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be-with-me-so-happily · 1 year

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Could We Not?

ONE SHOT

[ or Part 1 to Not Another Time ]

<< Request >> "Hey! I was wondering if you could do a one-shot where she’s like apart of the band and she gets hit in the head with a hard object while she’s on stage and Harry is super freaked out? That would be a sanity saver!" - @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

Summary: Harry Styles is used to having things thrown at him on stage. Recently, it's been Skittles, which affected his vision. But when his band members are affected, he can't stay silent. Especially when it's YN who takes the hit.

AN: I had a lot of fun writing this! YN replaces Laura in the band, just in general, only because she plays the trumpet and I still included Parris.

Warnings: Some explicit language, wound with blood, angry Harry

He can't escape it. It has carried on from his days in One Direction, and it seems to have become a permanent, unavoidable occurrence that things are thrown at him on stage.

Most are harmless, such as boas, sunglasses, or little plush toys that he is always inclined to keep.

However, there have been a few occasions where the objects were a bit more troublesome. Phones are a big one, which internally annoys the hell out of him at this point.

The most recent culprit, and the most shocking, was a handful of Skittles, one which hit him directly in his left eye. If there is a silver lining of that moment, it's that he only had to get through performing 'Kiwi' before he was able to run backstage and immediately have it taken care of.

He tries not to show anger on stage when things like that happen. He loves his fans. He always wants to treat them with kindness, acceptance, and gratitude. So he doesn't draw much attention to it. There has only been one occasion or two where he has subtly asked for some fans to stop throwing things.

Tonight, however, might be his tipping point.

Harry has brushed off the frustration from the rock hard candy incident, because tonight is a new night and a new show.

There is also the new trumpet player, YN. Well, she isn't new per say, she's been there since the tour came back to North America, but she is the newest member of the band, and the one Harry has become extremely fond of.

She fits in perfectly with the rest of the group. She is so kind, so joyful, and everyone seems to be energized just by her presence. Including Harry. Especially Harry. The moment she walked into the trial rehearsal, he felt an electricity course through his veins that he's never felt before. He shook it off as a mere, and mild, physical attraction. Then she started to play, and he was taken into a trance by her talent and passion. Then she spoke, and he felt his heart flutter more than ever.

He knows he has a crush, one that he can't talk about or act on, but it doesn't stop the forming of a grin when the horn players walk up onto the stage. It doesn't stop the goosebumps he feels when they all begin to play, being able to pick out the sound of her specific instrument. It doesn't stop the thought that those songs, the ones where they get to be there together, may just be his favorite ones to perform.

So when 'Satellite' ends, and after a good chat with the crowd, reading their signs, the four horn players make their way up the stairs as 'Cinema' begins, causing his heart to flutter and his current smile to stretch out into a wide grin.

When they play an extended introduction for 'Music For A Sushi Restaurant', he takes the opportunity to get some water and give her a quick smile, hoping that he actually does see a blush form on her cheeks, even behind her trumpet.

He stays on the outside of the stage for that song, but gets even more excited when the band begins to play 'Treat People With Kindness'. This means YN will move to one of the outside corners, which also means he'll get to be closer to her as he moves around during the song.

He makes sure to pass by her any chance he gets, but tries hard not to make his intentions too obvious, to the crowd or to YN. She's a part of his band, and he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, even if she does appear to reciprocate any smile or slightly flirtatious comment he makes. He wants any move made to be on YN's terms. However, that won't stop him from taking this opportunity to share a little dance with her.

"Wait for it… wait for it… wait for it. One, two, three, four!"

As the crowd shouts out the chorus, Harry stations himself next to her, moving his hips side to side, causing her to pull back from her instrument and let out the most amazing laugh.

He's going to do that every time from now on, just so he can hear that again.

That song ends, and she moves into the center with the rest of the horn players, walking through to the other side of the stage as they start their intro for 'What Makes You Beautiful'.

He moves back to the mic stand in front of the walkway, trying to catch glimpses of her every so often, as she stands near the corner to his left.

"I don't know why you're being shy, and turn away when I look into your eyes."

He takes a few steps to his left, pointing his arms out to the fans and encouraging them to sing the bridge.

At that moment, something whizzes over in his direction and lands by his feet. He takes a quick look down, and then to his left, noticing that YN has moved a few feet over to the other side of the stage. He sees Mitch taking a couple of glances over to her as well, mouthing something, but she nods and continues to play.

As the final chorus nears, the four horn players move back to the center of the stage to play the last parts of the song.

He grabs his mic from the stand and engages the crowd, instantly requesting that they applaud for the horn players. He watches as YN gives a wave to the crowd, confused as to why she isn't doing it as vibrant as normal. She could just be tired, though she usually pushes through it, but it's been an intense leg of the tour in Los Angeles.

The time between that and 'Late Night Talking', while Parris plays his beautiful solo, is usually one of his favorite moments, because he has a little bit more time to interact with her on stage. Even if it's only a quick comment or joke, he loves it and takes what he can get. But as he moves closer to grab his water bottle, he sees her talking to Pauli, who swiftly hands her a spare face cloth that he keeps by him.

Harry immediately frowns and quickens his pace over to her.

"What's wrong?"

She wipes herself off and shakes her head, keeping her gaze downward. He can't remember a time where she wasn't happy and bright. But now she looks embarrassed, and sad, which pains him to see.

"Some… something hit me."

"What? Where? How?" He blurts out, not even fully able to process what she is explaining had occurred.

"A fan threw something. I don't know what it was." She sighs, flickering her gaze up to him with a troubling expression across her face.

"Shit. Are you alright?" He steps closer to her, unintentionally placing his hand on the middle of her back, and he feels her shiver under his touch. He removes it, his eyes fixated on her, and he feels some relief when he sees a small smile appear on her face.

"I'll be okay." She assures him. Her trumpet lifts up to her lips, the ones he has wondered what they would feel like against his, and he realizes that Parris has finished his part. "Let's get on with it."

He bites his lower lip as she gives him a wink, and feels a blush form on his own cheeks. If she knew what she does to him, she probably wouldn't be doing that. But he'll take it.

He sings through the second chorus on the closest walkway, still giddy at the fact that he can pick out her trumpet from the others, and he just knows she is swaying back and forth to the lyrics as she always does.

However, he turns around to make his way back, pointing his mic back out to the crowd, and when he sees YN again, she is holding her fingers against the spot over her left eyebrow.

Instantly his chest tightens and he bounces back over there as the song ends. She makes her way back to the center with the others while he takes a quick gulp of water, turning around when they begin to play 'Watermelon Sugar'.

"I'm bleeding." He hears her state to Parris.

"Okay. Go." Parris replies, and Harry follows after her.

"YN." He tries to shout without causing too much of a fuss, but she steps down the stairs, and he clenches his jaw as he watches her make her way backstage.

This isn't good, and he really hopes he can get through this song now.

"Alright, if… if you know this one, please… please do sing along." He stumbles through his words, his eyes still glaring over to the spot where YN exited.

Performing this one isn't as fun this time, though the crowd are probably none the wiser, as he keeps his professionalism as intact as possible. But it is different. She's usually on the walkway in front of him, dancing away as she plays, causing his heart to flutter each time she moves.

He either closes his eyes or moves around the stage a bit, hoping to momentarily distract himself from her, and stay focused on the music. At least to get through the song.

And thankfully he does.

As soon as it ends, the rest of the horn players make their way off the stage, and Harry immediately rushes over to his little setup in front of Pauli.

"Start playing, but I want to talk with the crowd for a moment." He states into the band mic, for only the crew to hear.

They softly play the melody of 'Love of My Life' and he raises his hand as if to signal that he has something to say.

"Thank you Los Angeles, so much, for all of your support. I, more than anyone, know that I couldn't do this without all of you. I hope you have had a great time." The crowd cheers, and stomps, and he responds with some kisses blown around the venue. Then his expression becomes a bit more solemn and he turns back to the mic. "I want to say that my number one priority for everyone here tonight has been safety. That includes everyone on stage as well."

The crowd immediately hushes, which usually doesn't happen without his lead, and it shocks him. But hopefully it means they'll hear his message.

"I always encourage you to dance, sing, and interact. I always suggest that you treat everyone with kindness. And now, I also ask that you please think about these amazing people on stage, and refrain from throwing things that could potentially hurt someone. One of our members was hurt during a song tonight and unfortunately had to leave." He pulls back, clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his frustration at bay. "We want to be able to keep doing this with you for as long as possible, so we all need to make sure that safety is our top priority. So let's keep it safe and have some more fun. How does that sound, Los Angeles?"

He holds two thumbs up to the fans, swiveling around while everyone begins to cheer again, and walks over to his mic for the next song. The last one before their little break, and before their encore. He'll be done soon.

He knows his energy has diminished a bit, which is fine for 'Love of My Life', because his mind is back on YN. He desperately wants to know if she is okay. Needs to know, at this point.

During the break before their encore, Harry rushed underneath and pleaded with the crew to find out what had happened to YN, and whether she's being taken care of. They assured him that she is fine, but he couldn't get rid of his worry.

He put on his best entertainer persona for the last three songs, feeding off the excitement of the crowd to get him through until the end.

But once 'Kiwi' was finished, he blew kisses to the fans and sprinted backstage, immediately feeling frantic.

"Jeff-"

"H, man, you doing okay?" His manager asks, concern all over his face.

"Where is YN?" Harry quickly asks, not even bothering to answer about himself.

"Huh?"

"Where's YN? She got hit by something. She had to get off stage. Where'd she go?" He asks, feeling frazzled like he never has before.

