um, well…a dead town near the Oklahoma border”

They tilt their head as they scan your Costco card “Must be real dead if I ain’t never heard of it.”

“Yeah, it is” you give a little chuckle and they continue,

“Well, alright then, I’ll get yer stuff boxed here and you can be back on yer way to the dead town.”

You finish paying and thank the cashier, then you start wheeling your cart back to the car when a very old man approaches you.

“You came from Fuller?” he says

You reply “Yeah, do you know it?”

He pauses, then says “I know it. That town used to have a lot people go missing after the businesses left. Why’re you out there?”

“I inherited an orchard” you say quietly

He places his hand on his chin “Oh? So, there’s still somethin’ left huh. Be careful ma’am, that town ain’t safe from what I know. The people ain’t right, if there’s any people left.”

You feel extremely confused “Ok, uh, thanks?”

You open the trunk and fill it with the bags wondering what he could possibly mean by people going missing, and the citizens being not right.

The drive back felt a lot faster; you were running what that old man had said through your head, -he must be talking about Dover, or maybe some urban legend-. You have experienced gossip and falsehoods about your own town back home before, so it didn’t seem so absurd to have a random stranger tell you something odd. You arrive back at the house by 1pm, happy to have been so productive today, you begin to unload the car and get everything into the house.

All the groceries get put away and you decide to start baking a batch of chocolate chip muffins for the Hewitts since they have been nothing but nice to you, and it’s the first time in a long while where you feel comfortable around other people; you are hopeful of making new long-term friends with the Hewitts. You bake 24 muffins since you assume that Tommy likely eats a lot and maybe hasn’t had a baked pastry in a while. When the muffins are done baking you take them out of the oven and put them in the little basket you brought the fruit over in, you cover the muffins with a cheesecloth and make your way over.

You walk up the driveway and look to the barn but don’t see Tommy there, just a group of chickens clucking around. You knock on the door which gets answered by Charlie who says,

“Well, well, well, what we got here? Bringin’ us somethin’ good sweetheart?”

You blush and reply “Yeah, I baked some muffins for all of you”

“Well, ain’t you sweet. Come in girlie, Luda’s gonna wanna say hi” he waves you in

You didn’t like how he stared at you but he seemed mostly harmless, he calls out into the house

“Luda! The neighbor girl is here!”

Luda Mae comes out from the kitchen drying her hands with a towel “Oh hi dear! What a welcome surprise to see you. What brings you by?”

You smile, Luda Mae is such a welcoming and kind person, you say “I baked some muffins for everyone, as a thank you for inviting me over the other day, and kindness you have all shown me”

“That is so thoughtful of you! I hope you know you’re welcome to come by anytime dear, you don’t need to bring gifts every visit, your company is enough” she says sincerely.

You feel very accepted among this strange small-town family you say “It was no big deal really, I went to the next town over to get groceries and picked up some ingredients to make sweet things to share”

Luda Mae tilts her head and smiles indicating how impressed she is by your kindness and generosity, she follows with “Well Tommy will just love these, I guess you must’ve known that he doesn’t get to eat baked goods often”

She calls out for him to come upstairs and you immediately get butterflies in your stomach, they make you feel nauseous and excited. You hear heavy, thudding footsteps and the house gently rattles as Tommy makes his way up to the living room from what you assume is the basement. He stops in his tracks the second he looks up and sees you; his eyes were shrouded in shadow from his hair and thick brows but despite the darkness, the brilliant blue looking back at you was vivid and bright; his long hair was roughly tousled and draped down to the nape of his neck in curly dark brown tendrils.

You finally got to see him even closer and you lose your breath with just how incredibly huge this giant of a man is compared to your own height, his chest is so wide it would enshroud your entire body if you hid behind it, his thick pectorals heaving with every breath under his worn-down short sleeve blouse. His legs were massive and covered by a pair of very worn and dirty jeans, they were hanging onto by a worn belt that had a large belt buckle, oxidized by time. You immediately felt a tinge of ancient animal fear from the obvious difference in power his body displayed, he could kill you in seconds if he wanted to but beneath his brutish exterior you could sense there was someone worth taking a chance on.

You wished to be able to see the rest of his face but it was hidden behind a dark leathery mask which was tactfully sewn together, there was only a small slit near his mouth for air to pass through, you wondered what he was hiding if he was already this impressive.

Luda Mae sighs and says,

“Thomas, don’t be shy, Y/N brought us some sweets, say thank you”

He holds his stare on you, he had never seen someone as breathtaking as yourself and your clothes did nothing to hide your robust, curvaceous figure, you didn’t look like someone who could easily break if he were to touch you but your height was barely a third of his own. He couldn’t help but find you simultaneously gorgeous and cute which was a perplexing and new feeling he welcomed. He suddenly snaps out of his trance when Luda Mae clears her throat, he then nods slowly as he shifts his eye contact from you and turns to leave quickly back down the stairs.

Luda Mae shakes her head “Excuse him, he takes a bit to warm up to people he likes”

“What about the people he doesn’t like?” You shocked yourself with your comment, it seemed to have just come out against your will.

Luda Mae looks at the floor and clenches the towel “Oh… haha well, don’t worry yourself about that hun. He likes you; one can tell that plain from the way he’s behavin’ ”

You let out a giggle and try to hide from the heat building up in your cheeks, Luda Mae notices this and smiles, Charlie sees this too and rudely barks in,

“Good thing y’got a crush on him because the people who don’t like him? Well, Girlie, you don’t wanna be them.”

Luda Mae drops her smile and snaps “YOU HUSH UP RIGHT THIS SECOND! THOMAS AIN’T DONE NOTHING WRONG!”

Charlie just laughs and wanders off, Luda Mae looks at you and says,

“I’m so sorry ‘bout him dear, he’s got such bad manners, does whatever he wants.” She places her hands on her hips and squints in the direction Charlie wandered off.

You reply “It’s alright. You know, Thomas seems to not want to be around me every time I come here. I hope I am not seeming like an intrusion to him.”

Luda Mae gets a worried look and says “Oh sweetheart, as his mama I can tell you with full certainty that he likes when you come over. He asked about you the other day, wondering who you are”

You try to suppress the smile forming on your lips, “I didn’t know he spoke. I would love to get to know him better” for some reason you kept saying bold statements despite your mind protesting the revealing honesty.

Luda Mae smiles at you “He speaks to the people he feels comfortable with, so far that’s only been me and sometimes Charlie. I think you may have to make an effort with Thomas dear, he is going to be like taming a wild animal, so you have your work cut out for you”

You continue a bit of small talk about the town you visited and then take your leave back down the drive way to home. The walk back makes you think of so many scenarios in which you would be able to speak with Tommy, he seemed like he would have a lot to say. The prospect of making Tommy trust you and having such a unique friend was overstimulating and got you so excited that you didn’t notice Dover come out of the bushes next to you, making you jump from being startled. He gives you a dirty look and says,

“Seems like yer makin’ friends with them Hewitt folk. What a stupid girl ya are. You know their sons a violent sort dontcha?”

You have had enough of Dover and his cruelty, you reply,

“I thought you wanted to be left alone? Besides, Thomas is really shy, he doesn’t seem violent”

Dover laughs “Ya really are dumber’n ya look! That retard would string ya up and eat ya alive if you don’t get the hell outta here”

You stop walking and face Dover “Why are you telling me this? It seems like you don’t care if I live or die so what would it matter to you if he DID eat me alive?”

