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kissesforsatoru · 1 year

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Hello,

Can I ask for some yandere Mikey Sano headcanons?

pairing : mikey x gn!reader

summary : general yandere hc’s for mikey

⤷ cw : NSFW 18+, general yandere themes, violence, threats, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships.

– mikey is the kind of yandere that would fall for his darling just by them doing the simplest thing for him. maybe you ran into each other and felt so bad that you offered to cook him some food as an apology. he's not really interested at first, and quite frankly, he couldn't care less that you ran into him. he understands it was an accident, there's no need to go to such lengths to apologize for something as little as this. but whatever, you keep insisting and mikey knows draken would be disappointed if he denied someone just trying to be nice.

– so, as he sits in your kitchen, waiting for you to finish cooking, he can't help but watch you. he observes you carefully, trying to understand what kind of person you are. if you're dumb to be inviting a stranger in your home, or just genuinely naive. and then you set the food in front of him and start to explain how you usually eat alone, and that you really appreciate him for allowing you to cook for him. there's a sad smile on your lips that he just can't ignore, and a feeling of want over comes him--he wants to know you, he wants to protect you, he wants to have you.

– and oh god, once you have mikeys interest, it's over for you. the second he decides he likes you, you're his. it's as simple as that--if he wants you then he has you. nobody can refute him, certainly not you or your family that doesn't even care enough about you to enjoy a meal with you, not even draken can control mikeys urges towards you.

– and mikey absolutely is not patient. he won't wait for you to come to him, and he won't try to win you over or manipulate you, he just takes you. he genuinely thinks you're his, so he thinks he has the right to you.

– he's very clingy, like suffocatingly clingy. you're never allowed to leave his side and he always has to be touching you. he likes to have you in his lap specifically, but he's okay with you holding your hand or having his arm around your waist--holding you so tightly against him that you can barely even squirm, let alone leave. he likes to cuddle you, and if he could, he would just sleep all day with you tucked nicely in his arms, or with his head on your lap so that you can gently run your fingers through his hair. he really loves it whenever you do that.

– mikeys also incredibly possessive. if anyone so much as looks at you they're a dead man. you're his pretty angel, no fucker should get the privilege to look at you. and if some dumbass has the gal to try and take you from him? shit, rip to them cause i honestly think mikey would actually kill them without hesitation. but his possessiveness means that he's also very strict with you. you can't do anything without asking him first, and you're especially not allowed to go anywhere without him. he needs to be able to protect you at all times, and he can't do that if you're off with family or friends, or if you're decide to do something dumb without his knowledge. but that's okay sweetheart, all you need is him anyway. he'll give you everything you could ever want, so just stay with him, kay?

– to mark you as his he'll probably make you get a tattoo. most likely his name so that the proof that you're his is literally ingrained into your skin, but that bonten tattoo would also work for him. other than that, you'll be covered in hickeys all the time. mikey can sometimes get lost in thought while he's sucking on your pretty skin, far too engrossed in leaving his mark on you to realize that you're squirming uncomfortably cause your skin is so sore. and no matter how many times he tells you he's sorry and that he'll try and be gentler next time, he doesn't mean it. he likes seeing you covered in his marks, and he loves kissing your sore skin better afterwards too.

– mikey would absolutely adore you, especially in bed. he takes his time showing you how much he loves you by kissing every inch of your body, and he'll definitely make you come on his mouth a couple of times before he even thinks about fucking you, and he does all of this while telling you how perfect and precious you are to him, you're his everything and he's gonna make damn sure you know it. he can't ever have you doubting his love and adoration for you. when he finally decides it's time to fuck you, you'll see stars. he's so attentive and hits all of the right places that make you scream and writhe, and goodness, he fucks you so good you probably won't be able to talk properly afterwards. and his aftercare is top tier too. he carries you to the bathroom and leans you against his chest while he bathes you, kissing your skin where it's sore and rubbing you soothingly. god, you're so well loved by him.

– but as much as mikey loves and cares about you and wants to keep you safe, if you ever defy him or try to run away, he will take care of this behavior thoroughly. he doesn't like doing it, but he will hurt you. slaps, punches, cuts, bruises--he'll do it all as long as you learn to listen to him in the end. he also doesn't mind isolating you or depriving you of basic necessities like food and water, and you definitely won't be getting his attention during a punishment. i really don't see this happening at all because it goes against everything, he's worked towards with you, but if you do something really terrible, he'll act like a heartless bastard towards you and call you really disgusting, degrading names to make you feel absolutely worthless. it's not pleasant or something you'll easily be able to ignore.

– just be good though and he won't have to do any of that. you can stay his pretty little lover that he adores, and you can stay right by his side forever as long as you obey him.

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im-no-jedi · 10 months

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I’ve been pondering why writing has gotten so difficult for me over the past few months, and I think I can break it down into several factors at this point

the first (and potentially biggest reason) is definitely burnout. or I guess betrayal. idk what term to use. but TBB season 2 literally stomped out the drive and passion I previously had while writing MLWTBB. not only did I become consumed with new ideas from all the new content, but Plan 99 straight up crushed me to the point where it’s been hard to return to the series in general. I used to rewatch an episode of the show at least once or twice a week. I rewatched the first season at least 7-8 times. the show was my entire life, literally. and now… I can honestly say, I haven’t rewatched most of season 2. outside of the first five episodes, “Retrieval”, and “Pabu”, I haven’t rewatched any other episodes. I’ve rewatched certain scenes for gif purposes, but that’s it. quite sad, really. I’m disappointed in myself 😞

another reason is loss of a proofreader for my stories. not gonna get into it, but there's currently only (1) person in the entire world who I trust to proofread my work, and they basically wanted a break from the position. and that hurt me more than I thought it would. I had someone regularly reading my stories and giving me feedback, which I needed. not because I had a ton of errors (although sometimes that's true LOL), but because I had a regular reader. someone who was frequently commenting and discussing my stories with me. and I sorely need that. as far as I know, I don't have any regular readers. I've discussed elements of my stories with other friends but... it's not the same. it's like infodumping about a TV show to someone who's never seen it. sure, I'm getting the info out, but when the other person has seen the content too, it's a much more satisfying feeling. I very much desire both validation and interaction in regard to my stories. I've gotten a few nice comments on some of my work before, but... nothing regular. I don't have any "fans" or anything like that. and... it genuinely sucks 💔

which leads me into my next point. which is something I used to tell myself, and I need to start telling myself again. at the end of the day, nobody will ever be as big of a fan of my stories as myself. I originally wrote MLWTBB for me and me exclusively. I literally only started sharing it publicly because Skylar asked LOL. it's easily become one of the highest achievements of my life, and it's nowhere near finished yet. I realized I started becoming more self-conscious about how I write since posting the series publicly, and I can see it in how I currently write compared to back then. that needs to stop. I'm never gonna get anything finished with that mentality. so I seriously need to adjust my mentality about it. I need to go back to August 2021 when I first started writing it and tell myself "idc if anyone else in the world sees this, I'm writing this story for me". so while I strongly desire (and in some cases, need) the engagement and validation from others... nobody else's opinion matters more than my own. and I too often forget that...

so how do I fix all this? well, the last point is pretty self-explanatory. the solution for that is simply to just write. doesn't matter if the quality is "good enough", I just need to get these dadgum stories out of my head and into concrete words. I think that'll help with the first point as well. writing out more of my interpretations of the characters I hold so dear should help deter from any negative thoughts about the current state of the canon (and hold me off until season 3 comes LOL). as for the middle point, I don't think there's much I can do about that, at least when it comes to MLWTBB. however, I've been planning on opening writing requests for literally weeks now, and I think now might be the time to actually do it. that way, I can at least get that feeling of validation for my writing that I so desperately desire.

one other point I think I need to address is entirely on my part, and it's in relation to the engagement factor. I fully acknowledge that more often than not, engagement on fiction is a two-way street. several of my friends and followers are writers themselves, and I see all the content they put out. but to be perfectly honest, I'm more of a writer than a reader. I'm extremely picky about all the content I consume, which means I don't often have the capacity to engage with fanfiction, no matter who's written it. heck, Ham's had a story I've been meaning to read for months now, and I just haven't ever been able to bring myself to doing it. it's nothing personal!! whoever the author is has literally nothing to do with whether or not I engage with something!! I just honestly, really and truly, am not much of a reader. I enjoy rereading my own stuff... and that's about it. although, I've been gifted stories before, and OMG I treasure those so much. but I think that's because those stories were written for me, as a gift, and all gifts are precious to me. so I guess I need to accept the fact that I probably won't get much engagement on my work simply because I don't engage with others. and that's ok. I'm not hurting anyone by doing this (although if this is a problem for you, please let me know, I don't wanna unintentionally insult or hurt anyone 🥺). and maybe someday, I'll actually get the bug up my butt to finally read the things I promised to read haha

so! all this to say, an attempt will be made to relight the writing spark within me so I can continue my beloved MLWTBB and potentially write some fun stuff for the people who request something from me. I've actually already written a thing for a friend as a test for my upcoming requests, and I can't wait to share that one 😁

writers block be damned!! I'm going to write and continue to write until my brain stops functioning. deal with it, Palpatine 😤

#this is probably so incoherent sdmfjgkfdjs #but this place has been my diary for years and I ain't gonna stop using it now #anyway writing requests coming soon!! for real!!!#might even make the post later tonight!!#yay!!!#\o/#MLWTBB chatter

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silverdelirium · 3 years

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SWEET TOOTH | J.P

SUMMARY ➠ ice cream man!james fucks you in his ice cream truck

WARNINGS ➠ fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, praise kink, humiliation (?), pet names, bit of a breeding kink, not proofread

WORD COUNT ➠ 2.0k

A/N ➠ the long awaited ice cream man james smut ;) oh and this is for @hellounicorn <33

———

you were in that stage between dreams and reality when you heard it.

the small tune that you memorized since you started living in this neighbourhood— he always passed by in summer; and god, were you craving something cold and tasty to munch on when it was a thousand degrees outside.

you hummed in content as you lifted yourself from your bed, stretching your lips and rummaging through your closet in an attempt to find a comfortable and decent attire to meet james; as weird as it sounded, you wanted to impress the ice cream man and it was safe to say that you had developed a small crush— james had always been so nice to you, going as far as giving you free popsicles in exchange for a brief conversation.

the tip of your nerves went on fire as you stepped outside; spotting him buckling his belt. he was wearing a tight fit white shirt that had you drooling and shuddering.

——

“there you go, kiddo” chuckled james after delivering a chocolate ice cream to the last kid of the big crowd that had formed earlier.

he sighed in disappointment when he realized that you still hadn’t come out yet— he had purposely parked the van a few feet from your house, just so you could maybe pop by and have a nice chat with him.

truth is that james missed you. he hadn’t seen you since last summer and it had already been a shitty weather day, he knew you would be the only one to lift his mood up with that bright smile of yours.

james went back to the driver’s seat and as he finished buckling himself up he heard a small scream of his name upfront.

holy fuck— thought james.

you were wearing a small cute sundress that accentuated your figure in the best way possible, and when he let his eyes travel down to your chest, he caught a glimpse of your peebled nipples. leading him to get into the conclusion that you might only be wearing panties underneath that dress. his cock ached at the thought.

he stepped on the pedal lightly and drove closer to you, until the truck was right in line with your home.

“hi there, sweetheart!” he greeted, unbuckling his seatbelt and going into the back— where he was met with your face through the open window.

“hello james” you giggled “long time, no see, huh?”

“damn right you are, honey— i was starting to wonder if you moved out, what took you so long?” he spoke in a querying tone.

the tip of your ears and nose grew hot as you remembered struggling to find something cute for him. “oh— uhm, i was just— looking for my shoes you know?” you awkwardly chuckled, staring down at the five dollar bill in your hand as if it was the most interesting thing in the planet.

he gave you a bit of an amused look before shaking his head “whatever you say, pretty girl” your tummy fluttered as the nickname dripped from his lips like sweet honey.

“what would you like today, hm?”

“oh just— something sweet and creamy, like an ice cream popsicle” you shrugged, not noticing the effect your words had on james.

“i know something of yours that is sweet and creamy” he murmured under his breath. “what was that?” “oh, no nothing” he gave you a tight lipped smile, his cheeks dusting pink.

“right well uhm, the ice cream”

“oh shoot yeah— what uh” he paused to clear his throat “what flavor where you thinking of, petal?” and his sweet flirty persona was back on, as if the thought of having a face full of your pussy wasn’t replaying on his head over and over again.

“i don’t know” you groaned, almost embarrassed at your sudden indecisiveness.

“you can come in you know? take a look at the flavors and see which one catches your attention more” he offered, sparing you a small smile.

“won’t you get in trouble for that?” you cocked your head to the side. “i don’t mind” he shrugged, the corners of his lips still quirked up as he opened up the back door for you; already holding both of his hands out to help you climb in.

what a gentleman, you thought.

“there we go, honey. take your time.” spoke james as he patted your waist twice, sending a buzz of excitement all throughout your body that almost made you shudder on the spot.

the variety of flavours seemed so appetizing you started wishing you would’ve brought your whole wallet to buy all of them at once, but a peach flavoured ice cream would do.

as you went to give james the money he only chuckled and said “you know i wouldn’t charge a pretty little thing like you, your presence is enough” before handing you the sweet and throwing you a wink as he rested his back on the frame of the window.

the way his muscles flexed as he crossed them over his chest had you questioning whether you should’ve asked for his cock instead of a fucking popsicle—

and god… that damn shirt had your core clenching around air as your mind wandered about him fucking you in every position possible, he just looked so elegantly inviting.

“you done staring, sweetheart?”

shit. you didn’t even realize.

“oh my god, i am so sorry, i should probably leave” you nervously laughed, heading towards the back doors, only to have a large hand around your abdomen stop you.

holy fuck. james potter’s body was pressed against yours and you almost let out a moan as his breath fanned over the side of your petrified face.

“you can’t just leave me all alone in here, sweetie” his hand traveled lower down your mid drift. by now, your stupid peach flavored popsicle was long gone somewhere on the floor, melting. almost as much as you were against james’ hefty chest.

you swallowed thickly, blinking a few times to collect yourself as you turned your head to the side, it was hot breath against hot breath now; if only one of you made the first move—

“oh fuck this” he growled, disconnecting his palm from your pelvis and instead linking it with your jaw to have more access against your lightly chapped lips.

the lip-lock was vulgar and enticing since the start, both of you feeling the luscious sparks that it sent to your sex.

“i’ve been way too fucking patient” you heard him mumble as he took your lower lip in between his teeth, coaxing a whine as you felt your core drip with arousal. “bet you think about me when that pretty cunt is begging for relief, huh?”

“yes jamie, i do. i fucking do” you heaved, impassionedly grinding your bum against his bulging crotch. “i’m gonna fuck you nice and long today, baby. until all you can do is beg for more”

his words went straight to your sopping cunt as he waddled you forward, his mouth still on yours, to the window.

his lips detached from yours. “there we go baby, stay nice and loud for me, yeah? want the whole fucking neighbourhood to know who’s stuffing you full.”

your fingers gripped the edge of the window tightly as james nipped at your neck, his left hand bunching up your dress while the right one’s simultaneously prodded at your swollen button. “you came all bare for me, honey? bet you wanted me to fuck you good once and for all” he groaned, not giving you a warning as he slipped two fingers at once, leaving you a gasping mess as your knuckles turned white from holding on to the frame of the aperture you were leaned on.

“james!” you cried out quietly, rocking your hips back onto his fingers as the ones from his free hand made a path to your throat, lightly squeezing the sides.

his digits made wonders to your contracting insides, juices already making a sticky mess on your thighs as he curled them upwards, caressing your g-spot in a mouth-watering manner; the pad of his thumb made way to your clit, soothing it in tight figure eights as your legs shook, pulling small wails after wails from you.

feeling the thrill of the enticing orgasm building up, you brought one of your hands back to tangle itself on the male’s dark curls, only to have him tut at you as he removed his drenched fingers.

“wha— no! please!” you shamelessly begged, not giving a shit about anything else besides the ache on your heat.

james did nothing besides giving you a wicked grin as he let go of your neck, now focusing on lowering down his trousers— which quickly had you shutting up as you stared in fascination.

he was definitely the biggest you have had so far. a nice length with a thickness that would make a barbarous stretch feel so fucking delirious.

“i’m not sure if i can fit in that tiny hole of yours, precious. maybe i should just leave you like this” he fake pouted, a hint of amusement lacing his features as your bottom lip trembled at the thought of not having him inside you in the next fifteen seconds or so. “no! it’ll fit! make it fit” you mewled, rubbing your pooling cunt against his grith.

“so impatient” he chuckled, stabilizing your hips with his hands before forcing himself into you in one single unforgiving push, making you let out a small scream as your eyes shut tight.

james gave you a few moments for you to get comfortable before you rocked your hips backwards into his as a sign of consent. his hand travelled upwards to grope at your breasts as he thrusted deeply.

“my god, you feel like absolute heaven” he grunted, and even though you couldn’t hear him, the strain in his voice gave away that he was probably with his head thrown back, abs clenching and biceps flexed as his chest heaved, a sight for sore eyes truly.

your mouth stayed agape as his tip kissed your g-spot. your vision clouded with small black stars that had you genuinely question whether they were really painted in your house or not.

james started with a brutal speed since the start, the smacking of your skin against his was filthy and loud, you could only hope mr. benson wouldn’t go for a walk today.

the van rocked and lightly squeaked with every thrust of james’ and you tried your best to contain every loud moan and cry that might alarm the whole block. james had other plans though. “say my name baby, don’t hold back, i want to have your pretty moans fucking memorized”

you complied, throwing your last fucks out of the window and chanting his name like a prayer as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, his strong arms moving to hold you up by the bending of your elbows, causing your spine to arch in a perfect C as james continuously grunted in your ear.

“you’re gonna be absolutely cockdrunk after i’m done with you, honey” he groaned, speeding up the push of his hips and biting down on your shoulder as he brought you both closer to the edge.

“james! i’m gonna cum so hard, don’t stop please, don’t fucking stop” you sobbed, moaning uncontrollably as the coil in your stomach unravelled without any form of forewarning.

“there we go, cream my cock so nicely baby” whispered james, still fucking your quivering pussy through the orgasm with an aggressive pace. “oh fuck, this tight cunt is gonna milk me dry, yeah?”

you could only answer him with a whimper as your legs almost gave out on you if it wasn’t for him holding you up, a few more sloppy thrusts and he was spraying your fluttering walls with his cum, whines escaping his lips.

a breathy moan passed through your mouth as he pulled out, his load slowly flowing out of your puffy folds.

“you look so hot when you’re stuffed full of my cum, sweetheart.” rasped james, peppering your cheeks with soft kisses.

———

i’m tagging the people who clicked “all” in my taglist, dm me if you wish to be removed.

🏷: @selenesheart @siriusblackwifeeey @alohastitch0626 @remuslupinswhore @caosfanblr @memorycharm @abbott27 @elizabethrosedarling @samaraaaaa @malfoyspov @ildm4ev @kieracass4lyfers @acciodignity @methblinds @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @riddleswh0rekrux @lostaurorax @alexavolturisblog @marauderswh0re1 @black-rose-29 @emma67 @mypainistemporary @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @lissa-duh @paniicing @alohastitch0626 @caosfanblr @memorycharm @youreso-golden @malfoyspov

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#james potter #james potter smut #james potter au #james potter fluff #james potter one shot #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfiction

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

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[16.14] hongjoong × roadie!reader × yunho

⇀ you've always admired him, and after being given the chance to work for him, you couldn't help but fall for him. But to him, you're just his groupie.

⇁ tw : joong's an ungrateful jerk 🙃

You stood by the side of the stage, eyes dreamy watching Hongjoong performed his latest song so beautifully. He looked ethereal on stage; the spotlight on him, his expression, the emotion he brought out. To be able to see him perform in person is a whole out of this world experience. Even after a year of being his roadie, you never once felt like it was a waste of time.

Without you realizing, he finished his performance and walked off backstage after waving to his fans.