"Oh. Uh, I haven't seen her, maybe-"

Harry strides off, not really knowing which direction to head, but willing to walk all over the place to find her.

He sees another familiar face, feeling some hope that she'll have an answer.

"Lorren, where's YN?" He asks, hoping his tone is a bit more calm than it was with Jeff, but knowing he could be failing.

"She's in the common room." Lorren replies, a small smirk forming suddenly. "She's okay, Harry."

His eyes grow wide and he stands up straighter, more stable, more casual. Or at least trying to.

"Yeah. Of course. I just… wanted to check in with her." He utters, but her intrigued, raised eyebrow tells him that she doesn't accept his answer.

"Harry…" She chuckles. "I know you care about her more than that…"

"What? No-... I mean…" He sighs, running a ringed hand through his sweaty hair. "Shit."

Lorren laughs again and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Your secret is safe with me."

He nods and feels a hot burn flooding his cheeks, not even attempting to hide it since she clearly knows she's right.

"Does she fee-" He begins, immediately stopping as he sees her pull her lips inward. "Nevermind. Doesn't matter. I'm just… gonna check on her."

Lorren nods and smiles, squeezing his shoulder then pointing down the hallway.

"Good luck…" She teases as she walks away.

"What?"

"Nothing." She replies, already opening the door to another room.

He takes a deep breath and turns back around to the direction he needs to go, his steps faster the closer he gets to the room she is occupying.

He opens the door without hesitation, instantly seeing YN sitting on the sofa with an ice pack held on her face, and her phone in the other hand.

He clears his throat as he takes a few steps towards her, slower than they were in the hallway, and his heart pounds faster than it just had been.

"Hello." He utters, not wanting to startle her. She shoots her gaze up to him and he feels butterflies as she immediately smiles. She may have looked different on stage after the incident, but he is happy to see that her bright demeanor seems to have returned. His concern begins to melt away.

"Hi." She responds, putting her phone down, along with the ice pack. She winces as she does, and as he moves to the sofa, he finally sees the large gash on her forehead.

His heart sinks, and he is thankful for the close proximity to the furniture, because his knees almost give out completely as he takes a seat next to her, on the opposite side of where her cut is.

"Fuck, YN, are you alright?" He inquires, his gaze flickering between her gorgeous, sparkling eyes and her anger-inducing wound. His jaw instantly clenches and his palms ball into fists. He can't believe this happened, especially to her. His gaze drops, and he begins to fill with guilt. "I'm so sorry you got hurt."

Suddenly, he feels the warmth and soft touch of her hand on his, causing the tension in his palms to release right away.

"It's not your fault, H. And I'm okay."

He looks up to her again, being met with the gaze he tries hard not to get lost in, but fails every time he's close enough to see it.

"I just…" He sighs and shakes his head, not entirely sure what he wants to express, and worried it could be more than he should. "I just want to… know that you're alright."

"That's sweet." She utters, a tenderness in her tone. He smiles at the irony of her attempt to calm him, when it should be the other way around. "I am. I am alright."

A squeeze of YN's hand grabs his gaze once again, and he just sits in silence as he, once again, gets lost in her eyes.

His hand unintentionally reaches up, gently resting under her chin as he turns her head to view her wound, sighing once more at the sight of it. His thumb reaches up, gliding over her skin, right under the cut, and a tingle rushes over him.

A strong exhale leaves her mouth and he turns her head back to him, his eyes tracing the lines of her lips. He looks back to her gaze, his breath hitching at her beauty, and his body acts on his feelings as he leans in, gently pressing his lips against her own.

She lets out a small sigh, which snaps him back to reality, and he pulls back.

"Shit. I'm… fuck, I'm sorry." His hand drops and he scoots his body further away from her, feeling every ounce of embarrassment possible. He didn't want to make the first move, if there was even one to be made. What if she didn't want it? What if she hated it? "Fuck."

"Please, don't…" She clears her throat, a sudden timidness in her tone. "Please don't be sorry."

Harry's heart begins to race, and he glances up to see her smile. However, a knock on the half-closed door causes both their heads to turn that way, and they both sit up straighter.

"I finally found a bandaid." A venue staff member states, handing it to YN and walking out.

She begins to open it up, removing the strips and exposing the sticky sides, then looks around the room for a mirror.

"Here." Harry reaches out, grazing her hand, and regaining her attention. "Let me."

She hands him the bandage, and he scoots closer again, their thighs barely touching, but just enough for his stomach to fill with butterflies.

He gently places the band-aid over her cut, gliding his thumb over the corners to make sure they stay secured. His gaze drops down, and his breath hitches as he sees her gazing up to him through her lashes.

His palm slides down and rests on her cheek, and she tilts her head upwards, their lips hovering in front of each other.

"Thank you." She whispers, her own hand placing itself on top of his.

Harry attempts to swallow down the lump stuck in his throat, but is interrupted by the sudden soft pressure against his lips. He lets out a quiet whimper, and her hand moves around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. His mouth begins to move with hers, and the tip of his tongue teases the gap between her lips.

She suddenly pulls away, and a frown forms on his face, until her gaze flickers to the door and he hears the chatter in the hallway that must have caused her to stop.

He pushes back, only out of caution and respect for both of their privacy, and grins when he sees her blush.

"You know, I've had recent experience with eye injuries."

"Right. You have." She giggles.

"If you want… you don't have to… but if you want to, you… you could come to my suite." He clears his throat. "To hang out. And I can keep an eye on that injury for you."

"No pun intended." She laughs, and his grin, surprisingly, grows wider. She's still so bright, and he's already down bad.

"I…" She begins, another blush instantly taking over her delicate skin. "I wouldn't mind seeing you looking at me a little more tonight."

"Oh my god." He breaths out, swiftly throwing his palms over his face.

He feels her fingers wrap around his wrist and removes his hands to find her standing in front of him. She tugs on his arm, and he lifts himself off the chair.

"Then maybe I'll get the chance to do the same." She states, biting her lower lip before letting him go and moving around the room to grab her stuff.

Yeah. He's definitely down bad, and despite her being injured, this just may end up being the best show by far.

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pileofmush · 29 days

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you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood.

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares.

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold.

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed.

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him.

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?”

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.”

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows.

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?”

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it.

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first.

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.”

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin.

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts.

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly.

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?”

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something.

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen.

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it.

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple.

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Yeaaaah. It’s true.

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used.

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again.

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open.

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you.

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?”

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you.

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his.

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen.

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods.

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe.

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life.

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return.

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again.

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes.

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you.

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask.

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—”

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out."

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean.

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones.

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu.

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs.

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear.

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart.

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly.

…You don’t know if you want to.

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close.

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh.

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?”

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement.

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it.

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done.

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment.

You scrub, and scrub.

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command.

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body.

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting.

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.”

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night.

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together.

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on.

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—”

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—”

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him.

You look at him.

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you.

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish.

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?”

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach.

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams.

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta x you #yuta x you #jjk x gn!reader #jjk #tw: blood #tw: death #m.jjk #m.yuuta #battle scarred;#yuuta my beloved <3

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cxlamarisalxmi · 11 months

Text

Some Sunny Day

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: angst, depictions of trauma and injury, character death, no gendered terms used to describe reader

a/n: I couldn’t help it, the part two of the Spider-Venom reader is in the works and is being written and edited consistently and progressively, but this was inspired by me feeling in the shits about my trauma so.. here we are lol

—

[Unedited]

We’ll meet again

You hadn’t given much thought to how you would die, not ever really considering the thousands of possibilities that would result in the loss of your life. Never really finding the consideration of those pathways important enough to think about long enough.

Don’t know where, don’t know when

Perhaps you should have— maybe this wouldn’t be happening otherwise. That’s a lie, because death is inevitable.. it was coming for you one way or another. Perhaps it wasn’t you trying to trick yourself into believing you could avoid it— but prepare yourself for it instead. Had you considered all possibilities of death then maybe you could’ve prepared yourself for the painful one you had come to face.

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day

It did not announce itself, did not trumpet it’s arrival. It had been silent, quiet in the darkness as it coiled itself around your throat pulling you off your feet. By the time you had seen it coming.. it had already set it’s teeth.

Keep smiling through

You didn’t wish for anyone to be sad for you, it was a good life you had lived. Sure, it didn’t start out too great but it had been decent.. and then it had turned for the better when you had found them.

Just like you always do

You didn’t want anyone to force their lives to a screeching halt for your sake, that wasn’t fair.. and you knew that regardless of what you had thought— they would celebrate your life everyday from here on out. Now settled in the acceptance of grief, the stage that had come after a long and painful endurance through denial, anger, bargaining and depression.

‘Till the blue sky drives the dark clouds far away

They had felt such a dark and heavy cloud hanging over them since your death, and they had grown accustomed to it. Not bothering to address the way all of them were feeling about losing you. Suppress it down and ignore the searing ache in their chests —they believe— being the best way to overcome it and grow forward.

But you knew that was utter bullshit and you had wished they knew that too. Ignoring it will only make it worse, because ignorance allows the pain to linger. And if it lingers long enough it will fester and grow into a raging inferno that will swallow them whole.

Only in acceptance could they move forward, only in accepting that you were gone could they move on. Grow past it and become stronger together. And you believed they could, they just had to let themselves do it in their own time— at their own pace.

And eventually, that dense and weighted cloud overhanging them would be driven away.

So will you please say hello

You were Miguel O’hara’s eldest. And you had been with him through everything, after the loss of your younger sister the two of you couldn’t overcome the grief that had overwhelmed you both. And in the wake of that dimension’s destruction— there had been a wedge driven in between you and him.