He stops and looks at you “I DON’T CARE IF YA GET BURNED ALIVE!”

You stare at him, saying nothing, and he awkwardly looks around, expecting you to get mad, he follows

“Ya like that fool dontcha? Yer fixin’ to have him split yer birthin’ bits in two huh?”

You sneer at the crass statement “What is wrong with you? If you don’t need anything from me then please just go find the peace you claim to want, and let me live my life”

You continue walking away and he yells back after you “Those fuckers ate people ya know! Next theyr’ gon’ eat YOU! Have fun fuckin’ a cannibal man, ya dummy!”

You keep walking and make your way to the front door of your home, the words said to you by Dover were heinous but they did make you think, -He might be right, Luda Mae and her family say some really weird things a lot and seem to change the subject when things get too suspicious. At this point, I don’t care anymore… this is my only chance to have a normal life and have friends, maybe even family. I’m going to continue Tilly’s legacy, if not for her… then for all the people who seem to actually care about me-

Next chapter-

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh

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aealzx · 1 year

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A little midnight dive

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“MIKEY!.... MIKEY GET BACK HERE NOW!”

Raph’s yelling sounded almost frantic, not quite ready for the clutter of mechs that too closely resembled the Krang’s own machines. The creatures had left scraps in the Hidden City eons ago, and someone had found them and adapted them to modern war machines.

And Mikey’s form had done a backflip off the side of the building they were on, hurtling towards the enemy as though they were common origami Foot soldiers.

Raph felt like throwing up his lungs, already clutching an unresponsive Leo to his chest.

“{.... It’s okay Raph,}” Leon’s voice broke through the panicked haze in Raph’s mind, the ghostly hands of his own older counterpart resting on his shoulders as deadly orange chains slipped into the air under Mikey’s feet, giving him a path to slide to the ground on instead of free falling through the air. “{That’s not quite your Mikey,}” Leon clarified, an eager grin splitting his face as he watched in anticipation. “{That’s OUR Mikey.}”

“{Figures he’d be the first to figure out dual operation,}” Don muttered from nearby, his own hands carefully holding his younger counterpart together, Donnie’s hand in a determined vice grip around Leo’s wrist..

It had been a long time since Michael had gotten to really fight without being hindered by a fragile body. He wasn’t quite used to Mikey’s incredibly younger, and less mystic experienced form. But at least it was easier to just push a little less mystic, and a little more razz. The small form crashed into the mechs with both feet while coiling chains sliced through two others. Impact buffered by Michael’s own manipulation of physics knocking the machine back, and he used it as a springboard to launch to the next. His coiling chains lifted the skewered machines above him into a cacophony of applause crushing together overhead as ballet toes twisted his form midair to catch his palms on the next victim.

Fingers lacing into the rim of the machine’s shoulder, Mikey’s form never halted and instead fell back to whip the machine into a rolling throw behind him. More chains spiraled around another metal body, crushing it in their grasp while additional chains caught Mikey’s feet. With barely a pause Mikey’s legs launched him into a graceful arc over the head of a charging scrap heap. His toes caressing the atmosphere, Mikey’s form rolled upright to almost land behind his final enemy. Yet his feet remained allies of the air, and raised fingers delicately coaxed more chains into creation from behind him. Hurtling in curves around him, they pierced the mech before him in a violent similitude of swiss cheese.

It was only when the final explosion rent the offending heaps to scraps that Mikey’s feet returned to the earth, touching down as soft as snowfall as Michael’s spirit form peeled away with a mutual sigh from both of them. As Michael’s form rose, Mikey’s collapsed to sit on the ground as he heaved air into his lungs. It had been an effort to fight on top of keeping the direct link connection with his spirit buddy. But as his lungs became less greedy of the air he was giving them the exhaled breaths gradually became bouts of laughter. To the point Mikey was laughing so hard he couldn’t stand even though his limbs had stopped feeling numb. “WOOOOOOO! THAT WAS AWESOME!!!!” Mikey whooped, raising his hands into the air in triumph before flopping onto his back.

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

Sometimes I get images that slap me in the face to be drawn, usually because of music and other people’s art. X’D

So this actual polished illustration was inspired by this piece by happyfoxx-art, the mikey one of these two, and the song Hikari by Vanguard Sound.

This is going to get search banned because of the links I bet, but oh well.

shoutout to dragoonwys yet again for helping me make stuff work with this XDD still learning how to actually finish things nicely.

#my art #polished art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #mikey #older mikey #tethered timeline #rottmnt tethered timeline #TT Michael #short fic #long post #writing

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thatumbrellaoni · 10 months

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I didn't see this anywhere, so I decided to translate the tarot section of Yu-Gi-Oh! Bunkobon Volume 21, which provides commentary on Bakura Ryou as "The Fool" card. I was very excited to start this due to my longstanding disappointment with Ryou's general absence and lack of role during the Memory World arc, and I was interested in how he related to the tarot he represented.

Well, as I read and kept on reading, it became apparent that this was quite different from what I hoped for. "This isn't the content I was expecting to glean off of it," were my words when I was livetweeting my progress, and I'll elaborate later because this... went... somewhere, I guess?

Some caveats before we start:

This, and all the other tarot write-ups in the other Bunkobons, was not written by Takahashi-sensei but by a person credited as CoZo (see top left corner of the last image below)

Due to the amount of Japanese culture it absolutely immersed me in, I had this peer reviewed by a Japanese native (thank you, ash!) for errors and to make sure the translation was as accurate as possible without much loss to nuances

Related to point two, I also conducted my own research (I dug deep, starting from a JP YGO message board all the way to a 2009 blog post about these same tarot pages by screaming machine gun-san, a prominent YGO doujinshi artist at the time who created the Bakura/Atem books "STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN"), and links are available for clarification (mostly Wikipedia for ease of access, click on underlined/clickable words)

CoZo refers to the characters as such: Ryou as "Bakura Ryou" and Yami Bakura as "Dark Bakura"/"Bakura" (which was troubling and what confused me by the end of all this but more on that afterwards)

Quite the long post ahead! Please enjoy and share your thoughts! I'd love to hear them!

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 63 0　◆　The Fool　◆ The Fool's Journey―Joker―

Making an appearance this time is Yugi’s old friend who turned out to be his greatest enemy, Bakura Ryou. Looking back to when he debuted in the fourth paperback volume, his name quickly foreshadowed that he would be the final enemy.

After repeated mistakes, he should have lost face many times over, yet his steps remain light without a shred of worry on his face. So, who exactly is he?

The name "Joker" is a name familiar to all―they pretentiously sat among dignitaries in medieval Europe, greatly raised the gambling nature of card games, were viewed in contempt by the church at the time because of it, but remained the beloved star of the masses in countryside plays. They appear in folklore around the world, sowing discord unprompted and then disappearing once there is nothing else for them to do.

Neither good nor evil. Seemingly dense but actually cunning. Causes great strife yet garners no hate. Catching Shakespeare's eye catapulted them to stardom―the jesters who served King Lear and King Oberon added conflict and vitality to their respective narratives by speaking to their kings in sarcastic tones and intruding in affairs within the royal palace. They even made it to the operas and the big screen, like J. Nicholson in recent years, playing the archnemesis in Batman, and F. Mercury, who also sang and danced…

A truly unparalleled existence in the literary history of mankind.