As he walked to you, you couldn't help but jump excitedly and clap for him.

"Oh my god, Hongjoong! That's amazing !!" you exclaimed loudly to him. You had a wide grin on your face as you handed out his water bottle and towel.

The initial genuine smile that Hongjoong shot to his fans changed immediately as he came face to face with you. He raised an eyebrow and just scoffed, "of course you'd think that's amazing," he muttered, snatching the items from your hands rather harshly. The staff around watched with pity, while idols and celebrities tend to treat staff in a shitty manner because they're not close, it was particularly harsh for an idol to treat the person who willingly follows him around like a lovesick puppy so badly, like they're nothing but a nuisance. And it was particularly heartbreaking to see even through the abuse Hongjoong gave you, you still look at him with much love and adoration.

As Hongjoong took a sip from his bottle, he grimaced. He looked at the bottle before he shot you a displeased look, "this is not the brand I usually drink," he stated.

You blinked in confusion initially, "what?" you asked, not quite sure. Hongjoong groaned in annoyance at you, "this is not the bottled water brand I usually drink, do you want me to lose my vocal abilities that you claimed you love so much?" he scowled.

Realizing he was being serious, you stuttered, "I-I'm sorry, I tried looking for that brand from the vending machine and the cafeteria here but they don't sell it," you explained.

Hongjoong took a step closer to you, he was so close that you could count his eyelashes. The proximity made you blush furiously, nervous as the position seemed very intimate.

"If you can't even go out to look for the things I specifically asked you to do, drop out of being my roadie because I can find your replacement in two seconds if I want to," he growled out lowly. He proceeded to push the water bottle into your chest harshly, sending you hurtling backwards and hitting the wall behind you.

You chuckled to no one as he walked off, "I'm sorry, Hongjoong! It won't happen again!" you called out pathetically.

Tears threatened to drop from your eyes as your head had just bumped into the wall rather harshly. But you couldn't cry then and there. You knew that if you cried, people would talk badly about Hongjoong. He already had his own share of stress, you can't add more to it. So you just gripped onto the part of your head that was pounding from impact pain, silently hoping it'd go away soon.

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice called out.

You looked up to see one of the rising idols leaning close to you, he had a worried look on his face. You immediately recognized him as Jung Yunho, the idol who is very esteemed for his performance abilities. He was scheduled to perform on the same stage as Hongjoong today and he had performed two stages before Hongjoong but you didn't think you'd be able to see him.

Smiling sheepishly, you rubbed at the sore spot, "Y-yeah I'm okay, I'm such a klutz tripping over my own feet like that," you chuckled.

Though you tried lying, Yunho saw the whole thing unfold from not too far, he caught the interaction between you and Hongjoong. He didn't know how Hongjoong was able to treat someone so badly.

But, seeing how hard you were trying to cover it up, he decided to just spare you and play along. Yunho shot you a gentle smile, "if you're that clumsy, then maybe you should have someone be with you always," he teased.

You look up at him and blushed slightly. You bit on your bottom lip in embarrassment but also out of shyness.

"You're Hongjoong's roadie, right?" he asked, tilting his head to the side rather adorably. You nod at him in confirmation, rather eagerly than you intended. But you were just happy that someone noticed that you were a part of Hongjoong's entourage.

Just as you were about to verbally confirm him, Hongjoong reappeared, grabbing onto your arm rather harshly.

"What are you still here for? I was waiting for you to- oh, hey Yunho," he greeted as he noticed Yunho stood in front of you. Yunho smiled at the older guy. To regular people, it might seem just like a regular smile but to those who know him well, that smile spoke of how Yunho is apprehensive of Hongjoong and how he doesn't seem to like the guy so much.

"Hi, hyung, long time no see," the younger said to which the older just shrugged, "our schedules never seem to match," he simply stated.

Yunho's eyes darted to Hongjoong's hand that was still on your arm. That seemed to make Hongjoong realized what he has been doing so he immediately let go, much to your disappointment.

"Well, I gotta go now, I have to go back to the company to finish up my next project," Hongjoong excused, You know very well that he has no new project lined up which means that Hongjoong was feeling rather uncomfortable and maybe even threatened.

Luckily, Yunho just shrugged at him, "yeah, sure, see you around, hyung," he then shifted his gaze to you, shooting you a blush-inducing charming smile, "and I'll see you soon, (Y/N)," he smiled widely at you.

You smiled back to him and nod, "yeah, see you soon, Yunho,"

From behind you, you could hear Hongjoong scoffed loudly before he simply walked away without saying anything else.

When you realized he had left without you, you immediately rushed to catch up with him.

Back at his waiting room, staff were packing things and you helped around, making sure things are in order and nothing gets left behind. Halfway through the packing, you realized that Hongjoong was actively ignoring you. Sure, he usually does that anyways but he'd throw comments here and there and even make you stop what you were doing to get him something or do something for him. You couldn't deny that there was this uncomfortable, tingling feeling that lingers. But for now, you ignored it and got back to doing what you had been doing.

Once everything was packed and loaded onto the car, you silently walked behind Hongjoong and his manager who was discussing his schedule. You weren't paying attention as it doesn't really concern you particularly anyways.

But you suddenly felt like you had bumped into someone. When you looked up, you realized that Hongjoong had stopped mid-way before he turned to look at you.

"I think I left my AirPods backstage, could you please help me find it?" he asked with a blank expression on his face.

Without even hesitating, you eagerly nodded and shot him a smile, "Yeah, sure! No problem!" you said before running off back to where you had just been.

Due to the large building, it took you quite some time to reach backstage and it took you 20 minutes to look for Hongjoong's AirPods. Some of the staff around were helping you look for it but they weren't able to find what you were looking for.

Dejected, you walked back towards the parking lot where you knew Hongjoong's van was parked.

But when you arrived, you saw that the reserved parking spot where Hongjoong's van was parked was empty. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, you were pretty sure that this was where it was parked, the spot still had a sign with Hongjoong's name on it.

You reached into your pocket to dial his manager, knowing that when in the car, Hongjoong is more likely than not to be asleep since he usually spend his nights writing masterpieces.

The manager thankfully picked up at the third ring, "Hello?" he called, "h-hey, it's me! Where are you guys? I'm at the parking lot and the van's not here?" you asked him. "Us? We're already on the way back to Hongjoong's apartment, why?" his words made you felt like your stomach just dropped. "W-what? Y-you left me here?" you asked in disbelief, "left you? We didn't, Hongjoong said an idol invited you to hang with him and that you were going, Yunho was it?" he asked back.

Right at that moment, you felt like you wanted to cry for the second time that day. Though it was evident that Hongjoong was punishing you, you convinced yourself that he was just joking and that he wanted to prank you. You convinced yourself that Hongjoong didn't mean for what he did.

Thanking the manager, you quickly hung up and walked back inside to exit through the main lobby.

As you walked dejectedly to the main lobby, you felt someone tapping on your shoulder and to your surprise, it was Yunho again.

"Hey! You're still here? I thought you had left a while ago," he asked. You took notice of his tendency to tilt his head to the side when asking a question. You laughed sheepishly at him, "uhh, yeah, I-I- uhm, I left something behind so I told Hongjoong to leave without me," you said. After you said that, you realized how ridiculous it sounded and how people could tell it was a lie from miles away.

But even if Yunho realized your obvious lie, he said nothing. He kept a gentle smile on his face and nodded towards the main door, "you know, it's kinda nearing dinner time, and I'm quite hungry. There's this little small restaurant nearby, the owner knows me well so we're gonna get some pretty good discount for our meal, what do you say?"

Just as Yunho finished his sentence, your phone rang and when you looked at the caller, you were quite surprised to see that Hongjoong was the one who called you.

You excused yourself to Yunho to take the call, but you didn't move to the side to answer it. When you picked up, you heard Hongjoong sighed on the other line, "you still need to be picked up? We can turn around if you want," despite his offer, his voice sounded begrudging as if he was forced to say that.

Nevertheless, your heart skipped a beat at his offer, thinking that maybe he does care. But when you looked up and see Yunho's genuine and gentle eyes, your breath caught in your throat and for the first time ever, you seemed to realize just how different Yunho treated you compared to Hongjoong.

While you were the one who chose to be his roadie, a glorified unpaid staff, he never treated you as to how you deserve to be treated. Meanwhile, Yunho, who had only known you for probably 10 minutes, treated you better than Hongjoong ever could.

"Hello? Just say if you want to or not before we're too far from where you're at," he sighed in annoyance. A small smile broke on your face after the epiphany you just got.

"Sorry, Hongjoong, you don't have to turn around to get me," "Really? My manager said it's still possible to turn around," he said. The use of 'my manager said' confirmed that he didn't really care about you. And maybe you should start caring about him less.

"Yeah, no, I'm going out to eat with Yunho," you told him simply. Before he could respond, however, you had hung up and shove your phone deep into your bag. You beamed up at Yunho and nodded your head towards the door, "so? Are we gonna eat or not?"

Yunho smiled brightly at you and nodded very much eagerly, "Yes! You're not gonna regret this!" he exclaimed happily.

Yeah, deep down you know you weren't going to regret your choice.

145 notes · View notes

timelesslords · 3 years

Note

prompts: could you write an in canon verse (so like gods and stuff are real) fic with amnesia? it could be post TLO or it could be one of them coming out of anesthesia and feeling wonky. i just love a good memory loss fic.

@halfbloodcarrie was instrumental in making this happen!!! Her adorable fluffy idea was completely paid dust in favor of making this angsty as hell but I blame her for me getting it done at all <3

read on AO3

Everything was dark. And everything hurt. His head especially was throbbing, but he couldn’t make out any other feeling. He could hear something; vague at first, just a ringing. But if he struggled, and he did, he could start to make out faint voices. His eyes refused to open, they wouldn’t even blink, but the noises were getting clearer by the second.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” a worried voice asked. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t even pry his eyes open, much less figure out who it belonged to.

“He’ll wake up,” a second voice said, male this time. He sounded confident, assured. At least he thought so.

“There was so much blood, I thought… gods.”

The first voice again, though this time it wavered. It sounded scared, terrified even.

“He’ll be alright, Annabeth. He’s got a thick skull.”

That made the first voice laugh, watery as it was.

“Don’t I know it.”

Some feeling was starting to return to his limbs, slowly but surely. He tried blinking again, but it felt sluggish, slow. Suddenly he realized he could feel his arms and fingers, and there was a hand in his, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t felt it before.

“Percy?” the female voice asked, hopeful. He groaned. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever felt before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if that was true, because he couldn’t remember his head pounding before, ever.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

He blinked again, this time managing to pry his eyelids open a fraction of a degree. The light streaming in hurt like a bitch, and he groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Percy,” the first voice said again, more frantically, “Can you hear me?”

She seemed to be talking to him, though he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember his name, but she’d said Percy twice, so that had to be it, didn’t it?

He tried to say something to the girl, but it came out as a strangled groan of pain.

“Will,” she said, a little desperately.

“He’s maxed out, Annabeth, I’m sorry,” the other voice said.

The girl (Annabeth?) muttered something under her breath in-- was that Greek? And how did he know that? More determined than ever, Percy blinked again, this time managing to crack his eyelids open and keep them that way.

His vision was blurry, but a few more blinks and the vague shapes in front of him started to sharpen into focus.

“Percy?” the girl said again. Percy squinted, trying to focus on her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was-- well, pretty didn’t quite describe it. She was seriously beautiful. Her eyes were a dark grey color, currently wide with concern, her hair framing her face in cascades of golden curls. Her nose was small and button shaped, dotted with freckles.

Even if Percy didn’t currently feel like a small blacksmith’s forge was hammering on the inside of his skull, he was pretty sure he would’ve been rendered pretty speechless.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You were out for a while,” she said, smiling. She did look relieved, but Percy didn’t miss the genuine worry behind her eyes either, the little waver along her lips trying to maintain an upbeat expression.

“I… what’s going on?” Percy asked. Annabeth bit her lip, looking over her shoulder. Percy glanced upwards, properly seeing the other person in the room for the first time. He was a teenager, with shaggy blonde hair a shade or two lighter than the girl’s. He was wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be an orange t-shirt and jeans, which didn’t exactly instill Percy with a lot of confidence in whatever medical care he was receiving.

Of course, the fact that he had no memory didn’t help matters.

“You sort of got hit in the head,” Annabeth said, wincing as she did.

“Really hard,” the boy added.

Percy reached up tentatively, to the place where it felt like his skull was splitting inside out. Instead of skin he felt something else, some thick sort of fabric.

“Ow,” he said, a little unhelpfully. The girl smiled again-- crap, how was she even more beautiful when she smiled?-- but it still had an edge of sadness to it.

“Yeah. Discus accident,” she said.

“Discus accident?” Percy asked, confused.

“Yeah. Those stone frisbee things, remember?” the other guy said.

“No,” Percy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. It made his head throb, but he couldn’t stand lying down anymore. “I don’t-- I don’t remember anything.”

“You mean-- you mean you don’t remember the accident,” Annabeth said, a little forcefully. Her grey eyes flashed, and Percy didn’t quite recognize the expression, but something in his gut told him it was not good.

“No, I mean I don’t remember anything,” Percy repeated, figuring it was best to get it out of the way sooner or later, “I don’t know where I am or who you are or who I am.”

The girl took one very long look at him. He didn’t know what exactly he had said in particular that had triggered something in her, but the concern fell from her face in an instant. She dropped his hand, something sharp overtaking her expression.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she said. Her voice was a little thick, but Percy couldn’t tell if she was crying, because in the next second she stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Inadvertently, Percy felt a twinge of something sad in his chest, though he couldn’t quite place why. He didn’t know Annabeth, but she clearly seemed to know him, and what he’d said had clearly set her off.

All of this was really not improving his headache, which had resumed its throbbing with reckless abandon.

“I didn’t mean to…” Percy trailed off. To what? Upset her? Make her run away? But all he’d done was tell the honest truth-- he couldn’t remember shit. The guy was giving him a look that was bordering on disgust.

“Dude, that’s really not funny,” he said. He sounded pissed, though if Percy wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a hint of fear behind his bright blue eyes.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I literally don’t know what’s going on,” Percy said, starting to feel a little frantic. Why was everyone here acting like they knew him? And why did he not even know him? He felt nerves and something else tugging in his gut, an insistent, terrifying pull--

Without warning, the glass next to his bed shattered, spraying water and glass everywhere. Percy flinched away from the table, whirling around to look at the boy. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“What the fuck was that?” Percy asked, alarmed.

“That was… you,” the boy said, staring at Percy like he had just grown a second head, “Styx, you’re not making this up, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know what’s going on for you to believe me?” Percy said, still staring wide-eyed at the place where the cup had shattered. For his own sanity, he decided to ignore the boy’s declaration that he had caused it.

“Four, apparently,” the boy said, rubbing his forehead like he could feel a headache coming on, “Unless you want to make it five for good measure?”

“I have absolutely no memory,” Percy repeated.

“Great. This is just-- this is awesome,” the boy said, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I’m having so much fun over here,” Percy said dryly.

“Right, sorry,” the boy said, wincing, “Your name is Percy.”

So Percy had guessed that correctly. Good to know.

“My name is Will,” the boy continued, oblivious to Percy’s thoughts, “The girl was--”

“Annabeth,” Percy finished. Will perked up, hopeful, but Percy shook his head.

“I heard you say her name,” Percy explained. Will deflated.

“Oh, right,” he said. He sounded inordinately disappointed, way more disappointed than he’d been when Percy hadn’t remembered him.

“How exactly did this happen?” Percy asked, doing his best not to rub his forehead again. Will sighed.

“Some newbies were messing around with the discuses on the strawberry fields-- which is stupidly dangerous, by the way, we have an arena for a reason-- but it went a little off course and almost hit Annabeth in the face. You shoved her out of the way but it clipped your forehead pretty good.”

Percy tried to process all that, piece by piece. He didn’t know what a newbie was, and apparently wherever this place was had strawberry fields that he and Annabeth had been in together? But the strangest thing of all was that Percy didn’t feel at all surprised that he’d gotten injured trying to get Annabeth out of the way. That piece felt strangely right to him, even if everything else was messy and confusing.

“So me and Annabeth are friends, then?” he asked. Will gave him a strange look, his face paling slightly.

“You guys… you’re close. Really close.”

Percy nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know why Will was being weird about it, but he believed him regardless.

“She was mad at me,” Percy noted. At this, Will winced.

“Yeah. Memory loss… it's kind of a sore subject for her.”

“Why?” Percy asked. Maybe it was a little invasive, but this was all stuff he was supposed to know anyway, wasn’t it?

Will sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Gods, I’m so not the person to be explaining this to you,” he said, “But a few years ago you sort of… disappeared. And you lost all your memories. Except you remembered her. But it was really, really tough on her, she had no idea if you were gonna know anything or not when she found you.”

Percy blinked, trying to take all that in. He had a feeling that was the hyper-condensed version of what had gone down, but it explained the situation well enough. Annabeth hadn’t considered the fact that he genuinely wouldn’t remember her, so she’d assumed it was a bad joke. Percy wished it was a bad joke, because he would give absolutely anything to remember more about her.

“Got it,” Percy said, trying not to frown, “So how did I get my memories back last time? Can we do that again?”

Will grimaced.

“I think last time you drank gorgon’s blood, but we’re fresh out of that.”

Percy stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He looked serious, but Percy didn’t want to press it. Clearly last time had been a different sort of deal.

“So what do we do? I can’t go around like this forever.”

“Well, hopefully it's just temporary. Your head injury, plus the mortal pain meds we gave you, plus the nectar--”

“The what?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, a little hurriedly. “The point is, your brain is processing a lot of stuff right now. My best guess is that it overloaded a bit, and the amnesia is a side effect. If that’s the case it should go away on its own eventually.”

“And if it’s not the case?” Percy asked, dreading the answer a little. As predicted, WIll grimaced again.

“It could be from the initial injury. In which case it would be… more permanent.”

Percy’s mouth went a little dry.

“Goodie.”

“It probably isn’t,” Will said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So what do we do?” Percy asked again.

“You could try going to sleep. It might give your brain a chance to readjust, chill out a little. Or…”

Will trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish his thought.

“Or?” Percy prompted.

“Or we could try to jog your memory with stuff you might remember,” Will finished. Percy didn’t understand why this option seemed to be so unpleasant to Will, since it made the most sense to him. He felt disoriented as hell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to calm his mind down enough to sleep anytime soon. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d been unconscious for a good long while.

“How long was I asleep just now?” Percy asked.

“A while,” Will admitted.

“So let’s try the other thing.”

Will swallowed heavily, his fingers gripping the sides of his white coat a little too tightly.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, still not sounding happy about it at all, “I’ll-- ugh. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Percy did not move, mostly because he didn’t think he could get up from his bed if he tried. Being alone gave him the chance to observe the room he was in a little bit. It was small but clean, sort of a cross between a normal bedroom and a hospital unit. The walls were made of old looking hardwood, and if he craned his head back a little bit he could almost see out the window. It looked green out there, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Nothing about this place felt familiar, but that didn’t mean much, given nothing Percy had experienced since waking up felt familiar.

Nothing except for those few flashes of feeling he’d gotten about Annabeth, anyway.

Will was gone for a long time, a lot longer than Percy had been expecting. He couldn’t tell time very well and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, but it felt like Will had to have been gone at least half an hour, maybe more. Just when Percy was about to give up and try taking a nap, the door opened again. Will was there, but this time Annabeth was in tow too.

Percy tried not to read too hard into the fact that she didn’t look happy to be there. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, though now they were narrowed in barely constrained anger, her arms folded over her chest.

Will, for his part, looked extremely nervous. That didn’t give Percy a lot of hope about how this was going to go.

“It would probably work better if you could get up and walk around, but well…” he trailed off, but Percy knew exactly why that wasn’t possible. Just keeping his eyes open had been a struggle, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand right now he was gonna black out.

“Yeah, sounds like a bad idea,” he agreed. Annabeth said nothing, just kept staring with her jaw clenched tight.