Your relationship, previously stronger than any trial or tribulation life had thrown your way, had shattered to pieces. And you had attempted to at least pick up the shambles and put your bond back together.. but you had met a wall every time. A wall your father had built around himself to protect his broken heart and vulnerable soul from ever being touched again.

He hadn’t made an effort.. so you figured you shouldn’t either, and just accepted the turn of his back on top of the ache you felt at the loss of your younger sibling. The weight of guilt at killing all those innocent people had become the icing on this shit cake.

To the folks that I know

It was hard for you to grow past what had happened, because you were doing it on your own. In the wake of it all, it was you and only you trying to mend yourself back together. What hurt the most was that you had depended on your father to be there for you.. you had expected that this would only make your relationship stronger. Not tear it apart.

And it was naive of you to think such a thing, childish and ignorant of you to dispose of your initial thoughts that he would react this way. Because maybe if you had you’d have been far more prepared to take the bullet that his neglectful response had fired at you.

In the end of it all —the final steps you had taken to improve yourself— you had developed a fierce sense of independence. Nobody has your back better than you. And that was the unfortunate and heartbreaking truth that you had faced head on, it was a hard pill to swallow but it was necessary for you to move forward.

You garbled a cough, the gob of blood previously sitting in your throat jacked up to spill down your chin.

You grunted as the pressure in your chest grew exponentially, the rebar pierced through your chest causing an uncomfortable sensation to sit heavy beneath your ribs.

Tell them I won’t be long

The young teenagers who have come to adopt you as their elder sibling will be heartbroken. You knew that well, and you hoped that you father had picked up on the subtlety in your message to not reveal you were dying.

They wouldn’t take it well, and you knew they would follow your father to this dimension. The last thing you wanted was for them to experience more loss than they needed at their age. You couldn’t help that though, this was going to court one way or the other. What you could control was them being there in your final moments.. you had thought that maybe it’d go down easier if your father just told them you had gone peacefully.

They’ll be happy to know

It certainly would’ve been easier for them than seeing you impaled through the chest and coughing up the blood that had begun to slowly fill your lungs.

They’d at least have some semblance of peace within the grief and pain they’d feel that you didn’t go in pain. Regardless of the fact that this was easily the worst experience you have ever had the misfortune of dealing with. But they didn’t need to know that nor did they need to see you like this.

That as you saw me go, you saw me singing this song

When your father had finally arrived he had rushed to you immediately, his mask peeling away as he approached and dropped to his knees at your side.

“No, no no no, not again. Please no.”

“Dad…”

“Shhh,” he encouraged softly, “don’t talk. Save your strength, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“It’s too late.”

He didn’t listen to the way you quietly murmured those words, their execution breathed on a plane of exhausted agony. Your heart’s rhythm slowly fading from it’s previous thunderous beat in your ears. Slowing as it gradually eased itself into a state of utter still and silence, not having enough strength to continue to keep you alive.

Miguel wouldn’t let this happen again, he refused. As he thought of the best way he could move you he thought back to when you both had come back from the dimension that had unraveled. How he had shut you out, built barbed barriers thick and tall— and left you on the outside of them.

At the remembrance an abrupt ripple of regret shucked down his back, it made the blood in his veins turn bitterly cold. It was regret that was soon joined by grief that settled in his heart, heavy as lead sinking through his chest at the prospect that you would not make it.

And he suddenly felt knots tighten themselves up in the gaping in his stomach, because he didn’t even know what the right thing to do was. He couldn’t accept this, he couldn’t.. not again. But you were in pain, certainly worse than anything you’ve ever experienced. Not only that, but you were certain it was far too late for you.

He knew if he pulled you off that thick rebar pipe you would immediately bleed to death, if he left you on there you would die of a broken heart. Literally— the rebar had punctured through your heart and lung. Now both metaphorically and physically torn apart.

“It’s too late dad.”

“Please—”

You reached up to him, cupping his cheek as he laid his hand against your own. You lifted your opposite hand to hold his wrist as he brushed his gloved thumb over your bloodied and bruised cheek.

“Please no, not like this.. please there’s too much.. too much I have to do to show you I love you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to shut you out mi amor I’m sorry—”

You did to him the same thing he had done to you seconds prior and interrupted by brushing your gloved thumb over his angular cheekbone. You felt the familiar sting in your eyes and burn in your nose as you watched him. His eyes broken and devastated, the windows into his soul wide open as his defenses crumbled. His brows taut together and a hurt frown tugging his lips down.

“It’s okay,” you promised giving him the only smile you could manage. Soft and small— but full of all the love a young child has for their father. “It’s going to be okay.”

Miguel couldn’t contain the pain he was feeling a moment longer, and his ache had erupted in the form of the rivulets of tears gliding down his cheeks. And he listened intently to them as they spoke, holding them in his arms as best he could with the rebar through their chest. Still holding their face and leaning down to press their foreheads together, he internally wept at the way theirs felt colder.

“We’ll meet again,” you promised smiling up at him as he held you in his arms and kept your foreheads together. “I don’t know where, and I don’t know when.” You felt the way your heart continued to slow, the pressure on your chest increasing dramatically as exhaustion began. “But I know we’ll meet again—”

Finally the injuries had grown to be far too much, and you had only wished you had told him how much you truly loved him no matter what. How much you had understood his feelings and how you had already forgiven him for the toxic way he had decided to cope. Breathing felt like too much work, needing extensive energy that you no longer had.

Your heart gave up first, and the very last thing you saw before the black that had been seeping in from the edges consumed you entirely— was your father looking you in the eyes with the love you had craved from him since the loss of your sister. Your lungs followed after, and Miguel only sobbed harder at the way your chest rose, then fell, rose once again.. and fell.

He felt sick and angry at himself for the way things had gone, the regret he’d felt since the destruction of that universe was abruptly more pronounced in his chest. And he wept over your body, long since gone cold, as he completed the promise you had made to him. Whispered against the skin of your cheek —cold to the touch— and lost of all color and vibrant life held within.

“Some sunny day.”

—

a/n: when this was being written I was listening to life eternal by ghost and it just encouraged me to put as much ouchies in this as I possibly could so I killed ya!

#across the spider verse #spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #platonic reader #platonic relationships #platonic imagine

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ghost-bard · 5 months

Text

Haha hey gang you ever think about the fact that both of Juanaflippas original lives were lost in an unfair way :D

Her first life was technically lost due to neglect, but heres the thing. When q slime checked her tasks they were all green, so he assumed that mariana mustve done them, and then when he checked the next day. They were still green. Thus he freaked out, and learned that no one had been taking care of her (or at least hadnt taken care of her the day before).

Then the beds breaking counting towards the egg death. q Mariana quite literally made a mistake idk what to tell ya man. And the fact that they broke instantly was just. Yeah. Though, iirc the beds don’t break instantly anymore. I think. But even then its so.

But now we see that the eggs can. Survive a nuclear bomb.

I know it was the beginning of the server i get that. But at the same time. We all know the federation just picks and chooses right? Like the 2, 3 times that the eggs have gone missing? Bobby’s death, which im honestly still confused about? Like didnt q jaiden and q roier go on a whole adventure to find him only to be told he was dead? I feel like im misremembering to pls correct me if im wrong.

Also, couldn’t someone have taken care of trumpet? At least when q dan and q maxo couldnt? Bc ik that q maxo cared a lot about about trumpet, or did the admin only like. Login when a parent was on i gen do not know.

Seeing the eggs be given so many chances over and over again, knowing that others didn’t, and for flippa to even get one life back q slime and q mariana had a trial. Its. Certainly something that’s for sure.

Like. Yeah. The federation decides everything.

153 notes · View notes

nichuuu · 1 year

Text

Beats Me - 3: Caravan

Ryujin & Karina

Tags: Smut, FemxFem, Threesome, Dom Ryujin, Sub Karina, Teasing, Face-fuck, rough-sex, creampie

Your hand stung at Ryujin’s touch. A hiss left your mouth as she doused your wound with disinfectant, a string of cusses following suit as she dabbed it dry.

“Damn it Squeaker… Why do you still practise when your hand’s already fucked?” Ryujin huffed in frustration.

“S-Sorry…” You apologised meekly. You winced as Ryujin tightened the bandage around your hand.

Your friend sighed heavily, taping the bandage on your hand in place.

“Don’t push yourself too hard… I know you want to perfect your part, but practising this way won’t help,” She cautioned you, shutting the first aid kit. You examined your bandaged hand, wiggling your fingers to check your range of motion.

“Did I wrap it too tight?” Ryujin checked. You shook your head.

“I-It’s fine… Thanks,” You smiled. The short hair girl patted you on the shoulder.

“You ought to rest up… You’ve really been going at it these few days.”

You chuckled sheepishly.

“Well… I guess I just want Yeji to stop yelling at me…”

“A true people pleaser aren’t ya?” She mused.

You managed a small laugh.

“You could call it that.”

Ryujin put the first aid kit back in the corner of the recording room. She walked back and sat back down next to you on the couch.

“How bad does it hurt?” She asked.

“Not too bad… Just stings a little, but I can play,” You informed her.

“Let’s focus on healing before playing, shall we?”

“B-But… What about prac—”

Ryujin wrapped a hand around your shoulder and pulled you towards her. Your head landed on her chest. She ruffled your hair.

“You need rest, not practise!” She chided you. You used your un-injured hand to free yourself from her grip.

“Alright, alright! I-I won’t practise!” You affirmed her dodging her second grab.

Ryujin smirked.