"You think they're the enemy, but when you look at them, they're among your allies, smiling innocently." Is that not exactly what Bakura Ryou is?

Despite entering the story fairly early, his first appearance in this project was near the end… But that is what the illustration is all about―an irreverent man with all the worldly wisdom of a fool.

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 64 0　◆　The Fool　◆ Moral Neutrality―Tabula Rasa―

The card Dark Bakura and Yugi used in the Ultimate Dark Game… had a blank face. Thinking of a person or an object existing in memory will make them show up on it. But because only those that exist in memory may be imprinted on the card, Yugi cannot make something appear if it does not exist in memory.

Valuing the rules, Yugi is rendered at a loss. But Bakura, who does not care, summons and fuses non-standard monsters, steals Yugi's abilities, and counterattacks… all as he pleases. Bakura's resourcefulness and cunning stand out, and his mastery of mimicry proves itself as well, but this is where his weakness is exposed―even when nothing is off the table, Yugi is a cut above the rest in his ability to create original concepts that follow the rules and negate exploitative measures.

Tabula rasa… A blank slate. Where comic artists gladly bring their work to life. A pristine state where the greatest joy lies.

Nothingness… Ruin… A world stolen… I have seen heartrending paintings done by war orphans on the news and at exhibitions. Even the hearts of children suffering the ravages of war can be healed through art. Sadness unable to be put into words can only be expressed in pictures. While trying several strategies, therapists came up with "play therapy". Utilizing toys and games, it has been one of the few methods effective for young children with limited vocabulary and without ways to open their hearts though it has yet to be systemized.

Besides drawing, there are other means like creating miniature gardens, methods that use dolls and clay, and swordplay and playing catch for boys. The recent issue of Clinical Research in Psychology reports Saint Seiya as an example of a story wherein "an abandoned child becomes a hero", which was once represented by Susanoo. Perhaps it is for that reason that the series is popular even in South America. Even in Arab countries devastated by ongoing terorrism, one can see children's eyes light up at Captain Tsubasa.

The use of Yu-Gi-Oh! in psychotherapy is not in any way extraneous. On a cold, windy day a few years ago, over one hundred thousand children holding Yu-Gi-Oh! cards in their hands filled the streets of Makuhari, Chiba―and that sight, that excitement, is unforgettable.

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 65 0　◆　The Fool　◆ An Untainted Soul Adrift―Trickster―

Society has long known the true identity of "The Fool". Passed down through myths and folklore, psychologists called them "Tricksters". Puck, Kokopelli, Goku, Ivan the Fool, Hans… In Japan, Susanoo, Hikoichi, Amanojaku, and so forth would fall under this category. When the Trickster's wicked side surfaces, they are called… Villains. Thieves. Imps. Violators of order… Those hold true for Bakura as well.

Yugi is a boy with numerous "shadows", and Bakura can be considered as one of them. Men with a darkness to them are said to be charming, but I think the charm lies in those who have the capacity to keep that darkness under control and not let it show.

Yes. Yugi had several shadows. An evil existence… which was Marik. A pharaoh, a dark presence sealed within the tomb of memory living in hiding for years. And then Bakura, the childishness Yugi is now breaking away from. Whenever Yugi sees Bakura, immature and unfailingly blithe, it frustrates him because it feels like looking at his old self. Yet despite this bewilderment, he is unable to let Bakura go.

This time, Bakura's juvenile nature brought forth unfathomable terror. The insatiable monstrosity that is boundless, childlike enthusiasm was about to wreak unimaginable destruction upon the world. Bakura's occasional euphoric glee after a rampage is characteristic of how a child expresses gratification. To him, world war and total annihilation could be "playfulness".

Delighting in foul play and mimicry, Bakura does not actually know how to "play". Back then, children had an omiso―they could be a child from out of town, the youngest of the group, the slowest among them, and the like―in their games who was given more lenient and special rules, so they could mingle with the others and all play together properly. When the omiso unexpectedly played more actively, they were then allowed more freedom in games. But children nowadays do not know of the olden days, are less likely to play in groups outside, and only play games with peers that are on the same level as them. For example, even if the wind sprite Matasaburou or a zashiki-warashi spirit came to play, they would not have any way to do so… A wise mother could then only prepare an abundance of snacks and say, "This is for you, spirit. Thank you for playing with us."

In this day and age, we have lost the sense to accept unique individuals like Sendai Shirou, who may be slow-witted but pleasant. Getting along with them hinges on "fun". Can Yugi and his friends play well with Bakura?

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 66 0　◆　The Fool　◆ Bakura Ryou

"The Fool" is wise in the ways of the world and an excellent imitator. Sometimes it is even very powerful. When the great boom of the Middle Ages ended, it was the only one able to slip into playing cards and stay relevant after the tarot was in decline. It can substitute for a missing card in a row in "Sevens", surprise the player with a loss in "Old Maid", and turn the tables at the last second as a wild card in "Poker". It is an outrageous cheat. And quite the pest. But despite all that, it is a reassuring ally when a dealt hand is lacking. After all, it can become any card. Evidently, "The Fool" is ineffective on its own but suddenly becomes extremely powerful when borrowing the strength of others. There are people like that all over the world, so understand their nature and get along with them well. However, it could turn out to be an unfavorable yet inescapable relationship.

The Tarot Speaks―――

Upright

- New beginnings

- Blank slate

- Frivolous

- Reckless

- Innocent

- Immature

- Wasteful

- Deciding too early

- A love full of potential

- A love not yet awakened

- Elopement

- Be curious and go out into the world

- Journey

- Studying abroad

- Visionary

- Obsessed with something

- Over-the-top geek

- Job-hopping part-timer

- Careless with their health

Reversed

- Misjudgment caused by information overload

- Keep calm and decide

- Foolish choices

- Not being vague

- Failing because they messed around too much

- Moody

- Futile actions

- Interruption of studies

- Dropout

- Drifter

- Going the wrong way

- Runaway

- Reckless love

- Foolish love

- Show business

- Unemployed

- Head in the clouds

The young man's journey begins on a blank page. The magical items are long gone.

He has no destination in mind either.

Nevertheless, the young man heads for the wilderness alone.

No, he brought only one thing with him.

A writing tool. With it, he draws his own world on the blank page.

What could he be drawing…?

We will have to wait and see.

Works cited:

Clinical Research in Psychology, Volume 14, Issue 3. The Japanese Society for Clinical Psychology, 1996.

Concept by CoZo

END.

This was an accomplishment and a half. But I'm far from feeling accomplished, just frustrated. In the end, barely anything written on there was directly about Ryou because I feel like CoZo lumped Bakura and Ryou together as one, which really bothered me. If it wasn't about Bakura, though, it was about Yugi (or Atem, not sure which one CoZo was referring to at any given time, really, since they were seemingly lumped in as one as well). Even Marik got a mention ("evil", quite the disservice of a mention too)! Nearly lost motivation finishing the translation, to be honest.

Overall, this seemed... off to me, especially the "Tabula Rasa" and "Trickster" pages. I can see where CoZo was coming from? Maybe? "Play therapy" (Ryou's talent for creating figurines/dioramas) for Ryou after experiencing a family tragedy... He's the omiso... His language is through (his love for) games... But I can't see Bakura as simply not knowing how to "play" or that world war and annihilation are mere "playfulness" to him (with the Kul Elna massacre plot point and all that). Yugi sees his old self in Bakura...? You lost me.