“I figured-- you know, you remembered Annabeth last time,” Will said, still sounding nervous, “And you guys have known each other for years, so if anything is going to jog your memory… well.”

“Okay,” Percy said, easily.

Annabeth remained silent.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Will said, looking like he absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He did a second later, slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

Annabeth looked extraordinarily unhappy to be there. Any care that she had displayed for him when he first woke up was apparently gone. She said nothing as she looked at him with nothing but ice in her eyes.

He didn’t know why exactly she was so pissed-- it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything, and wouldn’t it be worse for him anyway? But she didn’t seem keen on speaking to him anytime soon, and Percy figured it was up to him to break the ice.

“So, um. Are you single?” Percy asked. It was dumb, sure, but he didn’t remember shit, and this girl was pretty and she seemed to care about him and well? Might as well shoot his shot.

Annabeth muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I’m going to kill you. Cool. Definitely did not make her hotter to him, not even a little bit.

“I’m not single,” she said, practically glaring at him.

“Got it. Sorry,” Percy said. For just a second her eyes ducked away, sadness replacing anger. But then she looked back up, and her previous expression was reinstated.

“Why don’t we just stick to you,” she said.

“Sure,” Percy said. He didn't want to make her mad again, because he had a feeling if that kept happening it would not end well for him. He wasn’t sure what could be worse than complete and total amnesia, but looking at Annabeth he was pretty sure she could think of something.

She took a deep breath, a little unsteadily.

“Your name is Percy,” she said, “I guess Will already told you that, though.”

Percy nodded. She moistened her lips, staring down at the ground.

“Okay. What else do you want to know?”

“Where are we?” Percy asked. It wasn’t his most urgent question, but it felt like a safer one to ask. Then again, from the look on Annabeth’s face, maybe that was a miscalculation. She was biting her lip, the anger in her expression softening slightly. It seemed to be replaced by something sad though, and Percy found he almost preferred the anger.

“It’s… a little hard to explain. But we’re at a camp. A summer camp. It’s-- it’s where we met.”

“Why are we here now?” Percy asked. Annabeth shrugged.

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

“Together?” Percy asked. She stared at him, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah. Together,” she said, though she was clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Okay then. Time for a new line of questioning. A safer line, one that hopefully wouldn’t put her on the verge of tears.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked.

“Blue,” she said, instantly.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything blue,” she said, just as fast.

“I eat blue food?” Percy asked, confused. She smiled for the first time since he’d told her his memory was gone. It was small, but it still made his heart flutter.

“Yeah. It’s sort of an inside joke with you and your mom,” she said. The smile faded just as fast as it had come, but her answer had inadvertently given Percy more information than he’d expected.

“So I’m close to my mom?” Percy asked, unable to help it. Annabeth nodded again. She took a tentative step forward, sitting back down on the chair beside his bed.

“Who else?” he asked, without thinking. Annabeth frowned, a little confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean--” Percy started, realizing this might be a little too much too soon, but wanting to know so badly he couldn’t help but ask anyway, “I mean, who else am I close to?”

Annabeth didn’t answer for a long minute. She was looking down at the ground again, her hands gripping her own shoulders, arms shielding her chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, though what it was, Percy wasn’t sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. Maybe it was too personal-- with a start Percy realized that Annabeth was probably a pretty high priority for him, given the scant details he knew about their relationship, and him not knowing that intrinsically had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Just forget it, tell me something else.”

She finally looked back up at him, though she still seemed upset and unsure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though she was clearly forcing her voice not to waver, “Like I said, you’re close to your mom, her name is Sally. You have a sister named Estelle and a brother named Tyson. And your best friend is--” she stumbled, but found herself again, “His name is Grover.”

Percy noticed that Annabeth’s own name was conspicuously absent from that list. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, all things considered, but his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know this more than anything.

“What about you?” he asked, voice quiet.

It took her less time to answer than he expected, but she was still quiet for a minute.

“You asked me if I was single,” she said finally, eyes ducked down, a rosy blush growing in her cheeks, “And I said no because-- because we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He could feel his own face getting red, even though this was kind of great news-- or maybe not so great news, considering his stupid brain still couldn’t remember shit. But it still felt right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Of course he was dating her. That was just correct, an inalienable fact he felt dumb for not knowing, despite not knowing anything at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “But you don’t remember, so… so I don’t know anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, and he felt it. He felt like an idiot, both for trying to flirt with her earlier, and for not putting the pieces together sooner. The hand holding probably should have given it away, at the very least.

To his surprise, Annabeth gave him a small smile, even though her eyes were a little red. She wiped them on her sleeve, clearly trying not to do it in an obvious way.

“Sorry, it’s just-- that’s so you,” she said, sniffling a little.

“What’s so me?” Percy asked. He felt stupid, oblivious, but she just smiled again, a touch wider this time.

“Apologizing for something that isn’t even your fault.”

“I really am sorry,” Percy said, and he felt worse with every word, “I want to remember, I do, it’s just-- all of it’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to remember me twice, huh?”

She said it like a joke, but Percy could feel the real pain behind her words. He felt an ache in his chest, like a phantom pain he couldn’t quite place, something in him mirroring her own hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he did. His brain was a jumbled mess, but he did know the only things that had made him feel anything since he’d woken up had to do with her.

“I… I almost get flashes,” he admitted, glancing up at her again. She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but he continued anyway. “When you say or do things… It’s like my body knows what to feel but my mind doesn’t know why.”

She glanced up, her eyes finally meeting his own. They were still shining with tears, though not as intensely as before.

“Like how?” she asked, simply. Percy swallowed heavily, not exactly sure what to say. It was hard to describe, given he’d barely recognized his own feelings.

“Like… like when you left, before. I was upset but I didn’t know why. I didn’t know you but I knew… I knew that was supposed to hurt, somehow. And when Will told me about how I got hurt in the first place, how I was trying to keep the frisbee thing from hitting you-- that felt right, but I don’t know why.”

She had graduated to crying in earnest now, tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Percy felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and brush them away, but he knew he couldn’t. And that hurt too for some reason, a hollow aching in his chest he couldn’t quite place even though the reason for it was standing right in front of him.

“And right now,” Percy continued, even though maybe he shouldn’t, “You’re upset and I just feel this urge to do something, and I can’t because I don’t know how.”

“Percy, please--” she said, still crying, her voice rough with tears. He didn’t know what she was begging for, but he couldn’t help his next words slipping out, like his tongue knew more what to do than his mind.

“I don’t know anything about me, but I know-- I know I love you. I can feel it. I’m not just saying it either, I swear I can feel it.”

“Percy,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper this time.

“You have to help me, Annabeth. I don’t know what to do,” he said, and this time it was his turn for his voice to get thick, a lump in his throat obscuring his words.

“I--” she started, swallowing heavily, eyes welling with tears again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do,” Percy said, and he was sure she did, something in him just knew, “You always do, don’t you?”

That felt right too, even if he couldn’t place why, but it seemed to mean more to her than to him. She stared at him, eyes wide and scared. She was so close now, close enough that he could see every freckle on her nose.

Annabeth looked so panicked that for a second a second, Percy thought she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite. She leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she tasted like strawberries and salt. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do, moving against hers like they’d kiss her a thousand times-- and maybe they had. His hand moved, almost of its own accord to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer--

And then it hit him. The scent of her shampoo, lemony and sharp and familiar.

He gasped, not meaning to, but she pulled back, grey eyes wide.

“Percy?” she asked, hopeful even as she tried to hide it.

“Annabeth,” he said, trying not to panic as things started to float through his mind-- more than things, memories. Her face and her voice and her words, the feeling of her hand in his and her smile against his lips, it all started to flood back like it had never left.

“Are you--” she asked, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, too tight, but he didn’t even care.

“Annabeth,” he breathed, saying her name like a revelation, because it was, “You’re Annabeth Chase, you’re my girlfriend and an architect and you’re scared to death of spiders and you still sleep with a teddy bear--”

She cut him off at that last point, throwing her arms around him and hugging him harder than she ever had-- except for maybe that time she’d thought he was dead for two weeks and he’d crashed his own funeral. Percy hugged her back just as hard, because he actually remembered that.

It hadn’t all come back-- things were blurry, most things, actually. But Annabeth at least felt clear in his mind, a shining beacon welcoming the rest of his memories back. He was already starting to get a headache again, but he didn’t care. They would come back. And even if they didn’t-- he had her. That was enough.

She pulled back from her bone crushing embrace, keeping their faces so close their noses were almost touching. She seemed scared that if she pulled away he might too, even though he had no intention of doing so, physically or mentally.

“So you’re back? Really?” she asked, sounding scared to know the answer.

“Sort of,” Percy confirmed, wincing as he did. He really was starting to get a pounding headache. “I remember you. And bits and pieces of other things, but mostly you.”

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a long moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered, her hands trailing up his neck, just barely scraping his hair.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he breathed. And he did know, now better than ever. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d woken up without his memory, but he knew every minute of it had to have been hell for her.

Annabeth sighed, pulling back further, so he could see her whole face. Her eyes were still red from crying, and her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss. But he could see the barest traces of humor in her expression, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth where a smile was being repressed.

“What?” he asked, but she just shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but her smile had grown.

“Come on, I just had amnesia. You have to tell me.”

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. It was just on the edge of being hysterical, but she deserved it, after the day she’d been having.

“Fine. I was just thinking-- Hera couldn’t make you forget me but a glorified frisbee could?” Annabeth said.

“Hey, it was heavy!” Percy protested, but he couldn’t help but grin as he did. He would probably stay grinning for the rest of his life, actually.

“You’re such an idiot,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Percy said, hugging her back. And now he knew he did, in a permanent, tangible way.

There was still a lot missing, but he had the most important bits down. His name was Percy Jackson. He was twenty years old, and in college and a demigod, and lots of other things that would surely return with time.

And he loved Annabeth Chase more than anything in the world.

#this is so cheesy and so long <3 #bon apple teeth #percabeth #percy jackson #percabeth fic #pjo #annabeth chase #pjo fic #percabeth fanfic #i already have more prompts in my inbox than i will realistically every finish #so on a technical level i am not taking more #but if you send one and i like it i might write it anyway lmao #no guarantees though!!

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earthlyyan · 3 years

Text

Little Trainee (Platonic(?)Yan! Childe x Reader)

For @bye-bye-sunbird (thanks again for your help) Warnings: Abuse, Graphic descriptions of violence, Implied Torture, Eye Trauma, Unhealthy Sibling relationships, Childe being a sadist, Kidnapping? If you squint? Imprisonment? Betrayal

Word Count: 3084

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He was gone.

Tartaglia held his younger brother’s fur-lined cap in his calloused hands, bringing it close to his chest. He’d taken off without it, wanting to be as far away from the killer that was his big brother so badly, he’d neglected to dress for the cold.

Despite his best efforts, Tartaglia had been unable to find him, and though tempted, he had refused to get the Fatui involved. It would further remind Teucer that his brother’s job was a terrifying one, too dark for the mind of a child to fully grasp. A child’s mind would never truly grasp why he had to kill, only that he had taken the life of another. And how that was an unforgivable sin.

He’d requested a day off work to prevent him from making any rash decisions on duty. He’d spent the day wandering aimlessly, desperately trying to gather his thoughts. He’d found himself in the familiar shambles of Dunyu Ruins. Perhaps he’d take out his frustrations on some ruin guards, or at least he’d considered it, until he saw you.

In and out and in and out.

Your sword found its way into the ruin guards eye again and again. It had been dead after the first thirteen stabs, but you didn’t care.

Your thrusts were becoming harder to maintain, your shallow breaths and sore arms halting your rage filled pursuit. Your legs straddled its large, heavy body, thick vines restrained its arms and legs.

It killed him. It killed your brother. The laser sliced his body while simultaneously cauterizing the wound, leaving him in two, unable to bleed. His face still frozen in that of agonizing pain.

It was going to kill you as well until a blinding green light appeared before you; a dendro vision.

You didn’t know how you did it, but now it was dead, and the gift of the archons laid on the ground before you. You hated it.

A gift of the gods, what a fucking joke.

You choked back the urge to vomit at the rancid scent before removing your sword from the gaping glass wound.

You kicked the hunk of metal as hard as you could before losing your balance and falling back onto the ground.

A man stood there; a couple years older than you. You’d fallen right at his feet.

He wordlessly helped you up off the ground before clearing his throat, as if to clear the air with it.

“You know, I’ve never seen someone receive a vision before.” His voice was light and airy. “I had been walking when it’s light blinded me. I regret not showing up sooner.”

You refused to look at the strange man, his words not registering. Your mind was too busy trying to process what had just happened.

“Hey,” His voice was louder, shaking you from your stunned stupor. He held out a handkerchief from his pocket. “You should probably get out of—”

“He’s dead.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“That thing killed him. He’s dead.” Your words were empty. You contemplated if you should be feeling anything else other than thinly veiled anger and disgust. You should’ve been sadder. The only thing you had felt at the time of you mindlessly stabbing the guard was desperation for your own survival, and fear that it would get up again. You were revolted at the sight of the corpse before you, but you weren’t terribly torn up about the death in itself. And that disgusted you.

Anyone else would’ve been. Anyone would’ve been devastated if they had watched their own kin get cut in two. But no, you were more worried about what you’d tell your mother.

You walked over to the remains of your brother and poked it with your foot, your blatant disrespect for the dead caught the man off guard. Your gut did flips in your stomach at the gruesome sight.

“You don’t seem too upset about it.” He seemed to lack the same feeling of fear at the sight of a corpse. You didn’t quite know how to feel about that. “Though, you don’t seem like you’ve got the guts to orchestrate it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughed. “The way you kept stabbing the poor ruin guard made me think it was self-defense, and that the death was an accident. But the fact that you’re not devastated at his death made me wonder that you did it intentionally.”

“And if it was?” “Then I think I’d applaud your ambition.”

The man introduced himself as Childe, a member of the Snezhnayan organization called the Fatui. He claimed to be a warrior of sorts, and that he had gone to Dunyu Ruins to take out some frustrations he had one some ruin guards. He then had stumbled across you stabbing a lifeless robot corpse.

He had treated you to lunch in Liyue, saying that leaving you to stew in your thoughts after witnessing something of that caliber was ill-advised.

“What were you doing in Dunyu Ruins?”

“My brother wanted to do something there. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.” You mumbled.

“And the sword?”

“The sword I have with me was the one he was carrying, but when his torso disconnected from his legs, his scabbard landed close to me. So I thought I might as well use it.” You stirred your soup with your spoon, not having much of an appetite.

“So why did he have the sword?”

“Archons know.” You sighed. “If I’m being frank, I think he was going to kill me.”

Childe lowered his tigerfish from his mouth. A light laugh left his lips, startling you. “What makes you think that?”

“I was father’s favorite, though I am the younger of the two of us. So when he found out he had left the inheritance to me instead of his eldest son, he thought it unfair.” You reluctantly brought the spoon to your lips and swallowed. “We had never gotten along; I was like a punching bag than his younger sibling.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re not crying and mourning the loss?” His voice was mocking.

“Well, would you?”

Childe hummed. “I’m not sure, family is family, but…” his voice lowered into an inaudible mumble, pondering.

He was silent for a moment. He took a few bites of his grilled tigerfish. His eyes wandered to the scabbard at your hip. “You don’t know how to fight.”

“What? Where did this come from?” He hadn’t even finished his thought from before.

“The way you were holding the sword as you used it to kill the ruin guard was way off. Had you kept going, you could’ve gotten hurt. If you had held it properly you could still be stabbing it now. If you didn’t get that vision when you did, it could’ve killed you with how poorly you were handling yourself.”

“That’s the whole point of getting bestowed a vision. Saving you when you’re on the brink of death or something like that.” You shoved your spoon in your mouth again.

“Yes, true.” He sighed and set down the now empty skewer. “But if you hadn’t gotten it you would’ve ended up like—” “Okay jeez I get it!” You grumbled around the metal in your mouth. “What are you getting at?”

“Luckily for you, I’m quite skilled at the sword.” His chest puffed in pride. “And it’s not like you’re going to go home with half a brother in tow, yes?”

“So you want to train me? What good does that do you?” “I’ve always wanted to train someone in a weapon.” He smiled, though there was a tinge of sadness in his voice. Like he was looking forward to it before the invitation presented itself. “And now, I can.”

You were on the ground again, some shallow, superficial cuts littered your body, Childe’s blade inches from your throat.

“You left yourself open again. I told you this weeks ago and yet you can’t get it.” A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he pinged the bridge of his nose. “Hunch, keep your legs apart, again.”

Some part of you wondered if Childe got off on hearing your groans and hisses when he slashed you. Something about the way he bounced on his legs and the way his grin seemed more genuine had you worried.

You slowly got yourself off the ground, your bones and muscles creaking in protest as you readied your brother’s blade again.

“If you’re sore it means its working.” His laugh echoed as he lunged himself at you again, leaving you a moment notice to swerve out of the way. “If you weren’t sore before it means you were doing it wrong.” He dodged an oncoming attack from your sword and swept your legs, leaving you on the floor again. Yup, he was definitely getting off on this.

Three months under Childe’s tutelage toned your body significantly. He seemed to be more eager to fight you these days. Saying that you were finally getting fun to fight or something like that.

“Despite your form issues in the beginning, you’re practically a natural.” He beamed as he extended a hand to you. “Fighting you is actually fun these days, and less boring.”

“It was boring before?” You were borderline insulted.

“Fighting against you was boring. Seeing you grow and mature as a fighter was interesting.”

“Uh huh.” You wiped the sweat from your brow. “Sure.”

He’d been gracious enough to let you room at his house. And for someone of his age, it was quite impressive for him to have one of this stature. You had your own room across the hall from his. He only had two rules when staying with him.

One: The lower levels were off limits. No matter what. He said that it had to do with his work, and that it would be unprofessional of him to allow someone to interfere.

Two: Don’t ask about his work.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about it. Sometimes he’d leave for days on end and come back beat up, other times you’d hear noises from the lower levels.

They sounded like screams.

You wondered what he’d have to do for a living to hear such noises from below. Sometimes he’d go down for hours and come up itching for a fight with you, other times he’d leave satisfied and covered in blood. You’d wondered if it was his own.

Something about it didn’t sit right with you, but a fight with Childe was not one you wanted to engage in. He’d know all your moves, considering he’d been the one to teach them to you. Whenever you’d try to bring it up, you’d be shut down with an uncharacteristic coldness from him. One that barely used, only when he was talking about his work, that is.

But tonight the screams were louder. They reached your room in the depths of the night, even with the door closed and pillows blocking your ears. You had to know.

You were sick of being left in the dark here, you were sick of hearing those screams from downstairs. You had to know.

Were you training under a serial killer? Childe didn’t seem like the type, or was he?

The strange amount of pleasure he’d get when watching you get hurt by his hand. The ruthless way he’d slaughter hillichurls and treasure hoarders alike. No matter who or what it was, its death was no different to Childe. It seemed to light him ablaze, having him itching for a fight with anything that moved, and when it stopped moving, he’d be disappointed.

The screams had died down after a few hours. You had to wait until you heard his boots go back upstairs and into the room across the hall.

You had to be more quiet if you were going to get in and out of there before he noticed you.

After these escapades he would take a shower, the running water would be enough to cover your footsteps going down the hall, truly.

A minute after the shower started running you made your move. It was easy to pick out what door led to the basement, due to the sheer amount of deadbolts and locks keeping it closed. He’d left the key in the door, probably to stop whoever was in the basement from looking through the keyhole. Smart move for him when it came to living alone, but with company, it was practically begging to be used.

And use it you did. Deadbolt after deadbolt, you finally turned the key.

The basement was warm and sweet smelling. But not in the pleasant way sweets were supposed to smell.

It made your stomach ache and twist as you descended the staircase, closing the door behind you.

The clinking of chains got your attention before the sight of blood had. The lights had flickered on, illuminating the sight before you. You couldn’t hold back your vomit anymore.

