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iwaasfairy · 1 year

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┌─ “ ! „ TWO OF CUPS .04.

tw. incest, dubcon, coercion, size kink, belly bulge, praise, hair pulling, a lot of emotional bs, jealousy, angst, love triangle wordcount. 7k

part 01 part 02 part 03 fin.

a/n. it has come. the end has come, she's here, it's over and the witch is dead (i'm the witch, this killed me a little inside but i'm very glad to have it finished). as always i would love to hear your interpretations and thoughts about this chapter and story in general because i feel like there's a lot here thats,, up for interpretation and discussion and yea <33 and ty ty ty a million to @seijorhi and @darlingsanzu for beta-ing for me i am in your debt forever and ever

itoshi rin x fem!reader x itoshi sae

He imagines if it were anywhere else, the room would be covered in a thin layer of dust by now. But it isn’t, courtesy of a caring, fretful mother— the room remains in pristine, paled stasis. Instead every old textbook, every picture frame and the ancient soccer jerseys have been dutifully cleaned, and are splayed out in front of him like a near-perfect copy of his childhood. Sae runs his fingers along the length of the desk as he slowly drags himself around the room in a circle, before coming to a halt in front of the bookshelf.

His parents were as surprised as any to see him home, considering he should be ready to head back to Spain soon, with the upcoming season and all. And truthfully, he had been ready to call his bumbling excuse for a manager two days ago. Should’ve landed splayed out in yet another sterile hotel room in a place he doesn’t care to explore hours ago. So he blankly wishes he could play pretend at amazement too. It isn’t very surprising that in his time of uncertainty, he finds himself here- where he used to keep you locked in his arms under thick blankets. He hasn’t been back home in a while. And not unlike other times, there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head.

He picks apart the perfect little shrine of accomplishments of his childhood room by pulling the picture frame up to his face, can’t help but frown at the sight. There’s a younger him -years before he joined Real Madrid- sweaty, sore ankles and exhausted on a bench, and right beside the youthful reflection of his own maroon-haired head, sits a girl a couple years younger. Her cheeks chubby and raised as the beaming smile shines all the way though the flimsy picture paper- and your arms wrapped endlessly tight around his stomach as joyous tears glitter on your lashes.

He won that match, of course, but that uneventful match out of thousands before it wasn’t why the picture landed itself a spot in the middle of his most cherished valuables. You were. The memory of your heart beating into him like a drum, of how it felt to be adored by you. Adoration that had gotten stale years before you’d started giving your all to him— felt different when it came from someone with no deeper motives. When all he’d ever given you was an unending game of playing catch-up.

His hand twitches with the urge to toss the picture back down with the rest of his sentimental crap. He doesn’t bother to put it back in place, pushing it aside for the tiered trophy that looks much too big among his other old belongings. The gold layer gleams in the low light of his room as he takes it off of the shelf, and his frown digs deeper into his face.

But a soft clearing of a throat by the door makes him look up. His mother smiles as she appraises the room, and then him. “I’m making you a protein smoothie. I know you probably won’t stay the night but-”

“I’m driving up to the airport tonight,” he breathes out, trying his best to force the distaste off of his face. His mother nods again, and then steps inside almost cautiously, as if not to disturb the peace of the past. Ironic, Sae thinks, considering. He only came here to do exactly that. Nothing in the Itoshi house is sacred, hasn’t been for years. After a few seconds he plops the trophy onto the desk, and stares down at the woman before him with a deep sigh. “You came in here to say something, right? What’s up?”

You spend enough time with people over the years, you learn their tells. The reddish brunette starts picking at the pictures thumb-tacked above his desk before she speaks. “You stayed over at Rin’s for a few days… We haven't seen either of your siblings in a while.” A pointless starter, because they both know these facts. She’s stalling, tiptoeing around any point worth making.

“Oh, yeah,” he breathes. She could ask about his sudden visit. Or about Rin’s blatant dismissal of going anywhere that you won’t follow. Could ask about what Sae himself did to you. Maybe he’d finally be able to give a straight answer, if she dared. But she doesn’t, and Sae goes back to thumbing through the old photo album tucked away behind a mess of medals. His mother hums.

“You know we’ve tried to raise them to be respectful, and Rin’s shown promise. But your sister—”

Sae’s somewhat of a sadist, he thinks. To everyone around him, but also to himself. Coming here was a surefire way to land himself into shit, and yet... “They’re both in Tokyo and they get along well, mom. What’s the problem with living together?”

“Your father and I think your little sister should start letting you two live your own lives. I know she means well, but isn’t she a little too old to be so- well— you know how she is.” It once again is anything but a compliment. He knows how you are. Sure, folded in angles no brother should ever know his little sister, maybe. It makes a slight breath escape his nose like a laugh, but there’s nothing funny about it. “How else will she ever accomplish—”

“She’s fine! I’m fine, Rin’s fine— and it’s not like you ever cared, anyways. As long as we all hold up your precious standards, you don’t really bother to care, right?” The ticking of his internal alarm reaches zero, as he turns around to stare her down with thinly veiled impatience. “Your constant shit-stirring is what started this whole mess.” No wonder you grew into a codependent ball of emotion. What else could you do than let him kiss your mouth in the peace of night when he begged you to stay. What else could you do than let Rin sink all his problems into the warmth of you.

Your parents don't have the slightest idea of who any of them are, not really. It could hit them in the face and still somehow miss them. It’s almost amusing.

Her face goes red in the cheeks, sharp eyebrows starting to slant into the irritated grimace that he’s more used to. “What ‘whole mess’? What, what? I’m at fault for being concerned? I would expect you to know by now, Sae. Your little sister’s a needy, unstable girl with no further prospects like you two! And Rin-”

“She probably loves Rin more than you and dad combined ever could. She’s been to every match. Not you, her.” His voice is low and final as he meets the sea blue eyes aimed at him head-on. “And Lord knows no husband will ever look at her like Rin does. But of course you’re too enamored with your ‘perfect children’ bullshit to understand what goes on.” He breezes past the accosted breath of his mother clutching her collar, before walking with long steps towards the door, and letting out a sharp chuckle. “Don’t talk to me about my own little sister. I know who she is.”

The street is too bright and prim for his liking, as he walks up the porch toward the building— slowly dragging himself after you as you hesitate at the threshold. Even your absent-minded humming doesn’t make his nerves any less frayed, moving his jaw back and forth when you bury your face back into the papers as if you have any clue what you’re doing. Long enough for his foot to start tapping a rapid rhythm, before he finally nudges your chin up to look up his way. “Hey, we don’t have to do this. You don’t- I…” There’s a distance between you two that seems to grow with each passing second. “This is silly,” he ends on saying, unwilling to dampen the barely-there brightness in your eyes for the first time in days.

Your lower lip juts out as his hand brushes just briefly past your cheek to clear your face, and the wind ruffles the stapled stack of paper. “Daddy told me I should move out of your apartment.” There’s a guardedness that flicks over your face for a second, before you pull out of his reach to start gathering your hair up into a high bun and nod, “there’s two more on my list, you can go home if you don’t want to stay, nii nii.”

Rin’s blue eyes narrow, and he grabs your wrist to pull you back before you can walk away from this. “Hey, forget about what dad says. You don’t have to move out.” The mere idea of having you slip through his fingers presses on his chest, rattling his ribs a little with each breath. It gnaws and claws at the back of his brain hard enough to make him a little dizzy and— and he knows you don’t want this. You can’t possibly think that being alone would somehow be better than being with him. “I never asked you to move out.”

“Niichan,” your voice is small when you dare turn more his way, revealing the wobbly lip as you try to pull your arm out of his reach. He can’t be wrong about that.

“I’m not- I’m not asking, okay? Listen, we’re going home-”

You shake, shoulders and head both. “Why are you making this so difficult? I know I’ve already overstayed my welcome, and you’re too nice to tell me ‘no’. That’s what this is.” No. He isn’t wrong. He knows you- and you couldn’t fake the kindness you give him when he fails the most basic family rules. If anyone imposes… it’s him. With every kiss along your shoulders in the bathroom, or when you let him pull you onto his lap to wind down whenever he damn pleases. His selfishness is the thing that overstayed— for long enough that he can’t even imagine his life without you.

His thoughts might not come out as well in words, but even you must know this much. You aren’t this self deprecating. Before he can find it in himself to care that you two are technically out in the open, he grabs your cheeks on both sides, and lowers himself to press his forehead to yours. He loves you. He loves you so much he could die. He hears, more than sees, how you fumble with the papers in your hands as he keeps you so close to him— opening up that shield for once. There is no world in which he allows it to end with you even further away.

“I want you to stay.” The whisper clearly deals more damage than he intends, because your eyes go glossy as soon as he says it. “Don’t make me beg you.” He pulls back from you just enough to take a breath, but his thumbs stay on your soft skin. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, before pulling up your nose and leaning the weight of your head into his one palm. It’s soft, and too gentle -makes him scared to snap you in two with a single move- he thinks it wouldn’t be past him. Sae delivered a serious blow, he knows that. If he wasn’t so green with envy, he’d be able to relate.

After a few more seconds, you faithfully reach to press your mouth to his like you’ve been conditioned to do. And hesitate, staring at the path under your feet. “Okay.” You wrap your arms around his waist— and only leave him aching for more.

Always more, barely getting his gluttonous fill started. Still, it makes his skin tingle with heat, buzzing along his lips. Your fingers lace themselves in his, and he’s only very vaguely aware of the old couple passing you two by with a disgruntled sigh. It makes him pull you protectively close. And a soft, almost fearful chuckle falls past his lips. “You aren’t going anywhere without me, okay?”

Rin doesn’t mind having a temper when it doesn’t play him parts. It is what made him the man he is today. When you’re not involved, he even likes it. But though he tries his very best to control himself, his jealousy inevitably ends up catching up to him. Patiently built up through the years— it barely makes it a whole week after Sae leaves before it bloats inside him and starts to rupture. Leaving a sour, sour taste deep in the crevices of his skull.

The apartment is all you when he walks in. It strikes him as you face him with big eyes, that warm at his presence. You’re wearing an oversized shirt that just about covers your ass, and are turning the food around in the pan as your face lights up; and any sane brother would act accordingly, but his brain insists. This is the sight he wants to be greeted with for the rest of his life. Having the one person who can harm you closest, or something. He always was an opportunist, but he thought Sae the selfish one.

It’s almost pitiful that you play your role so graciously. The tongs rattle against the cutting board when you perk up to kiss him, and for a second longer than usual, he keeps you. Ever since Sae, his guilt hasn’t been enough to keep the longing down. It’s karmic punishment, probably. Always stuck treading in the redhead’s footprints. He keeps his mouth against yours until you start getting hot in the face, and start fidgeting with his fingers.

Not that Rin cares. He simply wraps himself around your back and links his arms under your breasts, and knows you won’t protest. The colors of Sae’s barrage on your throat have yet to fade, deep purples and blues that tint yellow at the edges— and asks him to resist the urge to make his own. He truly, truly doesn’t mean to be this way. You’d probably have a breakdown, and he has yet to even touch that can of worms. In your presence, he almost forgets. If he wasn’t so often fucking reminded, maybe he’d be able to rid himself of the shackles he knows are clinking at his ankles.

The brief brush of his lips along your jaw makes you shiver, then you look back at him over your shoulder. “That tickles, nii nii. Stop it.”

“I’m just looking.” The cockettish curl that your lips take on when he raises a single brow is devilishly distracting, hips suddenly pressing much too close to yours— so he averts his eyes, but can’t make himself pull away from you. Instead he talks, trying not to nuzzle into your cheek. When you try to slip out, his hands chase, and trail fingertips along your skin just below the shirt. A shirt he recognizes as Sae’s when trying to hide away in your smell, only to be painfully reminded. After a long breath, he brushes a finger along your throat, resting his chin. “What’s all this?”

He’s sure you’re not naïve enough to miss the question. But you only raise your shoulders the slightest bit, and jut out your lip. “Hmm… I- don’t know.” It’s hardly a lie, convincing exactly no one. You don’t miss a beat though, and focus on the food. “How was the meeting?”

Rin can’t help but frown at the blatant dismissal, but tonight, he’s too tired to care. He’s so fucking sick of letting Sae in, even when he’s not even around. So he strokes your thigh harder, in an attempt to feel more of your heat. “Training this year will be in Germany and France.”

“Oh.” You seem to let out a silent sigh of gratitude as he lets you run, before the situation catches up with you. “Oh. For how long?”

“Three months.” The tone of your voice is distinctly soft, and has his eyes on the tiny drop of your mouth corners. It’s a non-issue, though. Even if he could physically stand it -which he’s not so sure he could, supporting his weight against your smaller body- he wouldn’t want to go. You’re coming, whether you like it or not. “What kind of hotel room do you want?” His instinct is to press another kiss to your cheek, trailing his mouth ever so slowly down to your throat and shoulder — and trying his fucking hardest not to let the whisper send his thoughts down the wrong path.

“Nii nii-”

Too late. It’s much too easy to envision you in the plush covers of his bed, moaning out his name like you did… Like he knows you can, dressed in his shirt instead. Your hips are pressed close to his, and you smell so fucking good, you have his eyes fluttering shut as he repositions his hands to your thighs. He only swallows hard, lets out a deep breath against the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder, and forces himself to pull his mouth away.

There’s a low, rumbling sort of noise in his voice when he speaks next. “What? You’re coming along, right?” As he glances at the side of your face, he’s awfully aware of the jittery way you’re trying to continue dinner, blushy hot ears and cheeks, and lips puffy and glistening from biting them. It’s fucking unfair. His mind instinctively wanders, and heat pools in his cock and balls too quickly before he manages to take a few deep breaths. “I know you don’t wanna stay here all alone.”

“I don’t. If- If you want me to come, I will,” you nod, and also shiver when his hands softly squeeze in response. “You won’t mind sharing a room with me even in a hotel?”

God, he wants to bend you over and grab you by the collar for being so fucking dense. It’s cute though, too innocent to reason with- it stresses him out as much as it heats his entire body. How could he mind, after two years of sleeping in the same bed as you. “We’re used to it, ‘course I don’t.” You move out of his arms to turn off the stove, and smile, but it doesn’t really seem to reach your eyes. As your hands slide along your neck and shoulders, your posture stiffens, swaying softly on your feet— and Rin sucks his tongue. Those fucking blotchy marks come clear into view again, and they nag. They’re a sore sight, a few breaths away from nauseating.

He can’t help but think you wouldn’t ask the same question to the oldest.

To add insult to injury, you nuzzle into the soft edge of the shirt for comfort, in a way so awfully familiar it makes him feel ill. Why, why, why. His heart rate spikes as he stares at the floor instead. “You spent weeks in a hotel with Sae when he went to train.” It comes out a lot more accusatory than he had in mind, though he tries to hide the bitter tone in his voice. “Can’t be that different.”

“It is different.”

“-How is it any different? Because Sae will abuse your silence in a way that I don’t?” It’s so fucked. Rin knows full well that he isn’t innocent in this situation, not even close. But he hates the way you fist your hands into Sae’s shirt, how you cling to it like a lifeline— not even trying to cover the hickeys he seared into your neck the first second Rin wasn’t looking. Hates it so much that arguing rationally goes out the window. He wants you to love him as much as he loves you; because facing himself makes him sick. There’s nothing in the world more painful than knowing what he feels for you. So fully and deeply to his bone marrow, it squeezes his chest so tight the air barely reaches him.

“W- I just-” your eyes desperately dart around the kitchen for anything to say, “I love niichan, and he- he loves-”

“No, I love you, imouto! I’m the one who cares! He came here to use you and leave, and you’re asking me to pretend like I’m fucking stupid, or blind! I’m not here for you to feel better about being Sae nii’s play thing,” he snaps, having your eyes wide at the outburst, wringing his hands together in shame. Shame at needing to beg to want him, to care. Shame at longing for his own fucking blood in ways he shouldn’t. Shame at how fucking lesser than he feels. It builds and builds until his face feels hot, and Sae’s stupid fucking smug grin flashes in front of his eyes. He wants to tear his own hair out at it, but it wouldn’t even solve anything.

He can’t escape it, as long as he doesn’t have you as a guarantee. You, little, sweet you— stand there so disarmed, seeming so much younger than you are— tear-filled eyes and crossed arms. It’s the same look you’d get when Sae would goad you into stupid fights that you’d inevitably lose, or any time Rin would pretend to hate you as a kid. You almost seem to topple over with the force of the words, and Rin falls quiet. Your pitiful look is all that’s left in Pandora's box. “Don’t… don’t cry.”

Your bottom lip wobbles until your shoulders pathetically start to drop, like a kitten picked up by her neck, and you scrunch your face in a way he’s never had to see before— it shatters any composure he has left. “I can’t not…” your voice sinks to a whisper, a sad little whimper. “I don’t know- wh-how. I’m sorry, I don’t get you two. I don’t get it— I just can’t- have you leave me too. Don’t leave, nii nii.”

Silvery tracks run all over your cheeks, your chin, down your neck before you finally dare look at him again, and beg. “Please, I’ll do anything you want, I just- Can’t handle it if you leave- hck- Please, Rin. Anything you want, I just- don’t make me go without you too.”

Your hand hovers halfway between grabbing for him and falling short, as you cry- for him. For him to stay, and ask him to, for maybe the first time, give his feelings a chance. Selfishly, so fucking selfishly, it blossoms inside him with a prideful glow. It dismantles him and rebuilds him from the ground up all at once, has his heart beating out of control against the same rib cage that shouldered his guilt, before he manages to peel his tongue from the bottom of his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere…” his voice manages, almost cracking along with the tremble in his hands as he places them on your sides, sliding to your waist.

The physical, emotional turmoil instantly ebbing away when you crash yourself into his chest, is almost sickening. It doesn’t matter though, not to him, not when he lifts you up into his embrace and your legs wrap around his waist, letting him rest his face against your throat and allowing you to burrow yourself into his arms. “I’m sorry. Your big brothers love you, I promise. I love you. I’m never leaving.” The way you cling to him gets tighter, as if forcefully anchoring you to his chest— and he takes it as space enough to nudge his face up into your view and brush noses in the process. He should feel more guilty. He knows Sae, and he knows you- and despite what the other man might think, Rin has no illusions of being a saint.

Rin knows that Sae told you whatever string of lies that stuck best, asked you to lay down under him and come undone, and you did so without a second thought. And though he hates that thought, it isn’t born out of the goodness of his heart. He wants you to be his, and only his. The brush of his face along yours makes you shiver, and softly shake your head- but he can’t help it. He can’t do you one better than Sae did. His lips hover yours, lashes fluttering under low lids as the salty taste of your tears gets between you. His hand raises to your neck, letting you arms and legs support yourself against him as he pulls you in, and whispers. “Kiss me back.”

The small, rounded window reflects back his own face against the dark sky, tipping the dark liquid around the glass in disinterest. First class feels awfully plain now, he almost laughs, sliding the glass along the bar. A pretty, blonde flight attendant passes by, swinging her hips as she tops up the other man’s glass with a smile and deposits another bottle by their sides. Sae doesn’t bother to look up as he fiddles with the fine chain in his pocket.

“Come on, prodigy boy… we’ve got two more hours to kill.” Michael’s small smirk grows when he tosses another few ice cubes into his glass, and tops himself up even further. “Don’t tell me you’re already tuckered out.” The chain slips between his fingers a little as he pulls it out— and lets out a long, pinched breath. Long lashes brush his cheeks as his eyes narrow, and the gold-plated necklace lands in his palm. He pops the small square open.

Even printed so small, your taste is mirrored back onto his tongue, and sets the hairs on his neck on end.

Michael barely gives him a momentary glance, before taking a sip, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.” His thumb brushes ever so briefly over the face in the picture, before he snaps it closed again. And the white blond raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask, for once. Maybe he knows the answer won’t satisfy any of his curiosity. Doesn’t matter to Sae. The whites and oranges of the airplane make light spots in the layer of fog outside— and he raises the glass to his lips after all. He wants to groan and yell until he drowns out the noise. Maybe punch something too.

His life has been a string of unfortunate sacrifices… so why. Why is this one any different? The slightly sweet tone under the bourbon hits the back of his throat, and he rests his forehead on the cool bar in hopes of getting a clearer head. Instead of clearing anything, his thoughts start crawling to the forefront again. He thinks of the flow of your hair between his fingers, and the way you say his name. He doesn’t miss home. Doesn’t miss Japan. He just misses the warmth in his chest when he’s able to return to you. God, he hates his pitiful, sentimental crap.

He wonders if Rin’s finally made a move.