I'm not sure who CoZo is. I searched them up, found someone similar in name, but ultimately didn't learn who they were or what their background was or why they were featured in the Bunkobans (and I just didn't care enough). CoZo might be a tarot expert for all we know, but they didn't know much about the actual character they were talking about to effectively relate "The Fool" to them. And it shows! Like I said, they just talked about Bakura like he was Ryou, like they're the same character (which made me think of the DSOD theory that there isn't a "Bakura", just a Ryou corrupted by the Millennium Ring's evil, but that's neither here nor there).

I mentioned that I came across a 2009 blog post by screaming machine gun-san while researching (it was through them that I realized why this write-up was so confusing to me), and they said it best:

"Hey, commentators... Can you please separate Bakura Ryou, Thief King Bakura, and self-proclaimed 'Zorc' Dark Bakura? You can separate your burnables but not this chaos!? No matter how chaotic these three are, this is not chaos!"

Look, I get it. The Bakuras are the most confusing part of YGO. But come on... You confuse the Bakuras, then you end up confusing the hell out of me!

We have three! They're distinct (see alt text lmao)!

Anyway, in closing, I was planning on translating the rest of the tarot pages for each Bunkobon, but if they're all going to be like... uh, this, I'm not enthusiastic about it.

Special thanks to Aariachang24. His translations of "The Magician" (Atem + BM + BMG) and "The High Priestess" (Ishizu) tarot cards inspired me.

#bakura ryou #yami bakura #thief king bakura #ryou bakura #yugioh #ygo #bakura #dark bakura #jp to eng #umbrella #I feel like I wasted my time #there was no ryou after all #back to rereading ygo in jp #hope yall enjoy whatever this turned out to be #I sure as hell dont know if I did or not #Im like 50/50

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faefaye · 1 year

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Sometimes I get so emotional about the original Klein.

He was just a normal person with simple dreams of having a better life and a bigger house with his siblings. His education was through Sunday school until his father's death provided the money for enrolling somewhere else. The year he entered university, his mother died. Despite or because of all that, he worked hard trying to achieve what he wanted.

While he got average results in university, that's because he got in on a scholarship and was of a lower social and economic class compared to most of his peers, having to study a lot more to catch up. During which he ended up knowing at least half a dozen different languages. After graduating, he immediately started to prepare for his interview and was just two days away from going for it... then came 28th June.

Somewhere out there is a world in which the Antigonus notebook incident didn't happen, where he passed that interview and lived an ordinary and happy life as a university lecturer (although maybe not all that ordinary if he went after Fourth Epoch history following his interest :p).

Don't get me wrong, I adore LOTM Klein, but I can't help but wonder about the person he was and could be without the infusion of Zhou Mingrui.

(hiding canon quotes illustrating this under the read more, do feel free to add other information on og Klein):

Chapter 1: (1) [His father's] bereavement allowance gave Klein the opportunity to study in a private language school and laid the foundation for his admission into university...

(2) [His mother] passed away the year Klein passed the entrance examinations to Khoy University...

Chapter 2: However, back when he burned the midnight oil four years ago to be admitted into Khoy University[...]

Chapter 3: (1) In light of the present situation, Zhou Mingrui believed that if Klein were to return to university, it was unlikely he could graduate. This was despite him having left campus just days ago without relaxing one bit.

(2) It was not that Klein did not think of helping share his elder brother’s burden but being born a commoner and having been admitted into an average language school, he felt a strong sense of inadequacy when he enrolled into university. For example, as the origin of all languages in the Northern Continent, the ancient language of Feysac was something all the children of nobles and of the wealthy class would learn from a young age. In contrast, he only made first contact with it in university.

He faced many similar aspects during his schooling career. Klein nearly gave his all and often stayed up late into the night and woke up early before barely managing to catch up to the others, eventually allowing him to graduate with average results.

Chapter 4: In his memory fragments, he had once fantasized about renting a bungalow in the suburbs. There would be five or six rooms, two bathrooms, a huge balcony upstairs, two rooms, a dining room, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and an underground storage room on the first floor.

Chapter 9: Having set his sights on solving the mystery and restoring history, Klein didn’t have much interest in the first three eras, whose roots were closer to legends. He was more interested in the Fourth Epoch, also known as the Age of the Gods.

Chapter 18: "Of course, when I received primary education during Sunday school[...]"

Chapter 24: With Klein requiring a scholarship to finance his university studies, he, Welch, and the others had joined Khoy University’s rowing club and were pretty good at it.

Chapter 98: As for the original Klein, he had focused on his studies early on and had suffered from malnutrition. That led him to possess a below-average physical condition.

Chapter 260: The original Klein was a fanatic towards the history of the Fourth Epoch. He often read journal articles and books, so even now, Klein still remembered a lot of content.

Chapter 323: (1) He tried the words in ancient Feysac, Intis, Loen, and other languages again, but the result was the same.

As for Jotun, Elvish, Dragonese, and other languages from the mysticism domain, Klein could only try them out of hope since they was overly restrictive and unlikely to be the language used.

(2) Klein switched to the languages of Loen, Highlander, and Feysac, but still failed to achieve the desired results.

(Klein studied Jotun after transmigrating, but even excluding all the mysticism languages, considering he knew Hermes in Chapter 1, there's five)

(edited 17/05/23 to add the quote from Ch 98)

#lord of the mysteries #lotm #lord of mysteries #klein moretti

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foreverindreamlandd · 2 years

Text

Awake My Soul • 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 3.6k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since zombies first began their invasion, and despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve managed to survive up until this point. Now it’s time to face your most dangerous challenge yet….the grumpy, untrusting, fiercely protective Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of torture, quick lil switch in POV ;)

*Приятельница - friend/mate

Series Masterlist / Series Playlist

Bucky waited until everyone had left the room except for him and Sam, who stood by the large table by the west wall. He stared at the map before him, studying the illustrations that marked your surroundings.

It was as if he knew Bucky still wasn’t done speaking, but he remained quiet for a moment even after the room had emptied out.

Bucky had intended on resuming his yelling as soon as the conversation with the larger group had ended. To scream about how this was a bad idea. To urge him to reconsider letting you stay. To tell him that you couldn’t be trusted.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, your eyes flashed into his mind. The pain, the anguish, the desperation.

The way the color of them popped through a thin veil of tears.

They were so…striking.

He hated how much he hated to see you cry.

“I don’t trust her either,” Sam said, mindlessly running his fingers along the map. Bucky’s eyes shot over to him and Sam finally looked up to meet them. “I mean, I think she’s a good person and what she told us about her past was true. There’s just something she’s not telling us, and we need to figure that out.”

All Bucky could do was nod once in response.

Sam continued. “What was she like before she got to camp? Hostile? Reckless?”

“Yes to reckless,” Bucky said without thinking, remembering the way you ran to help him even though it put your life at risk. Before he could stop himself, the corners of his lips turned upwards and he breathed out a small laugh. “Annoying as hell, too. Got a mouth on her.”

He was met with silence, and when he looked up he noticed that Sam was giving him a look, eyebrows knit together, head cocked to the side.

Bucky scowled.

“She seems to have quite an effect on you,” was all his leader, his friend said.