“Good boy,” She praised, patting your head. “I will kill you if I ever see you anywhere near that kit, capiche?”

You chuckled and nodded. Ryujin seemed to be satisfied, and she got up on her feet.

“It’s getting late, we should get out of here!” She declared. “I’m grabbing dinner with Karina. Join me.”

After a shitty day like today, grabbing a meal with Shin Ryujin didn’t sound like a bad idea… She wasn’ exactly requesting either way. You packed your sticks back into your bag and headed out with your bassist.

It had been a few weeks since your gig at the bar. Ever since the events that happened backstage, Eunbi had made it a point to expand the band’s repertoire in terms of musicality. She unveiled her new idea to you over breakfast the morning after your session with her. The following day, new, purely instrumental songs had been added to the song list. There were more things to perfect now. Amongst the songs that had been brought in, there were quite a few jazz tunes in there. All of them required quick hands and feet, as well as a saxophone and trumpet player…

While Eunbi scoured the campus to find a capable trumpeter and a saxophonist, you dedicated the time you had to perfect your part. Unfortunately for you, after a poor trial run on one of the songs, Yeji had taken the liberty to “supervise” you.

From the moment she stepped foot into the studio on your first one-on-one session with her, you had a gut feeling that she would make your life a living hell. And you were unfortunately right.

Your perception of Yeji changed. She was no longer scary to you. Instead, she was incredibly fucking scary. She’d cuss you out over the littlest things, critique your playing when you were a split second late to enter, hurl insults at you when the tempo became too fast for you, and the list goes on…

Strangely enough, her snarky, hot-headed attitude towards you seemed to motivate you to get better. You were determined to obtain the scary girl’s approval, hence you practised daily, even when Yeji didn’t expect you to come in. You never skipped a day, drumming till your hands, arms, legs and feet were sore.

In the first week, you blistered your right hand, earning you a small tongue lashing from Eunbi when she saw you playing with a minor injury. In the second week, two more blisters occupied your hand, but you hid it well enough from your band members.

That day, you tore a chunk of skin off the bottom of your palm. Ryujin happened to walk to check on you, only to see you cradling your sore hand and hurling profanities at the top of your lungs. She rushed over to assist you immediately, making you appreciate her even more.

It had been a painful few weeks for you to say the least… You felt like you earned that dinner treat.

You headed down the stairs with Ryujin and beelined it for the campus gate. You found Jimin sitting on one of the benches, idly looking at her phone as you approached.

“Sup baby girl?” Ryujin called to her. Karina’s head snapped up.

“There you are!” The girl exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I’ve been waiting for your bitch-ass… Oh hi, Myeong-seok.”

You waved. The pianist caught sight of your bandaged hand.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jimin gasped. You quickly hid your hand behind your back.

“O-Oh… Just a small injury,” You lied. Ryujin slapped your arm.

“Stop the cap,” She scoffed. “He fucked up his hand drumming too fast.”

You shot her a look. She raised her eyebrows.

“What? Are you seriously planning to hide an injury like that?” She grilled you. You wanted to argue, but you couldn’t exactly justify your actions.

“Oh gosh… Are you okay?” Karina asked, voice laced with concern. You nodded.

“I’ll be fine… Just gotta be careful…”

Karina sighed.

“This is because of Yeji, isn’t it? We gotta talk to her and get her to tone it down. She’s being too harsh!”

You silently agreed with Karina, but you also understood Yeji’s motive for being such an ass to you. She struck you as a girl that strived for perfection in everything she did. 99.99% was never enough for her. She always wanted 101% out of herself, expecting it from everyone else she worked with as well. Your high school’s band conductor was just like her, so you knew that she had good intentions.

“We’ll tackle that problem when we can,” Ryujin told Jimin. “For now, let’s go eat. I’m starving!”

Karina looked like she wanted to continue discussing the matter, but she must have decided against it.

“Alright… Is Myeong-seok eating with us?” Jimin inquired.

“Y-Yep,” You confirmed. Karina nodded.

“Right then. Let’s go.”

The three of you took a bus into the city. Jimin brought you all to a fried chicken restaurant that served one hell of a bucket of spicy chicken. Ryujin being Ryujin, ordered a glass of beer for everyone, but you kindly declined.

“Why don’t you want to drink?” Ryujin interrogated you after the waiter had left.

“I… I just don’t feel like it,” You said. Truthfully, you were just afraid that you might accidentally end up in bed with Ryujin again if you had a little bit too much to drink. Prevention is better than cure.

“Tsk. Wimp,” Ryujin teased you.

“Let him be Ryujin,” Karina chided.

“Fine… But only cause you said it darling…” The short-haired girl winked. Karina rolled her eyes and looked away.

Ryujin laughed.

“Damn girl… Why are you so hard to flirt with?” Ryujin asked innocently.

“Cause I don’t feel like flirting with you,” Karina retorted.

“Ah… So you’re just playing hard to get!” Ryujin chuckled. “I like a tough catch…”

Karina shot her friend a dirty look.

“W-What? N-No! I-I’m… Ugh! Forget it!”

Jimin looked away, doing her best to look upset but the blush on her pale face really wasn’t helping.

Yoo Jimin and Shin Ryujin shared a friendship dynamic that confounded you more than any other chart had. Ryujin was oddly flirty with the other girl, and Karina didn’t seem to enjoy it—but never asked Ryujin to stop. It was truly an odd bond to try and wrap your head around, but you figured that you’d understand them better after spending more time with them.

The buckets of chicken and the infamous hot wings came after a short wait. You understood why Jimin wanted you to try the fiery fried chicken. It was packed full of flavour, but you quickly regretted the first bite a few seconds after you took it. Thankfully, the restaurant gave out free shots of milk to customers who couldn’t take the heat, and you gratefully threw back a few shots of milk, quelling the fire in your mouth.

You opted to stick to the classic fried chicken. Ryujin and Jimin on the other hand, busied themselves with the spicy delight. Watching with hidden amusement, you witnessed the two girls experience an entire emotional roller-coaster as they consumed those pieces of chicken. You didn’t understand why they were torturing themselves like that. However, you didn’t really mind watching the two fan their burning mouths as you silently munched on your own chicken. It was quite entertaining after all…

After the two girls had recovered from the spice—with the assistance of milk and beer of course—the three of you finished up and sat in the restaurant, talking over drinks. Karina seemed to be friends with the Ahjumma that ran the place, judging by how she would refill her and Ryujin’s glasses with more beer whenever she noticed that they were empty. You were content with sipping on your banana milk—graciously given to you by the Ahjumma as well—as you made conversation with the girls. Your time with the band had let you become tense when around your members, so you found it easier to talk to the two about life and other things that interested you.

As the night dragged on, the girls downed more and more glasses of beer. You wanted to caution them against getting drunk, but you knew that Ryujin would just call you a wuss and throw back another glass. You could only watch helplessly as they drank, laughed, talked—then drank even more. You had a bad feeling about all of this.

One of your main concerns would be how they would get home safely. As much as you wanted to trust Korea's street security, you knew deep down that some men would get a little eager if they saw two drunk girls stumbling down the pavement. The thought of what could happen sent shivers down your spine.

And so you ended up having to guide the two girls back to Karina’s place. You thanked god they didn’t get drunk, but they were a little woozy for sure. They held each other's arms, giggling excessively while chattering rather noisily. You walked behind the two girls, feeling a little second-hand embarrassed each time a member of the public shot a glare towards them.

The two eventually managed to stumble back to Karina’s apartment. You helped Jimin to unlock her door—she wasn’t exactly in the best state to do so herself—and opened the door for the two girls. You waited for them to stumble in.

Just as you were about to shut the door and leave, a hand grabbed your shirt.

“Get your ass in here Squeaky…”

You were yanked into Jimin’s apartment against your will. As much as you wanted to leave, Ryujin’s grip on your arm made it impossible for you to go anywhere. You could only sigh and shut the apartment door behind you. The two stumbled into the centre of Jimin’s living room, laughing over something.

“Let’s have more booze!” Ryujin suggested. You didn’t hesitate to butt in.

“I-I don’t think you should…” You advised. Ryujin raised an eyebrow.

“Why? Scared you’ll get drunk and fuck my brains out again Squeaker?”

Karina gasped.

“Ryujin! You had sex with Myeong-seok?!” She inquired. Ryujin smiled and put an arm over Karina’s shoulder.

“I did… And it was fucking amazing~”

“R-Ryujin!” You chided her. You could remember very clearly that Ryujin was the one that made you swear not to tell anyone about your fiasco.

“What? Am I wrong?” Ryujin giggled. “Come on Myeong-seok… You remember how much I milked you!”

A blush made its way onto your face. You looked away to hide it, but Ryujin caught on quickly.

“Awww… Look at him, Karina! He’s blushing!” She teased you. Karina’s reply was to cross her arms. She turned away from Ryujin, letting out an audible huff. Ryujin seemed amused.

“Hey… Are you upset about something?” The short-haired girl questioned. Karina looked back at Ryujin for a moment before turning away again.

“You fucked him… Without me…”

Ryujin raised her eyebrows.

“Oh… So you’re jealous?” Ryujin concluded. Karina didn’t even bother to hide the blush.

“I… I’m…” Karina stammered. She struggled to formulate her sentence for a bit before letting out a flustered sigh.

“Fine… M-Maybe I am a little jealous… But only j-just a little…”

You weren’t too sure if what you heard was correct. It felt a little bit like a conversation that two characters would have in your fever dream.

Ryujin smirked and wrapped her arms around Karina’s waist.

“Look at you… So red and flustered over me~” Ryujin giggled. Karina didn’t seem to be fighting back against her friends like she usually would.