Your mouth is completely occupied as Rin crawls over you and slides a leg aside to fit his hips against yours— your hands sliding into his hair when you roll back your head with a soft squeak to catch your breath. “Rin, Rin- I don’t think we should- do this.”

Your clothes are discarded by his feet and your pliable body laid out before him as your legs brush his. He shivers as your breath brushes over his cheek, and makes him want to clench his eyes shut to escape it- but he can’t. Never could before, and it’s no different now. He’s entranced by the rise and fall of your chest even under your hands that keep the slightest sliver of modesty. Not like he hasn’t seen all of you before, right?

He allows for a few breaths before he needs to be back to your mouth, opening your lips with his and connecting tongues— and almost knocks teeth with yours in his excitement to get closer. Your tongue on his tastes so good, melting every warm, desperate feeling and slipping it down his throat. Now your palms go to grasp his waist instead, brushing over the exposed skin to squeeze. “Rin.” He’s barely clear headed enough to pull back to cast a glance at you, and he grunts out your name. His face moves to your tits instead, grabbing and licking at every inch of skin that he can, and you whimper. “St-Listen to me. I think- we can’t.”

He can’t listen. His mouth slots over your nipple to bite at it, and you go to grab a handful of his hair with desperate, flexing and unflexing hands. Your chest raises into his touch and the licking and sucking, and it sets everything in his head up in flames. You’re no longer the little sister he wanted to protect. Not when you’re withering in his lap and grinding yourself against him like a slut, begging with fluttering lashes for his cock to drive home. Fuck. “Rin nii~” you whine, your lips are puffy and glistening. “Hmph, listen~” Fuck fuck fuck, he wants to have you crying out his name until it’s carved into his brain.

“What?” he finally manages to breathe back, skipping his hand along your naked thigh. His heart is about to beat out of his chest with you under him, rocking the couch when he raises himself above you. But can you blame him? He’s never been so fucking hard in his life, unable to think of anything but the softness of your body under him, and the taste of you. He slides up to tilt you back more and lets his eyes fall to your naked body again. Maybe he should be used to it by now. Used to you. But everything about you makes his body feel like a balloon that’s about to pop— and he sucks his tongue, fighting the urge to drool over all of you. “What?” he repeats again, eyebrows raising.

Rin realizes a split second before you speak that he doesn’t want to know, sees it in the pitiful look of your half-lidded eyes. But you’re too honest for your own good. “I never told you- that niichan touched me. I’m sorry. I said that we couldn’t- but- but niichan didn’t listen to me. And now he doesn’t like me anymore.” Too fucking honest for your own good. His stupid, pretty little sister splayed out in his fucking lap. How naïve are you? Instead of any solid thoughts crossing his mind, his mouth simply falls open a sliver, and he stares. If he didn’t already believe you… he would probably laugh. “I know I did a bad thing. I’m sorry.” Your lip wobbles, and you pull his hand to your chest to cling onto him. His temperature reaches a boiling point, flushing his brain with red.

“It is bad.” He nudges your face up to his with a soft sigh, and then presses several kisses along your lips. “If you’re gonna do this with anyone, shouldn’t it be me?” He could say that he will regret the way you look up at him with a thousand stars in your eyes. But that would be a lie. He’s out of guilt. His spine tingles with longing, face hot, his cock and balls thumping. It’s impossible to think of anything else. He kisses you again, letting your moans and whimpers drown out anything else, and moves to sit onto the couch. Then he pulls back only to pat his lap, and raises a brow at you as you search his face with your eyes. “Sit here, on your big brother’s lap. Hurry.”

You only hesitate for a few seconds, before he asks a little more sternly, and has you moving. “Do you have any clue how badly I’ve wanted you? Every time I look at you, you look so fucking good. So soft and sexy.”

“Don’t say that stuff,” you squeak, but you don’t fight him.

“I always want you,” Rin simply continues, as you lay your legs on his strong thighs with a pout, “you get my cock so fucking hard, see?” You do see, licking your lips as you take a deep breath and your hips roll against him instinctively. Your hands thread together behind his head, and Rin’s gotta focus so fucking hard not to start fucking the plush of your thighs. “Open your mouth.” He grunts when sliding his long fingers over your tongue, collecting enough spit to coat his fingers.

While his cock bops impatiently against your stomach, he’s transfixed on the embarrassed look in your eyes, and your whimpers as he pulls back. Truly, he’d like to spend hours exploring. And another couple hours giving you back the pure torture you put him through for the last two years. But he can’t, not when his cock is brushing its flushed head all along the belly and smearing pre-cum all over you. “Normally I’d ask you to put your mouth on it,” he grunts, free hand sliding along your cheek and taking a handful of hair, “but you’d have to keep a mouth full of cum.”

“Niichan, don’t-” you whine again, humming when the tug on your hair lingers between painful and pleasurable, “don’t say that~”

He can’t help but grin, licking a long stripe up your chest to your neck, and placing sloppy kisses on the skin. “You don’t like knowing that your big brothers want to fuck you? That you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger?” You mewl when he leaves a bite on your soft skin, before moving his hands to your ass and sliding one down between your legs. Your pussy’s already dripping despite your protest, has him slipping two fingertips inside and curling his hand up into you. He can’t fucking resist. It eats him up from the inside, mouth corners again twitching up. “I think you do like it. I think your pussy’s all-” His fingers fuck up into the soft walls of you, “-fucking-” again and again, leaving you panting, “-mine.” He probably shouldn’t find so much glee in it.

“Mhph,” your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your bottom lip is squeezed between your teeth, before you lean down to kiss him. Soft, almost sweet kisses, if not for the way your body grinds back into his palm and you whine softly like an animal in heat. It’s so fucking cute. It has his cock pulsing as he takes a breath, and looks at the sloppy way you leave his hand.

“Move up,” he quickly mumbles, kissing you back once before your thighs rise and he wipes his fingers on your slicked up mound, then slotting them into his mouth. He can’t even resist moaning out a rumbly, gravelly call of your name before he grabs two hands of your ass and helps you up. “Fuck, you’re so-” everything. If anyone had ever told him he’d be this weak over another person, he would’ve laughed. “Gonna fill you up, finally, f-finally gonna feel your little cunt squeeze around me.” His forehead rests on your chest for a second, placing a few lazy kisses on your tits, before he looks up. And though you look awfully flushed, embarrassed and heated- with teary eyes and puffy, bitten lips- you still run a hand through his hair and along his neck.

Then he lines up and moves you down onto him, and the first touch is all he needs to start feeling cotton fill up his brain. Your pussy takes him so well, sliding inch by excruciating inch onto his cock, and whimpering every second of it— you look spent well before he slides you down the last bit and your walls clench around him hard enough to knock the air out of him. He never thought you that small, but the way you struggle to take him, shaking on your legs and letting out every mewled thought, is so fucking hot. He loves you. Rin’s a sister fucker, and he’s never felt so fucking good in his life.

“Oh, fuck. You’re so tight- t-tiny little pussy… Holy-fuck, ugh—” You’re so warm, and soft, and he can’t help himself. He’s pushing you over onto your back before he can think of it, and places both hands besides you. Wide shoulders cover your view until you’re forced to hang on as he pulls back and fucks back in hard.

The slaps that fill the house as he pumps his thick, heavy cock into you are a melodic dream, making you whine and moan and dig your fingers and nails into his back. “Rin niichan, ah, ah, ahhh- I love you- I love you— ah, l-love you~” He fucks into you without abandon, letting his cock fuck right into the soft, spongey part of your walls and filling you right up. The rhythm he sets is hard and deep, and shakes the couch around enough to hear it groan. But he’s lost in the way your body curls, and you lift your chest to his, head thrown back— and almost choke on your teary whimpers. “F-feels- so gud- ah, I- I’m sorry. Mom, dad, I’m sorry. I love my— big brother!”

It’s like a beast that his balls clap against your ass and his one hand finds purchase between you two to toy with your nipples as he pants. His balls ache, with every wet gush of slick that collects between your two bodies it drives him further into you, fucking the head of his cock deeper and more precicely into you. He can see his cock slide in and out through your belly. It’s vile- in a way that makes everything feel blank, pleasurable and tingling down his spine. “Can you rub your clit for me,” he breathes, and kisses you, sucking on your tongue when you oblige with shaky hands. “Uhuh, such a good little sister. The best- b-best fucking hole, ugh-fuck.”

“Nii nii, I’m close.”

He’s burning through you, losing himself in the pleasure of filling you up all the way as your fingers flit over your puffy clit like he knows you like. He could do it for you if he wasn’t so desperately trying to keep himself from blowing his load, feeling the muscles in his legs, back and shoulders flex as he chases that peak. “Gonna cum? You gonna cum?” Your rapid nodding, paired with the grinding of your hips and your back curling off the couch is enough to have him kissing your pouty lips again, and keeping that same exact punishing rhythm even as your pussy squeezes him tight enough to keep him in you— grunting. You’d be able to kill him here and he’d go happy. “Oh, fuck— so good, so fucking good-”

He can feel you fall over the edge before he sees it, and despite the best of efforts, cums together with you as you cling so hard to his shoulders you’ll leave marks. You cum on his cock as hot ropes of white fill up your clenching pussy, dripping a mess out of your shared orgasms as he shudders on top of you and only stills completely when your moaning goes into a pitched little whine, and then a deep breath of his name. “Rin nii~” you pout, rubbing your palms along his sides a few times. It looks like you want to say something, but can’t find the words, and it warms him from the inside out. But he pulls back a little, cock still awfully hard inside you, and his hand cups your cheek.

“Can you go again? I wanna go again.” Then his lips land on yours, pressing loving kisses all over your face, cheeks, your nose, and you let out a little giggle. “And again, and again, and again.” For the first time in a while, Rin finds himself completely, utterly happy. And not a single thought is out of place.

Sae’s staring up at the ceiling of his fancy apartment as he starfishes the bed, and the slow rings have him rolling onto his side. The phone beeps, before going into voicemail again. And he frowns. Your name blinks back at him as he pulls back, and the soft tone of your message rings through the device.

“Hey, I- you don’t normally miss calls… Must be pretty busy over there, huh? This is the third voicemail I’m leaving within two days.” He rights himself to stare out the window of his pristine Barcelona apartment, and runs a hand through his bangs with a click of his tongue. “I uh- I shouldn’t have left without a word. I was- well, I don’t know. I miss- you, I guess.” His air gets a little stuck in his throat, and needs a cough to get going. “Anyways, call me back when you hear this. Niichan’s gonna be playing in the World cup. Tell Rin to get his ass into the lineup already.”

And then, after a long breath, “tell him he kinda owes me.”

FIN

Thank you so much for reading my series to the end, i have so much love for these three and i will miss it and them :'>>

#blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock sae #itoshi sae x reader #bllk smut #tw.incest #tw.jealousy #🥧rin.chan #💫ch.rin #🥧sae.chan #💫ch.sae #🍯honey.pot

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

three's a crowd, part seven

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au.

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst.

word count: 3k

a/n: couple more chapters to go, and then we're finito. Love hearing your thoughts, as always, don't be afraid to hit that ask box!

The rest of the week passes by in a blur.

You cry yourself to sleep the first night.

Lay wide awake for the second.

Memories flash by like nightmares. Emma and her sweet smile, walking you home that first night. Emma and her blue eyes, sparkling pretty as she’d kissed you.

Her lips. Soft, so so addictive.

Her voice, quiet. Shy.

The feel of her under you, on top of you, near you.

The look in her eyes when she’d realized you’d betrayed her.

The sneer in her voice as she all but called you a whore to your face.

The heavy finality in her voice as she’d told you she was done with you.

It’s too much. You feel it all too much.

Anger, at yourself. Hatred, towards yourself.

Grief, loss, hurt, despair. Everything.

So you lock yourself away like a hermit. Your apartment is your shell. You don’t have to film, thank god, so you don’t leave. Spend hours toiling in bed, staring at the ceiling. Taking long, hot showers. So hot the water scalds your skin.

It feels good to hurt.

It feels cathartic, like the physical pain will take you away from the grief swirling in your chest, if only for a moment.

Georgie calls but you don’t answer. Joy calls but you hit decline. Hunter calls and you laugh.

By the third day, people are knocking at your door, shouting at you to come out.

Not Emma, not Johnna and not Jenna.

But everyone else.

You don’t care. Let them stand out in the hall shouting.

You just want to leave this set and these people. You want to never see any of them again.

Maybe Georgie. Definitely Georgie.

But everybody else? You’ll pass.

Definitely not Emma. Definitely not Johnna.

It hurts to think about Jenna so you don’t. Let yourself stew in your own self-hatred instead.

Maybe you’ll become a painter, you muse, laying in your bathtub, fully clothed, the fourth night. Tortured artist sounded like a fun gig, you were already half-way there. You’d buy a house in the middle of nowhere and never look at any girl twice again. It was better that way.

It would hurt less.

You let yourself imagine for a moment. And then the buzz of your phone jolts you back to reality.

You almost hit decline straight away. No doubt it’s Georgie again, despite your explicit message you didn’t want to talk.

Your fingers hover over the phone as you read the caller name. Your heart seizes. Anxiety washes through your body.

It’s Jenna.

She hadn’t called, not yet. Not texts, no voicemails.

You don’t even know if she knows. But she must, why else would she call you?

You bite your lip, then accept the call.

“Hello?”

“YN,” Her voice is low. She sounds a little surprised, like she didn’t expect you to answer. You feel yourself start to sweat, grip the edges of the tub, “I’d ask how you are but-”

“You know then.” You say.

She pauses.

“Georgie told me.”

That two-faced little weasel.

“-Don’t be mad at him,” She says, hurriedly, as if she can read your mind, “He’s really worried about you, he says you won’t answer your phone. It’s the only reason he told me.”

You bite your lip, vitriol at him softening.

“Does everybody know then?” You ask, though you already know the answer.

The slew of missed calls and cast members trying bang down your door tells you the answer.

“They’re worried about you,” Jenna says, “We’re all worried about you.”

“Even her?” You say after a long moment.

Jenna pauses.

“Especially her.”

“She hasn’t even bothered to call,” You bite back.

Jenna says, “She’s afraid that if she calls you-“

“I’ll what?” you ask, “Throw myself off the balcony or something?”

Jenna pauses.

“She just doesn’t want to upset you anymore”

You pause, mind reeling, for Jenna to know this she’d have to have spoken to Emma. There’s a thought, niggling deep in your stomach. It gnaws, you want answers.

“What did you say to her?” You ask, brows furrowed, “When we came around on Saturday. She was fine and then you spoke to her.”

Jenna pauses.

“I don’t…” She trails off.

“Did you ask her to break up with me?” You ask, desperately. You want to understand. You need to understand.

“No,” Is all she says.

She doesn’t bother to elaborate. It makes you furious. A tired kind of furious. A silent kind of furious. The taste in your mouth is sour and you don’t want to talk to her anymore.

Not if she won’t be honest with you.

“Well, this has been fun,” You say, “Good chat. Thanks for checking in or whatever-“

“YN-“ Jenna says, voice sharp. She wants to say something, you can tell by her tone.

You wait a moment.

But she doesn’t speak. The only sound is the hum of your refrigerator and her sharp intake of breath.

“Goodbye, Jenna.” You say, and hang up the phone.

On the fifth day, Georgie breaks the door down.

Literally.

“Sorry,” He says, a little out of breath as you stare at him from your spot on the sofa, “Just needed to check you were still alive.”

He hugs you. Tight. So tight you find it hard to breathe.

Then, he settles in beside you. Close, like he’s scared you’ll run away.

“We’ve missed you on set,” He says.

You cross your arms, “I wasn’t on the call sheet,” You say, “It’s my week off.”

Georgie hums.

“You could have answered your phone,” He says, “Everyone’s worried.”

“So I’ve heard.” You grumble. You sink back into the sofa, “What about Johnna? I bet she’s doing somersaults.”

“Everyone.” He insists. He squeezes your hand, “It’s a shitty, complicated situation, but no one wants you to not be okay. Even Johnna.”

You hum.

And don’t believe him.

You don’t know what Johnna knows about your relationship with Emma, but it isn’t hard to imagine she’s thrilled with the lack of competition. Emma all to herself.

Is Emma with her now? Is Johnna holding her while she cries, soothing her upset with kisses? Kisses that should have been yours. Or maybe Emma’s not upset at all. Maybe she’s perfectly happy, fucking Johnna the way she used to fuck you.

You imagine them entwined, Emma kissing her so softly.

You sink back into the sofa, a wave of sickness flooding through you.

Georgie cuts into your internal crisis with a squeeze of your shoulder.

“Jenna told me she called you yesterday,” Georgie says, voice quiet, “She said you weren’t doing good.”

“So you decided to break my door?” You ask, gesturing madly to the wreck on the floor.

“It’ll teach you to answer your phone,” Georgie says with a shrug, “So how are you doing? Really?”

“Peachy.” You mumble.

Georgie raises an eyebrow.

“You know you’re shooting Friday, right?” He asks, “I checked. And we’ll all be there.”

You’d forgotten about that. The thought of walking on set with everybody knowing exactly what’s happened makes you want to sink into the sofa and never come out.

Georgie rubs your back.

“Everyone’s worried,” He repeats, “And we’re all here for you. You don’t have anything to be nervous about.”

But you are nervous.

You’re nervous when you go to sleep that night.

You’re nervous the next day, and the day after.

And when Friday rolls around, you’re so anxious you’re considering quitting the production all together.

Being sued for breach of contract sounds a lot better than having to look Emma in the eye and pretend to be her love interest for eight hours.

Emma isn’t there when you finally muster the strength to show up.

You’re early - it’s all crew members and extras. And Joy - who you forgot has the habit of showing up thirty minutes early for everything.

She hasn’t really spoken much to you, since the entire blow-out with Jenna and Emma went down.

It’s understandable - you hate you too, why wouldn’t everyone else?

But she doesn’t look like she hates you when she approaches.

Her look is softer. Reserved. Pitying.

You’d prefer the hatred.

“Emma told us about everything,” She says. She rubs your arm, “I hope you’re doing okay. Everyone’s been worried about you.”

“So I keep hearing,” You mumble.

She pauses. Surveys you.

“I know you don’t care what I think,” She says, voice a little hesitant, “And you shouldn’t. It’s none of my business. But your heart wasn’t in it. We could all tell.”

You’re right, it’s not your business, you want to snap back.

You refrain. This day is going to be hard enough and the last thing you need is more enemies on this set.

“Sure,” You offer, a little lame. Joy squeezes your arm.

The rest of the cast filter in one by one.

Hunter hugs you. Georgie brings you a coffee and sits with you while the crew set up.

He mumbles something, standing up to excuse himself after a while. You’re confused - until you see Jenna approaching.

Damn you, Georgie, you curse internally.

He hovers by the craft services table, peering back at you over his shoulder.

You’d pull the finger at him if Jenna wasn’t staring down at you, body language tight. Hesitant. Like she’s not sure if she should be talking to you.

You look up at her, watch the way she plays with her fingers.

“How are you?” She asks. She’s worried. You can tell by the way her eyes are flitting between yours.

“Fine.” You say, “Ready to shoot.”

Jenna stares for a moment. Then lowers her voice.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Jenna says, voice soft, “I care about you, still. If you’re not doing well-”

“What did you say to Emma?” You ask, unable to keep it in any longer, “On the balcony? I know you said you didn’t ask her to break up with me but you must have said something for her to do it.”

She blinks. Her shoulders tense.

“I didn’t say anything bad,” Is all she offers, “I didn’t ask her to break up with you, I already told you-“

“But what did you say?” You ask, voice a little desperate. You need to know. It’s eating you alive. Emma had been fine. Happy, even. Soft, almost romantic with you.

And then one conversation and she’d frozen over.

“Nothing bad.” She repeats, her voice soft.

She isn’t going to tell you, that much is clear. It pisses you off in a way that is maybe a little unfair. She doesn’t owe you anything, sure. Their conversation was private.

But it was clearly about you.

You look down at your phone, put your headphones back in.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to keep checking,” You say. There’s a bite in your voice that makes her flinch, “Let’s not make this any more awkward than it already is.”

Emma arrives a little later.

You’re able to avoid her for most of the morning. Ducking out to the bathroom when it’s not your time to shoot. Clinging to Georgie like a shield whenever she gets a little too close.

This afternoon, you’ll have to shoot with her. You’ve been dreading it all day.

Your scenes with her are supposed to be romantic. But you can’t even look at her without your chest seizing and your palms getting sweaty.

Like the world is playing some sort of sick joke on you. Karma, perhaps.

“Just talk to her and get it over with.” Georgie tells you all day, but you don’t listen.