“I just don’t understand why everyone is so okay with having someone join our camp after what happened. We knew Ward; thought we could trust him. Look where that got us.”

“Not everyone is going to be Ward, Bucky,” Sam replied, his tone softening. “There are going to be people who are genuine and truthful and need our help. If we turn those people away….then we go against everything we stand for. Helping people. Shielding them.”

Bucky walked over to the large window and stared out into the grounds. You were standing by the garden with Pepper, Clint, Laura, Peter and the kids. AJ immediately ran to your good side and wrapped his arms around your legs.

He only had a view of your profile, but managed to catch the way your lips curved up into a smile as you rested a hand on the crown of his head.

Bucky felt something then that he wasn’t sure he had ever experienced in his life. An ache in his chest, different from the pain he felt when he lost his parents, his sister, his arm, Steve. This wasn’t the ache of his heart breaking.

It was yearning.

Suddenly, you turned your head up to the window Bucky stood at, and locked eyes with him in this magnetic, hypnotizing way for what felt like the hundredth time since the two of you met.

As if there was something that drew you to one another.

He hated to think about how connected he felt to you, how easy it was to be consumed by your entire existence.

How - though there was a raging force inside of him that did not trust you - an even larger part wanted nothing more than to keep you safe.

But he knew that there was no use in attempting to protect those he loved (not that he loved you….obviously). He always ended up losing them eventually, no matter how hard he tried.

BUCKY! GO! GET OUTTA HERE!

NO! NOT WITHOUT YOU!

He clenched his fist, biting the inside of his cheek until the taste of iron distracted him from the tears welling in his eyes.

“You good, man?” Sam asked, drawing Bucky back into the room.

“‘M fine. Gotta go.” He lowered his gaze to the floor and stormed out of the room, pushing that unfamiliar ache into the darkest, coldest depths of his heart.

ONE MONTH LATER

You ran down the hallway, eyes scanning for an empty room. A safe place to hide.

Heart racing, breath almost loud enough to blow your cover, you felt instant relief as you turned the corner and darted into the library, slowing your pace to lessen the sound of your footsteps.

The pain in your mostly-healed shoulder was turning from a dull ache into an unignorable throb, the entire appendage pulsing from the strain you had put it through.

At least you were safe.

For now.

Passing each of the shelves to double check that there was empty, you made your way to the very back corner behind the rusted filing cabinets.

You kept your back pressed against the wall, crouching down so that you were completely hidden.

Then, you listened. Put all of your energy into that sense to see if they were coming.

Nothing.

It gave you a few minutes to even out your breathing and plan your escape. You knew you couldn’t stay in here for long-

The faint sound of footsteps approaching caused your breathing to stop altogether.

Shit.

More footsteps. Heading toward the library.

Shitshitshitshit.

Okay, you thought, closing your eyes to mentally prepare for your next plan. If I can just move opposite of them I can get out of the room and get out of here.

You took two silent steps toward the closest bookshelf-

“GOTCHA!” The figures jumped out in front of you.

You screamed.

Morgan, AJ, and Cass pointed at you as they cackled.

“You should see the look on your FACE,” Morgan taunted.

You glared at the 7 year old. “I’m never playing hide and seek with you monsters again.”

Cass shook his head, still laughing. “You said that last time. Yet here you are.”

Like the mature adult you were, you stuck your tongue out at him. He stuck his out right back.

“What the hell is going on in here?” The thick, Russian accent came from just outside the room and you all turned your heads to find Yelena leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of her and eyebrows raised.

You smiled, elbowing AJ in the side and he let out a small heyy! “Just keeping things interesting around here.”

Yelena smirked. “That high-pitched scream was definitely interesting. And impressive. I didn’t realize that type of screech could come from a person.”

Your eyes narrowed in a playful glare and she wiggled her eyebrows, standing straight and pointing to your right shoulder which you were now massaging. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

You lowered your left arm, a guilty expression on your face and she groaned.

“It’s just a little sore,” you said.

“I’ve spent weeks trying to get it back in shape. And here you are ruining all of my work.” She shook her head in disappointment, muttering some words in Russian.

“It’s fine, Lena, I promise,” you said. “See?” You moved your entire arm around in a circular motion without issue. That was, until you made it three-quarters of the way around and something cracked and you took a sharp intake of breath, eyes watering.

The kids winced as they watched your reaction and Yelena looked up to the ceiling.

“Come on,” she grumbled, walking over and grabbing your good hand to drag you out. “Let’s see if some stretches and massages will help before we start training.”

You looked back and yelled, “See ya later, guys!” and were met with a small chorus of farewells before a new onslaught of giggles.

“Seriously,” Yelena said, turning her head to look at you. “What’s the pain level? Think you can try punching shit?”

You nodded. “It’s around a six, but I’ve had to fight through worse pain. I’ll be fine. Just don’t tell Bruce.”

“Obviously,” she said with a mischievous grin and a wink, opening the main door of the building. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the sunlight, but basked in the feeling of its warmth as it kissed your skin.

For the two years you were Hydra’s prisoner, you hardly ever got to see the sun. Any windows that existed in that building were tiny, and the testing rooms didn’t have any. It was one of the worst ways captivity messed with your mind. There was no way to tell what time it was, how much had passed. Whether you were being cut open for hours or days.

And there was never any light, never any warmth. It was dark, cold. The only heat you felt was the burning pain as they ripped into your body.

Being here, outside, where the heat of the sun seeped into you….

It was a gift.

“Come on, приятельница*,” Yelena chastised, pulling your hand. “We have a lot of ground to cover and if you make me late for dinner I’m going to be pissed.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling while walking a bit faster to prevent being dragged to the gym in the center building.

Said smile dropped as soon as you walked into the large basement and your eyes landed on Bucky’s bare, toned back, the multitude of corded muscles shifting and bulging as he wound up for another powerful right hook at the punching bag.

Bucky hardly wore anything that revealed parts of his skin, but on the rare occasion his sleeve was pushed up, you noticed a few tattoos moving up along his arm: a machete similar to the one he used as his favored weapon, words to what seemed to be a quote you couldn’t totally make out.

Nothing you had seen compared to the art he had on his back.

Roses. You counted ten of them, starting in between his shoulder blades and cascading down to just above the band of his shorts.

They were stunning, captivating as you saw beads of sweat travel down each one.

There was only one thing that could pull your attention from the beautiful tapestry painted on his skin.

His left shoulder. The scars that suddenly brought tears to your eyes, the black veins that shouldn’t be there-

Bucky heard a sharp intake of breath from behind and whipped his body around, right arm clenched into a fist ready to land this next punch to the potential attacker.

He froze when he first saw Yelena, then scowled when his eyes landed on you, fist lowering to his side, still clenched.

“Woahhh,” Yelena said, hands raising up in defense. “Easy there tough guy. We’re just here to train. That okay?”

You tried to give him a small, closed lip smile in an attempt to steer away from the obvious discomfort of the current situation.

Bucky swallowed, then leaned down to grab his shirt, quickly throwing it on and storming past you.

“Hey, you don’t have to leave!” Yelena said, annoyed.

“Was done anyway,” he mumbled, practically running up the stairs.

Yelena scoffed, looking at you. “Unbelievable.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the ache in your chest from yet another rejection from Bucky. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” she said. “It’s fucking annoying and childish!” She listed her complaints on her fingers as she continued, “He leaves whenever you walk into a room, he moves to the opposite end of the cafeteria from where you’re sitting, and gets all pissy when I try to bring your name up during watch.”