“I-I’m not flustered…” Karina insisted. Ryujin chuckled.

“Yes, you are darling… Don’t deny it…”

Karina opened her mouth to say something. Ryujin seemed to have other ideas.

In a flash, Ryujin had her left palm resting on Karina’s jaw. Her index and ring fingers had slid into Karina’s open mouth, playing with the other girl's lips.

“You want me… You want me again don’t you Jimin?” Ryujin whispered. Karina’s lips closed around Ryujin’s fingers, a soft sigh escaping her lips as Ryujin pulled Jimin back. The roundness of Karina’s ass flushed against Ryujin’s full hips. Ryujin, emboldened by Karina’s lack of resistance, let her hand snake down the other girl's body. Her palm found Karina’s right ass cheek and squeezed it.

Karina gasped, mouth opening wider as the sound left her throat. Ryujin dug her fingers deep into Jimin, her digits wiggling around inside the pianist’s mouth.

“Tell me that you want me Jimin…” Ryujin demanded airily, her right hand beginning to drift upwards to the bust on Jimin’s chest. “Tell me that you want me to take your hot body right here, right now and have you screaming so loud that your neighbours can hear you…”

Ryujin squeezed Karina’s right breast through her shirt. Jimin moaned a lot louder this time, her voice muffled by Ryujin’s fingers.

“R-Ryujin…” She called her friend.

“Tell me…” Ryujin hissed.

Karina closed her eyes, breath getting shallower by the minute. Ryujin bent down slightly, licking and kissing Jimin’s neck. Her fingers stayed in Jimin’s mouth, moving ever so gently between the small whines from Jimin.

Karina finally folded.

“I want you… I want you so bad Ryujin…” The pianist breathed. Ryujin was satisfied with the answer, slipping her slick fingers out of her companion’s mouth. Her right hand left Jimin’s full chest and Ryujin took a step back. Something flashed behind those eyes.

“Strip,” Ryujin commanded.

Karina reacted almost instantly, hands finding the hem of her shirt and pulling the fabric up and over her head. She undid her jeans hastily, pulling them down to her ankles and kicking them away.

Ryujin licked her lips, slowly circling the scantily clad Karina. You could see her eyes wandering joyously, soaking in the sight of Jimin’s tight yet perfectly curvy body.

“Come here Squeaker,” She urged you. You blinked, snapping out of your trance.

“W-What?” You sputtered. Ryujin rolled her eyes.

“Just get your ass over here man.”

You were hesitant but slowly walked towards the bassist. When you were near enough, she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to her.

“Have a good look Squeaky… Tell me what you like about her…” Ryujin whispered into your ear. You gulped.

“Ryujin I—”

She shushed you, a gentle finger on your lips.

“Take in that body… Then tell me what you like the most about her…”

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander around Karina. You had seen her in baggy clothing most of the time, hiding her large chest behind loose fitting sweaters and hoodies. She would wear tight jeans every now and then, accentuating her ass and the fullness of her thighs.

But this… This was something else altogether…

Karina’s pale, milky skin glimmered slightly in her apartment light. Those round breasts were squeezed together in the lacy bra she wore, providing you with ample cleavage to stare at. She wasn’t as endowed as Eunbi was, but she had quite the pair in your books. Her tight tummy glowed warmly under the lighting, revealing her toned abs and cute belly button.

“So… What do you like?” Ryujin asked once more. You felt yourself clam up, but you managed a reply.

“H-Her face… I-I guess…”

Ryujin chuckled.

“All that ogling and you said ‘her face’...” She said, “Very well then…”

She let her arm slide off you, turning her attention to Jimin.

“On your knees.”

Jimin dropped instantly, her knees hitting the floor with a thud. You winced a little, feeling the second-hand pain from the impact.

“Mouth open.”

Karina’s jaw dropped, revealing that perfect set of pearly white teeth and pink tongue. Ryujin reached down to the buckle of your belt.

“Come on Squeaker… Get your cock out,” She smiled, undoing the clasp of your belt.

“W-Wait… W-What?” You stammered, grabbing a hold of her wrist. Ryujin cocked her head and stared.

“What? Afraid to get your dick sucked by this pretty slut?” Ryujin grilled.

“I-I… This… This isn’t right…” You reasoned. Ryujin giggled.

She leaned in towards you, face millimetres away from yours.

“Let me tell you something Squeaker… When it comes to using Karina… There is no right and wrong.”

Her lips crashed against yours, capturing you and a soft kiss. Her body felt oddly familiar against yours. She dug her tongue into your mouth, licking and rodding around as she rubbed your cock through your jeans.

“So… What do you say Squeaky?” Ryujin asked, lips parting from yours. “You have a good girl on her knees. It’s not right to keep her waiting…”

She locked eyes with you. All sense of morality seemed to leave you as you gave Ryujin a nod.

She assisted you in sliding out of your jeans and boxers, your already hardened cock springing out. Ryujin tossed your pants and undergarments aside.

“Go on… Fuck that pretty face…” Ryujin urged, gently pushing you forward. “Make sure you leave her in a mess…”

You stepped towards Karina, cock twitching wildly. Karina stared into your eyes, holding your gaze lustfully. Ryujin gently gripped the base of your cock, giving you an experimental pump before she placed your head on the tip of Jimin’s tongue. The warm sensation sent a jolt up your body, making you grunt. Ryujin wiggled your dick back and forth on Karina’s tongue, lubing up the underside of your head.

“Whenever you’re ready…” She reminded you.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You cupped the sides of Karina’s face, hips moving forward slowly. Jimin’s lips wrapped around your length, holding your member in place as you steadily hilted herself into her warm, wet mouth. You stopped when the tip of your cock hit the back of your throat, sighing as Karina began applying gentle suction around your hard length. Her cheeks hollowed, innocent eyes staring back at you as you began thrusting into her mouth. You slowly let your shaft slide smoothly between her plump lips, Karina staying perfectly still for you. A groan left your throat, your fingers gripping her face a little tighter.

“Hey, hey… What are you doing, Squeaky?” Ryujin asked. “Didn’t you hear me? Fuck her face.”

You stared at the girl on her knees before you. Her demure gaze faltered for a moment, revealing the hunger and lust behind her eyes.

Something snapped within you. You gripped Jimin’s face tightly.

Popping your hips back, Karina gags when you slam yourself back in, spit flying out the corners of her mouth as you wildly piston yourself in and out of those pink lips. Drool leaks out of the small openings of her lips, flowing down from either side of your cock. The slimy fluid splattered onto her cute face, each harsh thrust you delivered into her mouth sending your cock deep into her mouth. The surface of her tongue cushioned your shaft, guiding you into her mouth perfectly with each entrance while the gentle suction tried to pull you back with each exit.

“Not quite my tempo Squeaker…” Ryujin muttered in disappointment. You felt her hands on your butt, pushing you deeper into Karina’s mouth.

“Faster…” Ryujin demanded.

You complied eagerly, feeling your hips begin to move at a frantic pace. Karina’s large breasts swayed, her spit dripping onto the floor and onto her tits as you took the young girl’s mouth. She had gotten used to your pace, bobbing her head forward each time you thrusted back in to her warm entrance.

Tears gathered at the corner of Karina’s eyes. Her hands gripped your thighs like vices as she maintained eye contact with you. Her eyes told you everything you needed to know. She wanted it faster, harder, deeper.

You were practically shoving your cock down her throat. Your eyes left Jimin’s, finding the ceiling to stare at while you pleasured yourself with Karina. The gurgling from her throat sent vibrations up your throbbing cock, shocking you with volts of pleasure. Nothing had ever felt this good.

Ryujin appeared behind her friend on her knees. You noted that she had already shed her clothes, buck naked as she knelt behind Karina. She pushed Jimin’s perfectly rounded breasts together, allowing you to stare down the ample cleavage. Bits of drool and precum slid down her breasts. Ryujin made it a point to rub the mix of fluids into Karina’s skin. She played with the busty girl’s chest contently.

You couldn’t last any longer in this bliss. With great effort, you looked towards Ryujin

“Down her throat,” Ryujin instructed, reading your mind. “Give that slutty little girl a nice big load down her throat Squeaker…”

With a few more deep thrusts into Jimin’s mouth, you finally reach your limit. Shoving your cock all the way down your throat, you grunt before throbbing inside the tightness of her contracting opening. Ryujin held Jimin’s head in place, holding her steady while you shot your seed down the girl’s throat. She gagged, eyes bulging slightly, but she took it well. You felt every rope that surged up and out of your cock, enjoying the feeling of your hot cum exploding into that tight little mouth.

You recovered. Stumbling back, your cock slipped out of Jimin’s mouth. The girl gasped for air. Her face was in a sloppy mess, small trails of white fluid leaking out the sides of her mouth. Your head hit the floor, chest heaving as you watched Karina gulp down your load.

You felt a set of hands on your chest, followed by a set of lips on yours. Ryujin kissed her way down, taking her time as she kissed a path down from your lips to your torso. From your torso, she made her way down to your cock. Her tongue darted out, licking up the cum that was left on your dick. She thoroughly cleaned you off with her mouth afterwards, slurping on your length hungrily. She teased you a little more before deciding she had enough.

Your member popped out of her mouth after some time. She grinned, slapping your glistening dick against her cheek and delivering a few slow strokes.

“Rest up Squeaky… It’s my turn with Jimin now…”

She rose from the floor, leaving your cock unattended—much to your disappointment. Ryujin sauntered over to Karina, who had just finished recovering from her face-fuck. The bassist knelt down, capturing the other woman in a kiss. Ryujin’s hands snaked behind Jimin’s back, unhooking the clasps of her bra and pulling the undergarment off Jimin’s person.