You let it fester. This awkward, uncomfortable feeling that rots in you.

In the end, it’s her who approaches first.

You’re sitting out on the lawn by yourself, earphones in. Trying to drown your sorrows in angsty 80s music with your eyes closed.

The world shut off.

And then you feel her squeeze in next to you.

You open your eyes, heartbeat quickening. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches as you tug out your earphones, mouth dry.

“Hey,” She says, settling into the spot beside you, “How are you?”

The audacity of the question almost makes you laugh.

“How do you think I am?” You say. It comes out grouchier than you intended. You curl your arms around your knees, “I’m sad.”

She hums.

Leans back into her hands. She looks out into the distance, to where a crew member is wheeling a tub of fake blood onto set. Another person lifts a giant gargoyle onto a crane. An extra with a fake axe through their head passes by.

Set is bizarre, and somehow it fits your depressive mood.

“You’re not sad because I broke up with you,” Emma says, peering over at you. She lifts a hand to her eye to block out the sun.

You stare.

“Yes, I am.”

She shakes her head.

“You’ve been sad for a while. And it doesn’t have much to do with me.”

It’s coming, you can feel it. The “J” word. You hug your knees, hoping if you look too distraught, she’ll fly past it.

It doesn’t work.

“You’re sad because you’re not with Jenna.”

You let out a sharp intake of breath. You can’t even think about Jenna right now. You don’t want to think about her. About what could have been.

“We would have been so in love,” She’d murmured, ghost of a smile on her lips.

It makes you ache.

You'd given it all away to someone who didn't even want you anymore.

Karma, sings out that little voice in your head, again.

You swallow.

“We don’t have to talk about her.” You say, sitting up properly. You fiddle with the cord of your earphones. You want this conversation to be over.

“It’s fine, YN.” Emma says, “I’m not mad anymore. Or upset. Or jealous.”

She nudges your arm, glint of a smile on her lips.

“Not like before.”

“Because you don’t want me anymore?” You say, eyebrows furrowed.

She looks away.

“I did want you, you know that.”

“But not anymore?” You press.

She’s quiet for a moment.

“I want someone who wants me back,” She says, simply, “Someone who isn’t confused. Someone who doesn’t like someone else.”

“-Someone like Johnna.” You say, voice flat.

She shoots you a pained smile.

“Don’t be jealous.” She says, “You don’t want me, not really. You liked being liked, that’s all.”

It makes you stare.

“That’s not true,” You say, sitting up, “I did like you, Emma. I do like you. I just-“

“Liked her more.” Emma says, after a moment. Her gaze is pensive, “It’s okay, you can say it.”

You drop down onto your back. Stare up at the sky.

“You should tell her.”

“I should tell her?” You ask, a little dubious.

“How much you like her.” Emma says.

The words are strange, coming from her lips. You wait a bit for the punchline. But it never comes. She’s calm. At peace. Not a hint of jealousy in her tone.

“Too much has happened,” Is what you say after a careful moment, “If it was meant to be- it wouldn’t have been so messy.”

Emma purses her lips.

“It’s messy because I made it messy,” She says, quietly.

“I made it messy.” You correct her, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Except I pursued you knowing Jenna liked you.” Emma says, biting her lip, “Knowing you liked her back. I got involved because - I don’t know. I liked you so much and I thought- I don’t know what I thought.”

You lean back. Try to gauge her face. She doesn’t look sad, not like you. She’s pensieve. Reflective.

“Jenna’s useless at this kind of thing. I knew she’d never tell you and I used that to take you for myself.” Emma admits, “I thought she’d get over you. I thought it was a crush. If I had known-“

She trails off. Sits back on her hands.

“If you had known what?”

“You should talk to Jenna,” Emma just says, staring down at her fingers, “You should tell her how you feel about her.”

“She knows.” Is all you say.

Emma leans back.

“Does she?”

Her gaze is so piercing you have to look away.

“Why are you trying to set us up anyway?” You ask, “Aren’t you supposed to hate us or something?”

Emma hums.

“I don’t hate you,” She says, “And I don’t hate her. I was angry at her for so long. But maybe she should be angry with me too. Maybe you both should.”

You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything.

It’s too much. You want to go back to your hermit cave-apartment and drink yourself to sleep. These emotions you’re having, you don’t want them anymore.

Emma curls her fingers around a strand of grass. Plucks it out of the ground, absent-mindedly. She lets out a long sigh.

“I thought I could get between you,” She says voice heavy, “I thought I could redirect you to me. But that isn’t how it works, I know that now. When two stars collide everything around it turns to dust.”

She has a penchant for the dramatic. But you don’t bother to correct her. There’s something else on your mind.

“What did Jenna say to you on the balcony?” You ask, eyes flitting between hers.

She’s being so open. So candid. An Emma you almost forgot existed. If there is ever a time to get it out of her, it’s right now.

She purses her lips and looks away.

Your heart sinks as you realize she’s not going to give you the answers you so desperately need.

“You should ask her.”

“I already did.” You say, aggravated, “She won’t tell me.”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready,” Emma says, simply. She brushes the grass off her jeans as she sits up. She holds out a hand for you.

“Come on. I think shooting is about to start.”

You stare at her open palm. Look up at her.

She isn’t angry, not sad or hurt. She’s your Emma again, sweet, kind, loyal. She’s the Emma you could have had, before you ruined it all.

“I’m really sorry, Emma,” You say, voice quiet, “For everything.”

She smiles at you, curls her hand around yours.

“Me too.”

Next part

#three's a crowd #jenna ortega #emma myers #fanfic #mine #jenna ortega x yn #emma myers x yn #jenna ortega x reader #emma myers x reader #wednesday

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bylerconfessions · 3 months

Note

in response to:

Mike being bi does nuke his character, though? he is a bad boyfriend to El. Toxic some would say. If that’s how you treat someone you love, how is byler going to be any better? How’s Micheal going to treat Will better then El if Mike has consistently chosen El OVER Will every chance he gets. How is wanting actually good bi rep biphobia

erm... but the whole point is that he didnt ever love el. and he didnt treat her badly maliciously, but rather as a teen boy figuring out what the hell was going on with himself. if youre talking s1, then maybe mike was just a bit of a brat, ignored middle child and all that, desperate to find will, and felt like el was the one leading HIM on - he felt betrayed by s1 el. and yeah, she tricked them. all the party. she had her own reasons, but she was shitty to them to.

but in later seasons? we argue that he didnt love her; but that doesnt need to be representative of his affections towards all females. 'not liking el' does not equal 'not liking girls.'

the whole point is that will is the one he loves. imagine if this was a straight story, as most love triangles through history have been. a guy and two girls. treating one badly and not the other doesnt mean anything for his sexuality, cos theyre both girls. why cant this be a story about personality and character instead of just sexual orientation? sexual identity isnt the entirety of someones character.

#st #stranger things #st confessions #byler #byler confessions #mike wheeler #bi mike wheeler #anti mileven

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oceanbug · 9 months

Text

ghostbusters

smau an yujin x reader

2. Graveyard Culture.

~˖⁺. ༶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦🕸️꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷༶ .⁺˖~~˖⁺. ༶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦🕸️꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷༶ .⁺

“Is everything alright?”

You and Beogyum whipped your heads up and quickly put away your phones. You knew there was no way for Yujin to know you were texting about her, but you did feel slightly guilty. Even psychopaths don’t deserve to be talked to behind their backs.

“Nah, Y/N’s just chicken.”

“Aw, are you nervous about meeting Nari? I know I was when I first met her too! Don’t worry, we can hold hands.”

Yujin grabbed your hands and held them tight. You didn’t have the guts to tell her you didn’t want to be there or that you thought she was really weird. Instead, you focused on the positive side of things: You’re holding hands with a pretty girl!

In a scary graveyard. Probably on your way to your death.

Kim Nari’s graveyard was very easy to spot. It was filled with balloons and all sorts of decorations and treats. It seemed like she had been very popular in her era; maybe you’ll go home and give her a listen? And it did fill you with ease to see that Nari was a real person and not a fig-mate of Yujin’s imagination. Maybe the pretty girl wasn’t crazy after all?

"Ok, let’s set up our blankets here. I’m so excited to have lunch!”

Ok, still slightly weird. Eating at a stranger's graveyard is slightly weird.

“Sick, I’m starving!”

Why is he okay with this?

You tried putting your nervousness behind you, slightly picking at the food given to you. Yujin was a pretty good cook! You sat there for 30 minutes and listened to Yujin tell stories about Kim Nari. She explained how she revolutionized K-pop in the 80s and how she rocketed to fame at only 18 years old! You were kind of impressed, then remembered you’re currently 18 and poor. You are now slightly sad. -5 HP.

After what felt like an entirety between Yujin’s stories and Beogyum’s awful attempt at flirting, it was finally time to wrap up. The experience wasn’t so bad! Would you do this again? No! But at least you solidified your role in this club.

“Ok, before we start leaving, we have to have dessert!”

Getting excited about what baked goods Yujin could have brought with her, all your attention had been on her hands as she pulled out.....

An Ouija board?

Nevermind. You take it back. Yujin’s crazy.

“It’s my favorite part of visiting—getting to talk with Nari! It’s a sweet treat.”

Beogyum and you had shared a look that clearly read: What the fuck?

Maybe he was finally starting to see how insane Yujin sounds.

“Oh, is this your first time? Don’t worry, I’ll lead you guys! We can work together, the three of us!

This is not how I imagined my first threesome.

“Really, this is exactly how I imagined mine.”

“Did you just read my mind, Beom?”

“No, you’re talking out loud.”

“Oh.”

Well, anyway, you braced yourself for what evil incarnation you’d be speaking to. Normally you would have left, but this is your only chance at passing the semester; you’d do anything at this point. Even playing ‘The Conjuring’ with some hot classmate.

“Okay, everyone, come in the middle. I’ll lay out the board and say the enchantment. No matter what, don’t take your hands off the board.”

You all got in a triangle, and put your hands on the board. Your heart started to beat fast; this was getting spooky.

“Okay, here we go! Oh, great spirit of Kim Nari, come to me. Come celebrate and honor your life as it once was, and walk on the path of the earth’s concrete once more. Spirit, if you can hear me, give me a signal.”

Nothing happened.

Until it did. Suddenly, you felt your hand move toward the yes part of the board. Usually, you would assume someone moved their hands on purpose to make things seem real. But once your hands were on the yes, you heard a low-barley audible whisper in your ear.

“I am here, child.”

That voice wasn’t Yujin or Beogyum. You panicked and whipped your head back, taking your hands off the board.

“Y/n, no! Your hands don’t take your-"

Before Yujin got to finish her sentence, the board began to shake, and a bright white light blinded you.

Before you, there was a pale, raven-haired woman who appeared no older than 25. If this wasn’t enough to scare you, she was levitating off the ground and translucent.

“No way, that’s..." Beogyum stared, eyes wide open.

“The names Nari, Kim Nari, and kid, you messed up big time.”

~˖⁺. ༶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦🕸️꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷༶ .⁺˖~~˖⁺. ༶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦🕸️꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷༶ .⁺

masterlist - next

(Synopsis) Joining your school’s ‘Poltergeist’ club wasn’t exactly on your list of high school goals, but summoning 1980’s idol legend ‘Kim Nari' definitely wasn't part of the plan. It’s up to you and your club’s president, An Yujin, to put her soul to rest. But how do you help a K-pop idol when no one else can see her?

taglist (OPEN): @i06kkura

#kpop x y/n #kpop x reader #ive x reader #ive #non idol au #kpop smau #kpop au #ahn yujin #an yujin #yujin x reader #kpopsmau

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ubercharge · 1 year

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Hey, genuine question. When drawing female character, how do you decide how big their boobs are?

when i design a character, i ask "what do i think looks good?"; it's mostly a matter of personal taste. a character's body shape contributes to their silhouette, overall look, and viewers' impression of them. here are thoughts on some of mine:

mia is wider below (hips/thighs) than up top (shoulders/bust), which is how i design most female chars because i like thick thighs. i wanted her to look like a hot anime lady with some roundness to help balance out her gigantic tail. her design forms a pleasantly stable weighty triangle with the large shapes of thighs + tail at the base, the medium shape of large bust + thin arms in the middle, then the detailed point of interest that is her cute lil face with horrific sparkly anime eyes and messy hair.

her curves and round shapes (big boobs included) contribute to the impression i want her to give off even without dialogue: endearing and cute, but still sexy. the kind of girl you might want to tease and cuddle irl if you could, with a welcoming & approachable softness. the other reason for her boobs is "i like big boobs"

the archdemon of wrath has small boobs, but a comparatively medium hip/thigh thing going on. like mia, she has a big tail! it's balanced out in part by big reptilian paws, giant floofy BRIGHT hair, and large horns.

let's get "i like small boobs too" out of the way, because that's a given. ira likes to fight, so her small boobs add to her reptilian bits by making her look more slinky, lithe, and dexterous. her design wouldn't be completely thrown off by big boobs, but big boobs + her skimpy outfit (this is the sfw version! she's usually topless and has dangling nipple piercings) might give her a little too much "sexy" that could downplay how her spikes and fiery hair are meant to scream "dangerous" instead. so for ira, her boobs being small + taking up less space for the viewer allows more room to pay attention to her sharp bits instead.

here are sloth's fighter cat and wrath's fighter kitsune, both have small busts + wider hips. what's your impression of them now vs if you imagine each with a different chest? would one or both have more appealing designs to you if they had bigger/smaller boobs? would it not make a difference? would you change them if you could?

if you want to make a new character, it can help to ask yourself why you want certain design elements (e.g., bust size, hair colour, height) and why they work or don't work for you or your specific character! thanks for reading. i love boobs.

#ask answer #anon #well it's late so i'll just schedule this reply for the afternoon ....

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fabuloustrash05 · 2 years

Text

Why I Don’t Like 2012 Apritello

A TMNT 2012 Rant

Before I start and the 2012 Apritello fans/shippers come at me with their pitchforks and torches, I want to clarify that I DO think that the ship is cute and it has a lot of potential. S1 Apritello is adorable! But after that it goes downhill and becomes very problematic, which sucks because I see the potential for it to be a good ship, but the 2012 writers just did them so dirty which lead me to dislike this ship over time.

So with that said. Enjoy my rant!

As I said before, season 1 Apritello was perfectly fine. The only minor problems I had with them in the first season was the fact that Donnie has taken pictures of her obviously without her knowledge or consent and has them as his computer wallpaper. That doesn't sit right with me. This is coming from personal experience, a guy I knew in middle school had a crush on me and he used to do that, taking my picture without my knowledge or consent and using them as his phone background and it made me really uncomfortable. If the writers just switch it to him having his background be a selfie him and her took together them that would’ve been better. Other than that, their relationship and dynamic in season 1 was fine and even cute at times.

Then season 2 comes around and the ship just gets worse from there...

I’m probably not the first to say that I don't like how creepy Donnie gets during S2 and onward. He becomes very possessive of April, looking at her like she’s an object or a trophy he has to win, instead of seeing her like she's her own person. Casey is also guilty of this, but this rant post isn’t about him.

Side Note:

April being Donnie’s love interest ruined her character. Most of her interactions with the turtles were mostly just with Donnie, because she was his love interest and she HAD to have “moments” with him. Whenever she did talk to or have genuine sweet moment with any turtle that wasn’t Donnie it felt fresh, rare, and new, but then shippers would ruin it cause they’d start calling April a wh0re for “cheating” on Donnie just from her hugging Leo or Raph, and say his brother’s are “stealing” Donnie’s girl. Like, guys, chill. Leave April alone. It’s a freaking hug. She’s allowed to be friends with Donnie’s brothers.

I always appreciate the little short moments in the show of April interacting with Leo, Raph or Mikey. It’s one of the reasons I like the episode Eyes of the Chimera in season 3 so much becasue it focuses on Leo and April bonding! It made me wish April had more duo episodes with each of the turtles, but sadly most of her episodes were either about her and Donnie (in some way), her ninja training (which now that I think about it, we saw very little of) or her connection to the Kraang, and even that was dumped and no longer explored by like the 3rd season.

Maybe that’s just me. Let me know what you all think.

Anyways, back to the rant!

The very first time Donnie sees April with Casey, he immediately jumps to conclusions and assumes she’s on a date and gets mad. Like, dude, you don’t own her! We, the audience, know she wasn’t on a date, she was just tutoring Casey, but imagine for a moment if she was. Donnie has no right to decide who she gets to be with and has no excuse to be mad if she decides not to date him but someone else, because, again, she is a human being not an object! Does he have a right to feel heartbroken? Yes, it's sad seeing your crush with someone else, I and I’m sure many of you can relate. But should he be mad? NO!

The whole love triangle between Donnie, April and Casey was its own dumpster fire and that’s a rant for another post.

I also don't like how it is hinted during the S2 finale that April is aware of Donnie's feelings for her. Now, we could argue (and I agree) that April was not ready for Donnie to confess his feelings, most likely wanting to sort out her own feelings and I respect that, but I wish April was more honest with Donnie later on. I wish she told him to give her time and space instead of letting him think he has a chance, leading him on, and having him continue to obsess over her for 5 freaking seasons! She had many chances to have that conversation with him. Like in season 3...

Oh god, I hate Apritello in season 3, specfically I hate the Big Foot episode. That music box Donnie gave April in the beginning of the epsiode was extremely inappropriate given what those two have been through so far by that point in the show. Donnie, sweetie, you've literally lost the greatest battle of your life, you and your brothers were chased out of your own home and had to leave the city with Leo badly injured and in a coma, and you also witnessed your father's "death" by the hands of your greatest enemy, and you think NOW is the best time to make a move on your crush and give her a gift, who, may I remind you, went through the same exact sh!t you went through?!

THE POOR GIRL DOESNT NEED TO BE HIT ON RIGHT NOW!!

And don't get me started on the farmhouse kiss later in the episode. What a load of bullsh!t! The writers really had me fooled. They really had me think they were going to give Donnie and April actual development in their relationship. They could've had Donnie finally understand and end his inappropriate behavior and obsession towards her and April could finally tell Donnie that she's aware of his feelings and tells him that she does care for him but needs time and space to think her feelings through. This conversation could have helped them grow together and they would eventually get together when both of them are comfortable and ready to start a relationship with one another.

But NOOOO! Let's just have April take all of Donnie's development in that episode and throw it away by freaking kissing him!! Like, what?! Girl, weren't you literally uncomfortable earlier that episode when he was trying to make a move on you with the freaking music box???

It was at that moment I started to hate Apritello, and it makes it come off that April is just playing a game with Donnie, throwing him away and reeling him back in, repeating the action over and over again. Which sucks, because I really wanna like this ship and at times I can see the good qualities. I like April! She has some great moments (both badass and funny) that makes me appreciate her or be happy for her, but her being shipped with Donnie ruined her character for me. I blame the writers.

After the farmhouse kiss, you know what I realized? I realized that the 2012 writers didn't know what they were doing with this relationship and it pissed me off because, again, they had so much potential!

Also the many times April kisses Donnie on the cheek was so random almost ALL of the time.

Her kissing him after she rekindles her friendship with the turtles, pointless but it’s fine.

Her kissing him after he finished creating a retromutagen for her dad, understandable. Could just be a heat of the moment excitement that she probably forgot about later on, but...

The second time in the same episode, the writers were just forcing it at that point/April did that in front of Casey on purpose to make him jealous and you can’t change my mind.

Her kissing him after Fugitoid fixed his bug sting, very random and very pointless. Like, why? What was the point of that happening??

I need to remind everyone who has come this far in reading my rant that I do think the concept of April x Donnie could work. Though I’m not a big fan of shipping April with ANY of the turtles, it can still work, but only if it’s done properly.

Again, 2012 Apritello had great potential, it’s just the writers handle it so poorly. Honestly, Rise Apritello has more chemistry and potential to be the friends to lovers trope in a version where it is intended for them to only be best friends MORE than their 2012 counterpart where they are intended to be friends to lovers.

You know what I wish the 2012 writers did? I wish the writers did a slow burn mixed with the friends to lovers trope. Basically, make them friends first, build from that, and have them slowly fall in love with each other over the course of the series.

For me, I’d make it go like this:

S1 - Donnie and April are friends, but over the course of the season Donnie slowly begins to fall in love with April.

S2 - Donnie now has feelings for April, but he doens’t want to ruin his friendship with her. Also April is dating Casey.

S3 - Everyone knows Donnie likes April. Her and Casey eventually break up but stay friends. April finds out Donnie likes her and now it’s awkward between them.

S4 - Donnie and April both like each other now. They try hard to rekindle their friendship and try to go back to being just friends, but their hearts want something different.