Your suspicions were right, or so it seemed, with the sheer amount of bodies below. One was still living, trembling, and hunching away from you. “Did Childe do this?” You knew the answer but had to be sure. Perhaps it was an associate he worked with, or some weird fetish.

The man nodded, “I didn’t have enough money.”

“What?”

“To pay back the Northland Bank.” He stammered. “I couldn’t pay them back, so they sent him.”

“He’s a debt collector?”

The man shook his head. “No. He doesn’t care about collecting the debt, not like the others.”

There were others?

“He gets sent in after the warning deadlines are up. You pay with your—”

The man abruptly stopped, looking past you and onto the stairwell. Then he couldn’t see at all.

An arrow flew past you, barely grazing your ear before finding itself in the mans eye socket. He slumped to the ground, lifeless. You whizzed around to meet the source, only to find Childe, an arrow drawn taught in the bow you’d barely see leave his side.

“Well that’s disappointing.” He sighed. “I was hoping to make him last another day.” He grimaced. “That was a warning shot, by the way.” He walked down the stairs slowly, still aiming at you. “Put your back to the wall.”

He almost sounded sad. You were too shocked to move.

An arrow landed at your feet, standing straight up against the ground. “I said put your back to the wall. That wasn’t a suggestion.”

You tripped over the man’s corpse while making it to the wall. “Childe I—” “Nope, too late for that. Hands up.” He slowly lowered his weapon and made a show of putting it away. He wanted you to know he still had it. He leaned in close to your face. “Now that’s a look I haven’t seen in quite some time.” His voice was low, husky. “Betrayal looks so good on you.”

You could feel his hot breath on your neck. You growled and threw your head forward, colliding with his. He took a step back.

Blood ran down from his forehead, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. “Oh hoh~ Now that’s what I’m talking about. A real fight from you.” He drew hydro blades from his sides and threw one at you. “I’m expecting improvement from you, my little trainee.”

You picked up the cool blade from your feet, never breaking eye-contact with him. “I’ll kill you.”

“You better hope you do. For your sake, at least.” You lunged at him, swiftly finding your way behind him, ready to strike.

“Your stance has gotten better.” He smiled. “But I’m afraid it still leaves you open” He kicked off from the ground and into the air, his foot collided with your chin sending you reeling.

“You bastard.” You hissed, picking yourself off from the ground with the steadiness of a newborn deer. “Why not be more quiet about your escapades down here? If you’d had your victims quiet down, I would’ve never found about what you were doing.”

“I never said I never wanted you to find out what I was doing.” He ran at you again, slicing your shirt and your left shoulder along with it. “I was hoping you’d have enough faith in your teacher to follow my rules.” He sighed. “I didn’t take you for the curious type.”

“I’m not.” You said, you swept at his leg, but he narrowly escaped, jumping just high enough to miss it. “But I enjoy liking to sleep in peace knowing my upperclassmen isn’t a serial killer.”

“I’m no serial killer!” He laughed, landing a cut to your lower back, then stepping hard on it. You fell to the ground trapped under his heel. “I’m simply following orders. I have nothing against these people.” He pressed harder.

You suppressed a scream.

“I do have a problem with those who interfere. You were going to help him, weren’t you?”

You’d be lying if you said you were going to leave him to die.

“Weren’t you?” His voice was closer to your ear this go round.

“Yes! Yes, I was!” You sobbed. “I just wanted to—”

“I’ve heard this before. Suddenly you have the moral upright to save a dying stranger? But you sat back and kicked your brother’s corpse?”

“That was different!” “Sure it was. A man is a man is a man, yeah?” His foot lifted from your back and turned you onto your stomach. “See the difference between me and a serial killer, is that if I was a serial killer, I probably would kill you right now.” He sighed. “But see, I like you. So I think I’ll let you live. Though don’t expect things to go back to normal. I can’t expect you to stay quiet and continue your training in the open alongside me.” He leaned you up against the wall, easily fighting against your protests. He took your wrists and cuffed them to the wall.

The restraints were still warm.

You shuddered.

“See, here’s the thing.” He said. He cupped your cheek with his spare hand. “I don’t want to leave you the way you are, half trained. I do enjoy fighting you.” He finished tying you upright and smiled, admiring his handiwork. “I’ll let you go under one condition.”

For the first time since you’d met him, his smile finally reached his eyes.

“You’re free if you can kill me.”

#yandere writing #genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere childe #yandere genshin x reader #reader insert #childe x reader #genshin tartagalia #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: graphic depictions of violence

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Twelve Days of Christmas - Day Six

Prompt: Hot Chocolate.

Pairing: Yandere!Jamil/Reader (Twisted Wonderland).

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Mentions of Mind Control, and Implied Non-Consensual Drug Use.

“I brought you something.”

You knew that. Your room was so quiet, so devoid of life other than yourself, you could hear his footsteps halfway down the nearest hall, his quiet swears as he struggled to unlock the deadbolts on your door with a single hand, all the little, almost unnoticeable tells that were so different from his usual, silent approach. You knew that, and yet, you didn’t look up as he came to a stop in front of you, keeping your eyes fixed on the sheets beneath your crossed legs. You knew better than to look at him, by now. You knew better than to hope you could trust him, by now.

And luckily, he knew better than to expect you to.

Still, there was a sigh, a slight noise of disappointment as he moved something into your line of sight – a ceramic mug, painted a deep red and crafted without a handle, warm to the touch as you took it out of his hand. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to, not when Jamil was more than willing to bridge the gap on your behalf. It was a worrying method, especially from him, the type to prefer a forceful shove over a delicate nudge in the right direction, but you couldn’t help but be thankful for the slight reprieve. “Hot chocolate,” He explained, as he perched himself on the edge of your bed at your side. “Or, the closest thing I could find, at least. I know how much you used to like it while we were in Night Raven, but people try to avoid it here, for obvious reasons.”

Right. Because you weren’t in Night Raven, anymore. Because you’d graduated, and now, you couldn’t even be sure if you were in the same kingdom. Jamil liked to keep you in the dark, about that. He probably thought it’d make it harder for you to run away. You didn’t see the point, honestly.

You’d given up on trying to escape weeks ago. There wasn’t really a point, not when Jamil always made sure the punishment outweighed the risk.

You spared a glance towards the drink, steam still rising off the top, then to his thigh where it pressed against yours. You were tempted to move away, but he usually didn’t take to distance so kindly. “And this is supposed to make me love you?”

There was a shift, a slight deflation. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought he was genuinely upset. “I’m open to suggestions, if you have any.” Calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip not tight, but firm enough to hold you steady when you tried to flinch away. “Try it. I doubt it’ll give you another reason to hate me.”

Even so, you were always willing to try.

It was closer to cinnamon than it was to chocolate, thick but sweet, traces of honey and coconut mixed with spices you couldn’t recognized. You took a generous sip, then another, letting yourself savor the reminder of your home at Ramshackle, of the career and friends and life Jamil’d seen fit to tear you away from. It was something you liked to linger on, in a masochistic, self-destructive sort of way. It was a sore spot, but one you could stand to abuse, one that reminded you not to lean into him as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side with an unearned intimacy.

A month ago, he would’ve dug his nails into your hip, growling for you to do the same. A few days ago, he would’ve lost his temper the moment you shrunk into yourself, the moment you made it clear how little you cared for him, but right now, he seemed resigned to your reluctance, barely shaking his head If he wanted anything else, you couldn’t tell, but that might’ve been what you liked least about Jamil. You could never tell what he wanted, even on the rare occasion he was willing to tell you. You had a feeling this wasn’t any different, even if he was making an effort to act a little more sympathetic, today.

“I didn’t think this would be permanent,” He admitted, warm breath fanning against the crook of your neck. You tried not to listen, to focus on your drink and the paint chipping on the farthest wall, but there wasn’t much you could do to block him out. He’d always been good at that - making himself the center of your world, even when you tried to divert your attention. “I thought you’d come around, eventually, and it’s not like I wanted to treat you like a prisoner. It’s just, I know you’ve never cared about me, not like I care about you, and… and it got so frustrating.” He was smart enough to stop there, to grit his teeth and choke down a ragged inhale, and for the first time, you thought you could’ve felt bad for him. It was something closer to pity than guilt, but the sensation managed to burn itself out quickly. The locks on your door and the unused chains coiled at the end of your bed made it easier. “I was irritated. I was angry. I felt like I didn’t have another option. I thought you’d come around, but—”

“But, I didn’t,” You finished, and Jamil’s hold on you tightened. “You kidnapped me. You're holding me against my will, and you can’t even say you regret it.”

He didn’t hesitate. If nothing else, you’d give him that. He knew what he wanted, and he was self-aware enough to realize you’d never believe otherwise. “I regret that you’re unhappy,” He said, his voice nearly soft enough to be inaudible. “But I only did what I had to. I’m only doing what I have to. The thought of so many people being able to look at you, out there, the thought of anyone being able to put their hands on you…” He trailed off, but that only seemed to strength his resolve. He didn’t sound as unsure as he had, when he continued. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it. It’s better, this way. For both of us.”

You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to scream. You might’ve, you genuinely, genuinely might’ve, but as soon as you moved to open your mouth, you realized you couldn’t. It was like your body had grown heavier, in the space between one second and another, like he’d found a way replace you blood with liquid mercury. For a moment, a jolt of muted dread flooded into your system at the idea that he could’ve found a way to cast a spell without meeting your eyes, but this felt different from Snake Whisper, it felt worse. His magic would’ve left you suppressed in your own body, forced into a corner of your mind. Like this, you just felt hazy. In control, but unable to do anything with that control. You felt…

You felt weak.

Your form went limp, but Jamil wasn’t kind enough to let you fall. The mug slipped from your hands, its scalding contents spilling over your mattress, but if he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. Distantly, you could hear him laughing, an airy chuckle that only seemed to become more deafening as he pulled you into his lap, your head soon resting against his chest and his fingers in your hair, showing you all the affection he’d been kind enough to hold back, until now. “You’ll see that, with time. I’m the only one who deserves you, the only one who’s ever going to take care of you. You’ll realize that.”

You almost wished he’d been kind enough to hypnotize you. At least then, you wouldn’t have to feel his lips press against the top of you head, his grin only growing sharper as you failed to resist.

“You’ll have to see how much you need me, once you don’t have another choice.”

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mavzoon · 4 years

Text

JJBA blowjob headcannons

(I’m so thirsty for these men oh god)

This includes Bruno, Abbacchio, Mista, Melone, Jotaro, Risotto, Rohan, Doppio and Polnareff

(Cut for length)

Bruno

Bruno wouldn’t expect you to go down on him but don’t worry! You just have to assure him that you want to do it

This man will be gentle and careful

He would be quite vocal, after all, he has to let you know you’re doing well.

“That’s it amore, you’re doing such a good job~”

Complimenting Bruno and looking up at him with those lovely eyes is the quickest way to have him blushing.

Bruno is extremely selfless, so he would lose his mind if you take him all the way in.

Once he does let himself relax into the pleasure, you’ll be in for a treat. Bruno is used to being a leader and caring for others and so being on the receiving end of things is the best kind of comfort for him.

If he sees your throat bulging from his cock, he’s going to be both extremely turned on and concerned.

He wouldn’t mind being a bit rougher with you as long as it’s something you’re absolutely into.

Bruno wouldn’t really mind where he comes, as long as you’re comfortable with it. That being said, if you let him cum in your mouth, expect him to go down on you because he can’t just let that kind of intimacy be left unrewarded.

Expect a lot of cuddling and affection afterwards. Need water? Bruno will bring you water. A cleanup towel? Bruno will clean you up with one while whispering how good you were.

Mista

Mista wouldn’t hesitate for even a second in fact, he’d probably be the one to ask for one. You wanna give him a blowjob? He’s gonna be unzipping his pants in less than five seconds.

He will be absolutely shameless with his noises. Expect everyone in the near vicinity to hear what’s going on.

He would hold onto your hair and maybe tug a bit, but not too much to actually hurt.

Mista would waste no time relaxing. He’d let himself bask in your warmth the moment your lips touch his cock.

Mista would be the type of guy to babble his heart out.

“Oh fuck, your mouth feels so good, cara/caro! S-shit.”

He couldn’t help bucking into your mouth if you took him all the way in.

Your throat bulging from his cock is a definite confidence boost.

Mista would love to come on your face. The sight of your plush lips and cute cheeks covered with his cum is heavenly in his eyes.

Mista would be a smiling mess of happiness and euphoria afterwards.

Abbachio

Abbachio reaction would be mixed. On the other hand, you would look breathtaking taking his cock down your throat, but then again, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if he deserved to feel your lips around him.

He would gently hold your head while you take his cock into your mouth.

It may take him a while to relax but once he does there is no coming back.

Abbachio is addicted.

Your mouth and lips are so soft and oh dear god that tongue! The warmth of your mouth would be like ecstasy to him.

He is in cloud nine once he relaxes into pleasure.

He does try to keep his voice down at first, but it always ends up coming out in the end.

His dirty talk is either soft or full-on nasty. There is no in-between.

“Mmm, you feel so warm and good, tesoro… God, what did I do to deserve you?” “Fuck, c’mon, you can take more than that. Be a good girl for me, won’t you, tesoro?”

He’d massage your throat if you took him that deep. The sight would make him moan and buck his hips closer.

Abbacchio would want to be gentle with you at first, but he would be totally down to facefuck you later on when you’ve gotten used to him.

He would love for you to swallow his cum.

Expect a lot of cuddles and kisses afterwards.

Melone

The kinky melon will be the one to bring it up first.

He will be confident from start to finish.

His hands will be tugging your hair and controlling your pace.

Melone wouldn’t bother trying to stay quiet. To him, it doesn’t matter if people can hear, in fact, he’d like to let others see how well you’re taking him.

His cannot for the love of god shut up and his dirty talk is FILTHY.

“Di Molto! You’re sucking my cock so well! You must’ve had a lot of practice, eh slut?”

Taking his entire cock in your mouth will only heighten his usually cocky and lecherous behaviour.

“Fuck, you took it all, huh? You must’ve been really desperate…”

He’d pet your cheek affectionately.

“My poor, poor little cock hungry slut, the wait must have felt been terrible!”

Melone would use your mouth until you could hardly breathe.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never feel hungry again!”

Melone doesn’t care where he cums. Seeing you swallow his cum is hot, your face is beautiful when coated with it and your chest looks absolutely delicious when covered with it.

The dirty talking will not end after he cums.

“Aw, poor baby… Your mouth must feel so lonely now that I’m not filling it.”

Melone is a horny bastard and one blowjob will not be enough.

Jotaro

Joot would approach you first if he wanted a blowjob, being the straightforward person that he is.

As per usual, he would try to remain calm and collected, though he would definitely let out a few moans and grunts here and there (especially when nearing his release)

He would rest his hands on your head and tug your hair in rougher sessions.

Jotaro doesn’t expect you to be able to take his entire cock, but if you do, oh lord. He will be particularly loud. The sight of his cock stretching your throat is just so good.

He would refuse at first to fuck your throat, but don’t be disappointed! He is just concerned that you won’t be able to take it.

His dirty talk would be a minimal mix of curse words most of the time. He can, however, throw in proper dirty talk if he is especially pent up.

“Fuck, just keep doing that, shit…”

He’d prefer to cum in your mouth since it’s the least messy option.

Jotaro couldn’t help but show his softer side afterwards.

Risotto

Risotto doesn’t care who brings it up first, but he won’t adamantly press you to give him a blowjob.

He likes the power trip of it but will be cautious because he knows he’s bigger than most.

He would try to stay quiet during the ordeal but can’t help letting out deep and husky moans and groans when you take him particularly deep.

He would be very gentle and careful at first, not wanting to accidentally hurt you but if you prove you can take him, you’re in for one hell of a ride.

He’d pull your hair and make you take him as deep as possible while muttering praises or degradations depending on his mood.

“Vita mia, your mouth feels so good on my cock! Hng, you were made for this.”

“Is that all you can take? tsk, pathetic”

He’d tilt your head while you still have his cock in your mouth so you’d look at him with tears in your eyes from the unbelievable weight of his cock in your mouth.

“Surely a slut like you can take more, so come on, prove that all your training hasn’t gone to waste.”

The deep rumble of his voice is bound to drive you on to take him further than you thought possible.

A visible bulge will show once you’ve taken Risotto’s cock all the way in. He will be genuinely surprised if you manage to fit his entire cock in your mouth. He will always be taken aback by the sight. He will be mildly concerned for your wellbeing but it will also fuel the possessive side of him.

He’d love to fuck your mouth, but don’t worry! Most of the time he’d be able to control himself as to not go too roughly.

Risotto, much line Melone, would love to cum pretty much anywhere. He does have a soft spot for you swallowing his cum as he sees it as deeply intimate (and it has the chance to make him want a second round).

Risotto is the king of aftercare. He WILL bring you water. Though he is a busy man, he will always take time to cuddle you afterwards.

Rohan

This cocky bastard will probably bring it up first.

Rohan absolutely loves blowjobs and seeing you on your knees for him is like a delicious treat to his arrogance.

He would love to draw you with your mouth full of his cock.

He would try to hide most of his more “pathetic” noises and instead opt to dirty talking.

“Just look at how you’re taking my cock. You love being on your knees for me, eh? Oi, don’t pull away, just keep sucking my cock like a good girl.”

Rohan would either just sit back, relax and have you suck his cock or he’d fuck your face with no mercy.

He’d most likely tug your hair or cross his hands behind his head.

If you take him all the way in, he’d taunt you after moaning desperately.

“Fuck, you took it all in? If I’d known you wanted my cock in your mouth this badly, we’d have done this sooner!”

Rohan wants to see his cum coat you, be it your face or your chest. However, if he was feeling jealous, he’d want to watch you swallow his cum.

He would become incredibly relaxed afterwards. You should expect a few kisses and praises.

Doppio

Your sweet little Doppio is going to be on cloud nine.

He wouldn’t approach you first thinking that it’d be rude, but he will absolutely not turn down a blowjob.

He’s going to be tense with excitement and nervousness as you take his cock out.

He’s going to let out a string of high pitched yelps when you first take him into your mouth.

You’re sorely mistaken if you think he’s going to quiet down as time goes on. He’ll be moaning and whimpering from start to finish no matter how many times you go down on him.

His dirty talk is sweet

“Oh, Gods amore! You’re so good at this. Hng, I love you so much! Sei la mia vita!” (you are my life)

Doppio has no idea where to put his hands, so he’ll most likely just be clutching them together unless you give him a little direction. He also loves to stroke your cheeks lovingly.

Doppio will let you take the lead and would be super shy if you asked him to fuck your throat. He is, however, likely to buck into your mouth when you swirl your tongue.

He’d most likely come in your mouth because he doesn’t want to mess up your pretty face with his cum.

He’s going to want to cuddle and scatter small kisses all over you afterwards

Polnareff

He would bring it up gently (although he does prefer being the one to go down on you)

Pol is going to be confident from start to finish.

He’ll try to keep quiet enough as to not have you two caught (unless he is in a mood to let the world know how well you’re doing). He will be moaning and occasionally grunting as you go down on him because he wants you to see how good you’re making him feel.

He will be caressing your face and hair through the process.

Polnareff will dirty talk almost constantly.

“Oh Gods! Your mouth feels so good! Je t’aime de tout mon coeur.” (I love you with all my heart)

He doesn’t expect you to take him in all the way, he’s just happy to have your pretty mouth all over his cock. If you do take his entire cock, he will praise the hell out of you.

“Mmm, you took it all, huh? Such a good girl… You’re doing so well, ma chérie!”

Polnareff tries to be as gentle as possible, but he wouldn’t turn you down if you wanted him to be rougher.

He doesn’t really care where he ends up coming. He does really enjoy seeing your chest coated with his cum though.

He will pamper you afterwards (and probably return the favour and go down on you).