Their tongues duelled, a lewd sight unveiling before you. Soft sighs came from each of the girls, floating gently into your ears.

When they parted, a single string of saliva kept them connected. Ryujin giggled, placing her hands on Karina’s shoulders.

“Lay down for me Karina…” Ryujin demanded. Jimin nodded, obediently sinking down onto her back. Once Karina was flat out on the floor, Ryujin captured one of Karina’s taught nipples in her mouth. Her hands roaming all over the pianist’s body, Karina sighing airily. Her legs quivered, eyes closed in pleasure as Ryujin slipped a hand under her panties.

“Oh… Oh shit…” Karina murmured, a hand gently resting on Ryujin’s head.

“You’re soaking wet darling…” Ryujin chuckled, fingers busying themselves with Karina’s folds. Jimin gasped, eyes going wide. Ryujin smiled devilishly, fingers rubbing a circle beneath Karina’s panties.

“You must be so turned on right now…” Ryujin continued to taunt. “A horny… little… slut…”

She swished her tongue across the girl’s left nipple, eliciting a strained cry out Jimin.

“Fuck! O-Oh my god… I’m… I’m a horny slut…” Karina admitted shamelessly. Ryujin smirked.

“Good girl Jimin… I like your honesty,” She nodded. “Let’s see how much you like this...”

Ryujin pulled Karina’s panties down, exposing her glistening pussy. The short-haired girl slipped her digits into Jimin’s folds, pumping themselves in and out. Karina let a long, drawn-out moan escape past her parted lips, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Ryujin licked her lips, watching with contained glee as Karina’s back arched deliciously, thighs quivering violently. The squelching of Jimin’s wet cunt was nothing far from a turn on, her high-pitched moans and sharp gasps mixing excellently with the profanities that tumbled out from her mouth. Ryujin continued to gently work between Karina’s flushed thighs, her hands staying steady, her pace even steadier. She teased the other girl relentlessly, whispering filthy sentences, nibbling on Jimiin’s ear, kneading those full tits… The sight was erotic to say the least.

“God damn… You’re so fucking hot when you're a mess…” Ryujin mused, twisting Karina’s nipple. Jimin cried out in pleasure, a cute whine cutting through her moans.

You found your hand on your re-erected cock. Stroking lazily, you watched Ryujin make Karina bend to her will, both figuratively and literally. Before you knew it, Karina’s moans and exclamations began increasing in volume. Her hips began to move, forcing Ryujin’s fingers deeper into her slick cunt. Jimin’s hands flew up to her breasts, squeezing them violently.

“O-Oh fuck… R-Ryujin… D-Don’t stop…” Karina mewled. Ryujin cocked her head.

“Why? Are you close baby girl?” Ryujin questioned. Karina could only manage a nod, biting hard on her bottom lip while she thrashed against Ryujin’s hand. The bassist didn’t seem to be too amused.

Ryujin’s free hand shot down to Karina’s crotch, holding the other girl down firmly while she extracted her fingers from the wet folds of Jimin’s pussy. Jimin whined in protest.

“Shhhh… Whining won’t help you baby…” Ryujin calmed her, examining her glistening fingers under the light. She brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean of Karina’s fluids.

“Wow… You taste amazing Jimin…” Ryujin mused. She slapped Jimin’s tits, making them sway and redden as she got up on her knees.

“I got a taste of you… Now you taste me…”

Ryujin straddled Karina’s face in a flash. Facing you, she sank her crotch down onto the other girl’s face, hands pinning Karina’s wrists to the floor. Jimin seemed to know just what to do.

You watched, absolutely entranced as Karina’s jaw opened. You saw the flash of her pink tongue, followed by a moan from the girl atop of her a split second later.

“Oh fuck… You always eat me so well Jimin…” Ryujin sighed, closing her eyes as she let the pleasure wash over her. Her words seemed to have encouraged her friend, and Jimin doubled her efforts. Karina’s chin moved deftly, jaw opening and closing in well timed intervals. Ryujin’s breath seemed to hitch in her throat, head whipping back.

“T-That’s it… Eat me out Karina… Eat me out with that slutty tongue,” Ryujin hissed.

Watching became too much for you… You wanted in.

You crawled over to the two girls. Ryujin opened her eyes just in time to see you on your knees, pumping your shaft mere inches away from Karina’s glistening pussy lips. She bit her lower lip, fighting back a moan before she gave you a nod.

Your hands shot out, grasping Karina’s panties and pulling them all the way down. You heard a muffled noise come from Karina. Ryujin cried out in pleasure, feeling the reverberation from Jimin’s voice in her pussy.

“O-Oh fuck… J-Jesus… Keep making her moan like that…” She whispered to you. Luckily for her, you knew how to fulfil her request.

Your palms pushed open Karina’s legs. Her slick lips were ready for the taking, and you weren’t going to wait anymore. You gripped your throbbing length, slapping your cock against Karina’s flushed pussy lips a few times before you thrusted yourself into Jimin.

Her mouth felt great, but her pussy felt even better. Her tight walls gripped you from the get-go, a hoarse curse flying out of your mouth as you savoured the feel of her walls twitching around you. You didn’t even bother trying to build up on your pace with Karina, jackhammering yourself in and out from her hot slick from the moment you started fucking her. Her pussy made your vision go fuzzy, the sheer tightness of her womanhood sending you into a feral state. You pounded away, slamming yourself into the young girl roughly and relentlessly. You nailed her, speared her, fucked her into a muffled, mewling mess between you and Ryujin.

Her dampened screams sounded amazing, and Ryujin’s cries melded together with them to form an ear-tingling symphony of pleasure. It was lewd, oh so lewd as you took in the sight of two girls moaning and quivering before you, the squelching, slapping and exclamations of pleasure bouncing off the walls of Jimin’s apartment. Jimin tightened even more around your cock, Ryujin capturing you in a passionate kiss.

Under the given circumstances, you didn’t expect any of you to last much longer. Ryujin was the first to succumb to her pleasure, a loud scream heralding the arrival of her orgasm. Her tight body trembled atop Jimin, thighs clamping shut around either side of the pianist’s head, forcing Jimin’s tongue as deep as it could go. Her hands left Jimin's wrists, squeezing the mound of juicy flesh on Karina’s chest for dear life as she came.

She collapsed a few moments later, falling to the floor with a thud. She heaved on the floor, sweat-matted hair sticking to her face.

Karina’s hands were free now, and she used her new range of movement to grab your shoulders and pull you towards her. Her breasts shook violently, bouncing and jiggling hypnotically as you continued your frantic motions.

“I’m gonna fucking cum…” She spat.

Four words, one shared sentiment.

Her fingers dug into your shoulder blades. Your pace increased, and so did the intensity of her moans. You could feel the dull throb of your second orgasm slowly approaching, a familiar prickle in your cock.

Karina, unlike Ryujin, didn’t let out a single sound when she came. You only knew she had climaxed when her body stiffened beneath you, mouth gaped open in a silent scream of pleasure. Her already tight walls squeezed the life out of you, gripping your cock firmly while you fucked her through her orgasm. She went limp, her sighs and sharp intakes of breath filtering in through your ear.

“Cum… Cum in me…” Karina whispered, wrapping her hands lightly behind your neck. “Fill my little pussy up… I want to feel it leaking out of me.”

Her words drove you over the edge. You let out a guttural groan, burying yourself balls-deep in Karina’s well-fucked pussy. You throbbed inside of her, your seed oozing out of you and spilling into her. The twitching walls of her cunt milking you tenderly, your eyes closing in bliss. You savoured the sensation of Karina’s body flushed against yours, soft gasps from Karina wafting into your ears with each hot rope that entered her . She finds your lips, bringing you into a soft kiss as the last of your seed gets delivered into her awaiting pussy.

You slip out of her, shaft sore and flaccid as you roll over and collapse next to Karina’s spent body. As requested, cum leaked out from Karina’s slackened pussy lips, oozing onto the floor. Ryujin finds the strength to crawl over next to you, crashing down on your left and sandwiching you between two equally beautiful and spent girls.

No words were exchanged as Ryujin rested her head on your chest, her hand lazily pumping your shaft. She let out a sigh of satisfaction, your eyes closing as you enjoyed the tingle of her breath on your sweaty skin. Off on your left, you felt Karina lace her hand with yours.