Trying to ignore the ache as it grew, you moved to the mats and began stretching. “Listen, everyone just needs to accept the fact that Bucky Barnes hates me. I broke his already fragile trust, and after that? I honestly don’t really blame him. Let’s just move on, okay?”

She shook her head, muttering something in Russian as she walked over to you. “I think he’s in love with you,” she said casually.

You blinked.

You blinked again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“And you’re in love with him.” Yelena continued, leaning forward and effortlessly moving into a handstand.

You scoffed, sputtering words mindlessly. “I do not…no….how could you think-”

“Oh shush,” she said, lifting up one arm while still remaining completely still. “There’s too much tension between you two. I’ve got to admit, it’s kind of hot. The way you can barely look at each other, but when you do, there’s all this fiery passion. You may think it’s hate, but it’s so much more than that, приятельница.”

“You’re delusional,” you muttered, trying to force the butterflies out of your stomach. You turned your attention to doing pushups, more than ready to start training so that you could focus on exhausting your body as well as your mind.

Bucky Barnes…in love with me??

Me….in love with Bucky????

“Delusional,” you muttered again, the burn in your left shoulder bringing an almost comforting distraction.

Yelena moved back on her feet, and you missed the moment she let out a small smirk.

“We’ll see about that,” she said in Russian.

“You look like shit,” Kate remarked, looking you up and down as you dragged yourself over to grab a plate.

You groaned, glaring at her with as much strength as you could muster. “Yelena beat the shit out of me today.”

She laughed, scooping up a serving of squash. “We’ve all been there. That’s why she trains us. She’s the best of the best.”

“Can’t she be, like, less of the best every once in a while? I can’t imagine any zombies being able to do that thing where her legs wrap around your neck and flings your helpless body to the ground.”

Kate nodded. “Yeah, that one’s rough. It was hilarious seeing her and Nat spar, though, because both would keep trying to pull that move on one another.”

You breathed out a small, sad laugh. Nat was Yelena’s sister, a fierce fighter with an even fiercer heart. She was one of the Shield members lost during the attack at the old camp.

Nat, Carol (Sarah’s partner), Nick, Coulson, Maria, Tony (Pepper’s husband and Morgan’s dad), and Steve, the gang’s former leader.

So many loved ones lost in one night. You knew the devastation that brought, the pain that would never fully go away, worse than anything physical you could ever endure.

The Shield family was resilient, though. You could see the sorrow behind their eyes, the tears the kids shed when they thought about those they missed. But you also saw their genuine laughter, the desire to share stories of the good times, the drive to continue on even during the toughest moment.

You longed for a day that you might be able to reminisce about your parents. About Sersi and Druig. About Ajak.

…..about Thea.

Not yet, though. Even the images of them that appeared in the back of your mind shattered your heart into pieces.

Still, you had not laughed as much as you had this past month than you had in over two years. It took a while to get comfortable, to get to know the group and for trust to begin to grow.

Yelena and Kate were the first to befriend you, insisting that you sit with them at the cafeteria table, trying to get as much information from you as they could.

When they realized that you weren’t ready to divulge your whole life story again after basically being put on trial your first day at camp, they decided to fill you in on the camp dynamic.

“Kate and I have been madly in love for years,” Yelena said as she bit into a carrot. “Took me forever to get her to go on a date with me, though.”

“That’s because your idea for a date was beating the shit out of each other in the gym,” Kate replied, reaching over to take Yelena’s hand.

She shared a suggestive look with the brunette before looking to you. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get my hands on you.”

That was the first time you let out a deep belly laugh. The first time you forgot about the shit that existed outside of the brick walls surrounding you.

The first time in a long time you felt a sense of belonging.

The weeks that followed consisted of you getting acclimated with camp. Spending time in the garden with Pepper and Laura, being endlessly entertained by the kids, cooking in the kitchen with Dum Dum, target practice using daggers with Clint, providing intel on Hydra’s location to Sam.

Everyone was eager to help you feel welcome, feel useful, feel needed.

Except for Bucky, though. As Yelena painfully reminded you earlier today, he had zero interest in forming a relationship with you.

Minus the batshit crazy comment she made as well.

He’s in love with you.

“Evenin’, ladies!” Dum Dum said cheerfully as you approached his station. His brows furrowed with concern as he looked at you. “You alright, darlin’?”

You grimaced. “Training day with Yelena.”

He barked out a laugh, scooping up the stew and filling Kate’s bowl. During your first week there, you had asked Kate why Dum Dum served people their food instead of people getting it themselves, wondering if people got greedy and took more than their share.

Apparently it was the opposite. Some took tiny portions - if any at all - to let the others have more, especially the kids. Having someone regulate servings per person made it so that everyone got the amount they needed, evenly split amongst the group. Besides, you quickly learned that Dum Dum loved the chance to check in with everyone during each meal. “Sounds ‘bout right. Did she do the legs around your neck thing?”

You nodded, still grimacing and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“That woman. Heart of gold but she still scares the shit outta me a bit.” He filled your bowl and winked. “Eat up, the fuel will help with recovery.”

“Thanks Dum Dum,” you said as you followed Kate to your usual spot. Your eyes immediately found Bucky in the opposite corner with Sarah, Pepper, Morgan and the boys, the usual scowl on his face. When he looked up and met your gaze, you quickly looked down at your tray, unable to find the strength to watch his scowl deepen at the sight of you.

“Where is Lena, anyways?” Kate asked, sitting down and immediately inhaling her stew.

“Not sure,” you replied. “She said something about needing to speak to Sam? But that was a while ago.”

Suddenly, as if summoned, you spotted the blond walking into the room and beelining toward Bucky.

She mumbled something to him, and his eyes widened, fists clenched, glaring at her as if she had offended him in the worst way.

They were too far for you to be able to hear their quiet argument, but based on the way Sarah and Pepper were looking at each other, you knew the conversation was a mix between intense and slightly amusing.

What you did end up hearing was the clattering of dishes as Bucky stood abruptly, grabbing his tray and storming out of the room. Yelena raised her brows and then moved to grab her food.

“What the hell was that all about?” you asked when she finally sat at the table.

Yelena gave Kate a quick kiss then turned to you. “There’s been a change in duties. Usually I do third shift of night watch at the wall, but Sam and I had a chat about how it makes more sense for me to do the first one after dinner. That way I can be up first thing in the morning to start training sessions instead of passing out after being awake all night.”

You nodded, though still confused. “Why is Bucky all up in arms about that? Now he gets a few extra hours to his grumpy self. I feel like he would be thrilled.”

She smirked, eyes flashing to Kate for a second before returning to you.

“He won’t be alone. You’re replacing me, приятельница.”

You froze mid-bite, expression shifting to one of complete horror.

“What?”

“Listen, Y/n, the two of you need to get your shit figured out. You’re part of the family, whether Bucky likes it or not, and now that your shoulder is almost healed, you’re going to start going on supply runs with him and everyone else. I’m not going to send you out with someone who might think twice before saving your life. If you die because of him I’ll kill him, and then I’ll have lost two people I care about. Not going to happen.”

“There has to be a better way than this, though!” you begged. The idea of spending four hours uninterrupted with Bucky took any feeling of hunger from your stomach, replacing it with nausea.