#jjba x reader #jojo imagines #jojo headcannon #jojo headcanons #bruno buccellati x reader #mista x reader #melone x reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #rohan x reader #polnareff x reader #doppio x reader #sin

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pianomanblaine · 3 years

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Down Once More

This story was written for the Potober prompts “Down Once More” and “And Now, How You Betray Me”, particularly with the words “taken hostage” and “betrayal” in mind. It resulted in an alternative version of the final lair. Fair warning: this one does not have a happy ending.

AO3 FFN

He dragged her along the dark and damp corridors beneath the opera house at a frantic pace, his grip on her arm harsh and unrelenting, not even sparing her a backward glance as she stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up with him. Her head was still reeling from the events leading up to this moment. It had all happened so fast, yet here and now, time seemed to lose all meaning. Every separate moment seemed to fade into the next one, forming one big hazy blur. It might have been several hours or merely a few minutes before they reached the shore of the underground lake and Erik was steering the little boat across the water towards his house.

Once inside, he pushed her into the bedroom which she had come to think of as hers, and roughly thrust the wedding dress he had so painstakingly crafted for her into her arms. He did not leave the room, did not even turn around to give her the smallest bit of privacy as he forced her to change into it. He immediately started yanking at the fastenings of the dress she was wearing, undressing her with great urgency, letting the garment pool around her feet, and for a moment she feared that he had gone completely mad and would try to violate her. But he only barked out an order for her to put on the wedding gown as he began to agitatedly pace the floor, only occasionally glancing in her direction while she got dressed again.

When she was finished, Erik retrieved a veil – she did not see where from, he might as well have pulled it out of thin air – and forcefully pushed it onto her head. Under any other circumstances, she might have been able to appreciate how delicate and beautiful it was, with its wreath of white and pale pink flowers that contrasted so nicely against her dark brown hair. It hardly weighed anything, but to Christine it felt incredibly heavy, carrying with it the full weight of Erik’s expectations.

Now that her wedding attire was complete, Erik finally stood still long enough to fully look at her. She wondered if he was happy with what he saw. He must have imagined her in that very dress so many times. Was he satisfied now that he had what he wanted, even knowing that it was against her will? Was it all really worth it?

Before she got the chance to ask him, he turned his back on her and walked away without saying a word. She followed him into the sitting room, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth, its warm glow a striking contrast to the icy atmosphere in the room.

“So what now?” Christine asked, breaking the tense silence between them. “Are you planning to keep me hostage here, hoping I will suddenly change my mind and agree to marry you after all? Or will you just drag me in front of a priest and threaten me until I say ‘I do’?”

“This is not exactly how I had imagined it to go either, Christine,” he snapped as he stood by the fire with his back turned towards her. “I had a plan, and it would have worked if your precious little Vicomte didn’t have to ruin it all.”

“Raoul was only trying to protect me.”

“And look where his protection got you,” Erik sneered, turning to face her with a grotesque grin on his bare face as he gestured around the room, “in the Phantom’s lair, captured by the madman!”

“I never believed you to be mad, Erik,” she replied, “but I have come to understand how dangerous you can be.”

Christine’s heart twisted painfully as she recalled the early days of their acquaintance, when she still believed he was the Angel of Music. How kind he had always been to her, how gently he had treated her. But that had changed drastically when she learned of his deception and discovered his true identity. He had continued to act as her tutor, coaxing her voice to unknown heights, and although he was never harsh or violent towards her, he had grown defensive and suspicious, always on his guard around her, as if he could not believe that she could still feel any genuine kindness towards him now that she had seen his face.

“Well yes, I suppose I am like a wild animal in that regard. When feeling threatened, I can be extremely dangerous indeed,” Erik agreed. He took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them, his tall frame towering over her. He seemed to be challenging her, daring her to look at the face of the monster.

“Should I be afraid then?” she asked, rising to the challenge and looking straight into his strange yellow eyes.

At first he merely seemed surprised, maybe even impressed, by her bravery as she stood her ground and faced him without flinching, but by the way his face fell only a moment later, she could tell when the meaning of her words hit him. He turned away as he spoke.

“Of course not. I never meant for you to be scared of me. I never intended you any harm.” He took a few steps back, as if to prove his point, as if he hoped to seem less threatening if he stood a little further away from her.

“Kidnapping me is a strange way of showing it,” Christine huffed.

His posture stiffened at the accusation. “You didn’t exactly leave me much choice, did you?” he said through clenched teeth. “You betrayed me!”

“I betrayed you?” she gasped in disbelief, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Do you want to talk about betrayal, Erik? Do you want to discuss how you lied to me for years, pretending to be an angel sent by my dead father to watch over me? How you blackmailed the managers into doing your bidding, how you terrorized Carlotta and God knows how many others?”

“Don’t you understand? I did it all for you! Because I love you!” he roared.

“Don’t you dare blame this all on me! You killed two innocent people, Erik! How does that have anything to do with love?”

“Buquet was not innocent,” he snorted. “He was a vile lecher, a pervert preying on young defenceless ballerinas in the dark behind the stage. He got what was coming to him.”

The man was certainly no saint, Erik was right about that and Christine knew it, but how could he not see that that did not justify his murder? Even so, she might have been able to forgive him for it eventually, if it had not been for Piangi.

“Piangi never hurt anyone.”

“Piangi was in the way!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean to kill him, merely to incapacitate him long enough to take his place on the stage, but I ran out of time and I became careless. He was the only thing standing between us and I was not about to let him ruin my plan, no matter the cost.”

“You are delusional if you truly believe he was the only obstacle standing in your way. What did you expect to happen tonight, Erik? You would take Piangi’s place, sing with me in an opera of your own creation in front of a full theatre, and then what? I’d fall into your arms and we’d live happily ever after?” She tore the veil out of her hair in frustration, throwing it at his feet. If he thought that after all the times he had tried to force her hand, had tried to manipulate her into choosing him, she would now willingly become his bride, he was sorely mistaken.

“I cannot deny the truth of that, although it now becomes painfully clear how foolish I was to entertain such hopes.” Although his words seemed to imply that he blamed himself for having such unrealistic expectations, the glare he directed at Christine made it clear that he also faulted her for his disappointment. “I was ready to lay my heart at your feet tonight, Christine, and how did you repay me? By tearing off my mask and revealing my monstrous shame for all of Paris to see! I trusted you!”

His angry shouting turned into a sob of betrayal and despair, and for the briefest of moments, Christine’s anger was overshadowed by compassion for the man in front of her. She was well aware of how badly she must have hurt him by doing what she did, but she had no other options. If she hadn’t done something drastic that would enrage him enough to take action, the gendarmes waiting behind the stage would have closed in on him and captured him, or worse.

Raoul must have thought she was in her dressing room or somewhere else out of earshot as he gave his instructions to shoot Erik when the time came, but she had been too nervous to sit still for long, choosing instead to wander the hallways and eventually finding her way behind the stage, pacing back and forth in the dark as she waited for the inevitable tragedy of the night to unfold. She had heard every word. If she hadn’t acted when she did, Erik might have been dead by now.

“I understand that my actions hurt you too, Erik, truly, I do, but you gave me no choice. Can’t you see it was wrong to pin all your hopes and dreams on me? You’ve told me you love me, and I believe that in your own way you really do, but I cannot be held responsible for your feelings, Erik. I do not owe you anything simply because you love me.”

At the crestfallen, heartbroken look on his face, she almost went to him, almost closed the distance between them and embraced him in a futile attempt to offer him some comfort, a silent apology for having shattered his dreams in a few sentences. Almost. Whatever she had to offer him, it would not be enough now. He would always want what she could not give him.

“I know that I cannot make you love me,” Erik began after a long, heavy silence. “God knows I have tried long enough.” His voice sounded softer now, his bitter and accusatory tone completely gone. “But do you not care for me even a little bit? That could be enough for me. We could start over somewhere new, where no one knows who we are. I could still tutor you and you could still sing.” He was pleading now, with his eyes as well as his words, hoping against all odds that he could still convince her to share her future with him.

“I would expect nothing from you, Christine. I’d do anything to make you happy, I’d give you anything you want. You would only have to ask and it would be yours, and you would not have to do anything in return other than stay by my side. Dammit Christine, I am beyond pride. I’ll fall to my knees and beg if I must. Stay with me. Please.”

And for a moment, Christine was truly tempted to throw caution to the wind and go with him. She did care for him, how could she not? Despite everything, he was still her Angel of Music. She could not deny he had been an integral part of her life since the first moment she met him. Erik had been her sole companion during those terrifying first few years after her father’s passing. Through music he had brought her soul back to life. The connection between them was irrefutable, and she could hardly imagine a world where she would never see him again.

Yet she knew that what he asked of her was impossible. Even if he claimed that he had no expectations from her, she knew that he would never be truly happy until she returned his affections, that he would always continue to hope, and she could not bear to disappoint him. Besides, she already had a fiancé. Raoul. Her childhood sweetheart. Sweet, protective, kind-hearted Raoul, who was probably trying desperately to find a way to save her, even if he had to risk his own life to do so, at this very moment.

Where Erik’s love for her was obsessive and at times almost frightening, being with Raoul would be as easy as breathing. He might not be able to give her a life of music, but she would be safe and cared for. She would not want for anything, and unlike Erik, Raoul was not a wanted man. Choosing a life on the run with Erik over a comfortable and uncomplicated one with Raoul might be romantic, but it would also be foolish.

“I do care for you Erik,” she finally replied, “but I cannot stay.”

He did not try to convince her after that. He merely nodded in resignation, as if he had always known this would be the final outcome.

“Go then,” he said. “You can choose a change of clothes from the wardrobe in your – in the spare room. You would draw too much unwanted attention if you returned dressed the way you are now.”

Christine wondered if that was his true reasoning, or if he simply wanted to keep the wedding dress as a memento to torment himself with.

She obeyed his instructions for the last time, selecting a simple yet elegant dark blue day dress out of the assortment of clothes Erik had kept on hand for her since the first time she had spent the night in his home.

When she re-entered the sitting room to say her final goodbyes, Erik was kneeling on the floor, desperately clutching the veil she had so carelessly discarded earlier, a look of terrible sorrow etched across his distorted face. He brought the fabric to his misshapen nose, trying to inhale the little bit of her perfume that might cling to it.

His eyes flew open and he looked up at her in surprise when he heard her footsteps. He clearly had not expected her to come back.

Erik stood up slowly, wiping invisible dust from his trousers, straightening his jacket, as if after all that had transpired, it was still of the utmost importance that he look presentable to her. Maybe his habit of dressing so nicely was an attempt to compensate for the imperfection of his face, she suddenly realized.

A tentative smile formed on his lips as he watched her, silently waiting for whatever last scrap of kindness she would offer him before stepping out of his life for good. Christine could almost feel her heart breaking as she removed the ring he had thrust on her finger earlier that night, holding it out towards him. The ring was supposed to be a promise, a physical sign that their lives would forever be entwined. It did not feel right to keep it.

Erik’s smile disappeared as he reached for the ring, holding her hand in his for a moment while he looked into her eyes, silently begging her to change her mind. She gave a minute shake of her head before letting go of the ring and withdrawing her hand, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

Christine did not say goodbye, her voice unable to get the word out. She turned around and walked away, forcing herself to set one foot in front of the other until she had reached the door. If she did not leave now, she never would, and she knew she had to.

At the door, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. One last glance at the man who had taught her voice to soar. He was still watching her, and when he noticed her looking at him he nodded once, as if to say: “It’s alright. Go. I understand.”

Trying to keep her tears at bay, she stepped over the threshold and made her way to the jetty, where the boat lay waiting for her. She knew she was making the right decision by leaving. But then why did it feel as if she was leaving a part of her heart behind?

As Christine steered the boat to the other side and removed herself from his life forever, Erik’s almost inhuman scream of loss and despair echoed across the underground lake. It was a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days.

#potober #potober 2021 #phantom of the opera #poto fanfiction #poto fanfic #phanfiction #phanfic #eline writes #my writing

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21u004 · 3 years

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the last / okkotsu yuuta / april 4th, 2021

okkotsu yuuta is not an early bird.

he doesn’t like getting up before the sun, but he learned to love it when he once watched it rise with you. he doesn’t like cold showers in the morning, but he’s willing to take them to be presentable for you. he doesn’t like alarms, but he’s willing to make as many as he can to wake up with you.

yuuta is not an early bird, but at 5 in the morning, fully-dressed and awake, he’s in front of an old convenience store, six feet away from where you sat down.

reluctant to call out your name, his gaze and shoulders heavy with unnecessary guilt.

he eventually greets you.

“good morning,” he tells you at 5:16 a.m.

his voice is raspy, possibly from how it’s only been 53 minutes since he woke up.

you don’t mind it anyways; you’ve gotten used to hearing its soft whispers of “good morning” whenever he comes by your place to pick you up, or the lighthearted bursts of laughter when he finds himself in a stupid situation, or how he leans into your ear to tell you how wonderful you look when it’s too crowded and you’re struck with unpleasant thoughts.

it takes you minutes to reply, hesitant and distracted with thoughts wondering why he was here even if it had been you that called him over last night.

he figures you haven’t noticed him yet, so he takes three steps towards you.

one for each year you both spent calling and finding home in each other.

the first year, when you first ask him to go stargazing with you even though there were barely even stars at night with how bright the city is.

the second year, when he’s not-so-shy to let you know about how he carries an extra scarf from fall until spring because he’s memorized your forgetfulness.

the third year, when things start to fall apart, but you’re both still able to mend it back together. (or pretend that it’s fixed.)

and the fourth—

“you really came, huh,” your voice is low and almost inaudible except for the pained chuckle at the end of your sentence.

full of regret, your head hangs low. maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have invited him.

he was stupid to have actually come anyway.

and honestly, he didn’t want to come had it been someone else that invited him out at morning.

but it’s you who invited him, and he’s never been able to say no to you. not when he doesn’t like seeing you disappointed.

“of course,” he lowers his gaze to the ground, unable to look at you without feeling his head and chest ache every second. “you know i’d never flake out on you.”

—then why was there never a fourth year?

something stings your eyes and blur your vision for a moment.

they’re gone when you blink, leaving behind a wet trail down your cheek that was quick to dry when the breeze passes you by.

a sore, forced laugh leaves your lips, followed by a cough that has him rushing to your side and patting your back gently while worried eyes watch over you for every second that passed by.

“are you okay?” despite his hoarse and harsh-sounding voice, his tone is sweet and mellow, dipped in genuine concern, rough hands handling you delicately.

everything’s silent other than your cough resonating in the empty parking lot and his soft pats on your back ringing in your ears. it remains empty aside from the two of you.

too bad it wasn’t open for 24 hours so that there would be a few vehicles around or aisles for you to hide behind and then you wouldn’t have to face him.

that’s what you’ve always done though.

run away from reality and its problems.

it’s time for you to face it again.

“sorry,” you cough into your elbow. “yeah, i’m fine.”

yuta knows about how often you lie about your condition, so he asks one more time in hopes of getting an honest answer.

a nod is all he gets. he doesn’t question you again.

he wants to though.

he wants to ask if you’re okay and if you two can try again.

still, he doesn’t because he knows that he’s going to get both a ‘yes’ and a 'no’, and he knows which answer belonged to which question.

backing away from you, he sits when he deems the distance between you two not too far nor too close. you’re more than a hand’s reach, and that’s enough for him. he wants to be closer, but to have you around is already enough for him.

it’s already 5:28.

time passes too quickly.

despite wanting to cherish the moment, sit in silence and hopefully, peace as well, he stops his stalling and questions your need to see him in the morning when there’s so much more time left on the clock.

as he’s fulfilled your desire to meet him, you fulfill his of basking in the stillness of the world—with you.

you, and not someone else.

you, because you’re the one he wants to have around.

you, because he—

—loves you.

he loves you, and not someone else, because he can’t see himself with anyone else other than you.

(and he’ll keep on loving you, even if you tell him to stop for his sake and yours.)

“do you still remember?” you mumble in your folded arms on your knees. “when we first met.”

of course he does. it was somewhat unusual and unforgettable aside from the fact that the place you’re both at right now is where you two met.

a cold, lonely dawn spent at an empty parking lot of a convenience store. two kids feeling empty and drained until he decided to strike up a conversation with you, wondering why you were there when you could ask him the same. neither of you judged each other about it though, understanding one another regardless being in different situations.

that’s when you both got on the same vehicle and drove to a road that led to now.

it was like any other roadtrip, fun yet tiring, but neither of you realized that when everything was romanticized since the moment you two got on. it really was stupid of you two to think that meeting at a convenience store was romantic because it’s not.

it really was stupid of you to ignore the warning signs.

“yeah,” scratching his nape, he tilts his head to get a glimpse of your face, but he only sees your back. “we danced around even though there wasn’t any music playing.”

“it was dumb,” you turn away from him as if you were going to get the urge remake the mistakes you made then if you saw his undeniably pretty features.

“it was fun though,” a shy, embarrassed smile tugs at his lips. he hopes you’re smiling too.

“wanna do it again?”

this was dumber.

though you’re not going to make the same mistakes again. this was the end already, after all. there’s no more mistakes to be made when there’s no choices to be made.

the deep inhale of the cold air stings your lungs as you finally face him for the first time today, standing up and holding a hand out to him.

he swallows the last bit of hesitance that was preventing him from taking your hand, then starts to pull you into him.

“still no music?” one of his hands run to your waist.

you answer him as he’s about to intertwine his other with yours by taking out your phone and a slow, gloomy melody begins to play. it echoes in the empty space lightly when you settle it on the cold cement floor.

no comments were made about the choice of music. his hand rests on your waist while yours on his shoulder, the others laced together.

for a moment, you’re both back to the start.

dwelling in the glum atmosphere, savoring each other’s company.

still unable to look each other in the eye so you two opt for the ground or anywhere other than the eyes or face. stiffly and awkwardly swaying, feet pausing every few seconds in doubt, choosing which steps to take because it’s not used to dancing.

bathing in the lowlight of mornings that turn into something better because that’s what you two are good at: romanticizing the hopeless and the unromantic.

“i wanted to have a last dance with you,” you mutter, afraid he hears it. “that’s why.”

with the little space between your bodies, he does hear it. like your first meeting, he doesn’t judge you for it. he likes dancing with you anyways.

“it doesn’t have to be the last one,” he wishes to say but it remains as a thought, the lack of courage not allowing him to use his voice. knowing he’s going to regret doing so later, he still keeps them to himself.

so instead, he says something else.

“we can always dance again, if you’d like.”

fuck.

that’s even worse. (is it?)

on his shoulder, he feels your fingers claw at him. he wasn’t supposed to say that. at least he doesn’t mind it, but maybe you do.

you said it yourself, this was the last. maybe you said that because you didn’t want to anymore, he overthinks.

with closed eyes, your fingers loosen up on the cotton material, relaxing and exhaling slowly through your nose.

“that's—” he tenses up at your voice.

“that’s cool.”

did he hear you right?

“i don’t mind dancing with you again but,” the corner of your lips curl up, a burning sensation in your lungs when you inhale the cold morning air and finish your sentence. “someone might.”

someone, meaning the person you see himself with in your stead. the person whom you’re convinced is better than you. the person whom you’re convinced is more fitting for him, unlike you.

your eyes meet, and he can see through you.

you always lied about how you felt, until now.

it’s all obvious with the way your voice stutters, eyes falter, and hands tremble; with how you avoid his gaze as much as you can because it’s become unbearable to look at him without having your heart be spared from being torn into little pieces.

yuuta’s done beating around the bushes. biting his lip, his hands squeeze your waist and hand, his gaze shaky.

“you didn’t have to end this.”

having enough of it, too much for him to contain, he bursts into tears and lays his head on your shoulder, shuddering and holding onto you tightly, as if that was ever going to stop you from letting go.

“it was better for the both of us.”

the music gets drowned out by his choked sobs, the sky growing a little brighter than before each minute.

the sun rises slowly and lights up the dark corners of the world, and there’s nothing you can do but watch another day begin again.

there’s nothing you can do to stop yuuta crying.

there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling out of love.