You let yourself drift off on Jimin’s hard floor, knowing full well you’d have to address this with the two girls the next morning.

~~~~~~

You found yourself back behind the drumkit the next afternoon, a glove–provided by Ryujin herself after you insisted on playing—adorning your injured hand as you tune your snare to perfection. The threesome with Karina and Ryujin had been agreed to be swept under the rug over coffee that morning, followed by another intensive round with the two girls in Jimin’s shower that made you late for lectures that morning.

The three of you attended classes like nothing ever happened, though when you happened to be in the same lecture as Ryujin, she made it a point to sit next to you and tease you relentlessly. You managed to get her to stop before things got out of hand, but she did force you into a bathroom on your way to the studio, milking your sore cock with her mouth and taking a load up her ass.

You were exhausted by the time you were back in the studio, but you hid it well under the five cups of coffee you had with Ryujin in the canteen after she was finished with you.

The door to the recording studio burst open, and a thrilled Kwon Eunbi stood at the opening.

“You guys! I found us a trumpeter!” She squealed. Your interest was piqued, and so was everyone else’s, as all stopped what they were doing. Eunbi quickly stepped into the room, gesturing for someone outside to come in.

“Come in!” She encouraged the mysterious person. You silently prayed that she had found another guy to accompany you in the band.

A single Nike air-force one planted itself on the carpeted floor of the recording studio, the leg of its wearer emerging past the door as they stepped in…

A girl with a bob-cut similar to Ryujin’s entered the room. Your heart dropped as you recognised her side profile, eyes widening as you locked eyes with your ex-girlfriend.

She stood there, staring back at you with that pink trumpet case in hand. You couldn’t read her expression but you definitely spotted that familiar flash of annoyance in those fiesty eyes before she turned to Eunbi.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Kim Chaewon asked vexatiously, jabbing a finger towards you.

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

Ngl this was an absolute mess to write. I had to re-write this entire damn thing like 5 times.

Anyway, thank you for reading :)). I'm open to suggestions on who you guys want as a Saxophonist, so leave a comment or an ask if you have someone in mind.

Stay safe, stay swaggy and I'll see ya'll...

#kpop #itzy #fanfic #shin ryujin #karina #yoo jimin #smut

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twiwoncrackpopcorn · 10 months

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ツイステ Twisted Wonderland EVENT at the Queendom of Roses “White Rabbit Festival” GAMEPLAY

EVENT SCHEDULE :

the Event is split into 3 parts,

new parts of the Event Story as well as new Stamp Cards will be released on the 12.July , 18.July and 24.July ,

EVENT CARDS :

SSR Deuce and SR Epel at the mirror gacha banner (Event banner, the Event SSR is guaranteed at the 200th-pull),

SR Ortho and R Silver will be given as Limited trial during the Event and gifted for Free when completing the Event, you can start levelling up the trials cards and it will remain once you receive the Cards at the end,

Free Event Cards need Event Groooovy Items from the Shop, and their Magic Spells can only level up with the Event currency (the Rabbit Headbands),

HOW TO PLAY :

Accumulate Event currency during regular lessons, use it to unlock Event Story chapters,

Unlock special Event token (the Clock Watch) at special chapters and as mission rewards, use them at the Shop,

Complete Stamp Card missions to receive rewards (once all 9 missions completed, you’ll get a mirror key as 10th reward),

1st STAMP CARD (Deuce) [ENDED] : win 10 and 20 GuestRoom Collect Battles | accumulate 100 and 200 Rabbit Headbands | login 3 days during the Stamp Card period | invite Event Silver in your GuestRoom once | use Event Silver as your Home character | level up Event Silver to lvl.20 and one of his Magic Spell to lvl.5

2nd STAMP CARD (Epel) [ENDED] : win 5 Forest Exam Battles and 5 All-Elements Exam Battles | accumulate 300 and 400 Rabbit Headbands | login 3 days during the Stamp Card period | invite Event Ortho in your GuestRoom once | use Event Ortho as your Home character | level up Event Ortho to lvl.20 and one of his Magic Spell to lvl.5

3rd STAMP CARD (Ortho) : play 5 and 10 Rythmics Twistunes | accumulate 500 and 600 Rabbit Headbands | login 3 days during the Stamp Card period | level up Event Silver to lvl.40 and one of his Magic Spell to lvl.8 | level up Event Ortho to lvl.40 and one of his Magic Spell to lvl.8

EVENT SHOP :

Sam will have duplicates of the Free Event Cards (once received at the end of the Event), Event Groooovy items, Event Backgrounds and other items,

If you purchase the special Souvenir pack for 100 jewels, it will give you an Event-limited Furniture for the GuestRoom (the Rabbit Trumpet),

EVENT GUESTROOM CAMPAIGN :

during the Event, you can Collect a special Event Paint to craft special Event Furniture, Event Furniture unlocks for crafting after you completed each part of the Event Story,

using the Event Cards in your Collect team will give you extra Paint as rewards after the Collect Battle (even if your battle is for regular materials),

based on previous events, you’ll need around 230 Event Paint to craft all furniture,

#twst gameplay #twisted wonderland #twst event #twst white rabbit fest #twst queendom of roses #ツイステ #twst deuce #twst epel #twst ortho #twst silver

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crystal-jack-asripines · 8 months

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Losing my mind because so many people keep boiling down BadBoyHalo’s problem with the votes last night to “haha hes angwy he can’t take furniture haha L” when his LEGITIMATE CONCERNS ARE BEING COMPLETELY DISREGARDED (Cellbit I trust you to explain the problems he had PLEASE). So for clarity I will address every problem BBH ACTUALLY had

Roier getting multiple votes for each of his personalities is NOT fair. If players during the actual elections only got to vote twice, then alter egos shouldn’t get that kind of power either, otherwise you’ll have people coming up with new personalities just to rig the votes in their favor

Implementing a law with an ACTUAL ENFORCEABLE PUNISHMENT that MANY MANY MANYYYY players didn’t get to vote on just because they weren’t online is NOT FAIR. It makes more sense for this to be a trial run with no actual consequences so players and the audience get an idea of how the voting system will work. As it is now, it completely screws over everyone who wasn’t online yesterday

THIS LAW IS NOT A JOKE NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES FOREVER OR OTHER PEOPLE SAY IT. It was reiterated BY FOREVER and IN THE CHAT BY QSMP that this law is legitimate and players breaking this law WILL be punished. It doesn’t matter if the law is stupid, if there’s actual consequences to breaking the law THEN IT IS NOT A JOKE, IT IS REAL. My previous 2 points address why this is such a huge problem

NOBODY ELSE SEEMS TO CARE ABOUT THIS BEING UNFAIR. When Bad tried to explain to Forever his concerns, Forever got distracted by Melissa and stopped listening. Other players kept laughing at Bad being angry about this being the furniture law being targeted at him and saying that’s the only reason why he’s upset, and when he tries to explain himself they laugh over him. Bad had said a few days ago he’s concerned that players are getting complacent because the Federation hasn’t hurt them individually and explicitly, they’re slow-cooking everyone so when real problems arise they won’t care, and this is just proving his point

Bad is VERY upset that more players voted banning furniture theft over BANNING MINES. Mines have been a problem for months and have killed multiple players and nearly killed multiple eggs. Literally 2 nights ago Foolish had to speed bridge over the desert with 3 eggs by Luzu’s house because every step they took another mine would go off. Poor Maximus had a mine explode the island where he went camping with Trumpet which genuinely hurt and angered him. BBH’s school, which he rebuilt with the eggs and Senhora Neide and which he was really proud of it being included in the egg quests, got exploded by mines and it was treated like a joke. Mines are a HUGE PROBLEM, and people choosing to vote for a stupid law over banning mines makes him distrust the others even more

Building off of point 3 and 5, it doesn’t make sense that people think the federation would never actually ban mine usage if they ACTUALLY ARE GOING TO PUNISH PEOPLE FOR STEALING FURNITURE. I don’t think they won’t take the mine blocks away completely, but they DEFINITELY would have punished players for using them

Bad has been steadily growing more upset with people treating him as more of a resource than a person with resources, upset that he isn’t given any appreciation or credit for the things he has done. He was literally introduced to the new players as “a guy who will give you stuff, just ask and he’ll deliver.” Everyone laughing at him and ignoring his concerns is just further proof, in Bad’s mind, that they don’t respect him as a person or any of his thoughts or ideas, even after all the good and gifts he’s given to them, and he feels betrayed.

TL;DR: Defending BBH on Twitter isn’t enough, I need a gun

#q!badboyhalo #q!bbh #qsmp #I will protect my blorbo from mischaracterization with my life. and my life force is being drained as we speak LMAO #I love this arc so much btw. the angst and character development and conflict that will come from this is VERY exciting to me #but FUCK ME does it piss me off seeing so many people misconstruing his words and belittling him for false information #if you’re gonna be mad at him at least have all the facts LMAO

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andromeda4004 · 9 months

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Thoughts about Season 3 (and why Season 2 exists at all)

That makes it sound like i didn't enjoy S2 - I did, even the ending, once I'd recovered. But I had some thoughts which might be interesting for people who haven't read the original GO book, or who read it after seeing S1, because I think some of the differences might be easier to miss like that. [Spoilers below, obviously]

Neil said when he started talking about S2 that it would exist to bridge the gap between where GO the book ended and the sequel would have begun, had they ever written it. And this is interesting, because why would the TV series need to tell 6 episodes worth of bridging story when the books didn't? Certainly there are story details that can be told better or more efficiently in narrative or on screen, because they're very different media, but I don't think that accounts for a whole series.

The thing is, the book and S1 end in very different places. In S1, we get the dramatic trials, the triumphant reunion, the confidence that our boys are on their own side now. In the book, our boys never quit their jobs. The whole exchange from the book (which Neil replaced with the trials for dramatic effect) reads like this:

Crowley gave him a sideways look.

‘Your people been in touch?’ he said.

‘No. Yours?’

‘No.’

‘I think they’re pretending it didn’t happen.’

‘Mine too, I suppose. That’s bureaucracy for you.’

That's it; the boys suffer no consequences for their actions (possibly because their actions were a bit less effective in the book, they show up to try to avert the apocalypse and put together one distracting conversation, but Adam and the humans do the actual work). More importantly, they haven't quit and they haven't been fired; there's no reason to think they won't continue to receive assignments once Heaven and Hell get to grips with the continued existence of the world. There is no "our side". So if S3 is to follow what the book's sequel was going to cover, S2 had to get us back to where the book left off, with our boys on opposite sides, so that Aziraphale can be tasked with organising the Second Coming (and hopefully screw it up as badly as Crowley did the baby swap).