There was a worse feeling than that, though. One you didn’t dare allow to become a full thought.

Because why on earth would you be at all excited to spend four hours uninterrupted with someone who hated you?

“You’ll be fine! It’s not like he talks much these days, anyway. You just need to wear him down and force him to like you. Though I’m sure it won’t be as hard as you think,” she said cheekily.

Your forehead landed on your arms against the table as you groaned.

Four hours with Bucky Barnes.

Every single night, for who knows how long.

This was going to be an absolute shitshow.

Chapter 5

*Приятельница - friend/mate

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky angst #awake my soul #ams #zombie au #zombie apocolypse au

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kizukiapologist · 3 months

Text

The Appeal of Broken Things

Summary: Kyogai finds his solitary existence disrupted by a mysterious visitor who leaves behind heartfelt gifts and whispered words that echo through his ancient halls. Now he must decide between gaining back his rank or mulling the possibility of opening up to someone for the first time in centuries.

A/N: I thought it'd be fucking cute if Kyogai exchanged letters with a human, with his emotions spiraling into chaos as he starts developing feelings. Hence, this piece was born! Inspired by a human!Kyogai character sheet!!

WARNINGS: 18+ ❦ Eventual smut ❦ sick!reader ❦ artistic couple dynamic ❦ Dark romance ❦ Canon typical violence ❦ minor original characters because reader needs friends ❦ Part 1/3 ❦ AO3

III

The scent of human flesh fills his lungs. Someone has trespassed on his property yet again. Kyogai takes a deep breath. Well, at least this time it's not a total waste: it's a marechi. The blood scent becomes stronger as the drum demon moves through the hall. Sweet bordering on cloying, far too strong. Such a quality ought to be equivalent to devouring more than a hundred, no, even two hundred humans' worth.

When he steps into the room, he catches a glimpse of the marechi running away from his house through the sliding door she left ajar. Kyogai is about to jump after her when he notices the bunch of papers on the floor.

His sharp, demonic eyes scrutinize them: it is one of his stories. Shocked, Kyogai realizes there's a small note alongside it, written with paper from his desk and old ink. He picks it up, holding it carefully between black, pointy nails.

“Your story lightened my night like the fireflies at the river, glowing on my way home. Thank you."

That is enough to freeze him in place. When was the last time someone said something nearly kind about his writing? Perhaps more than two lifetimes. He stands there, staring at the note in astonishment for an instant before setting his sight on the forest, where he can still see her silhouette running in the distance.

Only half a heartbeat. That's all he needs to engulf her. However, for some reason beyond his comprehension, Kyogai lets her go. He looks at the little note again and rereads it. What- what did she mean by that?

It isn't until two weeks later that the same scent hits his nose. It comes again from the old writing room. Kyogai arrives in a drumbeat. The human hasn't entered his house, but he can see her silhouette through the thin paper of the sliding door as she opens it, casting a string of sunlight across the dark room. Kyogai holds his breath. Unsure of what to do, he remains as still as he can, bent in the darkest corner.

Falteringly, she sneaks a box wrapped in a handkerchief and places it on the floor. It has a red rose attached to it by a knot on the top. Her hand trembles slightly as she quickly pulls away. She moves afar, slower this time, staggering over the grass for what he can hear. Was she wounded? Kyogai cocks his head, senses attuned. Nothing smelled like spilled blood. Marechi blood—a fortune's worth.

His gaze descends upon the box, curiosity piqued, yet, he can only stare at it. Could this be a trap from Demon Slayers? It's a more likely possibility than a stranger simply being kind to someone they've never met.

Your story lightened my night like the fireflies at the river.

With a knot in his stomach, he motions forward. His sharp nails undo the top knot. Before opening the box, Kyogai contemplates the red rose between his fingers as if it’s something that shouldn’t exist there, and a sense inside him warns that such a delicate thing should never be meant for someone like him.

The bento box contains a few rice balls, wrapped in thick, green leaves and a few papers with beautiful illustrations of– Kyogai’s breath runs short: It’s his tale. These are illustrations from a story he wrote back in his human days. There’s a note attached to them.

“Your story inspired me to draw again! I hadn’t read something so touching in a while. I loved every bit of it. If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, could I read more of your work?

If your answer is yes, please put the story inside this box and leave it in front of the lateral door that I so rudely invaded that rainy day, and today. A friend of mine is a lumberjack by profession and works in the area. He will pass on our messages, since due to a certain physical condition it is difficult for me to go myself so often.

I say goodbye for now, grateful and waiting for your thoughtful response.”

The letter ends with a signature of her name, and Kyogai's breath runs so short he nearly chokes. A tickle takes over his chest. This is beyond absurd, he knows it and still- still his blood swirls in his stomach like it hasn’t done in centuries.

III

The drum demon has read the letter so many times that he unintentionally learned it by heart. His whole body flutters when a male human walks around the area, looking for a box that's never been there, not even once, and yet, he doesn't stop coming around. She must insist, Kyogai supposes. She must press for the man to keep returning, yearning as much as he does. But fear spreads through his veins faster than fondness, and he worries she'll hate the next thing she reads.

Kyogai notices miserably how much this short interaction means to him, to the extent that he's doing everything within his power to keep it from crumbling. Pathetic. Just as Muzan thinks of him. Just as his editor thought of him. Just as he is: disappointing, and unworthy.

His nails dig into his palms as he stands in his writing room, drawing blood. With a final glance at the dying rose over the desk, Kyogai calls himself back to reality. He ought to stop wasting time on this. He needs to be stronger. Wasn't his wish to once again belong to the demonic moon corps? Hurry, hurry, hurry. He needs to devour this Marechi the next time she comes around. This dream of writing is trash.

Your story inspired me to draw again!

Trash?

I hadn’t read something so touching in a while.

No.

The editor was mistaken, it wasn’t trash; at least not to her. The following morning, he watches from a safe spot in the dark halls of his house as the lumberjack takes the box with two stories for her.

III

"I liked your illustrations. The colors are accurate," you read.

The box rests on the futon beside you, open, with wild flowers peeking out on top of a bunch of handwritten papers.

“Wow, truly a writer worthy of admiration,” your friend Ren retorts, scoffing.

You gape, furrowing your brows, offended. “Shut up, he must be nervous.”

Ren gives you a teasing glance. “Right. Because you know him from reading his tales.”

"Of course! That's how I knew you were a rough, big-headed twink. The wood you bring has splintered edges. It's called deducing," you tell him, grinning. “Besides, you assured me that you would pass by without disturbing him, didn't you, Ren?”

“I did.”

You pull out the flowers before taking a deep breath of them, enjoying the aroma. “Mmm, see? No reason why he would be upset.”

“So nervous it is. Awkward maybe?” he adds, gazing at the small bouquet carefully put together.

You smile. “Yeah, that too.”

III

Kyogai contains the urge to throw himself into the side room as soon as the lumberjack's scent becomes present. The sun casts his shadow over the door as he approaches to place the box in front of it. Then, steps back, shielded by the morning rays as he runs back towards the forest. As soon as his scent dissipates slightly, Kyogai slides the door to retrieve the box, uncaring about the sun scorching his hands.