(and even if you could prevent it, the road was always going to lead here.)

and as your shoulder gets soaked in tears, while you softly tug at the black tufts of his hair, you remember that there never was a fourth year because you—your insecurities—cut it off before he could. (because he never would, and neither would you.)

at your reply, he wonders why he even came here in the first place. was it because he was hopeful that you’d take him back again? (definitely.)

it’s too early for this, and okkotsu yuuta is not an early bird.

he doesn’t like getting up before the sun, but today, he did just for you. he doesn’t like cold showers in the morning, but today, he took them to be presentable for you. he doesn’t like alarms, but last night, he made as many as he could to make sure he doesn’t wake up late and make you wait for nothing.

yuuta is not an early bird, so he faces the consequences of being left.

(while he’s busy facing his consequences, you’re facing yours: having to wake up knowing he’s someone else’s because of you.)

(you never wanted to leave, but it was better than to have him abandon you.)

(even if he never was going to.)

#unedited #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #okkotsu yuuta x reader

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Youth With You

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,113

HC Count: 31

This is a mix between headcanons and a one shot

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Little Hot & Heavy, (Public) Teasing, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my first writing for Lisa; I’m pretty proud of it! Feel free to let me know what you think. Happy reading, I hope you enjoy!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Becoming a new trainee was terrifying in every sense of the word. The media, the practices, the tests -- everything. 3 months into your coaching, however, things hit an all time high: you gained the opportunity to enter the competition Youth With You, as an independent trainee. Your freedom and right to expression was important to you, so it wasn’t an accident that you were going in independently. A company would only put pressure and bans on you, restricting your creativity and keeping you from being your most authentic self.

Finding out that Lisa was a mentor only made your nerves worse; at the same time, though, you’d never been more excited for something in your whole life.

Having friends in the industry proved to be an important factor as you prepped for the show. Producers and managers gave you advice, knowing exactly what each of the teachers looked for and demanded from their groups. You worked tirelessly to ready yourself for the whirlwind that was sure to come.

When you arrive at the production building, you’re in awe; the interior is ginormous, with insanely high ceilings and huge doors. Everything is coated in various colors, all of them pristine and beautiful. The labyrinth of halls that winds throughout the building before you is quite intimidating, but you take a deep breath and remind yourself of your reasons for being here. It’s far too important to chicken out now.

The staff had tipped you off to the fact that the mentors would be there today, but they neglected to tell you when. You had surely expected them to come in after everyone got settled. Alas, you were sorely mistaken; thus, you can imagine the surprise that etched into your features upon entering the main room.

Ella and Kun were invested in their papers, flipping through the stacks and whispering to each other; Jony J was turned to his right, chatting with Lisa. Your presence was announced by the rather loud thud that echoed through the room at the closing of the door.

The bright lights nearly blinded you as you turned to face them again, dread creeping into your mind.

“Hello everyone, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The words came out cooler that you had expected, and you patted yourself on the back for remaining so calm. You’re known for managing to hide your nerves well and remain professional, but that’s no easy task with this group of talent. Especially her.

You purposefully tried to avoid looking at her, knowing you’d blush and get majorly sidetracked. You feared you wouldn’t be able to recover from that.

“I see that you’re an independent trainee,” Kun said, a smile spreading across his lips. You swallowed at the sight, knowing the questions were about to come rolling in. “Yes, that’s correct. I prefer working alone; I only have to rely on myself.” He studies you, head tilted to the side as he considers your answer, and you nearly melt under his astute gaze. “I was the same way. It’s never easy, but the mentors and I will be right beside you during your time here.” Knowing that these 4 amazing people were here to share their experiences and guide you through your troubles made the task at hand much less daunting, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Despite the intensity of the competition, you felt at ease, knowing they genuinely want the best for you.

“Ah, look at that face! So cute,” Ella coos, grinning back. You hide your face behind your hands, embarrassed beyond belief. Everyone chuckles at the sight, and you join in. With the atmosphere officially comfortable, you allow your eyes to trail over to Lisa. To your surprise, she’s already looking at you, lip between her teeth.

“I see that you have 2 special talents listed.” Lisa starts, leaving room for you to elaborate. “Yes ma’am. While studying abroad in my youth, I learned 3 languages in addition to my native English.” The mentors look pleasantly surprised, and you continue with your other skill. “My mother is a professional chef, and we’ve always been close. She’s trained me over the years, and that’s something I’m very thankful for. During my time away from home I was fortunate enough to learn new techniques and styles from across the world.”

As you finish talking about yourself, you look to each and every one of the judges separately. You know it’s important to have a good connection with all of them, and you use this chance to do just that.

Upon locking eyes with Lisa again, your breath hitches. The light blush that rests on her cheeks, combined with the look she’s giving you, is enough to make you swoon. It’s innocent enough, the way she’s watching you; after all, she can just blame it on her role as a teacher -- she has to get a good understanding of her students. However, though, behind the innocent facade lies a much more sensual reason for her behavior. You don’t miss the way her eyes rake up your body, nor her smirk as she notices your hands mindlessly toying with the band of your shorts. You do your best to keep your attention on the others as they ask you questions about your resume, but that’s easier said than done.

Once they’ve finished with their questions, they invite you to take a seat anywhere you’d like. Despite your desire to book it next to Lisa, you don’t want to be impolite; that’s also not to say that you didn’t enjoy the company of the others -- you truly did. Clearly, though, no one can compare to Lisa.

You give them all another smile, the dimples of your cheeks on full display, and approach them one-by-one to shake their hands. They appreciate the gesture, and you’re confident that you’ve won them over that much more.

As you make your way to the seat beside Lisa, your heart beats wildly. It’s difficult, but you manage to suppress your anxiety for the time being. Letting your control slip now is definitely not an option.

In contrast to the heated look she had been giving you just moments before, Lisa now dons an adorable smile that nearly makes your heart burst. In the moment, you almost reach forward to touch her puffed out cheeks.

You sit down beside her, and she takes a minute to look you over again. It’s baffling how she can go from so wholesome and adorable to flirty in such a short period of time.

As the time ticks on and the mentors work through the list of contestants, the two of you continue to steal conversations and teasing glances.

Things are ramped up, however, when Lisa’s hand finds its way to your thigh, settling there for a bit. You attempt to push the intrusive thoughts from your mind, but they come flooding back the second she leans in to whisper something into your ear.

“You look gorgeous,” she tells you, warm breath fanning over your neck. Her slight accent only adds to the effect that her words have on you. All you can offer is a breathless thank you, thoughts completely jumbled at having the stunning woman do such things to you.

Before anyone can get suspicious, she backs off. The disappointment must’ve been evident, because she chuckles lightly and pats your knee in response. Thankfully no one had been paying you two any mind.

~~~ Practices ~~~

It wasn’t often that you came into the studio upset or exhausted, considering you knew you’d soon be cheered up once you saw Lisa, but she made sure to take care of you when those times came around. She could read you like a book, easily knowing when you’d had enough and needed a break. That’s not to say that she lowered her standards, though -- she was firm and demanding, but she checked on you often. She respected all of her students, but she couldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for you. You lived for her soft gaze and gentle touches on the days you needed them most.

Other days, though, you got a kick out of teasing her; playing dumb, purposefully missing steps, ignoring her instructions -- anything to pull a reaction from her.

↪“Eyes forward,” she would call out, voice strong, upon catching you talking to a fellow trainee when you were meant to be practicing. Her jaw would be set, eyes menacing.

↪“You keep messing up. Here,” she’d declare, demonstrating the moves directly in front of you. She knew exactly what to do to get you going, and sometimes your plans backfired a bit.

↪Those times that you’d play dumb were by far the best, both of you secretly loving the back and forth of it all. “I’m sorry, miss. I just can’t seem to get the moves right.” You’d say, appearing innocent and sweet all the while. It was hard to contain yourself when she’d approach you from behind, pressing her body against your own. “One here,” she’d inform, placing your hand on your hip; “...and one here,” she’d finish, correcting your position once again. When the music restarted, she counted next to your ear, keeping time as her warm hands held yours, guiding you through the positions.

And of course, the majority of the time, you were a great student for her. Her praise had a mighty effect on you, and there existed a mutual love for it. Being a strong dancer often worked in your favor.

~~~ Performances ~~~

Anytime you were set to perform, Lisa made sure to settle in and get ready to enjoy herself. The two of you had spent many weeks getting to know each other better, growing closer in the process. She found you captivating, and always loved to watch you on stage. The same can be said for you; seeing her dance was always the highlight of your day.

The two of you made sure to play things up, having a knack for getting the other riled up and squirming in their seat.

Watching her cool demeanor falter and ultimately crumble before you was one of your favorite things in the whole world. One of its only rivals was how she had to attempt to conceal it, knowing the cameras would be on her often.

“I-I loved it. I’m very proud of you, Y/N.”

You smirked at her stutter; no one else was capable of making her blush as much as you did

~~~ Bonus: Backstage ~~~

“You all did so well. I loved that dance break in the middle of the song.” You gushed to a group of your fellow contestants, smiling at how happy they were. Over the course of the competition you had become something of a “celebrity” yourself, noticing that the other girls would always approach you for help and get giddy when you agreed. Not to mention that the mentors were always proud of your progress and dedication to the craft. The conversation continued, and you settled into a comfortable rhythm; everyone taking a turn to share their favorite part of their performance. Seeing these girls -- your friends -- so proud of themselves was a wonderful thing. Everyone worked so hard, day in and day out, to put forth their best effort in everything that they did. Celebrating each other’s wins just felt right, despite the fact that this is a competition. It always hurt to see anyone go home, considering you spent so much time getting to know each other. These were the people who were there for you when you needed it most; all of you know how hopeless it can feel, and you wanted to protect the others from that in every way possible.

“Y/N!” The sound of someone calling your name pulls you from the conversation, and you send a quick bow and goodbye to the girls before departing.

Your eyes travel across the crowded stage, searching for the source of the noise. You spot Lisa looking at you, hand beckoning you towards her. A familiar warmth spreads across your body at the action, and you don’t even attempt to stop the smile that takes over your features.

“Yes?” You ask sweetly, approaching her. Her hands slip into yours, fingers lacing in a sweet embrace. “I want you to come to my dressing room once everyone goes back to the dorm. You impressed me tonight, but you still have some things to learn.” As that last sentence falls from her lips, your blood runs cold. Her voice had dropped lower, and you feared what she meant by that. Had you mixed up the choreography without realizing it? Surely not. The only thing you were sure of in that moment was the way she was studying you, almost intimidatingly. Her jaw was set, eyes narrowed, and you swallowed thickly upon noticing this. “Of course. I appreciate the feedback.” She smiled, seemingly pleased with your answer.

With a swipe of her thumb across your knuckles, she was gone.

A sigh left your lips, your mind racing at all of the possible things to come.

~~~ Bonus: A Private Meeting ~~~

“You wanted to see me, Lisa?” You announce upon entering the room and shutting the door behind yourself. The two of you had long ago left the formalities behind, opting instead to be on a first name basis. It was much more intimate, and you preferred things to be that way with her. Of course, occasionally you would use her official title just to get a certain reaction out of her. Slipping it into conversation when around the other instructors always worked to get her attention and catch her off guard. It was easy to see that she enjoyed it, the innocent way it rolled off your tongue.

You sit down in the chair opposite her, feeling the coolness of the leather press against your calves as you get situated.

“Good job tonight; you get better and better with every performance.” You thank her, both well aware of how much you enjoy her praise. Her expression turns more serious, and you take a deep breath. Here goes. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to be so close with some of the other contestants, though. Not all of them are interested in gaining your friendship for the right reasons.” With furrowed eyebrows and slightly pursed lips, you look at her. “What exactly do you mean?” Her expression turns unreadable, and you sink into your seat a little more. “Some of them may want to get into your head to throw you off your game. Despite what you want to believe, Y/N, this is still a contest.” You sigh, now a bit upset that she’s treating you like a child. “I’m aware of that, Lisa, but I can take care care of myself.” At the change in tone, the air around you shifts into something more tense. “Are you sure? Because you seem to be pretty oblivious to their actions.” She bites back, shifting her seat to get a better look at you, and crosses her arms.

When you don’t respond, she takes this as her cue to continue. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I see the way they look at you, so entranced. They know that acting helpless will get your attention. It’s just to distract you!” She says, exasperated, jaw set and eyes cut, just like earlier.

“Are you jealous?” You ask, a contrasting tone of accusal and uncertainty in your voice. No turning back now.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Jealous? Of what?” Her eyes setting on you again, a cocky expression on her face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you start, toying with her; you know exactly what to say. “Maybe at the fact that they get to be so close to me all the time, like you want to be. Or maybe that we sleep together, especially when it gets cold in the dorms.”

It’s her turn to be speechless. “I’m more observant that you act, miss.” She gulps, and you bite back a smirk. “I see how you look at me; your desire is obvious. We’ve both known it for a long time now… Why don’t you just admit it?” The teasing tone in your voice is thick, and it’s clearly getting to her. Who knew you could make her feel like this with just your words?

“Y/N…” Lisa says your name almost as a warning, knowing that you’re on the edge of crossing the line. She failed to deny your claims; after all, it would do no good. She can’t disguise her feelings for you.

A surge of confidence washes over you, and you take that as a sign to scoot closer to her. Soon, you’re mere inches away from her, your body pressed against the side of the seat as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. Her tongue darts out of her mouth, soothing her lips.

You take her in for a moment, enjoying the sight. Her long dark hair tumbles past her shoulders in loose waves, and a blush takes residence upon her cheeks. Having her like this was something you only dreamed of in the past; seeing her so aroused because of you truly made you think back on how far the two of you have come.

To put an end to the silence, you loop two fingers underneath her chin, successfully coaxing her into meeting your gaze. Your eyes fall to her lips as you ask, “Am I wrong?” Before you can continue, her resolve fades. She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Any ounce of doubt that you had before melts away as she pulls you closer.

With inhibition and processing skills long gone, you slip from your chair and into hers, settling in her lap. One of her arms wraps around your waist to hold you steady, while her other hand tangles itself into your hair. A swift bite to your lip, paired with a flex of her warm thigh beneath you, sends a jolt through your body and earns her a low groan. She shudders against you, and that simple act works wonders in boosting your confidence.

All too quickly, a sudden noise from just outside the door startles you; reluctantly, Lisa pulls away. You nearly gasp at how dark her eyes have gotten in the heat of the moment. “I’m going to go see what that was,” she informs, gently setting you down in her seat as she stands up. Before turning to walk away, however, she plants another kiss on your lips. “Don’t even think about moving. I’m not done with you yet.”

#AHHHHHH #lisa x reader #lalisa manoban #lalisa #blackpink #blackpink x reader #blackpink oneshot #lisa oneshot #lisa imagine #lisa x fem reader #let-them-read-fics #youth with you #mentor lisa

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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 18 (19 Pages)

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Training time! Nia and Tobias work on their team combat with Val and discuss Nia’s struggle to use moves.

It’s two days later when Tobias and Nia finally get the chance to go to the training area. The bite on Nia’s arm from the outlaw was deeper than either of them had realized, so even after a few sitrus berry treatments and a lot of fuss from Maggie, it had been clear Nia wouldn’t be throwing any punches for a day or two.

Their combat-free day was taken up by a tour of the guild for a few kids who lived in the Haven. Other than a pair of bratty rattata sisters constantly trying to run off, it was an admittedly nice chance for the two of them to recoup. Besides, a storm had rolled in as well, rain finally falling for the first time in weeks, so Tobias had no desire to get out anyways. The Haven really needed the bout of rain to pour some life back into the dry forest, but it still would’ve been annoying to have to deal with on a mission.

When Tobias shakes the riolu awake the second morning after their outlaw battle, she gives her injured arm a tentative stretch and flex, and he’s glad to hear that it’s only a little sore. He tries to be a “considerate” partner and ask her if she can train with it instead of telling her to, but he’s relieved when she says she can. He’s been itching for some activity.

The two of them leave for the day with a promise to a worried Maggie that they’ll come back with minimal damage this time. Nia’s still waking up, so it’s a quiet trip down to the training floor as she fiddles with the red scarf tied awkwardly around her neck. It’s the first time Tobias has actually seen her wear it, and something about their matching attire makes him proud. They actually look like a team now, even if the scarf does look weird on her, the collar of fur underneath it so fluffy that it poofs out awkwardly around the fabric. He’s not sure how to tell her to tie it somewhere else without making it sound mean, so he stays silent for now, even if she looks ridiculous.

Nia breaks out of her sleepy stupor when the two of them run into Azami on the way to the training floor, and the tsareena meets their surprise with a laugh.

“Sorry, Spitfire, I won’t be able to train with you today. Just received an urgent mission from August himself!”

Tobias feels disappointment rise up in his chest, but tries not to look put out by the news. He...he didn’t actually want to show Azami his new dragon rage attack anyways. Nia pins back her ears with a quiet, “Oh.”

Azami gives them both a grin. “Aw, don’t give me those yamper eyes! I’ll be around and ready to kick your butts next time you come to train!”

Nia gives her a half-hearted smile. “O-Okay. Good luck!”

“Thanks! You be good for Val, all right, Spitfire?”

Tobias snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Azami just laughs, giving them a wink before heading off. Tobias moves into the training floor to look for Val, and Nia follows, sending a few not-at-all-subtle glances his way. He sighs, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice when he says, “What?”

Nia runs her paws through the ruff of fur around her neck, trying to tuck it back under her scarf. “I uh. Was wondering why you didn’t tell Azami about your new move?”

Tobias huffs. “Not like she has time to check it out right now anyways.” And it’s not like he cares that much. He purposefully squashes the leftover disappointment in his gut and straightens up. “She’ll see it eventually. Might as well surprise her in the middle of a spar.”

Nia smiles. “Oh! Right! Imagine how excited she’ll be for you!” She’s not wrong there. The tsareena is an almost annoyingly invested teacher.

They reach the back area that Val is usually at, where she’s finishing up a talk with a roselia. When the two finish their conversation, they bow to one another. The roselia turns to leave, and lights up at the sight of Nia.

“Hey, Nia! Good luck with practice today!”

The riolu jumps, surprised, before smiling nervously back and saying, “Th-Thanks, Briar!”

The charmander watches the roselia go, confused. “How d’you know her?” He didn’t even know the Pokémon’s name, and he’s seen her here and there around the guild for at least a few years.

Nia wrings her paws. “W-Well, a lot of Pokémon are curious about the former human of the guild, so they like to introduce themselves. They’re nice, so I don’t mind.”

That doesn’t surprise him. Nia’s a bit nervous by nature, but she clearly likes talking and making friends. Of course the other Pokémon would flock to her with annoying questions about being human. Well, better her than him. He can’t hold a conversation to save his life, even if he wanted to.

“Good morning.”

Val’s quiet voice breaks Tobias out of his thoughts, and he looks over to see Val walking up to them, her eyes immediately zeroing in on Nia’s healing arm wound, scabbed over by now.

“‘Morning,” Nia echoes, smiling. She sounds nervous, and moves her paw up, almost as if to cover the bite marks, before hesitantly dropping it again.

Val doesn’t question it, more than a few old scars littering her own body, and instead says, “Today we will practice team fighting.”

“First,” Tobias interrupts, crossing his arms. “Did you know that Nia doesn’t know how to use moves?”

Val’s usual stoic expression doesn’t change. “I am aware.”

Oh, well that changes the whole tone of this conversation, doesn’t it? Tobias feels anger light in his belly, a growl rolling through his voice as he says, “Then why haven’t you been teaching her how to use any actual attacks?!”

Val doesn’t look offended by his accusatory tone, and that just makes him angrier. “I thought it best to tackle that problem later. I did not want to overwhelm her when she was still learning basic bodily functions and form.”

“And you didn’t think that would be a little dangerous, leaving her so defenseless?”

Nia shoots him a pleading look that clearly asks him to drop it, but he ignores her.

“E-Rank Pokemon are usually manageable without moves. I assumed you would be fine.”

Tobias throws up his arms, the fire in his belly stoking higher, into his throat. “Clearly not! If Nia knew how to use her attacks, maybe she could’ve avoided having a bite taken out of her arm!”