S5 - They finally confess and become a couple! Yay! Happy ending!

If you want to read the longer version of how I’d rewrite 2012 Apritello, you can check it out HERE

I want to thank everyone who has made it this far and has read my entire rant. Feel free to share your own thoughts on 2012 Apritello, but remember to be kind and respecful towards everyones opinion.

#rant #rant post #its my opinion #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #nickelodeon #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #donatello hamato #april o'neil #tmnt april #apirtello

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vals-thoughts · 1 year

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Burgundy

Miss Mary was my first ballet teacher. She was short and thin and wore her gray hair just above her shoulders. It was thick yet smooth, never frizzed, and it moved as she did, deliberately.

Miss Mary had three children, but the one I knew was her petulant middle child and only son, Sean. He seemed her opposite: where she was hard, he was soft, with little freckles up and down his smooth arms. He didn't like to dance but there were no other boys who did ballet in our town and Miss Mary made him come to class twice a week. He broke up our little line of burgundy leotards and light pink tights with a white cotton t-shirt (somehow always baggy) and thick black tights. He lacked grace or coordination, and every time Miss Mary gave him a correction, he scowled viciously and slumped over even further.

I was terrified of Sean and his temper. I could not imagine raising my voice to my own mother, preferring instead to suppress my anger until it slowly dwindled away, reasoning that a candle is not damaged when it is repeatedly snuffed.

I was a mousy child, one of the worst in the class, and I wanted to dance more than anything. I dreamed of performing elaborate pas de deux on stage in a tutu and pointe shoes. The desire bubbled inside me but never quite made it out, like a soda bottle that's shaken and left unopened. I tried to dance with the passion I felt inside but I could see in the mirror that it wasn't good enough. My body wasn't right: I was thin, but with a long torso and inflexible ankles, and the lines I created never looked as beautiful as I knew they should. To make matters worse, I started growing hips at age ten, interrupting the perfect straightness from head to feet and making my torso into something resembling a triangle. I was horrified when I compared myself to my classmates in the mirror, all the same width straight up and down, a little line of yardsticks in between Sean and me.

The studio had a single bathroom with no lock, which I preferred to avoid out of fear of being walked in on, until one day I had held it for so long that during developpés I wet myself, streaks of urine running down the inside of my tights. I fled the classroom in tears, my cheeks flaming darker than the leotard, while Miss Mary jiggled the doorknob and whispered "Come on out when you're ready" and slipped a pair of heinous beige tights under the door. I could not go back in, couldn't let the strange material of the extra tights touch my skin, and fled to the lobby until my mother picked me up and drove me home. When the other girls asked what had happened Miss Mary would only say "there was an accident," as if I had been hit by a bus.

My mother forced me back the following week. I walked gingerly into the lobby, joining the sea of uniformed children. None of the girls acted as if they knew anything, and if Sean had noticed, he was too busy poring over a rumpled five-year-old issue of Popular Mechanics to bring it up. I felt relieved and hollow. Nobody knew because nobody had been watching me dance.

Two weeks later I announced to my mother that I didn't want to go to ballet class any more. I couldn't stand Miss Mary and Sean and all the perfectly proportioned girls. The words felt large and awkward in my mouth, as if I was speaking around the black plastic block my dentist had to use to keep my mouth open wide enough while I had my teeth cleaned. She kept dropping me off at the studio and my complaints grew more and more pointed until one day she leaned back in the driver's seat and sighed. I beamed with pleasure even as I regretted my behavior. Suddenly I understood why Sean pushed back against Miss Mary. It wasn't to be cruel. It was to make himself seen.

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trentaafcsblog · 2 years

Text

Picnic

Ben Chilwell

This isn’t how a ‘normal’ date works. Usually you’d spend the whole day worrying about what to wear to a restaurant that neither of you really like the food at whilst your friends are sending you a string of ‘good luck’ texts. But instead, you’re spending the morning playing princesses with your little girl whilst Ben slaves away in his kitchen trying to put things together that somewhat resemble a picnic. Not how either of you imagined your dating lives would pan out, but some things happen for a reason, and this might just be one of them.

“God, how do I cut the sandwiches?” he’s asking himself as he hovers the knife above the bread, debating whether squares are too basic or if triangles might look like he’s tried a bit too hard - something he hadn’t thought about but it’s suddenly proving to be a very difficult decision to make. And if that wasn’t challenging enough, he’s also trying to work out the right ratio of ‘child friendly’ to ‘adult’ food, not wanting it to look like he hasn’t made any effort if he comes armed with a whole bag of Babybels, DairyLea Dunkers and Mr Kiplings, but he also doesn’t want to run the risk of your little girl not liking slices of quiche, carrot sticks, hummus and some fancy crackers that he thought would add a bit of pizzazz to the picnic blanket, so he’s ensuring that whatever ‘grown up’ food he puts in the picnic basket is balanced out with something for your daughter, or you, or him, because let’s be real, children’s snacks are much better than adults’.

“What’s the man’s name?” your little girl asks as she sits on the floor in front of you, waiting for you to plait her hair. “He’s called Ben” you’re replying, your tummy going all funny at the mention of him. “Ben and mummy sounds nice” she hums, reaching forward to grab one of her My Little Ponies before bouncing it around on the floor in front of her, leaving you sat there getting all flustered at the fact that she thinks your names are compatible. “Will he be your new friend?” she’s asking a few minutes later, looking up so that she can see your reflection in the mirror before you give her an answer. “I don’t know” you laugh, desperately trying to move the conversation on to something that doesn’t fill you with butterflies because the thought of going on a date with someone so well known is one thing, but potentially ending up as his ‘friend’ and having to explain to the people around him that you’re actually a single mum who lives in a tiny two bedroom house in a slightly undesirable area of London, you don’t have sixteen designer handbags or drive a brand new Mercedes, or ever go on holiday, or have an influencer-style job like the girls before you, is another.

“How does this work?” he’s huffing as he tries to spread the picnic blanket out in the middle of the park, massively questioning his decision to spend yesterday afternoon hunting around the shops for one because this is not what he envisioned when he thought of a date in the park. One corner blowing up as soon as he holds another down, and then it’s flipping in half when he lets go, blades of grass and little smudges of mud adding a unique touch to the cream and white embroidered quilt that cost him far too much money, but it perfectly completed the Parisian vibe he was striving to achieve, although now it’s got more of a grubby homemade touch to it.

“There’s a man having a picnic” your little girl’s saying as you walk hand in hand through the park, pointing towards an elderly gentleman who’s watching the birds whilst munching his way through a packet of Werther’s. “I don’t think that’s him” you giggle nervously, swallowing the anxiety-induced lump that’s starting to form in your throat as your eyes scan across the open green space, praying that you spot the man you’ve come here looking for and he hasn’t changed his mind about going on a date with someone ‘normal’. “What about him?” she’s asking again, making your heart do a somersault when she notices somebody else sat under a tree drinking a bottle of orange juice with a little Cocker Spaniel sat by their side. “Ben doesn’t have a dog like that, darling” you’re saying, your heart rate dying down a little bit now that you know he hasn’t been spotted just yet, giving you an extra few seconds to compose yourself.

He’s doing the same as he sits awkwardly on the section of the picnic blanket that’s got a muddy hue to it. An array of food laid out around him as his eyes scan across every single person in the park, hoping that he manages to find you before you do him so that you don’t catch him off guard whilst he’s rearranging the cherry tomatoes for the fifth time or trying to make the Mini Cheddars look more presentable as they sit there in their obnoxious orange packaging amongst the rest of the fresh, unpackaged food.

And then you’re spotting him. The pace of your steps suddenly slowing down as you take a deep breath and start to approach him. “Is that Ben?” your little girl’s asking as her chubby finger points straight in his direction. “Yeah” is all you can manage to say as you frantically start trying to wipe the sweat off your palms and reduce the redness that’s heating up across your chest - an obvious indicator that you’re nervous. “Mummy he’s waving!” she squeals before excitedly jumping up and down beside you. Almost ripping your arm off in the process because you’re still insistent on holding her hand, just incase she runs over to Ben before you do and makes things awkward, especially after her track record of coming out with some highly embarrassing things when she meets your new ‘friends’.

“Hello” he mouths towards your little girl when the two of you are just metres apart, a coo of ‘hello Ben’ being returned back to him as she gives him her best smile and a little wave. And then he’s looking across at you, and god you look so beautiful. Your elegant yet casual outfit choice making his t-shirt and shorts combination look somewhat pathetic as he quickly lets his gaze drop to the five year old denim that’s resting just above his knees, kicking himself for not turning up in a three piece suit because that would have complemented your attire so much better. But he’s getting over his pang of regret when he notices how you’ve done your hair, in exactly the same style that you had it in when he came into your coffee shop one Tuesday morning and thought you looked more beautiful than ever. The little curly bits framing your face perfectly and making you look like something that’s just come and visited from heaven, prompting him to ask you out on day two-hundred-and-ninety-six that he’d come in for his cappuccino and contemplated it. And your makeup is done in the same way that it usually is, except you’re wearing a different lipgloss, one that’s more pink and summery than the classic nude you tend to go for, not even thinking that Ben would pick up on it as you sat on the floor in front of your mirror this morning and applied a thin layer, but it’s one of the first things he notices about your face, and he loves the slight change.

“Hi” you smile nervously, tightening your grip on your little girl’s hand now that she’s spotted the food laid out in the corner of the blanket. “Hi, you okay?” he’s asking, getting up off the floor and bringing you in for a hug. “Hi pretty girl, you must be Sofia” he’s saying gently, crouching down in front of her so that he looks more approachable, remembering overhearing you talking to a customer at work and saying that she was sometimes quite shy and easily intimidated. “I’m Sofia-Mae” she’s replying, no sign of any apprehension in her tone as she corrects him. “Oh sorry” he laughs nervously, an embarrassed tut leaving your mouth as your hand drops away from hers to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You’re called Ben” she’s telling him, smiling when he nods his head and confirms the name she already knows. “I said that mummy and Ben sounds nice” she’s saying, looking up at you for confirmation that those words did in fact leave her mouth this morning as you stand there blushing profoundly, wishing that it wasn’t the summer holidays so that you could have dropped her off at nursery and prevented any unwanted comments slipping out of her mouth, forcing an awkward smile and quickly nodding your head to try and bring this to an end.

“Well I’m glad you think so” Ben’s smiling, clearly picking up on your embarrassment as he changes the focus to something else. “Come and sit down ladies” he’s saying, returning to his previous spot so that he can conveniently cover the mud, patting the blanket next to him. “This is very fancy” you’re saying, referring to the one-hundred-and-fifty pound blanket that you’re now lowering yourself onto, a stark comparison to your four pound, waterproof lined one from Tesco’s. “Thought it completed the look” he’s saying proudly, your eyes flicking to focus on the picnic that he’s gesturing to, all of it complementing the Parisian style perfectly, bar the Mini Cheddars that he didn’t want to take out of the packets incase they went stale. “God, look at your fancy basket as well, I didn’t expect you to do all of this” you’re saying, shocked that someone had gone to so much effort for a first date with a third wheeling three-year-old. “It’s actually my mum’s but yeah, lovely basket of mine, isn’t it?” he laughs as you look and giggle at him, poking his side gently as he throws his head back.

“I like those cakes” your little girl’s saying, interrupting yours and Ben’s moment as she runs her finger over the top of a chocolate roll. “Sofia!” you panic, pulling her hand away and quickly apologising to Ben. “What did I tell you?” you’re saying, raising your eyebrows at her until she remembers. “Don’t touch or eat anything unless Ben says I can” she’s replying quietly, her eyes going all big and guilty as she looks down at her lap. “Hmm, so do as I say please” you’re telling her, repeating another embarrassed ‘sorry’ to Ben as he shakes his head in response to you. “Don’t be silly, help yourself, darling, that’s what it’s all there for” he’s saying gently, “and you too, we can’t eat all of that on our own, can we, Sofia?” he’s saying, smiling when she shakes her head in agreement and shuffles backwards slightly so that you can reach the food too.

You’re in disbelief at how lovely everything is as you pick around the charcuterie board-style vibe that he’s gone for, adding little pieces of cheese and crackers to your paper plate alongside strawberries, grapes, a slice of quiche and a couple of tiny sausage rolls. “This is delicious, thank you” you’re telling him, a few flakes of pastry escaping your mouth and blowing into into his lap as you cover your mouth with one hand and remove the crumbs with the other. “Sorry” you’re laughing nervously, grateful for those curls around the edge of your face that are disguising your blushing cheeks. “It’s alright, sharing is caring and all that” he’s replying, making you giggle as you reach across for one of the little triangle sandwiches that barely seem to have been touched, not wanting to take something that there’s hardly any left of.

“Mummy doesn’t really like sandwiches” Sofia’s saying, Ben’s heart dropping a little bit when he realises that he didn’t even ask what foods you liked, just assuming that sandwiches were a universal picnic food and therefore everyone enjoyed them. “Oh no, it’s okay, I do sometimes” you’re reassuring him, noticing the look of regret on his face after your daughter’s words. Giving him a gentle smile before you’re taking a bite of the bread and giving it a little chew, only for an unfamiliar flavour to flood your mouth.

“Is that Marmite?” you’re asking, politely swallowing the part that you’ve already chewed, although you can feel your tummy aching as you do so. “Yeah, sorry, do you not like it?” he’s asking, kicking himself for not labelling each variety of sandwich and letting it turn into a lucky dip as to whether you pick up a cheese, ham, Marmite, peanut butter or jam one. “I do, it’s just not my favourite” you’re telling him, but truth be told, you absolutely hate it, hence why you’re putting it back on your plate and washing away the foreign flavour with some of the apple juice that he’s brought along in a fancy glass bottle. “Here, I’ll have it” Ben’s saying, taking the sandwich off your plate and scoffing it in about half a mouthful. “Weirdo” you laugh as he hums appreciatively at the filling you despise the most.

“You’re like the Tramp!” Sofia giggles, leaving both of you confused as you turn your heads to look at her. “The Tramp and the Lady!” she’s saying, clarifying your perplexity. The Lady and the Tramp, you think. “You’re eating mummy’s sandwich and the doggy ate the other doggy’s pissketti!” she laughs. Spaghetti, you think. The similarities between Ben and a feral dog making you laugh, especially when he pretends to bark and chase your little girl on his hands and knees, leaving her collapsed under a nearby tree in a fit of hysterics.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” he’s saying as he makes his way back over to you, Sofia busying herself by picking as many daisies as she can whilst hunting for ladybugs, your eyes remaining fixated on her the whole time. “She can be” you laugh, shuffling over slightly so that he can lay down next to you. “How long has it been just you and her then?” Ben’s asking, careful how to phrase his question incase he accidentally digs too deep, but he’s desperate to find out more about the woman who knows his coffee order off by heart. “Forever,” you’re replying, “she was the size of an apple seed when her dad left me so it’s always been just the two of us, I wouldn’t want it any other way though” you’re telling him, a sympathetic look appearing on his face before you’re turning back to watch Sofia. “Look at her” you giggle, your heart doubling as you watch her in her own little world, something you do so often yet she never fails to mesmerise you with her imagination. A handful of daisies in one hand and what looks like a worm in another. “I’m cooking the worm a flower soup!” she calls across to the two of you after you’ve asked her to carefully take it back to where she found it, Ben cracking up at her very proud and matter of fact tone.

“Is she like you or are you opposites?” he’s asking, folding his arm behind his head to prop it up as he lays there looking up at you. “We’re kind of similar, sometimes she’s really shy and quiet like me, and then other times she’s just, just...Sofia” you giggle. “Sofia-Mae” he winks, correcting you for making the same mistake he happened to earlier, her sassy side putting him right back in his place. “She’s a credit to you” he’s saying, your eyes moving from your little girl back to the man that’s looking at you with a twinkle of admiration in his eye. “You think?” you’re asking, tilting your head to the side slightly as you start nervously picking blades of grass out of the ground, the small smile that’s starting to appear on his face confirming that answer way before his voice does. “Yeah” he’s nodding confidently, making your heart flutter as you look back in his direction. “Thank you” you’re whispering, his words having more of an impact than he probably realises, mainly because that’s the first time that someone’s ever said that to you and all you’ve ever wanted is to be a good mum, but also because he’s picked up on that quality less than an hour into properly spending time with you. And okay, maybe Sofia did make your parenting skills look slightly questionable when she poked her fingers all over the picnic without asking, but he’s right, she is a credit to you, and you’ve raised a little queen - a cheeky, sassy, confident one too, and one that’s everything you wish you were.

“Anyway, enough about me, tell me about you” you’re saying when you feel tears starting to prick in the corners of your eyes at the thought of your baby girl, blinking them back as you tilt your head up and then look back down to Ben. “There’s not much to say” he laughs nervously, scratching his beard as he tries to think of something to tell you. “Oh come on, you’re a flippin’ footballer! Your life can’t be all that boring!” you’re replying, leaving his mouth hanging open slightly as he tries to process what you’ve just said. “You know?” he’s asking, your eyebrows furrowing before you’re catching on to what he’s referring to. “Yeah, of course I do, people don’t get their coffee orders under four different names if they’re not trying to disguise who they really are” you tease, resting a gentle hand on his arm when he goes all blushy at his exposure. “And they certainly don’t sign autographs or take the occasional selfie on the sly” you’re adding, a groan leaving his lips as he accepts that his cover is well and truly blown.

“I promise I’m like... ‘normal’ though” he’s saying a few seconds later, “I don’t want you thinking that just because my job is what it is that I’m using you, or that I do this sort of thing with every other girl, or that I only arranged this with you so that you could fill a space or pass the time” he’s rambling, your heart aching at his honesty because clearly he doesn’t fit the ‘typical’ footballer profile, and being ‘normal’ in that industry has to be justified for the fear of being seen as ‘weird’ for wanting to keep hold of a piece of normality. “Of course not. I was a bit apprehensive incase you changed your mind about wanting to see me, I won’t lie, but that’s because I thought our worlds were so far apart that you’d be embarrassed to be seen out with a single mum from the other side of town. And I know we couldn’t be any further apart in terms of careers and dreams, and that kind of thing, but I guess as people go we’re more similar than I thought” you’re telling him, Ben nodding his head in agreement. “Please don’t feel like your job, or your income, or your house, or your background, or your family type defines you, or... or this” he’s saying, wagging his finger between the two of you and making a swarm of butterflies appear in your tummy as he does so. “I like you for you and that’s all that matters, I don’t care if you’ve served me coffee twenty-five-thousand times without me even having to ask for what I want, or if you’ve brought your little girl on our first date, that’s all just part of the amazing person that you are and I’d be proud to call you min-”.

“Mummy, I’ve got a surprise for you!” your baby girl’s calling as you give Ben an apologetic smile for Sofia doing what she does best, interrupting people during the most emotional moments. “What is it?” you’re asking, pushing yourself up into a sitting position as you watch her come running across the open green, her plaits all falling out and her knees stained with a forest-green tint. “I’ve got you a leaf!” she’s panting, her footsteps thumping along the grass as she gradually gets closer and closer to you. “A leaf?!” Ben’s repeating, the most enthusiastic tone underlying his words which makes you smile because it’s not often that your date is so genuinely happy to see your little girl, everyone else just seeing her as the factor that lets down the attractiveness of a relationship with you, a tiny innocent girl being the additional baggage that no man seems to want.

“Look, it’s like a heart!” she’s saying proudly, holding it out and showing you both as you gasp at how beautiful it is. “How clever are you for finding that?!” Ben’s asking, tickling her sides gently as she sits herself down in the gap between his legs, a protective hand falling to rest on her hip. “You can have it” she’s saying, holding it up in front of his face and offering it to him. “Are you sure?” he’s asking, his answer being confirmed by a small nod of her head as she opens up his bunched fist and forces the stalk into the palm of his hand. “Thank you, sweetheart” he smiles, eliciting the same response from her as she gives him a cheeky grin and falls against his chest, her head resting just below his heart and her chubby arms doing their best to give Ben a hug, except they’re not quite long enough so she can only manage to hold onto his sides. “Sof-” you’re starting, not wanting Ben to feel awkward over the fact that he’s got a stranger’s child clinging onto him like some sort of koala, holding your hand out to try and pull her away.