So my view is that, in giving us the trials as a very satisfying ending to a stand-alone series, Neil actually painted himself into an awkward corner when it came to the sequel, and had to use S2 to get the characters back where they needed to be.

All that said, here are some things I'm hoping for in S3. Some of these might be mutually exclusive but that's fine, any assortment is good:

Crowley reads some Jane Austen, and learns how humans work through arguments (i.e. through meaningful apology and personal growth, not by sleeping for 80 years).

Aziraphale has a series of increasingly disappointing experiences in Heaven, which lead him to finally resolve his persistent difficulty with the concept of "good" not lining up with his personal morality of what is "right". Perhaps he has a chat with Jesus about it, I'm guessing he would have an interesting perspective on this.

Metatron had to get Aziraphale back on side because he is the angel Israfil, who in Islamic tradition is the one who sounds the final trumpet (there's a fantastic meta post about this somewhere on here and I would love that to be true).

Crowley goes back to Hell. I know this one's controversial, but we've never seen Crowley actually lean into his demonic nature, and there's a vacancy Below too, right? And it would really add some weight to the inevitable love confession if Aziraphale has to admit that he loves Crowley warts and scales and horns and all, not because he's clinging to the memory of an angel who doesn't exist.

One of the residents of Soho is revealed as having been an undercover demon watching the bookshop. There's just too many slightly odd moments in S2 that feel like they're foreshadowing something.

Anyway, there's my assorted thoughts; I'd love to hear yours.

#good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #gos2spoilers #good omens s3 theories #wild speculation

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cazzyf1 · 1 month

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Some of my favourite quotes from David Benson's 'Hunt v Lauda'

'He was nursing a toy yellow-eyed gorilla which made alarming noises and clapped a pair of cymbals attached to its hand.

"Whats with the gorilla?"

James looked tired. "It's called smiler. Alistair and Teddy gave it to me to celebrate my championship."

Teddy smiled benignly: "The gorilla was not very popular in first-class lounge I'm afraid."

"No," said James, "and they wouldn't let me blow my whistle either." He produced a police whistle and blew it.' - p7

"When we boarded the plane, he (James Hunt) insisted on joining mechanics in touring class until the lights were turned down for passengers to sleep." - p8

"Niki had always wanted to marry Mariella but she had refused to do so until he had become world champion." - p21

"The unsuspecting young actress Marlene Knaus was going to endure a trial that few women, even with a tremendously experienced and well-founded background, could have endured." - p21

"I telephoned James Hunt in Johannesburg where he is preparing for the South African Grand Prix. He told me, "I have been in daily contact with Susy and am fully informed about what is going on. I wouldn't stop her getting a divorce. I am trying to help her as much as I can so that she makes the right decisions. Obviously if she wanted to come back to me, I would help her do that." - p40

"I walked out of the dinning-room to an annexe alongside it, and sitting in the corner with a lady I didn't know was Niki Lauda; he smiled and asked a Carol and me to join him for a cup of coffee. He introduced the girl alongside him very simply, "This is my lady," She was, of course, Marlene Knaus, a very beautiful girl, with her hair in a rather severe style, brushed back, and a bun on the top of her head. We had a long chat about seat belts - both were empathetically in favour (that evening the house of commons in the UK were debating on making seatbelts in cars compulsory) - but the important thing was that I established a friendly relationship with Marlene when other people on the racing circuit cold-shouldered her, thinking she was merely some local pick-up. In fact, she and Niki were planning to get married as soon as they flew back from South Africa." - p44

"The main topic of conversation was the break-up of the long relationship between Niki Lauda and Mariella. Helen (Stewart) offered, with the best possible intentions, to get in touch with both Mariella and Niki is necessary to heal the breach. Having seen how close Niki and Marlene were in South Africa, I doubted if this were possible. As it turned out, a day after we had our discussion in Nina's home, Niki went quietly to a register office near Vienna and married Marlene." - p47

"He tried awfully hard not to hurt me." - (Susy about James) - p58

"James was standing right alongside me. Tears welling in his eyes. "It's stupid," he said, "It does not affect the performance of the car or make it any faster. Not even the Ferrari team protested and they were the ones who have the most to win..." - p62

"It was in triumph, therefore, that Hunt, six weeks before his 29th birthday, left for Britain in preparation for the John Player Grand Prix at Brands Hatch. With good humour and in high spirits, he took part in an event before the race and revealed another facet in his talents. It was at the Albert Hall at the Grand Prix Night of the Stars, a concert in aid of the Graham Hill Memorial Fund. The hall was packed with evening-suited celebrities who had paid up to £500 for a private box. Hunt was introduced by astronomer Patrick Moore who had just done a soft-shoe shuffle. Suddenly, Moore reached for a trumpet left behind on the bandstand by Chris Barber, who had done an earlier turn. "You're supposed to be good at blowing your own trumpet," he said, "so try this one." The audience dutifully laughed expecting a knockabout comedy turn. But Hunt took the trumpet, the studio band started to play and Hunt's clear, clean notes echoed through the vast auditorium. It was a memorable moment. When the audience realised that Hunt was playing for real, they roared their approval and then sat in silence as James plaved like a professional. Hunt's brother, Peter told me later: "I had a hell of a job convincing the BBC, who were recording the show, that James really was a good enough trumpet player to perform on TV. He learned to play at about 12 or 13 when he was at Wellington. He was in the school orchestra and the school band and played solo at concerts. Stuart Turner, Public Affairs Director of Ford of Britain, had a box at the Albert Hall. He turned to me after Hunt had finished his solo and said: "Now I have seen everything: James Hunt playing the trumpet at the Albert Hall we'll have Niki Lauda doing a comedy act next." - p73-4

"Niki himself, having almost killed himself in a first-lap accident there in 1974, has always campaigned against the Nurenburgring. He argued that the 1976 German Grand Prix should be switched to the Hockenheim Ring, a purpose-built circuit with outstanding safety facilities installed after the death there of Jim Clark in 1968. But Lauda was reviled by the Germans for his attempt. In practise at Nürburgring spectators displayed a huge poster of Lauda and his car. Across it was written, 'Lauda 20 kilometres per hour. Aus.' Ring bystanders are hard on anyone threatening the thrill of the race." - p80

"Sunday's race day was altogether depressing from the start. The young American driver Brett Lunger had heard the night before that his father had died unexpectedly in the United States and Brett decided to stay and go on with the race before returning home. It was to be a vital decision in the saving of Niki Lauda's life." - p81

"Jackie had a remarkable story to tell that Niki's agents had telephoned him soon after the crash and asked him to appear at a promotion for a new line of jeans which were being marketed in Niki's name. Jackie refused, saying he would only appear with Niki's permission. Niki was telephoned and they were told that he was determined to be there himself." - p86-7

"What would the situation be if Niki was fit to drive and Ferrari still wouldn't come to the track?" I asked Alastair, without hesitation he replied: "We will lend him a car so he and James can fight it out." - p89

"Then Niki arrived in his Jaguar with Marlene and Willi Dungl, his masseur/confidant, the man responsible for building Niki up physically in preparation for the race. There was a last-minute panic when it was discovered that Dungl had left his passport back at the house but he had an identity card and Niki knew that with Ferrari influence we would have no trouble getting Willi into Italy. Niki insisted on carrying out all the check-out procedures himself and we made a beautiful take off from Salzburg Airport." - p95

"At one point I was asked if I wanted to see a priest. So I said: "OK." He came in, and gave me my last rites - crossed my shoulder - and said "Goodbye My friend". I nearly had a heart attack! I wanted someone to help me live in this world, and not pass into the next." - p98

"I was watching his wife Marlene's eyes as she protectively, solicitously, studied her husband. She seemed almost proud of his scarred features." - p101

"A beautiful elegant grey/green-eyed young woman by the name of Marlene Knaus enjoyed life of a promising screen actress and model. A member of one of the most respected families in Austria she fitted easily into the jet set world of show business. She moved easily too in the rarefield world of medicine in which her grandfather was a renowned gynaecologist and in the artistic circles into which she was born as the daughter of a famous painter." - p101

"I used to smoke maybe one or two cigarettes a day, but from the time of the accident I have become a chain smoker. I know that this is not good for my health but it helps me through the crisis." Niki does not smoke and he says that this fact helped him recover from his lung injuries, but he does not reprove Marlene for smoking." - p102

"Marlene is a delightfully warm person. Her handshake is firm. Her eyes are steady and constant. They are the eyes of a woman who could inspire a man to great things, and she likes to touch the person that she is talking to. She looks at her husbands scarred face and gently strokes it." - p103

"Hunt, who had trotted through the driving rain along the length of the pits to salute the supreme courage of his world title rival Niki Lauda." - p104

"I just wish there bad been no accident, no disqualifications, no aggrevation, and Niki and I were fighting it out fair and square on the track. After what Niki has achieved, he deserves that at least. What Ferrari have done is to devalue the world championship and to cloud Niki's brave recovery. His recovery is absolutely amazing and he really is fit again." - p125

"His wife Marlene was happy with his decision. She had said earlier; "When he got into the car and drove away, I wanted to throw myself in front of it and stop him." - p140

"All Hunt knew was that he had to pass everything in sight. It took him two laps to catch and pass Alan Jones in the Surtees. Now he was fourth. Almost on the same bend he came upon Regazzoni in the Ferrari. Would the Swiss Italian let him through or hold him back? Ostentatiously Rega moved over and waved Hunt through ar a point where the Ferrari pit could clearly see his manoeuvre. As Rega passed his pit he gave them the two finger sign to show his disapproval that he had been dropped from the team for 1977." - p142

#niki lauda #classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #james hunt

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