Val still doesn’t seem defensive in the slightest, and instead eyes him with interest. “You’re angry.”

“Of course I’m angry! You let us waltz around fighting outlaws when Nia doesn’t know basic moves!”

“T-Tobias, it’s fine, I should’ve brought it up—“

“No it’s not!” Tobias snaps, turning his glare onto Nia. She shrinks back. “It’s her job to teach us, and moves should’ve been one of the first lessons, especially for you!”

Tobias turns back to the medicham, intent on yelling up at her a bit more (ugh, why can’t she be shorter?!), but she cuts him off with a calm, “Allow me to speak, Charmander.”

Tobias considers going off on her anyways, but then snaps his jaws shut, a stream of white smoke wisping up from his nose.

The medicham looks to Nia and, still with that same infuriating calm to her voice, says, “I apologize. For not preparing you for such a dangerous fight. I underestimated the fierce nature of the Pokémon you faced, and your own capabilities.”

Nia blinks up at the older Pokemon with wide eyes, looking somewhere between surprised and uncomfortable.

“However,” Val adds, dark eyes focusing on Tobias. “You must both understand that with or without moves, you will be injured working as Seekers. It is simply part of the job.”

Tobias frowns. She’s not wrong of course—Seeker teams have one of the highest mortality rates of all careers for a reason. But...

“You still could’ve done your job,” he grumbles, gaze flicking once more to Nia’s arm. He can still hear the riolu screaming in pain, can still feel the unexpected panic lurch in his gut. Not a fun time.

Nia shifts her worried gaze up to Val, a soft smile on her muzzle. “I-It’s fine, Val. Really. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Tobias curses under his breath. The worst part is that he knows Nia is genuine, too. Looks like he’s gonna have to be angry enough for the both of them.

“I still apologize for my oversight,” Val says, voice solemn. She looks to Tobias next. “I understand that you will be angry with me for a while.”

“Let’s just get to training,” he grumbles.

Val nods and doesn’t try to push the issue. The medicham leads them both to the center of the training ring they typically use. “Today we will work on cooperative training. Team fighting.” Before Tobias can open his mouth to snarl a complaint, the medicham adds, “We will also work on your movesets.” The riolu nods, and Tobias settles down again.

“Practicing singular battle techniques is important. But as Seekers, teamwork is key,” Val goes on. “Teamwork in combat especially. We will work on how you can build off of each other’s strengths, and cover each other’s weaknesses. Have you noticed a clash in your fighting styles?”

Nia laughs, sounding embarrassed. “Um, y-yeah. When we were fighting the outlaw, we kind of just...tripped over each other?”

Tobias frowns. Right. They’d moved at the same time, and she’d elbowed him in the ribs. He might have stepped on her paw, too. They stumbled and gave the panpour a huge opening for attack.

Val nods, looking satisfied. “That is what we must avoid. When you are on a mission, you are not two separate Pokémon. You are not just taking turns and trying to avoid each other. You are one team. With practice, you will support each other effortlessly. A cohesive unit.”

Tobias doesn’t object, despite his reservations about having to adapt his fighting style. He’s hung around the training areas enough over the years to have seen teams battling in tandem. It’s frighteningly effective.

Nia shifts on her paws, but her ears are pricked and her ruby eyes bright with curiosity. “S-So how do we practice?”

Val takes a step back and sinks into a defensive stance. “You fight me. Together. Your goal is to land a hit.”

Nia blinks. “W-Wait, wha—“

Tobias doesn’t waste the opportunity, dashing forwards to throw himself claws-first at the medicham. He has some aggression to work out.

But before he can register what’s happening, Val’s sliding around his strike, snatching his arm and yanking him around. She brings her knee down into his back and slams him to the ground, hard enough to wind him. She pulls his arms back and holds them with a single hand, pinning him down, and he can sense her other hand hovering close to his neck. He freezes, struggling to catch his breath.

He can’t see Nia, but he can imagine the startled, wide-eyed expression on her face.

“Being out of sync with your partner could get you killed,” Val says, lightly. “If I had claws, you would be dead. And your partner cannot help, because you are now a hostage.”

Tobias wants to snark a reply, but feeling the medicham’s hand so close to his neck—

He has his scarf on it’s fine he’s safe here—

And then Val is letting him go and stepping back. Tobias pushes himself up on his hands and knees and tries to calm the beginnings of panic that were stirring in his chest. Nia crouches down next to him, hands raised hesitantly, like she wants to help but isn’t sure how. “A-Are you okay?”

“Fantastic,” Tobias croaks, staggering to his feet and glaring at Val. Her calm expression doesn’t change. Nia stands up, too, and the medicham once again falls into a defensive stance. Tobias growls, feeling his lip curl back. Before he can move, Nia’s light touch is on his arm, catching his attention.

“W-Wait. Maybe we should make a plan first? That’s what the whole lesson’s about, right? Teamwork?”

The charmander keeps his acidic stare trained on Val, but doesn’t move. She’s right. He huffs out a puff of white smoke. “Any ideas?”

Nia is silent for a moment. Val patiently waits.

“We could attack her at the same time?” Nia murmurs, voice just loud enough for Tobias to hear. “Try to overwhelm her?”

Tobias eyes the medicham’s wide stance. “She‘s too fast,” he whispers back. “We need something else to throw her off if we want a chance of breaking her defense.”

“Oh!” Nia grabs excitedly at his arm, struggling to keep her voice down. “What about your smoke breath? Like you did in that one dungeon!”

Tobias snorts. “Smokescreen?”

Nia nods. “Yeah! That would throw her off, right?”

“Worth a shot. Let’s go.”

Tobias darts forward, lunging as if to attack Val, but then skids to a stop and hops back at the last second. The medicham makes to grab him, but falters at his sudden change of direction. Tobias takes advantage of the moment to suck in a deep breath, then exhales a giant cloud of grayish-white smoke, thick like fog.

Val moves back, away from him, just in time for Nia to sprint past him. The riolu leaps up with a kick, but the medicham easily deflects it, sending the smaller Pokémon flying past her and into the smokescreen. Tobias growls and charges again, spinning around to slam his tail into the medicham’s legs—

Only to meet empty air, stumbling and almost falling flat on his face with the momentum. He looks up to see Nia come rushing back in through the smoke and missing her target entirely with a punch.

In hindsight, maybe smokescreen wasn’t their best idea.

Val twists to grab the riolu, and slings her away. Nia hits the dirt and rolls back to her feet. She looks up, freezing as Val darts forward and slams a force palm into the riolu’s gut. Nia goes tumbling backwards with a yelp.

Tobias growls and dashes in, determined to just make one solid hit. But Val hears him coming and easily dodges around his messy scratch attack, spinning to kick his side and send him rolling into the dirt as well.

The charmander is quick to stagger back to his feet despite the light bruise he can feel blooming on his side. But Val is no longer in her fighting stance, patiently waiting as the smokescreen clears. Nia coughs a few times before sitting up, wincing.

“Come here,” Val says.

Tobias grumbles under his breath but does as told, trudging back to the medicham with frustration bubbling in his gut. Nia joins him after a few seconds, paw gingerly rubbing at her stomach where she was hit.

“That was better,” Val says, the words not quite sounding like a lie.

“We got destroyed,” Tobias growls.

“I am older and much more experienced than you two. I should be fired if two E-rank Seekers can best me in combat so easily.”

Oh great, now she’s gloating? Didn’t really seem like the type, honestly. Tobias feels his lip curl into a snarl.

“I only say this to explain that I should not be who you compare yourselves to. You are new, and learning. Young. You will grow stronger in time. The most pressing issue for you two is your teamwork. That assault was uncoordinated. Too much so to be effective. Neither of you communicated or built off of each other’s attacks past that first smokescreen, and instead attacked entirely on your own.”

Nia winces, and Tobias crosses his arms, glaring at the ground.

“But that is why you are here. Your teamwork will improve. Before we try again, we will work on moves.”

Nia glances over at her partner. “T-Tobias too?”

“Yes.” Maybe Val can see the complaint on Tobias’ face, because she looks to him and adds, “As well as tactics and movements, you two must become familiar with each other’s attacks. The strength, the range, the stamina needed for each. Understood?”

Tobias is getting sick of the medicham making good points, because he really just wants an excuse to punch her in the face. “Yeah, yeah, fine,” he mumbles. “So what, I just show Nia my moves?”

“Yes, you will start,” Val confirms. “We’ll go from there.” The medicham steps back and crosses her arms, looking at Tobias expectantly.

The charmander never thought he’d admit to missing Azami as his primary teacher, but he’ll take anything over Val’s infuriating calm. Tobias sighs and turns to Nia, who looks back at him nervously. She seems as uncertain as he feels about this whole thing.

“She’s seen all of my moves before,” Tobias says, glancing at Val. “So...”

“Demonstrate,” Val says, nodding. “And then describe. How it feels, how it hits.”

Tobias takes a step away from the riolu, turning so she’s out of the line of fire. Putting all of the boredom he possibly can into his tone, he drawls, “Scratch.” He swipes weakly at the air in front of him, claws flexed. “Pretty self-explanatory. Ember—“

“More detail,” Val commands.

The charmander growls. “Fine. Scratch is a weak move, and it’s just normal type. But I can use it a lot without getting tired.” Tobias looks over to Val, expecting her to object, but she just nods. He moves his gaze to Nia, not surprised to see her nerves have shifted to open curiosity.

Tobias goes back to his demonstration. “Metal claw is similar, but its type is helpful for rock and ground types, especially since I’m weak to them.” He flexes his fingers, calling up the familiar thin layer of metallic sheen to coat his claws, and then swipes at the air again. Nia’s hand shoots up in the corner of his eye, and he raises a brow at how she has her arm raised into the air. “Uh. What?”

“How do you do that?” Nia asks, brow furrowed and ears pricked with interest, mind clearly working on overdrive. “I mean, biologically it seems strange that you’d just be able to change how your claws are structured? Or that you’d even be able to use steel type moves when you’re a fire type.”

Tobias rolls his eyes and steps closer to Nia. He holds his hand out for her to see, flexing his fingers and willing the metallic shine to coat his claws again. “My claws aren’t changing. The metal’s forming a layer on the outside.”

Nia crouches down to be at eye level with his hands, staring at his claws in open fascination. “Can you do it again?”

Tobias knows this’ll get her to stop her line of questioning faster, so he does.

Nia frowns. “Is it like...a liquid? Coming from your fingers? Is it even metal or something that just mimics it? Why—“

“Look, I dunno,” Tobias says, trying not to snap at the riolu. “All I know is that when I want to, I can do it. It hurts Pokémon like a steel type move, so that’s what we call it. Maybe the archive has a book that talks more about the details of it, but I don’t know and I don’t really care.”

Nia shrinks back, not quite looking satisfied, but nodding regardless. “O-Okay. Thank you.��

And with that, Tobias steps back, moving on. Next he demonstrates his ember attack and how he can adjust its power and range, before showing how he can use the fire move on his own metal claw attack to create a more physical fire move. Something like a fiery scratch. Val doesn’t make any more objections, and Nia looks properly interested by everything, so the rest of the demonstrations go smoothly—smokescreen, tail whip, and finally his new move, dragon rage.

Val straightens up at the appearance of the purplish flames. “You learned this recently?”

“Fighting the outlaw the other day, yeah,” Tobias says, catching his breath. Nia notices, and looks concerned.

“I can’t use this move as much as the others,” he explains, shrugging. “Certain attacks just wear you out more. Your stamina can only go so far.”

Nia nods, brow furrowed. He can practically see the klinklang turning in her head. He’s surprised she hasn’t started jotting down notes in the dirt.

“Congratulations on the new technique,” Val says, breaking Tobias out of his thoughts. The medicham’s expression doesn’t change, so he can’t tell how sincere she is. It kind of just makes him mad all over again.

Nia raises her hand again. Tobias raises a brow. “I don’t know why you keep doing that, but it’s weird. What?”

Nia blinks, then laughs, sheepishly lowering her hand. “S-Sorry. Uh, old habit. Um, I was wondering how you learn new moves so suddenly? It seems impossible for your body to one moment not know how to do something, and the next suddenly just...have an entirely new power? B-But that seems to be how your dragon rage worked?”

“Why does it matter?” Tobias asks, exasperated. “We just...get stronger, get enough experience with battling and fighting, and I guess our bodies realize we’re good enough to handle something more powerful. So we learn it. We still have to practice new moves to be able to control them.”

“You question basic facts. Most Pokemon don’t think twice about them,” Val says, looking at Nia with a thoughtful tilt of her head.

Nia’s ears pin back. “S-Sorry, I just—“

“I did not say it was bad,” Val interrupts. “Simply...different. I don’t believe Charmander and I have the in-depth answers you seek. Perhaps the archives or Alistair could assist you better?”

Nia offers a tentative smile. “Y-Yeah, I’ll try that. Sorry, it’s just so strange to me.”

Val nods. “You have said humans are much different than us. But you are here as a Pokemon for the time being. And it is your turn to demonstrate.”

The riolu shoots Tobias a worried look as she rises to her paws. The charmander offers a shrug as he plops down onto the ground to watch, leaning back onto his arms. This should be good.

Nia does as Tobias did, taking a few cautious steps away and sinking into a light fighting stance that almost looks natural by now. They wait. One second. Five. She doesn’t move.

Then, Nia’s tail tucks under herself, and her head hangs. She looks over to Val. “I-I don’t know how to do this.”

“She doesn’t know any moves, genius,” Tobias reminds Val. Nia winces.

The medicham doesn’t look at all ruffled by Tobias’ taunt. Instead, she brings her hand up to her chin. “How do you fight in dungeons, Riolu? Demonstrate.”

“I-I uh. Usually use a branch as a weapon. But I guess the few times I’ve had to fight on my own…” Nia still seems uncertain, but returns to her stance. Then, she throws her fist forward in a punch, and then the other, spinning on her foot to kick at the air. They still don’t look like actual fighting moves, but her form has definitely improved from Val’s training. The riolu finishes her combo and looks over at Val again, nervously awaiting judgement.

The medicham moves to her side. “You are mimicking fighting type movements, but you are not using your fighting type power. That would explain your lack of moves.”

“My...fighting type power?” Nia echoes, tilting her head. “But...I thought fighting like this was my power? I-I mean, Tobias has fire since he’s a fire type, b-but I just use like...physical hits and stuff, right?”

Val shakes her head. “The attacks you are doing now are not moves. Charmander could learn to do them as well. Any Pokemon with a similar body type could. You are simply punching. Kicking. What you are doing now has no ‘type.’”

Tobias grudgingly listens to Val’s words, curious despite himself. Combat has always come naturally to him, so he’s never had to think about any of this, how it works. When he wants to use a move, he just...does it.

Nia looks crestfallen. “But...I thought that’s what fighting types did? W-What’s the difference?”

Val pauses, then says, “Defensive position.”

Nia looks confused, but when Val shifts into a fighting stance, the riolu yelps and hurries to plant her feet, moving her arms up to guard herself. Val strikes with a measured jab of her palm, and Nia absorbs the blow with relative ease, only pushed back a few inches. Before she can move, Val says, “Stay.”

Nia stays braced, expression openly confused, until Val replicates the last move. This time, Nia’s arms almost slam into her body with the force of the blow, and she’s sent skidding back a few feet. The riolu looks up, wide-eyed.

“My first attack was what you have been doing. A simple use of my body. A hit, yes, but not a move. It used none of my energy, fighting or psychic. The second strike was using my fighting energy. Even in a non-effective matchup, you can see how much power such an approach gives.”

Tobias raises his brows, looking again at Nia. She’s been somewhat helpful in dungeons so far even without moves, at least when she’s not frozen in fear. Sure, they’re only E-rank (and climbing higher every day), but still. Even without moves, she hasn’t really been too much of a liability. It’s kind of awesome to hear that if she can get her moves to work, she’ll be much more useful in fights.

Nia frowns down at her palms, deep in thought. “How do I use that energy, though? It’s not the same as aura, right?”

“Correct. Your aura is entirely different. It can be used for moves, but it is not the fighting energy needed for most of your attacks.”

“S-So how do I use that energy? How do I…find it?”

For a few moments, Val is silent. And then, to Tobias’ surprise, she frowns, crossing her arms. “I do not know.”

“What?” Nia yelps.

“I have never encountered this issue. Most Pokémon automatically know these things. It is instinctive as we grow. I am unsure of how to lead you to it.”

“But...” Nia trails off, a quiet whine slipping from her throat. “But I need to learn this to be a good fighter, right?”

Val doesn’t respond, and that in itself gives them both the answer. For a few moments, it’s noticeably tense. Val seems stumped, Nia looks like she’s near tears, and Tobias feels incredibly uncomfortable with the emotionally charged atmosphere.

Then, Val sighs. “Do not fret. Azami may have more helpful ideas for you. For now, we must continue our training regardless.” She looks over to Tobias. “Ready?”

The charmander rises to his feet and moves to stand beside Nia, glancing awkwardly at the riolu. She sniffs wetly, but he can’t tell if she’s actually crying or not.

“The next exercise will not require moves. You will spar with each other.”

Tobias’ attention snaps away from Nia so he can look up at Val. “What? What’s the point in making us fight each other if we’re on the same team?”

“I believe you will find it helpful for learning different styles of combat. Especially so for you two, who take very different approaches to battle.”

Tobias supposes he can kind of see the good in that. He shoots Nia another furtive glance. The riolu has her head down, eyes glued to the dirt as her paws fiddle with her scarf. She can’t hide her emotions to save her life, but he hasn’t seen her this openly upset since Afon’s Cap. Would it even be worth fighting her when she’s like this?

“Go,” Val prompts, stepping away to watch from the sidelines. “No moves. Make gestures as placeholders. Just no real damage.”

Tobias shoots Val a nasty glare. Like he was actually going to hurt his partner in a spar. He knows how this works. He moves to stand a few feet in front of Nia. The riolu doesn’t react.

“Nia,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. Casual.

The riolu visibly swallows, swipes at her eyes, and finally looks up at him. The fur of her cheeks is damp and the red of her eyes is brighter than usual, especially with her scarf making them pop. She exhales, and it shudders and catches. But she still sinks into a defensive battle stance with a sniff, and hesitantly nods. Tobias reluctantly follows her lead, preparing for a fight. It’s not like they’re friends or anything, but he still doesn’t wanna fight Nia when she’s crying. Just seems kinda low, even for him.

“Begin!” Val calls.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #medicham #charmander #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

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mammons-tax-returns · 3 years

Note

"for one muse to kiss the other's scar" w satan pls? 👉🏻👈🏻

masterlist / 600+ followers event

Thank you for your request, anon! No pronouns were specified so I hope you don’t mind masc mc :’)

I kept getting scared that this was getting too lengthy (i have a short ass attention span so ik i cant read long stuff LMAO) so I redid a bunch of parts, i hope it’s not too apparent!

✖️MALE MC✖️

Anything with history is an eye-catcher to Satan.

Just like a good novel, things with meaning and origins deeper than surface level are so much more enjoyable and genuine than things that simply are there. Who says an Avatar of Wrath can’t be poetic?

But it’s often that things with such overwhelming sentiment that Satan feels become an eye sore much quicker than anything else. Some things of personal importance are meant to be remembered, but not belabored to the point of ruin.

He is forced to face this fact today when Lucifer pushes a boundary that may not have even existed before. At any rate, it does now. Skipping past the point of negotiation entirely, Satan now finds himself pacing his room, cursing his brothers name under his hissing breath.

MC patiently watches as Satan goes through his breathing exercises on his own, knowing that if Satan has learned to calm down on his own before, he can do it again. Just being in his room with him is enough.

On the other hand, Satan isn’t too keen on that idea.

Things have become enstranged between him and Lucifer— Even more so. At this point, it’s hard to tell that MC’s help had brought them any closer at all.

The recent fights and arguments continuously end in Satan peering at the long, winding scar wrapping around his wrist and forearm like a ravenous snake. Just its faded presence is enough to make him conflicted.