“What a lovely family picnic” she’s saying, cutting you off and almost making your heart stop as you stumble for something to say. Your whole face now turning a dark shade of magenta as you mumble a slightly inaudible ‘sorry’ to Ben, the sound of your heart thumping in your ears deafening you for a few seconds. “Baby, Ben isn’t our family” you’re saying gently, not wanting to upset Sofia and either offend him by putting him into that category, or upset him by taking him out of it, even though you both know that he’s far from ‘family’ right now. “Remember what mummy said? I’m just getting to know Ben, that’s all” you’re telling her, a look of sadness washing over her face as she looks back at you. “But this is like a family picnic” she’s replying, a small pout appearing on her lips. “I know, beautiful, but Ben isn’t our family” you’re saying again, growing increasingly embarrassed the more she tries to deny it. “But there’s a man and a lady and a girl” she’s saying, sticking her index finger out in the direction of another ‘family’ who are also utilising a rare day of sunshine. “I know, but not everyone who spends time together is part of a family” you’re telling her, hoping that she drops this fight in a minute because it’s getting more and more awkward the longer she continues to play it out.

“They could be” Ben’s saying, breaking the awkward silence that descends upon the three of you for a few seconds. “What?” you’re asking, your voice barely a whisper thanks to everything inside of you shrinking away with embarrassment after Sofia’s innocence. “They could be” he’s saying again, his eyes glued to your face, flicking over all of your features as he waits for you to link his comment to the previous one that left your mouth. “Obviously that’s not gonna happen right this second but over time it could” he’s saying, careful not to sound too pushy as he continues waiting for you to come to terms with what he’s just said. “You want to be part of our family?” you’re asking, knowing that’s exactly what he was hinting at but the shock of his words stops you from making that connection straight away.

“If that’s an offer then yeah” he’s saying gently, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face as your focus moves from Ben to your little girl, who has no idea what all of this is about as she leans over your legs to help herself to a Babybel, her way with words clearly working up an appetite. Your eyes flicking from Sofia’s face back to Ben’s, scanning over every single detail, from his gentle blue eyes that drag you further and further in each time you look at them, to his plump lips that involuntarily curl up into a small smile when your eyes brush over them, a few crumbs of the pink half of a Battenburg tucked into the corner of his mouth. God, you’re just like Sofia with your messiness, you think. At least I can blame that on you.

“Well it wasn’t but I’d like you to be” you’re saying, making him giggle with your honesty. “That’s if you’re sure you want to cose I know not everyone wants to be associated with someone like me and I’d hate for people to look at you different because I’ve already got a daugh-”.

You’re shutting up as soon as his lips hit yours. The faint almond taste from the cake that’s still lingering on his lips creeping into your mouth, a gentle hum escaping at the sweetness. Repaying him with the strawberry flavour from the blush pink lipgloss you’re wearing, a little breathy moan blowing across your mouth as the sugariness spreads across his tongue. Both flavours combining when you pull away for a second and then go back for more, your tongues brushing over each other slightly as you desperately try to take control, exchanging so many unspoken words and feelings through one simple action as you gently hold the side of his face, stopping him from ending your silent speech.

Your kiss quickly drawing to an end when a gasp escapes the mouth of the tiny person who’s just realised why it suddenly went all quiet whilst she was tucking into her little circle of cheese. A whine of ‘please no more, mummy’ leaving her mouth as you pull away from Ben and spot her face down in the picnic blanket, one hand placed over the side of her face, supposedly shielding her eyes but you can see her eyelashes poking through the gap in her fingers as she watches you, desperately trying to hide her smile at the fact that you suddenly look so happy after kissing the man that you were ‘just getting to know’.

“Was it that bad?” Ben’s laughing, tickling her sides until she rolls over onto her back. “Your lips were touching mummy’s” she giggles, still in slight disbelief at how kissing works. “And your lips have got mummy’s lipstick on now” she laughs, a shocked expression creeping onto his face as he pretends to act as though he thought that wouldn’t happen. “C’mere” you smile, wiping the remnants of the peachy gloss away with your thumb, a few sparkles still clinging to his lips but they’ll act as the perfect reminder of you when he notices them whilst he’s brushing his teeth tonight.

“Does that mean that Ben is our family now, mummy?” she’s asking, your comments five minutes prior to this not being reflected in the kiss you just shared, making her even more confused as to what constitutes to a family, considering all families seem to kiss to confirm their status. “Hopefully soon, me and mummy still need to get to know each other a bit more” Ben’s saying, jumping in before you have a chance to speak. “I’ve only spoken to mummy properly today, so although I’ve seen her hundreds of times before, it’s nice to just be a bit patient and let mummy decide when she’s ready for the next step, rather than taking it right this second and things being a bit rushed, yeah?” he’s saying, Sofia nodding her head at his words.

And god, you’d make him your boyfriend, your husband, your ride or die, right this second if you could, the sincerity and kindness behind his words melting your heart and making you desperate to give him the title to all of those things one day. But for now, you’re more than happy to just take things slow and get to know the man that you’ve served coffee to for the last however many days. And as they say, everything happens for a reason, and it just so seems that your little ‘family’ picnic might be the start of something very special.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell blurb #ben chilwell imagine #daddy ben #football blurb #football imagine #trent alexander arnold #dominic calvert lewin #jadon sancho #ruben loftus cheek #marcus rashford #dele #jesse lingard #tyrone mings #james maddison

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aitaikimochi · 4 years

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The BNHA Season 4 BluRay/DVD Vol. 1-6 Box Set comes with a special bonus light novel called the "Cultural Festival Wrap-Up Party" about Class A's after-party they had the day after the Cultural Festival, written by Anri-sensei. Here's the summary! Enjoy~

Boku No Hero Academia Cultural Festival Wrap Up Party

The story starts off with All Might greeting Aizawa as he enters the faculty office, a day after the Cultural Festival. He says good work to Aizawa and asks how the clean-up went for the Cultural Festival. Aizawa says that everything has been put away properly and recalls how it was a bit of a risky Cultural Festival this year with the whole fiasco that almost caused them to stop the festival, referring to the incident with Gentle and La Brava.

Aizawa mentions that the students are now preparing for an after-party. He says, “too bad they can’t put this amount of effort that they did in the Cultural Festival towards their studies instead,” and All Might laughs and says, “Well, they’re still just kids after all.” He also tells All Might that a little while ago, Sero stopped by the office to ask him something. Aizawa says, “What?” and All Might explains, “Well…you see…”

Next scene is at a nearby discount variety store (**note: basically a Don Quihote department store in Japan that sells a variety of things including food at really cheap prices). The Class A band team, consisting of Jirou, Kaminari, Bakugou, Yaoyorozu, and Tokoyami, are buying snacks and drinks for the after-party. However, Jirou seems to be the only one who’s actually taking this seriously as she can’t find where everyone else ran off to. She bumps into Yaoyorozu, who excitedly says, “Jirou-san, look at these super cheap drinks! They’re only 10yen each! If we buy 20 of them that’s only 200yen!”

Jirou looks at the bottles and notices that they’re only on sale because the drinks had already expired. She tells Yaoyorozu to put away the items. She then continues to search for the other band members and finds Kaminari. He tells her that he wants to add these cool snacks into their pile of food, which come with bonus cards or toys. He says, “Look at these! Doesn’t it take you back? Man, when I was a kid I used to collect these all the time!”

Jirou looks at the items and says “put it back,” and Kaminari whines but does so anyway. Yaoyorozu keeps getting distracted by all the things in the store since she’s very rich, she seldom has the opportunity to visit these discount stores that people go to. Jirou finds Tokoyami, and Dark Shadow dumps a whole bunch of sweets into their shopping cart. Jirou says that they don’t need that many sweets and to put things back. Tokoyami then gives Jirou a snack with packaging that says “The Witch of Darkness’ Apple Pie.” Dark Shadow says, “Fumikage used to love these sweets when he was younger!” and Tokoyami gets flustered. Jirou then pats Dark Shadow on his head, and Bakugou comes up behind her.

He says, “What the hell are you guys even buying!?”

Kaminari cries out, “Whattya mean!?”

Bakugou says, “If we’re gonna eat this at the after-party, then we need several big bags of food! And why the hell am I even here shopping with you guys right now!? This is so annoying!”

As he says that, he fills the shopping cart with bags of potato chips, sweets, paper plates, and trash bags. Jirou sighs in relief and says, “Yeah! I was thinking of getting paper plates too so clean-up would be easier!” They then agree to buy some more bottles of juice and soda, and Bakugou says they only need a maximum 5 bottles to which Jirou agrees.

Bakugou then says, “Well then let’s just get the hell out of here!” and Kaminari regrettably puts all of the sweets that he added to the shopping cart back on the shelves. Jirou looks at Bakugou and says, “Bakugou, you’re…kinda like a very capable Mom.”

Bakugou gets mad and says, “WHAT!? Stop saying such stupid crap!”

While the Band members are buying stuff at the discount store, the Dance Team members and Stage members are back in the Class A dormitory preparing food and decorating the common room. The Dance Team is in charge of the food and the Stage team is in charge of decorations.

Satou is the one who is cooking most of the food, but the other Dance Team members are helping him with the food preparation. Iida is in charge of chopping the vegetables, and although he is known for his speed, he’s not used to handling knives, so he chops them at a slower pace. Hagakure is in charge of prepping the oil and oil absorbent sheets to fry the chicken and place it on the sheets. Ochako and Ashido are in charge of stirring the pot, which contains beschamel and bolognese sauces.

Ojiro checks up on the oven to make sure that it’s the right temperature. Satou tells Ochako and Ashido to add the sauce for the lasagna and to not forget to put olive oil on top. Shouji says that he’s done making the dressing for the salad, and Satou samples it. The kitchen is full of lively sounds, and everyone is excited for Ojiro’s delicious cooking.

Ochako, Ashido, and Hagakure then discuss how Christmas is around the corner too, so they should do this again and throw a Christmas party next time. While they think about having a potential Christmas party, Iida says, “Hey now! Christmas is a day that celebrates the Birth of Jesus Christ! You should be spending it with your families, so this Christmas we…”

Satou then says, “Iida, the knife, watch out the knife!” since Iida was talking while swinging the knife around in his hand. Iida apologizes. Ashido then says, “But wouldn’t a party be fun?” and Mineta appears in the kitchen holding some peaches while muttering, “Christmas…Christmas costumes…Santa Girl skirts…That’s awesome…”

However, they eventually convince Iida that Christmas is indeed a time to celebrate things together, and Iida gives in and says he will ask Aizawa for permission to throw a Christmas party much to everyone’s delight.

Mineta had been slacking off on his duties by looking at the peaches and stroking them gently, imagining something lewd, and Hagakure calls him out on his perverted thoughts and tells him to help out along with the others.

He is in charge of cutting the carrots, and while everyone is helping prepare the food, Ochako stares at the fried chicken that just came out of the fryer. She can’t help herself and pops one into her mouth only to find that it’s burning hot. Tsuyu says to be careful since they’re still hot, and Ochako apologizes as the fried chicken looked and smelled so delicious she moved without thinking.

Satou asks her how’s the flavor, and she says the fried chicken is really good while giving him a thumbs up.

Ojiro and Hagakure are washing the dishes, and Hagakure holds the plates, making them look like they’re floating in mid air. Ojiro then tells Hagakure that she should probably put some clothes on if she’s going to be in the kitchen where people use fire and knives, but she said she just wanted to see what people’s reactions were to her small pranks. Shouji then passes her an apron, and Mineta muses that it’s one of those tropes where girls wear aprons while naked, but Iida warns him to not go further.

Meanwhile, in the common room area, the Stage Team is preparing the decorations to be strung about the living room. Deku, Todoroki, and Koda are folding origami together to put on the walls as banners. Deku folds a cool All Might shaped origami, and Todoroki praises him, saying “Wow, All Might! That’s awesome!” Deku actually used to practice folding the All Might origami countless of times to perfect its shape, and he blushes a bit when he hears praise from someone.

He then sees that Todoroki folded a crane, and Todoroki says that his sister taught him how to fold the crane origami when he was a child.

Koda then says, “Oh um…I…made a camera origami!” and shows them a whimsical camera shaped origami that makes a shutter noise when pressed. Deku then notices that Koda actually had folded a ton of different origami flowers and animals, and Koda gets a bit embarrassed at the attention.

Koda says, “But the All Might origami is amazing…” and Todoroki agrees.

Todoroki then asks Deku to teach him how to fold the All Might origami. Deku is happy to oblige, and he says, “Okay first you fold a triangle and then…”

As he starts teaching Todoroki, Kirishima comes into the room and puts up his own dorm room’s fisherman banner on the wall of the common room. He says that this will make the place a bit flashier, and the others agree. Aoyama then comes in and also says that they need something sparkly and bright. Aoyama tells them that he’ll come back with something sparkly.

Kirishima then says, “Oh wait I’ll come help too!”

Todoroki then turns to Deku and says, “Midoriya, so how exactly do you fold the All Might origami?”

Deku realized that he was in the middle of teaching Todoroki before they got interrupted by the others, so he resumes his lesson by saying to first fold a triangle. Afterwards, he goes off on a tangent about how to perfect the folding process as well as making sure to accentuate the silhouette of All Might through the folds, and as he mumbles a bit, he accidentally folds the origami too quickly.

Todoroki is patient with him though and says again, “Um…can you please start from the beginning and teach me the steps a bit slower this time?”

Deku apologizes for folding the paper too fast and teaches Todoroki again, this time at a slower pace.

Kirishima then walks by and says, “Woah Todoroki, you also want to learn how to fold the All Might origami?” He leaves them to their folding and joins Aoyama and Koda in putting the finished origami and other decorations up on the walls.

After Todoroki successfully folds the All Might origami, Deku says, “You made your first All Might origami!” and Todoroki responds quietly, “I think this should be able to fit in the letter…”

Deku says, “Hmm?” and Todoroki says, “Ah, it’s nothing.”

Aoyama them brings a disco ball into the common room, and he, Kirishima, and Sero put up the other decorations.

Finally, the preparations are complete, and the Class A students gather in the common room surrounding a bunch of food that’s placed on the tables. Iida then makes a toast to a successful Cultural Festival, and everyone raises their glasses and says, “Cheers!”

Satou mentions that he also has prepared dessert, and they have two choices of either a chestnut and fig montblanc cake or an apple and peach jelly. Tsuyu chooses the jelly as jelly is apparently her favorite food. Tokoyami also chooses the jelly dessert while Ashido takes the montblanc.

Iida mentions that he and Mineta were in charge of chopping the cabbages and carrots for the cole slaw. Todoroki and Deku praise him and say that the coleslaw is delicious.

Bakugou watches irritably and decides to leave the party, but Kaminari says, “Hey hey hey, where do you think you’re going, Kacchan-kun!?” Bakugou says that seeing everyone making small talk is pissing him off, but Kaminari rebutts by saying, “But you looked excited when you were buying food!”

Kirishima then comes over and says, “Bakugou! I brought you some fried chicken! Let’s eat a ton!” and puts a bunch of fried chicken in front of Bakugou, to which he says he doesn’t want it. Kirishima doesn’t back down though and says, “Oh I got it! So you want lasagna instead!” and brings a slice of lasagna for him.

Satou noticed Kirishima carrying the food over and says, “Hey, you should put a bunch of tabasco on it before eating too!” and pours a bunch of tabasco onto the lasagna and force feeds Bakugou with it. Bakugou yells, “What the hell are you doing!?” but eventually pipes down after taking the lasagna from Kirishima as it seems like he does enjoy the food after all. Kirishima watches him and says, “See, I told you it’s good! I’ll bring you seconds!” and goes to bring Bakugou more food.

Sero then turns everyone’s attention towards the TV in the common room. He says, “Well then now that Bakugou’s calmed down, let’s watch the recap of our Cultural Festival performance!” He turns on the TV and everyone gathers around to watch the recorded performance.

Some of the members mention that Deku was late to the performance, and they thought that he might not even be able to perform. Deku apologizes for being late, but as the performance starts, they can hear the audience’s chatter as someone yells “YAOYOROZU!!!” Ashido and Kaminari tease her about having fans, and she gets flustered. Satou then whispers, “It’s starting…it’s starting…!” and the screen fills with the sound of Bakugou’s drums as well as a huge explosion.

The girls all fawn over how cool Jirou looks while singing, and this causes her to blush and say, “Please stop…” Koda also adds, “You were really cool, Jirou-san,” which makes her blush deepen.

Ashido exclaims, “Look look, the dance is all in line too!” and the class watches as Ojiro uses his tail to swing around. Everyone on the dance team mentions how it was thanks to Ashido being their teacher that they were able to have fun while dancing and making this possible. Next is Deku and Aoyama’s synchronized dance, and Shouji murmurs to Tsuyu, “Wow, they are so in sync!” to which she replies, “Midoriya-chan and Aoyama-chan practiced real hard, right?”

The students continue to watch as Aoyama becomes a disco ball and the stage team starts their part of the performance with Kirishima shaving the ice that Todoroki created while Sero uses his tape, and Kirishima says, “You guys’ timing was perfect, Seroroki!”

Sero mentions that they should try this move out while doing actual hero work next time, and Todoroki agrees. As Kaminari watches himself play the guitar, he says, “Woah there…I feel like I’m gonna be super popular after this with those slick guitar moves…!” and Mineta says, “But wait did you guys see my harem dance? That was the best…!”

Jirou says, “Tokoyami, you’ve gotten super good at guitar!” and Tokoyami mentions that it’s all thanks to her.

Kirishima and Bakugou are watching the performance from a spot a little away from the rest of the class, and Kirishima smiles at Bakugou, saying, “Man, you’re great at drumming after all!” and Bakugou replies casually, “it’s just average.”

Jirou overhears their conversation and says, “No way! Your drumming was phenomenal! Your rhythm is what allowed us all to stay in sync! Thank you for taking on this role!” and Bakugou scoffs and says, “Well, you’re the one who carried the whole performance though!”

Everyone is really impressed by Jirou’s bass skills as well as her singing, and they vote for her as the Class A Cultural Festival MVP. Everyone, aside from Bakugou, smiles at her, and she blushes, saying, “What…why…”

Yaoyorozu remarks, “Jirou-san, you were shining the brightest!” and Aoyama says, “Even more than me!?☆” But he agrees that Jirou indeed deserves the MVP title.

The class asks Jirou to make a small speech. She thanks everyone for making this performance a reality, and she’s really happy that they were able to perform together.

After everyone is done eating, Sero and Kaminari tells the class that they have some cool party games planned for everyone. Most of the class are excited for what they have in store, but Bakugou feels like it’s a waste of time and gets up to leave. Kirishima tries to stop him, but Sero taunts, “Oh, you’re leaving because you don’t think you can win, right? Well that’s fine, you can go back. Even though we have a quiz specifically tailored for you, but I guess you’d fail anyway.”

This gets Bakugou angry, and he agrees to participate in Sero’s dumb quiz challenge.

The games that Sero and Kaminari have planned are for one member of each Cultural Festival team to undergo a “Can you guess the __” type of challenge. Bakugou is first up, representing the Band Team. His challenge is to differentiate between three different types of pepper spice seasoning purely by taste (called 一味 ichimi).

Bakugou sits down in front of the table that has the seasonings, and Sero blindfolds him by putting on an eye mask that has a funny grinning face on it. Deku and the others snicker at how ridiculous Bakugou looks with that eye mask on, and Bakugou gets mad, yelling, “Damnit Deku, what the hell is so funny!?” Deku replies, “Well, anyone would laugh when they see…hahah!”

Bakugou roars, “You piece of shit!” but Todoroki says calmly, “Hey Bakugou, maybe you should consider wearing a hero suit that matches that mask.” Bakugou is furious and yells, “Shut the hell up, you half and half bastard!”

The challenge then begins, and Kaminari spoon feeds Bakugou the three different spices. He surprises everyone by correctly guessing each type of spice and goes even as far to explain which company manufactures them. Kaminari and Sero are speechless, but Deku says, “I thought that Kacchan would know the difference. He’s always had a very particular sense of taste. He could even tell when sweets expired and would never eat the expired food.”

Bakugou gets mad and says, “Don’t put on that stupid face as if you know it all!” and throws the eye mask at Deku.

The next challenge is Todoroki’s turn, representing the Stage Team. His task is to figure out among three cups of brown liquid which one is soba noodle soup. The cups contain either coffee, soba noodle soup, or throat medicine, and Todoroki cannot smell or taste them before picking his answer.