This time the illustrations are larger. Equally beautiful, delicate, and harmonious. The paper still retains some hints of her sweet fragrance. Sadly, the note accompanying them this time is a bit less extensive:

"My illustrations are only accurate because you do a great job of storytelling. I loved both stories, as much as the flowers. Thank you very much for trusting me to share your writings. The two drawings I sent try to summarize the story to provide a general idea of what they’re about. Do you like them? If so, it would be an honor if you decide to include them at the time of their publication.

I hope to hear from you soon, with affection,"

With affection, she wrote right before her name. With affection. For him? Kyogai’s stomach jumped. Demons don't have a beating heart, yet, he could swear his fluttered a beat. His writing has finally been recognized! Excited about that, and dizzy on the bits of her scent on the paper, he writes back.

III

"I wouldn't think of publishing them. I tried before, but they weren't well received. My editor said they lacked beauty and fragility. Time after time. I believed it for a while, so I preferred to stop trying... at least until now. I think you may have brought me hope.

P.S. I am glad you liked the flowers."

“Well, that’s something.” Ren says after you finish reading.

“Yes, something nice! And he sent more, look!”

You hold them in front of his face. He barely has a chance to take a look before you drive them to your nose, with a foolish smile on your face. “Oh, Ren, I want to meet him! Do you think it’s right for me to invite him over? Is it too soon? Do you think he’ll think I’m too daring?”

Ren laughed shortly, whole-heartedly. “Hey, take it easy. You don’t even know his name yet. Besides, your feet… they've been aching these days haven't they?”

Your gaze falls. “I’ve been feeling better. And I can ask his name on the next exchange of messages.” you retort.

Ren grimaces, “I don’t know… you’ve refused to consider all your mother’s suggestions on other prospects, and suddenly you want to give the first step for a man you’ve never seen?”

You take a deep breath, head falling back as you attempt to speak your mind correctly.

“I thought I was young enough to live a life of my own first. But now I’m already too old to be unmarried, and I haven’t received any proposals, not even for a date in a whole year. No one wants an old, malfunctioning woman as a wife,” you muttered.

Ren winced, struggling to phrase something comforting.

“I might not find a good prospect before my youth fades. I’m becoming a burden to my parents… but now, I have found someone who likes my art, and hasn’t said it's unfitting or nonsense, not even once. And he has sent flowers, twice!” You reach for his hand, tenderly taking it between yours. “Please support me on this.”

He squeezes your hand back, sighing. “We should buy a present for him. I shall deliver it along with your next letter. Some writing aid, maybe?”

You smile from ear to ear. “You’re my best friend, Ren! Thank you!”

III

It’s almost sunset when Kyogai smells the lumberjack at his door. This time, instead of leaving the box outside, he knocks. Kyogai tenses. He doesn’t respond. The human knocks again. Under different circumstances, the drum demon would not have hesitated to kill him for daring to disturb his home, for invading his territory. However, this time, Kyogai only listens.

"Sir, are you home?"

He remains silent. The human smells a little like her. That, for some reason, irritates him.

"I'll leave this here, with your permission."

Once the human leaves, he retrieves the box. Upon opening it, he finds a fairly large inkwell, as well as a new brush. He examines it with delicious surprise before opening the letter.

"Clearly, that editor lacked good judgment! I mustn't take the credit, however. It's not my opinion what makes you worthy, but yourself alone. Perhaps with time you'll gather the confidence to try again. I think it would be an excellent idea! Hope this little present is of help.

By the way, you know my name, but I don't know yours. I would love for you to tell me in person, if requesting such a thing isn’t unacceptable in your eyes. Would you like to come for tea tomorrow?

affectionately,"

Below her name was the detailed address of the house. His insides twisted and turned, devouring one another.

III

"The box is here," Ren's voice reaches you suddenly, hurried and agitated. "I didn't go get it, but it's here!"

He reaches where you are cutting vegetables, almost slipping. Behind him, his wife enters, with one hand on her belly and the other holding Teruco, their youngest of three children, soon to be four.

"Auntie, auntie," Ren's two children affectionately chirp. They come in right behind their mother. "Is it true you're going to get engaged soon?"

You can't evade the blush that quickly rises to your face. You look at your friend with a wry smile.

"I'm sorry, the word got out," he says, shrugging.

You look at the little ones with a smile. "If all goes well, maybe so. But keep it a secret, I don't want to scare him off before he even has a chance to come."

They exchange an amused glance.

"Now go play, and don't get into trouble. Your mother has enough with the baby on the way," you turn to her, "Hello, Saya. You didn't have to walk all the way here, I could have passed by your home."

"Don't be silly, we had to know the truth. You know how Ren is with gossip," she says, sitting down with her husband's help.

The man grimaces. They both laugh. Little Truco runs to catch up with her brothers.

"So, will you see him for the first time today?" Saya asks, once seated and comfortable.

"I hope so. I sent an invitation but-"

"You already have a response, or at least you should," says your friend, who pulls the box from inside his Yukata. "That's what I was trying to tell you. It was at the door! He must have brought it this time."

Your heart skips a beat. If he only sent the box, it couldn't be good. You take it with both hands before sitting down. The wood feels damp, and upon removing the lid, there are no flowers inside. Oh no. Maybe he saw you through the window and got discouraged. A lump forms in your throat, anticipating rejection.

After a deep breath, you read aloud:

"You are too kind. Although I appreciate the invitation, and I would like to attend, I will not be able to do so. I also suffer from a physical condition. It is a rare and not very pleasant disease to look at. Additionally, tea hurts me, as do some other foods. However, I would like to keep in touch, if that's okay with you.

Warm regards, Kyogai."

Your sigh is so heavy it's hard to let it out. An uncomfortable silence falls over the table.

"Why don't you go see him?" Saya probes. "They say love can blossom at first sight."

"Yes, it's true! I can lend you my horse."

"I don't know... Would it be proper to go without a chaperone? I don't know many people here to confide in, and I can't ask it of you, not with the baby's birth so near. Besides, what if he doesn't want to see me? I don't want to make him uncomfortable."

Ren looks away. His wife reaches out across the table to grasp your hand.

"Go. The chaperone thing doesn't matter. He'll probably prefer it that way. Besides, you can trust that we'll protect your reputation if anyone tries to start any negative rumors."

You squeeze her hand back. Your eyes well up. "Thank you."

III

"I don't think I could find you unpleasant even if I tried. I think you understand me well, and I think I can come to understand you too. I'll come to visit you soon. We can talk about whatever comes to mind! I'm very excited to meet you,

affectionately,"

There is a rose in the box again. He takes it as gently as he can. It has been a long time since Kyogai ceased being a human, but have women always been this bold? It doesn’t matter. The only remarkable thing here is that she seems determined to force her way into his world.

A decision needs to be made. Killing her would suffice to stop whatever nonsense this small affair has been. If a couple of letters not longer than a page can be called that. Letting her in... letting her in would mean that he’s a weak demon. Unworthy of the rank Muzan ripped him off, and he’ll have to hide from her sight, and be careful she doesn’t wander around too much. And surely she’ll ask for more of his work to read, and Kyogai doesn’t have anything interesting stored anymore.

Letting her in would mean she’d surely come around once, twice, and thrice again. Her scent would float around, brushing his nose with that exquisite fragrance of hers. And she’ll say something gentle and encouraging. And maybe, they’ll read to one another some of the books he hasn’t touched in decades. And perhaps, the drum house would become a bit warmer. And-

He stops. Shaking his head as he clenches his jaw. Shit, shit, shit. He shouldn’t want such a thing so bad.

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