He received this scar long ago, at least thousands of years ago. From a day that Lucifer got a bit too close to Satan when he was angry.

Maybe that was the day that set the precedent. The precedent that stated that no matter how smart or calm he presents, there will always be some turmoil within him brewing like a storm.

The disappointment and weariness that shows in his own family’s faces when he gets worked up is so evident he wishes he could be anyone else than who he is. Even if just for a day. But isn’t it unfair to only expect chaos from him? Certainly he’s been doing better to keep his anger in check... Right?

Besides... It’s just his nature to be angry. So, maybe... No, he still is held accountable for his actions. He definitely should just—

“Satan? Are you... Are you okay?” MC quietly calls his name from his bed. Perhaps he should have called Satan’s name a little earlier? The demon stood staring at his clothed arm in absolute silence for a number of minutes until now.

Satan’s eyes open a little wider. “Huh..? Oh, I’m sorry. I must have spaced out... How uncharacteristic of me.” He can’t find it in himself to smile, and instead uses his left hand to hold onto his scarred forearm, pushing it aside in hopes to shake off his intrusive thoughts.

“Moreover... I feel like I have calmed down significantly. Thank you for being here MC, but perhaps you’ve been bored out of your mind here.” He gives a firm smile and quickly looks away. “You may leave if you’d like.”

MC doesn’t quite listen to his offer. Satan seemed more tensed than normal when he would have “calmed down”. If he were a danger to be around at that moment, he would have said so, anyways. And if there was any chance of being able to help him before he does something risky, MC would take it.

“Well... It wouldn’t hurt to stay just a bit more, would it?” MC gave him a small smile, in which Satan seemed to become a bit flustered upon seeing.

Satan wonders how to respond. MC was right. And it may just hurt more if Satan is alone with his thoughts. “Oh, MC.” He sighs with unsaid appreciation, then makes his way into bed beside the human, who is still sitting on the edge. “Sometimes I wonder who truly are the angels of the exchange program.”

MC giggles, rolling over so that the two males lay side by side. “I’m no angel, but humans aren’t so bad... Occasionally.”

Satan smiles to let him know that the response was well received. Lord knows how grim his expression was while he was subconsciously considering his past just moments ago.

“But, that aside...” MC turns his head to look at the blonde. “What’s wrong, Satan? I’m not forcing anything out, but I’m thinking I should start to worry.”

Satan could almost laugh at those words. Worry? For him? A demon who embodies fury and unrelenting rage? It’s... A little odd to picture.

“Hmph. Well... Now that I have to put it in words, it seems a bit silly when it really shouldn’t be...”

MC raised a brow. “Based off of how you were glaring at your hands earlier, I doubt that this is about it being silly, and more about you trying to downplay it. But I’d say that’s a rather common coping mechanism.”

Satan felt as if he were see through. A mere glass pane. How could someone see into his mind so well? He had barely gotten into his explanation at all. “Er. I guess you could say that...

“It would appear that the tension... Between Lucifer and I has caused some rather distasteful memories to surface.” Satan mumbles the words as if they would reflect his character poorly. As if they were something to be ashamed of.

MC picks up on this, and a frown deepens his features. “Satan...” He pauses to think about what to say next, “You see, this is the part where I have no idea what to add because you guys have thousands of years of age on me.”

Satan ruffles the male’s hair when he sees the small pout on his lips. “You’ll come to learn that most demons are petty, shallow creatures with personalities about as deep as a puddle,”

Coming to a stop, the Avater of Wrath subconsciously began to pull up his sleeve to reveal the very edge of his scar. However, he hesitates, and his throat tightens just barely.

What in the hell was he doing?

“...” MC can’t look away from Satan’s hands, and it seems that time has stopped for a moment. Even the air that previously entered and exited MC’s nose seized.

Satan suddenly relaxes. It’s just MC. A human that knows all too well that this household could be dangerous and frightening. So he continues to pull up the bit of cloth covering peach skin.

“And sometimes, we tend to give into vainglorious temptations that only end up hurting someone, or everyone.” Satan finishes, voice barely breaking the border between a whisper and mutter. “I suppose I could have gone about pushing Lucifer’s buttons in a smarter way... But I didn’t, unfortunately. So I’m left with this loving scar from my brother.”

MC supresses a gasp, and gently takes hold of Satan’s arm. “It looks like it was super deep... I’m sorry this happened to you Satan.”

Satan watches MC trail his fingers calmingly along the edge of his river-like line along his arm. He rotates his forearm so that he can follow its path all around his arm.

“I appreciate that, MC... But I’m ‘over it’, for lack of better words. You see here, the scars actually make the silhouette of a cat on the untouched skin. It’s rather cute.”

MC laughs at the revelation. It was cute. But as much as he could admire Satan’s turning of an unfortunate event into a moment of entertainment for the two of them, he couldn’t ignore the weary look on Satan’s face.

“Awh... That’s adorable.” MC lightly mocks a babyish tone, and rubs his finger on the head of this imaginary feline. “It’s like a mini Satan cat.” He feels Satan’s shoulder move as he chuckles breathily.

“I value your adoration for my unsightly skin, MC. But if you’re so affectionate to this mere imagery of ‘mini Satan’ , perhaps you could spare a moment or two paying more attention to me.” He’s not sure if Satan means to sound dismayed rather than playful, even through the smile on his lips.

So he decides to gently grab onto Satan’s arm and press his lips against the indented skin on his forearm.

“M-MC-..!” Satan jumps, free hand freezing mid-air. His body heat is rising, and he’s sure MC can feel it.

“You’d better not be talking about Mini Satan like that, Satan.” MC mumbles against his skin. “He’s not unsightly. He’s wonderful and handsome, just like you.”

Satan can’t find a way to respond. Was he supposed to feel his heart squeeze? This seemed too menial of a response from MC for his heart to be racing like this. He simply smiles and shakes his head helplessly.

“Thank you, MC...” He lets out the breath he had been holding in.

Perhaps he could afford to be transparent every once in a while.

#obey me satan #satan x mc #male reader #obey me #satan

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floatingcatacombs · 2 years

Text

Q Hayashida's Maken X Manga

12 Days of Aniblogging 2021, Day 8

I finally got around to the anime adaptation of Dorohedoro this year, and was not disappointed. It has one of the best fantasy settings, combining the decrepit industrial nightmare-scape of Hole with a wizarding world that seems just snooty at first but unfurls in such a way that exposes wizards for the absolute weirdos they are. Author Q Hayashida clearly just wrote what she wanted to see, and what she wants is plenty of buff women. I can’t complain! There’s a lot of stuff in Dorohedoro that stick out to me, such as how it completely eschews romance in such a way that the main duos feel genuinely close to each other in a way that most stories never achieve. The bonds between characters often manifests in the food that they make and eat with each other, and it is personally grounding for me to watch something that loves food in the way the Dorohedoro show does. There’s plenty of essay fodder here but I’m going to hold off since I haven’t finished the manga and instead talk about Q Hayashida’s lesser-known debut work: a manga adaptation of the Atlus video game Maken X.

A bit of a history lesson is in order. Atlus is a household name these days, but in the 90s they were really only known for Snowboard Kids in the US. No games from their flagship RPG series Shin Megami Tensei had made it overseas, bar a botched localization of the first Persona game in 1996. During the development of the Persona 2 duology, the team expressed a desire to break their mold of role-playing games and try something completely different. This culminated in Maken X, a first-person hack-and-slash game released internationally for the Dreamcast in 1999.

Maken X is weird. I’m not sure why Atlus thought that this would be their breakthrough game in the West. The presentation can be offputting for those who aren’t fans of Kazuma Kaneko’s doll-like artstyle, and the English voice acting is just plain bad. The first-person swordfighting feels as strange as you’d expect, and the tank controls, while somewhat common at the time, are not a good fit for the perspective. It’s full of Taoist imagery and philosophy which makes the plot pretty inscrutable if you’re not familiar, and while the branching paths provide the player with agency in the story, it’s easy to forget why you’re doing things from moment to moment. It got mixed reviews and sold well in Japan but performed poorly everywhere else, so that should be the end of the story. Except Q Hayashida’s manga reached a conclusion in November 2001, 8 months after the Dreamcast itself had been discontinued. I’ve never seen discussion of this manga despite it having a full English translation, so let’s check it out!

Unlike the fantasy world of Dorohedoro, Maken X’s setting is grounded in realism, maybe even a bit too much realism. It predicts a near-future 21st century world where Europe is in ruins due to a devastating pandemic, Neo-Nazism is on the rise globally, OPEC is causing another oil crisis, and tensions between the United States and China look like they’re about to flare over. Ouch. Also, psychic energy is real and an evil cultist organization which has control over both the presidents of the United States and China is trying to force everyone into a universal consciousness and destroy their individual psyches in order to end suffering. I don’t think things have gotten that bad here yet? To stop them, some Japanese researchers create the Maken, a sentient weapon with its own will (the player’s decisions) which can brainjack into people to take over their bodies, but leaves them an empty shell. You may think you’re playing as the girl on the cover, but you’re actually playing as the sword she wields, as her individual consciousness, now only a voice in the Maken’s mind, slowly erodes. It’s wild stuff!

Hayashida’s manga aims to establish a more character-driven take on Maken X, which is sorely needed. Instead of immediately subsuming into the Maken, main character Kay remains in control of her body, with the Maken relegating itself to co-existing in her head rather than fully taking over. This is a good twist on the game, and it leaves us with a strong-willed main character to follow rather than an endlessly rotating cast. She and the supporting characters are given establishing backstories and motivations, which is something the game was sorely missing, as it throws you right into the inciting event before explaining anything. They’re a bit shallow, all things considered, but it works.

The plot follows the opening act of the game, with Kay travelling to Hong Kong and India to rescue her friend’s sister, facing adversity from Geist cultists and the Maken itself, which aids her but also wants to assume control of her. Key and the Maken have a neat dynamic, one which shows up a fair amount in contemporary sci-fi such as Ninefox Gambit. Then the manga runs out of time and immediately skips to the final boss of the game to wrap things up. It cops out of even showing that fight, opting instead for a brief “one year later…” timeskip to suggest that everything worked out in the end. As such, the pacing is rather odd, and even having played the game the final few chapters of the manga were difficult to follow.

Let’s face it, the artwork is the real reason to check this manga out. Kaneko’s standout character designs combined with Q Hayashida’s style are a match made in heaven, and Hayashida has no problem deploying copious amounts of gore and body horror during combat scenes. The background art isn’t quite as intricate as in Dorohedoro, but you can tell she was riding a similar wavelength. The cities, laboratories, and other locales are rendered with an overbuilt industrial hellishness that no doubt inspired her later works. While there’s no Noi or Nikaido-type characters in the source material, it’s clear that Hayashida still has a lot of fun drawing women.

probably can't get away with showing you the boobs-out panels on tumblr these days but I assure you they exist

Maken X is definitely more of a historical oddity than a good manga, but I still had some fun with it. I could apply the same description to the video game it’s based off of, too. The aesthetic overtakes everything else by a wide margin, but it’s still a neat artifact as the precursor to both Hayashida’s breakthrough hit Dorohedoro and Atlus’s first successful Western release, Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne.

#12 days of anime #q hayashida #maken x #dorohedoro

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malucy31 · 3 years

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Even Autumn knows Dawn

Every day Magnus wakes up with Alec in his life, he realizes how differently he deals with his depression and aches. It's a lot better now. This is one of these mornings.

Teen and Up audiences

1922 words

Read on ao3

“I should have let you kidnap me while there was still time,” Alec mumbles, half asleep. “We would still be in Havana, winning all the salsa dancing competitions by now.”

With a light chuckle, Magnus slips under the cover and dives into his embrace. It has been a very long day on top of an excruciating week. Being in the warmth of Alec’s arms is everything he has been looking forward to the entire day. It doesn’t disappoint. The feeling of homeis immediate, making all his sore, tired muscles soften like marshmallows.

“The offer still stands, you know.”

“Mmh… ‘ll ‘member” Alec punctuates his words with a squeeze around his waist and, in a few seconds, Magnus can tell he has fallen back asleep. His heart breaks a little, but it’s 4 a.m. after all.

“Good night, Alexander,” he murmurs with a kiss against his shoulder.

Their schedules haven’t aligned in weeks. Magnus longs for their cozy pillow talks and lazy cuddles, has hoped all day to be home early enough to at least go to bed at the same time as Alec, but it was too good to be true.

Tomorrow won’t be better… Another political meeting to try to prevent a conflict between two warlock communities, a powerful client who keeps asking for impossible things, and the certainty that when he wakes up, Alec will be already getting ready for his own day of misery.

When Magnus opens his eyes, he wishes he had been wrong. His body already feels Alec’s absence and has decided to take over his side of the bed. The Sun is barely rising, but a weight is already settling on his chest. Alec’s scent is faint on the pillow, trapped in the silk fibers like morning dew under clover leaves. It helps soothe the ache a little, the one that has been following him for centuries.

He inhales deeply, letting relief wash over him.

Who knew answers could be so soft, so sweet?

A lifetime ago, he thought the answer was in more.More music, more laughter, more lovers, constant roller coasters of emotions. Whatever it took to quiet the pain.

Always more.

Until numbness.

Until oblivion and nothingness.

Until all that pain inside, that longing, that beasthad no other solution than to lock itself away in a dark, remote corner of his soul.

A never-ending fight against himself.

He remembers going through the last century like the wrinkled last page of a forgotten love letter, blowing in the wind through deserted streets. No will to steer him. Only the certainty that he wouldn’t see the turn of the next century carved deep into his bones.

No one is supposed to live this long.

There’s a reason why warlocks have to eventually find a way to burn their heart to ashes, get rid of their weakness, their humanity. Centuries ago, someone tried to convince Magnus it was the only way.

But his heart has always been his pride, the only good thing about him. He will never feed it to bitterness, this brave, oh so human organ that seeks connection more than air. Despite what people think of him, he never stopped wearing it in the palm of his hand.

Even through his darkest times, he would still take it out of his own chest if someone needed it. He would let it see the beauty of the world, of love, of the comfort and sense of belonging one can only draw from helping others. It made the pain turn wistful instead of nagging.

He thought that was his only answer. Helping others to have reasons to stay.

Forever seeking noise to keep an open heart and take care of his children.

Forever needed.

Forever alone…

Then, he met Alexander. Someone who is the opposite of noise, the opposite of his usual noise anyway.

Magnus will never be able to express precisely what drew him to this quiet shadowhunter. The moment he took Alec’s hand, something in him stirred, sighed like it hadn’t done in forever. Today, he likes to think that his magic recognized him somehow, giving his heart more reasons to keep beating.

If all legends are true, maybe souls wander the world, wander centuries and bodies until they find a home.

Alexander’s love isn’t loud, it’s quiet in all the most perfect ways. Even when he lets it explode, there’s a harmony, a celestial beauty that always leaves Magnus speechless, in complete awe.

Alexander doesn’t bring numbness. He makes Magnus aware of everything, makes him want to be fully alive and not a half version of it.

At first, he thought Alec was the one who needed to let his emotions run free. He forgot that what we see in others is often a reflection of what we know about ourselves.

There was never a beast that needed to be locked away inside of him. Alec shows him that. Every night and every day, his wonderful angel takes that pain in his careful hands and cradles it until it feels loved again, soothed.

It’s barely dawn. The day ahead still looks dull and lonely, but the heaviness is gone.

He pictures Alec in their living room, grimacing as he finishes his coffee because it’s probably too strong, leaning on the back of their couch while reading a few reports that have been sent to him over the night.

Any minute now, he is going to come back to their bedroom. He will take extra precautions to not startle him awake, even though neither stays asleep after the other one gets up. They both know that.

He will whisper, “Magnus, Magnus, I’m leaving,” and Magnus will open one eye, then two, smiling back at him. His grinning nephilim will come closer to kiss him good-bye. His hands, then his forearms will sink into the mattress either side of Magnus’s head. They’ll start laughing because he can rarely stop himself from tickling Alec’s ribs, and he knows there’s no such thing as not hearing that laugh today.

This morning should feel heavy.

And yet, the autumn light filtering through the shutters seems to be a little more golden than usual, the birds nesting on the roof sing something his centuries-old heart has long memorized, and the air he breathes takes up more space in his lungs, making him feel weightless.

When the door opens to Alec’s smiling face, he forgets everything.

It’s a beautiful day.

“Did I wake you?” he asks.

In a few strides, he is kneeling by his side, laying his hands on Magnus’s forearm. They are cold, he must have just washed them. Magnus almost says something about it because isn’t it endearing and miraculous? He isn’t sure he knows why something so simple makes him so happy, so emotional, but it does.

“No, my heart. I was already awake.”

A shudder of pleasure coils up around his spine when their lips wish each other a good morning in a tender kiss, when their breath mingles in laughter that fills Magnus with joy.

“So, I was thinking,” Alec pauses, happiness banishing the constant stress from his features, giving him back the youth the Clave stole from him. “Maybe we could plan a day off soon? Like very soon? I’ve heard of this ephemeral café that opened in Central Park, and I’d like to take you there, pretend to be mundanes… I like it when we do that, it’s fun.”

“An ephemeral café in Central Park, huh? How fancy of you.” Tilting Alec’s chin, Magnus kisses his cheek, feeling a slight tremor in his gesture.

For what must be the thousandth time since this wonderful being entered his life, Magnus marvels at all the ways Alec can affect him. His first reflex is to hide it, maybe tease Alec about how he could have found out about this café. Probably from Simon. It sounds like him and Magnus knows Alec is growing fonder of the vampire. It would be easy to avert Alec’s attention to this, make him roll his eyes in this fake-annoyed way he mastered a long time ago… But he can’t. For some reason, nothing comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to take Alec’s attention away from this moment, from him. Magnus wants to be right there with Alec. Genuine and whole, too much to handle, too many emotions, and too much love. Himself.

It doesn’t scare him. The realization brings tears to his eyes, and Alec kisses them away.

“I learned from the best.”

It takes a few seconds for Magnus to realize what Alec is replying to.

“So, what do you say?”

“I’d love to. I like having fun and being fancy with you.”

“Good,” Alec keeps gently cradling his face, wiping more invisible tears.

Magnus can tell he wants to ask about them, wants to ask about all that mess in his head, even though he is sure Alec wouldn’t call it that way. He wants to let him ask those questions, wants to see the day when he will be as open as possible with Alec. So instead of shaking his head, Magnus smiles.

“I can’t wait.”

“Me neither… We’ll talk more about it tonight, okay? I should go.”

“I might be home late.”

“I’ll wait.”

Alec kisses him and Magnus knows he shouldn’t grip his shirt this tight, but he does because it makes Alec giggle against his mouth. There’s no better feeling than that.

A little while later, when Magnus is getting ready, he catches sight of a note on their kitchen counter next to a cup of coffee.

I think I got it right this time… Let me know tonight. Have a good day, I love you.

He doesn’t know what is faster, his large grin or the tranquil waves of endearment and love surging inside of him. With a snap of his fingers, he warms up the cup and takes a sip. It’s perfect.

Closing his eyes, he savors the last minutes of quiet of his day before too much noise, too many problems to solve, too many people to talk to, before the sweet relief of Alec’s arms later tonight. Before what makes every day worth living through.

Magnus wishes he could talk to all the former versions of himself.

The ones desperate for a human connection that would last more than a night, more than a month, more than a few years. More than a lifetime. The ones that didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel, the ones craving a quick and painless demise, the ones wondering where this would all lead him. The ones who only saw darkness ahead.

He wants to tell them that it gets better, that it’s all worth it, that today, all he sees is the love of his life, his answer to everything.

Even when he looks back, all he sees in his story are all the plot twists and unbearable cliffhangers that will lead him to his Alexander. All the reasons why their stories fit so well together. Every question finding an answer.

Maybe he had to go through all those centuries to get to this life, maybe he had to pay for his ancestors’ sins first. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe everything could have been different, and they would have still ended up here.

It doesn’t matter.

It used to matter, but it doesn’t anymore.

Because a new story started being written when their paths crossed. Their story.

It’s all that matters now.

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