Iida mentions that Todoroki often eats soba during lunch, so there’s no way he would guess incorrectly for a food that he loves. Deku says, “Good luck, Todoroki!” as everyone watches him study the cups closely. The catch is that he also has to drink from whichever cup he chooses. Todoroki decides on a cup and drinks from it, only to spit it out and say, “That…wasn’t soba noodle soup…”

Kaminari chimes in by explaining that the cup he chose was actually throat medicine. Todoroki apologizes for spitting out the throat medicine, which splurted all over Iida and Deku. They tell him not to worry as more importantly, they need to get tissues to clean up the mess. Todoroki mutters, “I don’t think I want to eat soba anymore after this…”

The next challenge is for Tsuyu, where she has to differentiate from three different types of fluffy things: Koda’s bunny, Ojiro’s tail, and Deku’s hair by touch only. As she puts on the eye mask, Koda, Ojirou, and Deku stand in front of her. When Koda offers the bunny, Tsuyu says, “it’s fluffy.” When Ojiro offers his tail, she also says, “it’s fluffy.” When Deku offers his hair, Tsuyu says, “it’s…fuzzy?” She then correctly guesses which fluffiness was which.

Kaminari and Sero then round up the results of the various challenges, and the winner ends up being Bakugou!

Bakugou says, “Obviously I would win!” but the party’s not over yet! Next up is the Personality Quiz! Sero explains that since the class is with each other practically 24/7, they should all have picked up on small details of each other. This quiz will test how well they actually know each other after all.

The first question they ask is, “What did Iida answer on his Hero Test the other day to name the three most beautiful Heroes of the past?”

The class guesses incorrectly, and the answer was that he wrote on his test “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone has their own different types of beauty.”

Baffled, Iida asks Sero and Kaminari how they even knew what he wrote on a test paper, and they explained that their accomplice, Hagakure, has been doing a bit of spying on everyone in order for them to make this quiz a reality. Hagakure apologizes for doing so, but she says that she saw it as an opportunity to also test out her hero skills too.

The next question is “What has Yaoyorozu been obsessed about lately?” Jirou answers first, saying “Oh, is it furikake (rice seasoning)?” The answer turns out to be correct, and recently, Yaoyorozu has taken a strong liking to furikake to season her rice, which makes her blush a bit.

Sero then says, “All right Kaminari, what’s the next question?”

Kaminari answers, “Okay! For the next question, what made Ojirou disappointed recently!?”

Satou guesses, “Cementoss said his effort was average?”

Shouji says, “Tetsutetsu told him his strength was average?”

Aoyama ponders, “Recovery Girl said his health was average?☆”

The correct answer is actually Ojiro changed the conditioner for his tail recently, but no one noticed. However, Hagakure sidles up to him and says, “I actually saw you looking around near the bathroom area to see if anyone noticed, haha!” and Ojiro gets red, saying, “Well if you were watching me, why didn’t you say anything…!?”

The next question was, “What was hidden in Kirishima’s elementary school yearbook!?” Kirishima panics and says, “Huh!? How did you…!” but Sero grins and says, “That’s only for me to know. But I totally could not believe what was hidden there!”

Ashido guesses, “Maybe a love letter!?”

Mineta exclaims, “A porn magazine!!”

Todoroki says, “Failed test scores?”

All three of them were incorrect. The correct answer is “a photo of him dressed up as a girl!”

Bakugou says to him, “You’re actually into that kinda stuff?”

Kirishima gets flustered and says, “Wait, you’ve got it all wrong! It was during my elementary school’s festival stage play of Cinderella where I played the Stepmother! When I left the picture at home, my mommy kept showing it to other people, so I tried to hide it!!”

Kaminari then continues with the next question, saying “Okay, so next question. Before the Cultural Festival performance, what did Uraraka mess up on!?”

Deku says, “She accidentally made herself float!?”

Iida offers, “She was too nervous she threw up!?”

Tokoyami asks, “She ate too much mochi and threw up!?”

Kaminari says they all guessed wrong and the correct answer is “she was looking for Midoriya but tripped and accidentally went into a room where Class B’s Monoma was in the middle of changing clothes!”

Ochako gets red in the face and says, “I didn’t do it on purpose!!”

Mineta comments something lewd, but Tsuyu shuts him down.

The next question is “What was the reason why Jirou and Hagakure were arguing!?”

Koda says, “Because Hagakure-san was messing with Jirou-san’s earphone jack…?”

Yaoyorozu offers, “Jirou-san accidentally stepped on Hagakure-san’s naked body?”

Mineta exclaims, “Fighting over a guy!”

The correct answer is because Hagakure tried scaring Jirou after they watched a horror film together. Ashido asked whether they actually argued, and Jirou said she got mad because when she takes a shower alone, she’s usually scared of the bathroom area anyway. So when Hagakure messed with her by causing the lights to flicker on and off and the faucet to suddenly turn on by itself, she absoutely freaked out and felt like she almost had a heart attack. Naturally, she was livid, and Hagakure says, “Sorry Jirou, your reactions were just too good!”

The next question is about Deku, and Kaminari asks, “Recently, Deku has been leaving the dorm early to meet with someone. Who is that secret someone!?” (**Note: The word they use is ‘aibiki,” which means secret date/meeting).

Deku is surprised and says, “Wait, how do you know that…?”

Mineta and Satou ask if he was secretly meeting up with a girl, and Iida says, “Midoriya-kun! Are you actually in a relationship with a girl!? You should prioritize studies first!”

Ochako is confused as she says to herself, “Aibiki? Like the type of meat?” (**Note: Ochako isn’t familiar with the word, so she thinks it’s referring to ‘aibikiniku,’ which is a combination of different types of ground meat)

Deku gets nervous and says, “No, it’s not like that…” He thinks of ways to deflect the situation without making it known that he’s actually meeting up with All Might in the morning to train his quirk, but the other classmates continue to guess.

Kirishima says, “He’s meeting with someone from the General Class!?”

Ashido says, “No way…maybe he’s meeting with someone older, like Midnight…!?”

Mineta suggests, “Maybe he’s meeting with a living thing other than a girl…!!”

All three of their guesses were incorrect, and the correct answer was that he was meeting with the Support Department’s Hatsume Mei!

Deku is relieved to know that the others have not found out about his secret rendezvous with All Might early in the morning to do training.

Bakugou snorts and says, “There’s no way that dumb nerd would ever be popular!” but Sero says, “No, Midoriya is quite popular among the ladies. Like during the Provisional License Exam when that naked upper classman got all over him.”

Deku rebutts by saying, “But that was because she was attacking me!?”

Iida then recalls how Hatsume helped Deku out when they went to the department together earlier, and after an explosion, she was also all over him. Mineta then gets lewd thoughts again, but the conversation switches to Mineta using his mogimogi hair balls and puts it on Deku’s head. Iida notes that it looks like Deku’s wearing those infamous mouse ears from “Zoo Dreamland” (aka Disneyland). Ashido mentions that she used to go to Disneyla—…Zoo Dreamland all the time when she was younger. The class chatter switches to discussing their favorite rides, attractions, and food.

The class then asks Mineta to put mogimogi balls on their heads too so they can look like they’re wearing those infamous mouse ears as well. Mineta enjoys the attention and says, “All right I guess…”

Before the party wraps up, Sero mentions that there’s one more video that they want to show to everyone. As they gather around the TV to watch, they see Aizawa on screen with a cat. As the video starts, Aizawa suddenly appears in the common room and reprimands them, asking what are they doing up so late? The video pauses on the screen.

Aizawa stops the party and tells everyone to clean up and go to their rooms. Since the party’s over, he tells Sero, Kaminari, and Hagakure to stay behind. The three students prepare themselves for a scolding, but instead, Aizawa asks them where they got this footage.

It turns out that Present Mic gave it to them after he recorded it while hiding in sight. The footage was of Aizawa trying to befriend a cat, but the cat ignores him and goes to All Might instead. Sero actually came to the faculty department before the after-party to ask for permission to show the footage, and since Aizawa wasn’t there at the time, All Might said it was okay.

However, Aizawa says he will be collecting the footage and tells the three to never discuss the contents of the video to anyone. They agree, and he sends them off on their way.

It’s been a long day, and Aizawa sighs and wonders just when he got caught up in all of this student stuff. However, although adolescence is short, that never stops them from chasing their dreams forever. Happily, while young, without sadness, sweetly, harshly…youth is a precious thing.

The light novel ends with Aizawa saying, “Good luck, everyone” with the words “the festival had ended, but even so, their bright days continue onward.”

THE END

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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

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Headlights Girl

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the land, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they shrank away from my gaze deep into their cages into the nooks and crannies. Most things do.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness and sleep. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There have been stranger kids born in the age of spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for small articles and mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy with fire on his breath. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father calls it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He doesn’t look at me much. And I know what he means. I know what he means when he calls it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They could barely afford to send me to That School. I didn’t want to be there either.

We weren’t the same, not really. None of us are the same age and most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons under flat mattresses. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or have a pig-nose or blackhole for a nose. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he runs away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I’m 16 when I heel-toe my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with a collection of loose clothes, change, a bath towel, sewing kit, a bible written in a language I don’t speak, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he’s at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at Target and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There’s a beer in front of his idle hands and he glances at the bag on my shoulder.

He sighs like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafs through a wad of cash he kept in a safe in the garage. He hands me almost three hundred bucks and we nod at each other. I’m out the door before the midnight bus arrives.

I watch the headlights of the bus approach through dense summer night and think it must be like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I get on the bus and kick my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, I cross my arms over my chest, and watch the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet move like tides. They toss me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I taste the painted deserts toward the west. I dip my toes into the largest cities with lights brighter than my own. I graze my palms on neon signs and hunch my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touches me. They don’t come close enough when I open my eyes and they see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that will smite them.

I find my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gather. I don’t talk much, I don’t like to, and people stare at me whether I’m speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it aches. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’ve never seen a movie in any theatres, but I can imagine what it’s like.

I like the ocean cities best with their pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding white paths, and crushed seashell parking lots. I like the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkles from the ocean water as it sun-dries. I camp out on beaches and bum cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I’m good at taking care of myself once I get in a rhythm.

Sometimes, or often, I dream of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dream of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I am weighted down through the cold to where no human has ever been before. I open my eyes there, I open them all the way, lightning-bright, and in my dreams, the salt doesn’t sting. It doesn’t hurt, instead, I light up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I do something good then. Maybe I do something good and bring the sun to places that have forgotten it.

I meet Mags on the beach. She’s got one eye and five teeth and carries around string and scissors everywhere. She smells like seawater and roasting kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes are neat despite her leather-cracked skin and her arms and neck are covered with tattoos of shipwrecks. She cackles and pulls me aside the first night we meet.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is old creaking wood. I am quiet. “I could give you one.” She offers with a grin that is more empty space than anything.

I shake my head. “Nana.”

“What do you like, kid?”

I shake my head again.

Mags likes me more than I deserve. I pocket her last pair of socks when she’s not looking. She never mentions it and drags me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She takes me to the soup restaurant for something that isn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackles, she spits when she talks, people glare at her as well.

I think she’s normal, not touched by the spirits, but she likes me more than most people and I don’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snort. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snap.

“Lippy-wild thing. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heats the needle before she uses it, red hot and untouchable. She dips it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she calls them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin with color and movement. She shows me on her right foot first, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It takes her six hours to make a little shipwreck right above her big toe. It’s a schooner going under and I’m the only witness to the way she makes the waves come to life and crash against its sides. I can’t look away and I forget to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washes another needle. She heats it red-hot. She dips it in ink and hands it to me.

I practice all over my thighs first, there’s enough meat there and it’s easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looks like nothing but squiggles, a wobbly stick figure on a skateboard, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practice designs in the sand. Mags takes me to the museum on Sundays. They’re free on Sundays.

Something stirs in my chest, even as the guards yell at me about how flash photography isn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I’m shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rots roars to life in my chest.

I stab in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake next, and then finally, something good, something that gives people a reason to stare. I make it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than the others.

I don’t want to leave the ocean city. Mags says she has to keep moving though. She gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackles. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winks as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I want to make her pinky-promise like I’m a kid again and begging one of the other kids to tell me if I’m actually beautiful when I close my eyes. I can’t do that; I wave as she totters up the steps of the bus and is taken away with the tides of her own feet. ------------ I get an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked to them first and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but coach surfing and camping out on beaches is a tiring pastime. Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie run a tattoo shop together. Davies walks like he’s never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie has a throw-pillow that says “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies is nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie has topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’s been asked to leave a number of stores before the children start staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me, it’s not that type of town. I rankle at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. I brush off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie calls me “Shadow” and I think it’s a joke. Davies says I must be possessed by the ghost of a dead star and now I’m nothing but a blackhole: take everything in and let nothing out.

Neither of them lets me touch a needle in those first six months. They have me practice on pig skin and stand by their shoulder as they work. I feel like a dental assistant except I’m the hanging light above shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stand at their shoulder as they draw thick lines and thin dots and make hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They ask me to stop blinking and stand still. I almost walk out and find a new cliff to crash against, almost. No one had ever expected me to show up to something before. No one cared if I went to school or when I got home. And no one kept any tabs on me after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, it didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow.” She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I am eloquent in the morning.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want the desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

I grumble. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before. I tell myself I’ll just try it out, no harm in having a bit of a savings anyway. No harm in seeing what the fuss was about.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with my eyes. I don’t let up though. I put on pants for this, after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder now.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, he had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me now as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “The line’s barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled darkly. His grin is crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.

“Look at you go. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun before the new year. I tell myself I’ll only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I don’t have to actually stay. I’ll just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chases after girls with eyes that glow.

I don’t break my lease. I draw cartoon heroes in speedos on tipsy college girls who swear they’re sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I have to give two refunds for a duck that turns out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with nothing but doors ahead of her. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I’m best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It’s dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hide my smile when she goes to my bosses and points at it while jumping up and down. The best thing she’s ever seen. She should pay us double. Where did you get this girl? I try not to blink so they can’t see the wetness under my eyes.

Sometimes I still stand by the bus stop to check who’s coming off. I don’t expect to see Mags again so soon, but sometimes I want to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

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153 notes · View notes

vad-hander · 3 years

Text

I’M YOURS

Pairing: Y/N, Johnny, Jaehyun, Doyoung

Genre: Series | Smut | Angst | Fluff | College AU

Warnings: language, angsty, smutty scenario, love triangle

Words: 8.1k

***

Waking up you felt Jaehyun’s body next to you, making you feel at ease. ‘Good, at least he didn’t run away.’ you sighed, turning to face him. He had his face on one of his hands, making his cheeks look chubbier than usual. You smiled at him, expanding one of your hands to caress his face. You were trying to not move your hand too quickly to not wake him up, and it looked like you were successful.

“You hate when I stare, but you do the same.” You heard Jaehyun’s sleepy voice getting startled.

“I’m sorry…” Jaehyun opened his eyes, and you moved a little closer. “I didn’t realize I’ve missed watching you sleep until I saw you sleeping.” You pecked the corner of his lips, and Jaeyun got his hands around you, pulling you away to stop. “What are you doing?” you laughed, and he tried to make you believe he was still sleeping.

Jaehyun laid on his back with his eyes closed, you moved back closer to him, and his hand held your waist. You were laying on your stomach, leaning on your elbows to get better view of his face. Your fingers were drawing weird lines over his lips.

“Does this mean we’re back to normal?” you caressed his forearm laying your chin on his shoulder. Jaehyun moved under you, sitting up, he turned his back at you, making you move back and sit up holding onto duvet he had on his bed.

“I’m not sure... I don’t think so...” your heart dropped. Was he trying to joke with you?

“Why?” you were trying your best to not sound so upset but it didn’t work out, so you bit your trembling lower lip to prevent yourself from crying.

“I just don’t feel...I don’t know. I can’t take you in my arms as before.”

“But you fucking did last night!” you exclaimed loudly holding sheets closer to your chest with your hand. You didn’t want to react this way but you got flashbacks of last night and you felt disgusted. “You fucked me saying you loved me. You said you missed me. How is that not us being normal? Were you just saying shit to get your dick deeper?”

“No, it’s not this. I was a little drunk and was in my feels.”

“Are you fucking kidding me Jaehyun? Is this your sick way of getting revenge?”

“God, no. I told you how it is.”

“What was it exactly? You saying you need space and I fucking give you space, I totally understand it. Then one day you kiss me and then the other day you act like I don’t exist. Then you tell me all those sweet things and fuck me and, in the morning, you just say ‘I don’t know’? What the fuck do you know? You’re being ridiculous and disgusting. If you don’t want to be with me you should’ve not even approached me yesterday. You didn’t have to use me as someone who could get your dick sucked.”

“I didn’t do that.”

“This is exactly what you did to me.” you paused, trying to think. “I know, I fucking know I fucked up. But I do have feelings too, and you’re just playing with me. Just quit us, quit everything and do whatever the fuck you want to. I’ll be okay, you don’t have to worry, if you ever did anyway.” you grabbed onto the sheets tighter, getting up and walking to the joined bathroom. “Just so you know, I feel…I don’t even know what I feel. You ripped my heart from my chest and played with it and threw it on the ground. I can’t even imagine you made me choke on your fucking dick thinking how you can’t be with me anymore. I can’t fucking believe I did it without asking you about our relationship status first.” you shouted into his back, because he didn’t even have it in him to look into your eyes.

You turned your back, finally getting to the bathroom. You heard Jaehyun move behind you, and you assumed he’s leaving the room, but you locked the door, just in case, washing up your face and brushing your hair with fingers. You hated everything about this place now, and the only thing you wanted to do is leave his house as quickly as possible.

Finishing freshening up your appearance, you opened the door, getting startled by Jaehyun that was sitting on the floor next to the door, with his back leaned on the wardrobe. You stepped back, almost loosing cloth around your body. Jaehyun quickly stood up, wearing his boxers only, and grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of the bathroom, closing the door behind you and pushing you back, causing you to hit the door with your back.

You didn’t see where his aggression was coming from and you didn’t tell him anything, staring into his eyes. He leaned closer to you, leaning on the door with his elbow.

“Tell me Johnny is a fucking liar.” he whispered through his teeth.

“I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.” your thoughts were running all over the place. Did Johnny tell him anything...? Did Johnny tell him EVERYTHING?

“You fucking do, don’t be a fucking liar.” Jaehyun’s cold fingers suddenly stroked your neck and you jumped under his touch. “He told me yesterday, when he was fucking wasted, how my girl think of him when I fuck her.” your heart stopped, there were millions of options how he could’ve said it but he chose the ugliest one. Fucking Johnny Suh. He could’ve told him anything, but he chose the worst thing to say.

But you weren’t blaming him only, you blamed your fucking long tongue that wasn’t able to hold back from talking as well. It was only a question of time for Johnny to spill everything to Jaehyun and you knew it, but still was hoping he wouldn’t. You weren’t expecting them to even talk long enough to share any type of secrets.

“So, I fucked her, just to ask afterwards, did she imagine Johnny well? Or should I’ve just invited him over, to give your imagination some rest?” you held back to not throw up on Jaehyun because it’s the only thing you wanted to do now. You felt so sick and was ready to puke at any given second. “And I don’t know what actually hurts me more, the fact that you fucking told Johnny about our personal life or the fact that instead of telling me that I don’t satisfy you sexually, you decided to tell it a complete stranger. Who else did you tell it except for him? The whole wide world?” he chuckled annoyed. You pressed your palm into your mouth, squeezing your eyes. You screamed into your hand, but no sound came out, and you couldn’t breathe in. Your body wasn’t functioning properly under Jaehyun’s stare. His eyes weren’t just full of aggression, they were full of pain. He was hurting as much as you were now, so you just tried to talk, even though it felt like someone ripped your throat from you with bare hands.

“Jaehyun, no, he put it the wrong way. It’s not like this. I never said anything like that.”

“Oh, right. You definitely told this to Doyoung? Am I right?” he wasn’t listening to what you were saying, being in his own world, laughing quietly when he thought of Doyoung.

“Jaehyun, please don’t listen to fucking Johnny. I wasn’t imagining him, I only think of you when I sleep with you, no, all the time. You’re always on my mind. I never thought of him because you didn’t satisfy me. Johnny is a fucking liar.” you cried for his mercy. You tried to touch his face, but his hand slapped you away, and you began to bend, because you weren’t able to hold your body straight with all the pain that was inside of you. His head moved closer, forcing you to straighten back up. When you felt his hot breath on your ear you froze.

“Did you tell Doyoung or no?” his cold whisper made you shiver.

“No.” you said quietly because you didn’t want him to think you were going around talking shit behind his back. He hit his hand on the door loudly, making you scream and jump. His fist landed centimeters away from your head.

“You fucking did. You tell him everything, did the two of you laugh about it?”

“Jaehyun, no, shut up. Don’t say this, don’t.” you shouted loudly, making him finally pay attention to you.

“Okay, then maybe you have something to say? Maybe you want to share, what you actually felt towards me this whole time? I knew I shouldn’t have believed you when you told me you loved me. I knew it was a fucking lie, but I still did because I needed it for my own sanity. I thought I beat Johnny here, but turns out I didn’t win this so-called battle. He was always here even though I couldn’t fucking see him. He was always on your fucking mind.” his finger touched your head, pointing to where Johnny was.

“No, please. Stop, I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t…” you laid your hand on his chest to find support, because you were genuinely unable to breath in. He probably saw you weren’t faking it, so he let you hold on to him, not pushing away. “I can’t breathe in properly, please, stop…”

“If you can’t breathe, then fucking leave.” you lifted your head to see his eyes. “Leave, better just leave, before I say too much or do something.” he moved back, and you almost fell losing support.

This was probably not a bad idea to go outside, fresh air would help you breathe. You quickly ran to his bed, picking up from the floor your clothes, quickly pulling everything on, you felt his stare burn your back, grabbing your bag from the chair, you didn’t look back, running towards the door. Getting out to the living room, you stopped for a few seconds trying to breath in, and the air in this room was fresher, so you made three small breaths, when you heard Jaehyun walk. You sprinted to the front door, quickly putting your shoes on, you opened the door, turning right before it was closed. You’ve noticed Jaehyun being squatted in the middle of the room with his face buried in his palms.

You ran down the stairs quickly, barely being able to see from the tears that were falling down your face. Finally opening the door that was leading outside, you felt cold fresh air in your lungs. You’ve remembered there was a bench right next to the house, so you ran there, falling on it lifelessly. You ran your fingers through your hair, pulling them harshly, making yourself scream in pain, inner pain. You closed your eyes, trying your best to focus on your breathing, because you still were struggling. Outside was quiet cold, and your clothes weren’t appropriate to sit and cry there for hours, so you just tried to get yourself together to walk. You wiped your face with your palms, to at least see which way to walk. Walking to your place from Jaehyun’s would normally take around 20 minutes, but you took every possible road to make it longer. You wanted to walk, even though you didn’t even see where you were going, you felt like it’s better to walk than lay in bed and cry all day long. The weather, though, wasn’t on your side, and you had to walk home, when you realized you can barely feel your legs, and hands too.

Entering your building, you tried to make the brightest expression, to not worry the security guard you had on the first floor. Walking up to the elevator though, you broke down completely. When you pressed the digit of your floor, you thought about Doyoung and you felt the urge to call him. You were doing it again, you were being selfish and thought of him only because you needed him and felt horrible, but you couldn’t stop yourself anyway, getting your phone out of your bag for the first time in at least twelve hours. You were scrolling through all the notifications you received, almost walking into the flower pot that was standing in the corner of the hall’s turn. There were 20 missed calls from Doyoung. He texted you too, you stopped, to read everything he messaged you. Your heart ached even from the first one you read.

from: D to the Y

“please don’t do anything dumb.”

“baby”

Your heart stopped beating. You imagined how it would sound, to hear Doyoung call you baby, and you cried even harder.

from: D to the Y

“I beg you”

“please reply”

from: D to the Y

“I can’t think about anything except you right now”

“please don’t fuck Jaehyun”

“I have so much to tell you”

from: D to the Y

“please tell me where jaehyun’s house is”

“I’ll come and take you from there”

from: D to the Y

“fuck Jaehyun knows”

“baby”

“Y/N”

“please, see this”

“Johnny is going crazy because he realized what he did”

“he sobered up and found me and told me he told jaehyun”

from: D to the Y

“please give me a sign you’re alive”

“I’m going crazy”

“please reply as soon as you’ll see it.”

“I can’t sleep without hearing from you.”

Your hands were shaking, you didn’t know what to text him back, you didn’t know what would be better to tell him, your hands were shaking and you didn’t find anything better than type ‘hi, I’m alive’, but you didn’t hit send, because you just felt like hearing his voice would be much better, so you dialed his number. You almost got a heart attack when you heard a phone ring down the hall. Turning to where the corridor was going, you’ve noticed someone on the chair that was standing few doors from yours. The someone in the chair moved, waking up and you realized what was going on. You stared into your phone, hanging up, and the ringing stopped. Walking quickly to the chair in the hall, you stopped in front of it. Doyoung was rubbing his eyes and it seemed like he didn’t realize yet you were in front of him.

“Oh, god, what happened?” he jumped from the chair, running his eyes around you, his hand landed on your cheek quickly, trying to wipe away the tears, but they were falling back quickly.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him, before beginning to cry bitterly. Your arms hugged his shoulders, and your face fell onto his shoulder, and you couldn’t stop crying. “Why did you come?”

“I texted you, but I guess you didn’t see. I was way too worried, and don’t know where Jaehyun live, so I figured you’ll come back home at some point, so I came to wait for you here, but I guess I fell asleep at one point.” His hands were rubbing your back, and you felt better, but still couldn’t stop crying. “Are you crying this hard just because I came to check on you?” he laughed, taking your head in his arms, to make you look at him. You were nibbling on your lower lip, trying to stop yourself from crying.

“What about Jisoo?” you didn’t know what else to ask.

“Why are you so obsessed with Jisoo?”

“I saw you two kiss, I thought you would be with her.” Doyound suddenly chuckled, smiling at you like you were a small dumb child.

“We kissed? I didn’t kiss anyone last night.” he licked his lips, and you moved a little back.

“What do you mean?” you were confused, because you thought you saw them kiss. Now you weren’t so sure. You did see Jisoo with Doyoung, but was the kiss just something you imagined…?

“I mean I didn’t kiss her. I only told her I don’t feel anything towards her in any other way than being friends, because there is someone else… that I like.” He smiled, squeezing your cheeks.

“I need to tell you a lot of things.” you whispered, hugging him again.

“Okay, but can we finally go to your apartment, the security guard is probably watching us like a soap opera right now.” Doyoung patted your back, and you smiled at him, nodding in agreement.

He helped you open the door, holding your hand when you led him to your bedroom. You tried to not touch anything with your hands because you felt dirty and was dying to shower away Jaehyun from your body.

“Doyoung” you turned to him, letting go of his hand. You stepped closer to him, holding on to his shirt, you fisted it under your fingers.

“Yes?”

“Jaehyun and I are over. For good.”

“Okay…?”

“I will tell you everything a little bit later…” you bit your lip “Can we please take a shower together? Like we used to? I touched you and now you have Jaehyun’s smell on you too, we need to wash that off our bodies, please.” you cried hysterically. “You can leave on all of your clothes, please, just be with me.”

“Okay, okay, we can do that if you want to. Can I at least put on my clothes that I have at yours? I need these to go back home.”

“No…you don’t understand, Jaehyun touched my clothes and I touched you, this means we have to wash our clothes as well.” you spoke quickly.

“Okay, I see, I get it. Let’s just put them in the washing machine, okay? We don’t have to shower with them on. Wait, let me take fresh clothes and we can go, okay?” he asked softly and you nodded yes. “Come here.” he expanded his hands and you walked quickly to him, entering your bathroom.

When you were inside, you turned on the water, fixing the temperature. Quickly you took everything off, leaving only your underwear on. Doyoung looked away, handing you blindly the shirt he brought, and you quickly put it on, noticing it was actually his shirt, when you felt material fall on your thighs. He changed his jeans to sweatpants and took off his shirt to put on the one from your wardrobe. You stared at his torso for too long without blinking, only realizing what you did when white material fell onto his stomach. He took both of your clothes in his hands to put them into the washing machine.

“Wait, I’ll come back quickly.” You nodded, and watched him leave you alone. You turned to the tub, touching the water that was falling from the shower head, you touched it mindlessly, sitting down on your knees and laying your head on the tub. You turned around when you heard Doyoung is back. “Get in” he commanded, and you stood up looking at him.

“I don’t want to sound weird…but these are the only pants that you have at my place…and if you’ll wet them, you will have to be in your underwear until they dry…”

“Yeah, you’re right.” he chuckled “I guess I have to take them off…if you’re okay with it.” You nodded yes and he took his pants off, and you turned, to finally get in the shower.

This felt more awkward than it usually did when you showered together, you were wondering if it only felt this way to you.

You got your head under the water jet, closing your eyes, trying to disappear in the water. Suddenly you felt the phantom of Jaehyun’s hands on your body, you felt his lips on your neck, and you began hysterically rubbing your body through the shirt, trying to get the feeling off. You opened your eyes, noticing how Doyoung’s shirt was almost dry, and he was just staring at you worriedly.

“Can I please take the shirt off? Please?” you were panicking and sounded like you were about to burst in tears again. Doyoung nodded his head yes in fear, and you quickly took it off, beginning to wash your body with your hands. When you could still feel Jaehyun, you began scratching your arms, stomach, and chest with your nails, leaving red marks all over your body. You opened your mouth, rinsing it.

“Wow, Y/N, calm down.” Doyoung said when he noticed what you were doing, but you didn’t react to his words “Do you hear me? Please, stop doing this. There’s nothing on your skin.”

“No, I can feel Jaehyun’s hands all over me.” you were crying again, and Doyoung’s hands grabbed yours, not letting you to continue scratching.

“Listen to me.” he stepped closer, and now he got fully wet, white soaked shirt outlining his abs. Even though this looked hot and you thought about it in the back of your head, this wasn’t something you actually were focused on right now. He let go of your hands, holding your face with his fingers. “Jaehyun is not here, he won’t touch you again, I will do anything you’ll ask me for you to stop feeling his fingers on your skin. I will kiss every centimeter of your body if you’ll let me, just for you to forget what Jaehyun’s fingers felt like.” your heart didn’t beat at all because of his words. You were hoping he’d do something, but he just stared you in the eyes, and you couldn’t just jump on him and ask him to kiss you when you were laying with Jaehyun less than 12 hours ago. You’d feel even more wrong than you did now, leaving behind the fact you still didn’t know if the someone Doyoung liked was you.

“Doyoung, I hate myself so much, can you just let me drawn in this bathtub? I hate everything about myself.”

“No, baby, I won’t let go of you.” He whispered softly and you died inside again, because hearing him call you baby was beautiful. It was exactly the same to what you imagined and you couldn’t get enough of the warmness it brought to your body.

“Say it again.” you said quietly, closing your eyes.

“I won’t let go of you.”

“No, not this.”

“My baby.” He said it almost with his lips only, but it was enough for you to hear it. You crushed your weight on him because it was impossible for you to hold on any longer. He almost fell because it was unexpected, but then he made you two sit, and with his back leaning on the tub, he pulled you on his chest, caressing your bare skin with his fingers.

***

Doyoung have basically moved to your house. You would spend every given chance together and it wasn’t in any way different to how you were hanging out a year ago, or 5 years ago. He was giving you emotional support, and you appreciated that more than anything else. You two would just lay down together for hours looking at the ceiling, discussing things that were bothering you the most. He’d bare with you jumping and singing for hours while he was trying to cook for you two. You would hang on his back like a monkey, while he was trying to brush his teeth in the evening, annoying him with your clinging.

You abandoned the whole world, skipping college. You didn’t want to go there, you weren’t ready to be in the same room, or even the same building with Jaehyun. Even though you did tell Doyoung multiple times to leave you, he wouldn’t.

He’d pretend he don’t like it, hate you sing, hate you hug him and hate you talking nonsense to him all the time, but you would glimpse him look at you with his caring eyes, he would purposely sit closer to you for you to give him attention, or lay your head on his shoulder. He would stand still for as long as it’s possible, brushing his teeth for ten minutes, just for you to not let go of him. He secretly loved it and you loved it about him even more.

None of you pushed anything. You knew he didn’t do it because he wouldn’t want to hit on you when you just broke up with Jaehyun. You didn’t want to pursue anything because you were still scared of the thought. You wouldn’t believe it’s even possible, that you liked Doyoung. You couldn’t believe your heart was longing for him in a different way now. It was weird for you when you caught yourself staring at his lips when he was sleeping. You felt weird when you’d just stare at his face when you were watching tv, getting lost in the shape of his eyes. This was weird, but it wasn’t wrong. You knew it because of the butterflies that lived inside of you rent free. When you wouldn’t feel Doyoung’s even random touch on your skin for an hour, you’d cling onto him, getting his disgusted face expression. Feeling the warmth of his skin on yours would make your heart tremble, waking up those little butterflies inside of you.

You were sitting on your bed, skipping through songs in your shuffle play. When BoA’s ‘Better’ played you left it on, getting back to your laptop to read an email from your professor.

“No, turn this off, I can’t listen to this song anymore. You have it on repeat 20 hours a day.” Doyoung sighed tiredly, making a tortured face expression. You lifted your head, shaking it no. He walked towards you and your phone, and you knew he’d try to skip the song, so you closed your laptop laying it on the floor. You grabbed your phone one second before he reached it, lifting your arm.

“Give it to me.” he expanded his arm, and you crawled back from the edge of your bed.

“No, I like this song.” he reached to you, placing his knee on the bed.

“Let me just play something else.” he tried to make a deal with you, making his ‘business’ face.

“No.”

“I want to listen to other songs too.”

“Then go home and listen to whatever song you want.” you squeezed your eyes making a sassy face expression and he suddenly got back, standing up. When he turned around and began walking you panicked being scared for him to actually leave.

You jumped from the bed, reaching for his hand but got scared and jumped back when he suddenly turned back around, looking at you with a smirk. Quickly getting next to you, he made you startled with his stare, causing you to sit down.

“Got scared I will leave?” he smirked.

“No, wanted to make sure you did actually leave.”

“Did you?”

“Huh? You can tell I didn’t make sure, you’re still here.”

“Ha-ha.” he laughed sarcastically “I mean, did you actually want me to leave?” he stared at you and you bit your lip looking at him.

You crawled back a little, crossing your legs to sit, because it was difficult to look him in the eyes from your position, but Doyoung moved closer to you again, putting his knees on the bed. You wanted to crawl back again, but his fingers grabbed your ankles, making you stretch your legs and almost lie down. He leaned on the bed with his arms, making your faces close to each other. You felt scared and excited at the same time. What was going on inside his head, did he want to do anything? You were so nervous you almost didn’t breathe.

Doyoungs hand pushed you by your shoulder, signalling for you two lay down, and you did, letting Doyoung to completely crawl over you, laying between your legs. You felt excitement in your core when he moved his face closer to yours. The tension between you two was on the maximum level, and you couldn’t keep staring at him when he was so close and about to do something you didn’t know what. You closed your eyes, letting him decide what he’ll do next, not being able to bare with him being this close.

You felt how he moved a little, and you felt his hot breath on your ear, twitching under him.

“There are so many things I want to do right now, I’m getting lost in the ocean of options.” he left a peck at the base of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. You felt how he just fell beside you, leaving you lonely. Opening your eyes you clenched your teeth.

‘Go ahead play along and beat around the bush for another decade, maybe he’ll kiss you on your 30th birthday.’ the voice in your head laughed at you, making you jump up and stare at him lie down with his face hid in his palms. You bit your lip doubting your decision at first, but then you just realised it’s one in a million chance you don’t want to skip.

You crawled over Doyoung, sitting on his stomach. He opened his eyes quickly, laying his hands on your thighs, sending shivers to your core, but moving them away quickly, laying on the mattress. You leaned lower, keeping probably 3 centimetres between your faces. Your hair fell over you two, making you sit up to put it in a bun. You leaned back, licking your lips.

“Are you a 3rd grader?” you asked mockingly.

“What? Why?” he truly didn’t understand.

“If I was a guy sleeping in the bed everyday with the girl that likes him and I would like her, I would fuck her on the second day, now, that everything is clear and obvious.”

“What is clear and obvious?”

“You know what is, don’t act dumb.”

“I actually don’t.”

“Use your brain then.” you furrowed your eyebrows. Doyoung was staring at you intensely, and when you felt how his hands stroked your thighs getting higher than they ever did in your life you felt a pool in your panties the next second.

“I reckon...” he began slowly biting on his lip, leading his hands up to your butt, stopping before getting to it, and leading the way down with his nails. “I reckon someone wants to be fucked.” you closed your eyes because you’ve never heard Doyoung saying things like that and you felt your heart sink because it sounded ecstatic to your ears. “But this someone is not getting it.” you opened your eyes quickly.

“Why is that?”

“Use your brain.” he played with his brows.

“Oh...” you paused “I guess I know why.”

“Yeah...?” he asked and you leaned closer to his ear, feeling how his hands held onto your legs tighter.

“You’re a little sneaky liar, lying to me you fuck girls, but I guess you’re a virgin, since you can’t even fuck me when I’m already on your lap.” you leaned back to see his reaction, but there wasn’t pretty much any. He smiled at you with the ‘I caught you’ smile and you knew he understood you wanted to test him.

“Yeah, you’re right.” he shook his head yes, licking his lips slowly, showing you his tongue.

“You don’t want to prove me wrong?” you said quietly leaning on your elbows now, which made both of your faces closer to each other.

“No, why?”

“Don’t know...” you sighed “you’re right tho, you can’t even kiss me... and I’m asking about THIS much.” you chuckled “Maybe I should just dry hump you to give your hand some time to rest?” you bit onto your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing but Doyoung didn’t give you any reaction. He just kept on looking at you with the smile saying ‘go on, go on, I’m listening.’ but this wasn’t the plan you had in your head. You tried to move you body lower, to get closer to his dick, trying to tease him more, but he suddenly grabbed onto your thighs, switching your positions. One of his hands landed on your cheek and you lost your ability to breath in anticipation.

“I’ll give you time to apologise for your words after the day I’ll make you cry my name out all night long.” he whispered into your lips, leaving not more than half a centimetre between you. You opened your mouth slightly expecting to finally feel his lips on yours. He drove you crazy and you were ready to cry for his kiss. You closed your eyes again, when you felt him move a millimetre closer. When you almost felt his lips on yours, the room got stunned with the ringing of your phone, making you jump under Doyoung, and more importantly, making him let go of you.

“Go on, pick this one.” he said calmly, and you were ready to kill whoever was calling you. You groaned, getting up to reach your phone on the night stand.

“Yes Johnny.” you were disappointed he called for other reasons, not even having a second to think about what he did.

“Wow, you picked up, I’m surprised.” he sighed nervously.

“Ugh...yeah...I did. What do you want?”

“Can we please talk?”

“We are.”

“I know we are talking right now, but I have to explain myself.”

“Yeah, you kinda are.” you turned your head to the sound of Doyoung leaving your room.

“Look, I have no idea why I did that. I honestly didn’t want you and Jaehyun to...” hearing his name made you uncomfortable, you didn’t hear anything he said afterwards.

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to talk this over the phone.”

“Okay, do you want to meet in the park...?”

“No, it’s too cold, let’s go to the diner?”

“Yeah, cool, when?”

“Uhm... don’t know...in an hour?”

“Yeah, deal.”

“Cool, see you.” you almost hang up when you heard Johnny speak again.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“See you, Johnny.”

“See you.” you locked your phone throwing it on the bed.

You ran your eyes across the room, hearing quiet noises of the tv from the living room, signalling that Doyoung is there. You felt like you haven’t been outside for years, so you felt like putting a little bit of effort to it. You sat in front of your mirror with a make up bag, putting foundation, blusher, mascara and eyeliner on. Finishing with your brows you felt human again, brushing half of your hair in a high ponytail. You put everything away, standing up to pick out what you’ll wear, when you heard how Doyoung got back into the room. You glared at him through the mirror, still deciding on what to wear. He sat on your bed, watching you.

“Where you’re going?” he asked curiously

“On a date.” you said carelessly getting your v-neck tee out.

“What?” he raised his eyebrows more in a sarcastic than jealous expression.

“I have a date.” you furrowed your brows trying to seem you don’t know why he’s bothered with it.

“What?” he sounded like someone put him on repeat.

“You stuck?” you turned to look at him properly.

“Why?”

“Oh, good, you’re not.” you turned back, getting a shirt out.

“With who?”

“One and the only, Johnny Suh.” you chuckled closing the door and turning to lay your clothes on the bed. Doyoung stood up going your way.

“You’re serious right now?” he stopped you from walking with his body. Taking clothes from your hands he threw them onto your bed. You tried to protest but Doyoung’s hands landed on your forearms forcing you to put down your hands.

“Why not? I’m a single girl and I can’t be single forever. I need to take my opportunities.” you stared him in the eyes.

“No.” he took a few steps further.

“Hm?” you felt how your back touched the wall.

“You’re mine, didn’t you understand this yet?” you felt like someone punched the air out of your lungs. You wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say so you just stared back at him. When he leaned closer, touching your waist with his fingers, your hand automatically landed on his neck, gripping.

“I am, but you won’t claim what’s yours.” you sighed in his ear.

“You’re not an object.” he moved his head back.

“Doyoung...one kiss won’t change anything for you and will change everything for me.” you sighed, stroking his cheek, trying to pull him closer.

“No, I’ve dreamt of you wanting me for way too many years to give you what you want this quickly.” he wanted you all these years...?

“What if I’ll force-kiss you now?”

“Then you’ll ruin our first kiss.” you bit onto your cheek debating. “Go on.”

“I have to go, Johnny’s going to wait.” you tried to walk past him and he let you, watching you change clothes from the back. He stood there quietly watching you and when you were ready, you walked back to him, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll let Johnny know I’m yours when he’ll begin undressing me.” you chuckled, leaving a peck on his cheek.

You let go of him, walking towards the door to get your shoes on. Doyoung was walking behind you not saying anything.

“I’ll go home.” he let you know quietly.

“Will you come back?”

“Don’t know, if you’ll call me.”

“Of course I will.” you smiled at him, hugging his neck. “Or maybe I’ll come uninvited so be ready.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

***

You’ve met Johnny at the diner, startling him with how loudly you sat in front of him.

“Hi.” he said nervously not knowing if he should try to greet you with a hug or keep sitting.

“Hi.”

“Wanna order first?”

“Yeah, I’m actually hungry.”

You two ordered food, and Johnny began talking while you were waiting. He said so many things, he seemed sincere. You didn’t have any other options than believe him, when he was ready to fall onto his knees right on the dirty floor of this cafe.

“Johnny, come on.” you stopped him quickly with your hand, making him sit back on the couch “You don’t have to do it to this extent. I didn’t even think about blaming you, at the end of the day, it was me who said it to you in the first place. What’s more important is that I actually think it’s for the better, that Jaehyun is aware of what I told you. This probably worked out better than it could’ve. You made my job easier, John, so, yeah, kinda thank you.” you chuckled, squeezing his palm that was laying on the table.

“What do you mean?” he smiled at you confused.

“The book I told you about, I made that up. It was about me.” he giggled and you laughed with him.

“I reckoned that.”

“I guessed it, but it’s not important anymore since everything is kinda turning out the way it’s post to be. Me and Jaehyun were never meant to be, it was nice, but I guess it wasn’t meant to last long.” you let go of Johnny’s hand when you felt like you held onto it for too long.

“Yeah...” Johnny looked at you biting on his lip.

“This is actually ridiculous.” you chuckled.

“What?”

“That I fell for my friend again.”

“You did?”

“Yes. At least I know now for sure that he likes me back.” you laughed sipping on your drink.

“Good.” Johnny smiled too, and the both of you finished your food chatting like you usually would.

Eventually you decided to go home, texting Doyoung. You really wanted to see him, feeling like you actually missed him when you haven’t seen him for 2 hours only.

You & Johnny walked outside, with Johnny being a gentleman and holding a door for you. Exiting the diner, you turned to face him. You wanted to walk alone, meaning to say goodbye to Johnny now.

“Thanks for hanging out.” you smiled “It was really nice to see you, and clear everything between us.” you hugged Johnny.

“Yeah, no problem.” he smiled “I’m not sure everything is clear though. After what you said, I’m even more confused now.” you moved your head back trying to see his face still hugging him.

“What do you mean?” you asked furrowing your brows.

“This.” Johnny leaned and kissed you. He just went for it, boldly pressing his lips into you. You gripped onto his shoulder tighter trying to get him off you, but Johnny was holding you in his arms too strongly to even notice. You hit his shoulder again, trying to tell him to stop, and he finally noticed.

“No, Johnny, I told you I don’t like you...what the hell?” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You said you liked a friend that likes you back. Who else could it be? There’s literally no one...the one that is not taken is Doyoung.” he paused looking confused at you furrowing his eyebrows. “Wait, did you actually mean Doyoung?” his eyes were genuinely shocked.“Oh fuck...I misunderstood you...oh god, I’m so sor...” he didn’t finish his sentence, because someone grabbed him by the collar.

“Jaehyun, what the hell?!?” you exclaimed, trying to grab onto his arm. “Let go of him.” he shook your hand off his shoulder.

“I can’t fucking believe you actually fucked Johnny this whole time.” he turned his head at you, his eyes were furious.

“Yo, dude, chill.” Johnny was calm and laughed at the end of his sentence, which, genuinely, was a fatal mistake.

Jaehyun took it as an offence, and his fist landed on Johnny’s jaw. Your scream deafened the whole street. Johnny didn’t fall, he grabbed Jaehyun back, because he wasn’t going to lose when someone blamed him over nothing.

“Johnny, please, don’t fight with him, his not himself.” you pleaded the taller guy, but he wasn’t going to lose staring Jaehyun in the eyes.

“You want to fucking fight? You’ll regret it though, on so many levels, so think twice before your face meet with my fist.” Johnny shouted at him vigorously.

“You think I’m scared?” Jaehyun laughed him in the face.

“Johnny, please, I beg you, let go of him. This is a fight over nothing. Jaehyun, you’re wrong. I never slept with Johnny stop this and let’s talk. Please, Jaehyun, please.” you pleaded with tears in your eyes.

Jaehyun pushed Johnny, and then, you were taken aback, because Johnny punched Jaehyun in his teeth, making him fall. You ran to Johnny, trying to stop him from continuing.

“Please, just go. You don’t have to witness this.”

“Let’s go together.” you asked him feeling tears fall down your cheeks.

“Yeah, run like a little bitch that you are, with your little whore. You two are a great couple. A rat and a whore, I like that.” you turned noticing Jaehyun sitting up, wiping the blood off his face.

“What are you saying, Jaehyun? I’ve never slept with Johnny, I never even kissed him. I never knew you were this much of a disgusting person.”

“Me? A disgusting person? I’ve never done anything but loved you.”

“Yes, until the day you forced me to do things.”

“What things?” Johnny chimed in.

“You want to know what things she did with me in my bed?”

“Dude, calm down.”

“Oh, right, yall talk about it on the daily. I guess you already know what I did to her, or maybe you want to get more detail?”

“Jaehyun, shut up. Johnny is not even my fucking boyfriend, I don’t even like him. What the fuck are you trying to do?” you shouted at him when he stood up.

“Go away.”

“No, don’t start this stupid fight over nothing.”

“I already began it so just fucking move.” you shook your head no and Jaehyun grabbed you harshly moving away, causing Johnny to groan and hit Jaehyun again. The next second, after you were able to stand up from Jaehyun’s push, you noticed how they were a mess. They were punching each other, Johnny sat on top of Jaehyun, beating the shit out of him. People ran out of the diner, calling police and breaking them from each other.

You were standing next to all the by-watchers, when police arrived. You tried to tell them it was your fault, but Jaehyun kept his mouth shut, and Johnny kept on saying the fight was based off of them accidentally bumping into each other while walking. So they listened to him, taking both of them to the police station.

You didn’t know what to do, so you went to Doyoung. He would let you just sit in quietness and get yourself together.

“What happened?” he opened the door noticing your face expression.

“Can we just sit quietly and watch tv?”

“Yeah, sure.” Doyoung helped you take your jacket off, and led you to the couch, making you sit. “Do you want to drink something warm?”

“No, I want to hug you.”

“Okay.” he sat next to you, and you moved closer to him, placing your head on his shoulder, hugging Doyoung’s waist. “May I ask just one question?” you lifted your head.

“Yeah.”

“Did Johnny do anything to you?”

“No, it’s not about Johnny.”

“Okay…”

“You’re not going to ask, just because you’ve asked for one question only?” Doyoung nodded making you smile. And this smile was a genuine one, you could feel your entire being be happy just looking at Doyoung. “You are so cute.” you mumbled lifting your head from his shoulder. You stared him in the eyes, moving the blanket that was laying on both of your legs to the side. You crawled over Doyoung, sitting on his lap. You felt way too nervous, your palms were sweating and you felt like your heart can jump out of your chest if you’ll make a sharp move. Doyoung placed his hands on your knees, moving them gently up your thighs to your back, holding lightly your waist. Your hands found their place on his neck, and you hugged him, laying your palms on your own shoulders, leaving your faces a couple of centimeters away from each other. “You are so caring, and you’re smart, and gentle, and always there for the people you care about, and your kindness is enough to make this whole world better.” Doyoung smiled trying to look away, but your hands were forcing him to face you, so he just focused his eyes behind your back. “And you’re always there even for selfish friends that come to you to cry about their boyfriends, even though you love them, but you’re still ready to help them because you’re the greatest person in the whole wide world. I always thought and told you that I’m so lucky to have you to myself, but I never imagined and never even thought I do actually own you all to myself.” He was looking at you now. “I wish you told me earlier but then at the same time I’m glad you never did, because this way I came to it naturally. I didn’t even realize that you felt anything towards me, it’s ridiculous how blind I am, and I’m genuinely impressed with you being able to hold back for so many years, because the only thing I wanted to do for these past weeks was to kiss you, and I understand why you’re making me wait, but I have something to tell you.” You paused and Doyoung nodded barely noticeable. “I’m sorry I took so long, but I want you to know that I love you.” He opened his mouth to talk but you stopped him. “Not in the way I always loved you. I love you so much it makes me feel miserable because my tiny heart can’t take all the love I feel for you, so I want you to know. I love you, Doyoung and if you’ll take me as your girlfriend you’ll make me the happiest human being on earth.” You stopped and stared him in the eyes. He kept the room quite not replying to you, and you felt like you would pass out if he’d reject you, or will tell you he meant something different with his actions.

Doyoung’s hands moved from your waist to your face, and he stroked your cheek gently getting your face even closer to his.

“I love you.” he said almost with his lips only.

“I’m yours.” you whispered in his lips and he finally touched your lips with his, gently holding your face in place.

__ okaaaay, this story is finally done

This ending felt like the least forced one? I don’t know how to name it correctly, but it felt natural and right to me.

I hope you’re not too upset with the way JohnJae love triangle story turned into DoJae love triangle and then ended with this.

please let me know what you think of this last chapter <3

Thank you so much for reading this and I will post a new story very-very soon <3

#nct x reader #nct au #nct imagines #nct taeyong #nct smut #nct angst #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct johnny #nct 127 #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun #doyoung smut #doyoung #johnny suh smut #johnny suh

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princesssarisa · 3 years

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I've been thinking lately about @astrangechoiceoffavourites' suggestion that many readers of Wuthering Heights want Heathcliff and Catherine's love story to be less of a conventional love story than it is. Of course it's not a conventional love story and it's unfortunate that adaptations and pop culture tend to reduce it to just that. But it's really the emotional content, the personalities of the characters, and the way it's written that make it unique. As far as its basic plot and structure are concerned (I'm only talking about the love story at this point, not the book as a whole), it's not too different from countless other love stories written both before and afterwards. Boy and girl fall in love/girl is courted by another, richer suitor/girl is caught in the middle of a good boy-bad boy, rich suitor-poor suitor love triangle/girl misguidedly chooses the rich one/boy is angry and jealous/the rivals fight/girl gets romantically sick and dies/boy romantically grieves. Personally I see no problem with this conventionality, because again, the unique characters and the writing (and the fact that it's only the first half of the novel) set it apart from other love stories.

But maybe in some of the more far-fetched interpretations of Heathcliff and Cathy's characters, there is an element of resisting the plot's conventional aspects. When people find "deeper" reasons for why Cathy chooses not to marry Heathcliff (e.g. that she doesn't really love him romantically, or that she can't marry him because they're "the same person," or that she loves Edgar just as much and can't choose between them), maybe they are resisting the idea that something as commonplace as Heathcliff's lack of money and status could separate them. And maybe they are reluctant to accept that a female character as convention-defying and emotionally powerful as Catherine Earnshaw meets the mundane, pathetic fate of dying for love of a man.

I don't personally mind either of those things. As @astrangechoiceoffavourites has repeatedly pointed out, the fact that Heathcliff loses Catherine because of his lack of money and status sets the entire rest of the plot in motion: he devotes the rest of his life to acquiring all the status and worldly possessions that once belonged to his rivals, which wouldn't make much sense if he had lost Catherine for any other reason than his lack thereof. And it's evident that Catherine's breakdown is as much about the loss of her childhood freedom as about the loss of Heathcliff (not that the two aren't inextricably intertwined).

That said, I do empathize in some other ways with feeling annoyed by the story's more seemingly conventional aspects. For example, this is why I favor the interpretation that Catherine's ghost is real, not just a figment of Heathcliff and Lockwood's imaginations, and that she actively influences what happens in the second half. Of course this is deliberately open to interpretation, but I do think it's disappointing to assume that a character as powerful as Catherine Earnshaw ultimately becomes just another of Romantic literature's "lost loves" for male characters to mourn for. And I slightly resist the thought that Heathcliff would have been "saved" if only he had heard Cathy say "...and so he'll never know how much I love him," instead of running off after hearing her say it would degrade her to marry him. The trope of "out-of-context eavesdropping" is so mundane; it does seem slightly ridiculous to think that the entire tragedy of Heathcliff and Catherine is caused by the same kind of clichéd misunderstanding that almost broke up Shrek and Fiona! That's why I prefer to see like ambiguity (as in a thousand other aspects of this novel) about whether hearing Catherine's declaration of love would have made any real difference to Heathcliff or not. It wouldn't have changed her choice to marry Edgar, and when Heathcliff comes back three years later, he realizes quickly that she does love him after all, yet this doesn't stop his revenge. If anything, it makes it worse: the knowledge of her love for him seems to make him more bitter about having lost her to Edgar, not less.

Still, even if Heathcliff's villainous turn does hinge on the stock trope of overhearing an incomplete conversation, and even if Catherine is reduced in death to a standard Romantic lost love, the uniqueness of the book as a whole does transcend its more conventional aspects. Wishing it were even more original than it is might be understandable, but it doesn't really need to be any different.

#wuthering heights #heathcliff #catherine earnshaw #romance tropes #originality

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eskel-and-goat · 3 years

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Thinkin’ soft moments like times Jaskier gets Geralt to laugh, like a deep belly laugh, or its surprised out of him.

Something like maybe.... Jaskier wakes up in the middle of the night, with travel time sometimes his sleeping schedule gets off centre, so he sits up and rubs his eyes and accepts that was all he’s gonna get for the night. After sitting for a moment, he realizes that Geralt is awake too, tending to the fire to keep light. It was smaller than when it was first made, so the light from it was dim, perfect for seeing both sleep deprived men but keeping everything beyond that in the shadows.

He’s spent more nights than he could count like this with Geralt, mainly on the path but sometimes in the villiages they stay in, too. Though, normally Jaskier tries to find something(someone) who will give him a good enough time to knock out after. That being said, during these times it’s normal for them to be, well quiet. No, Jaskier is no quiet man, but just being able to sit there with Geralt and just have that small peace— it was kind of nice.

So when Geralt mumbles something to him, well he wasn’t awake enough to hear.

“Hm? What was that, darling?” Jaskier asks, turning his head to the side, tired eyes watching Geralt. Geralt moves with him, slumping back against the small tree behind him and crossing his (sexy) arms over his broad triangle frame, and says “look up.”

So that’s what they do. After Jaskier looks up, Geralt convinces him to stand and takes him to a place he found while trying to hunt for their dinner. It was a small field filled with normal field things, probably a bit smaller than the courtyard of Kaer Morhen. The sky was over all clear with a few clouds here and there, and the moon was at a perfect place to cast its lovely shine on the overgrowth.

Jaskier shoots Geralt a small questioning look, but is lightly shoved in response, and follows Geralt into the field. The patches of tall gross come up to about Jaskier’s lower thigh, so when he wasn’t watching his step he was watching it wave in the howling wind. Doesn’t take Geralt long either to stop them and flop onto the dusty ground. Jaskier isn’t so tough like that so he crumbles to the ground with more grace and lays on his back with Geralt, and they begin to talk.

Waking up in the middle of the night for Jaskier was weird enough, but waking up and going to a secret place and star gazing while you talk about random things to someone you have grown to love, one could say Jaskier was having a good night. Time has passed and the topic Jaskier and Geralt are now on going something like...... hmm... “it starts when you’re young, you follow people’s reactions, or listen to them. An example is like being told dogs are a good thing to play and love on, so you make that apart of the ‘good’ or ‘safe’ for yourself—“

“mhm, mhm.”

“—but you’re also told that, something like ants are bad, either taught so or you’ve learned on your own. If my songs could change some people’s opinions, imagine the days where parents tell their kids that’s a Witcher’s coming to save them and instead of that taught fear now, it’s joy and happiness.” Jaskier finishes, hands connecting over his stomach as he retraces a constellation with his eyes.

“Mm. Some places are like that now, have I told you about the little girl who came up to me?” Geralt continues, tilting his head a little towards Jaskier, who tilts back towards him. “What? What happened?” Jaskier watches as Geralt moves back with a small smile, slowly blinking up at the stars. “She thanked me.”

Jaskier smiles to himself, rolling into his own space again and laying in silence once again. He knew Geralt was happy for the change, thankful for it. He deserved all of it, really, and Jaskier was happy to give him that. After a moment, Geralt licks his lips, “say, if you were to tell a kid about Witcher’s for the first time, what would you tell them?”

Curiosity always got the best of everything, and it’s also easily contagious. “Well, what wouldn’t I say? Hmmm, how they help with keeping their homes safe? How strong and powerful witchers are? I...” he paused, his hand coming up to tap at his chin in thought before turning to Geralt. “I’d probably tell them You smell.”

And that’s what gets him. Geralt’s head leans back and his face breaks into a wide grin, a booming laugh comes out and it’s a good laugh. Jaskier is so taken back, smiling and absolutely enraptured by the sound, the sight and Geralt. The laugh was short, but forever shall it reply and reply in Jaskier’s head as one of his favourite sounds, he also gets a small shove after Geralt’s reducers to chuckles.

This kinda turned out longer than I though, but I hope you guys like it. It was a cute idea to write down.

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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X-Men Abridged: 1979

The X-Men, those globe-trotting mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 117 - 128, X-Man Annual 3) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Terry Austin, George Perez

See Jean? Dark Phoenix is nothing: this is how you turn evil properly. (X-Men 123)

So, these things have been getting longer. Whoops.

Last year, plotlines tended to bleed over in one another, but this year is a lot more arc-based, jumping from location to location. This is basically X-Men: World Tour. After hitting Antarctica and the Savage Land, our team of merry mutants visits Japan, Canada, Egypt, Scotland and even a theme park! (And really, both Murder World and Disney Land are run by capitalist scumbags who pretend to be in it for the art, the only difference being that Arcade purposefully murders his guests.)

But, before we check in with the X-Men, we return to the Institute. See, there’s a mutual misunderstanding that wouldn’t be out of place in a Shakespearian tragedy: Jean and Charles think Beast and Jean were the only survivors of their fight with Magneto in Antarctica, while the rest of the X-Men believe they were the only survivors and Jean and Beast perished. Since the X-Men have been trapped in the Savage Land, nobody has been able to clear up the confusion.

With their grief driving a wedge between her and Charles, Jean leaves the mansion to deal with her feelings on her own. (She’ll end up on Muir Isle.)

This is adorable! And, if the whole "Empress of the known Universe "-thing blows up in her face, she can always become a barista at Starbucks. (X-Men 117)

Lilandra successfully persuades Xavier to leave Earth as her consort, now that there is nothing left for him. Xavier agrees, but not before having a flashback to the time he met another telepath named Amahl Farouk in Egypt. (The Shadow King isn’t relevant just yet, but he’ll become an important villain later on.)

The X-Men, meanwhile, cross a treacherous ocean on a raft and are picked up by a Japanese vessel. The Japanese do not allow them to call anyone, for some reason. Sure. When they finally dock in Japan - six weeks later - some arms dealer named Magnum Moses has put Agarishima is on fire. Like, literally an inferno of such big proportions that even Storm can’t do much.

What follows is an uninspired, slipshod adventure. For some reason, Misty Knight and Colleen Wing are there too, because the president needed American detectives to investigate Magnum Moses (?) and for some reason, Misty doesn’t know Jean thinks Scott is dead, nor does she mention she just saw Jean to Scott. AUGH. It will take almost a year for Scott to figure out Jean isn’t dead and it becomes increasingly more contrived. I get that Claremont needed to isolate Jean to make her susceptible to, er, a certain someone’s machinations, but holy fuck do I have to suspend my disbelief for all of this bullshit.

The only good things about this little arc are:

Sunfire is still a dick.

Wolverine meets Mariko Yashida, a Japanese girl who actually reciprocates his feelings, as opposed to Jean. I’ve mostly been ignoring his budding feelings for Jean, because I stopped finding love triangles interesting since I was 16 and watched The OC, so I can only applaud this development. Mariko brings out Wolverine’s soft side and it’s very adorable. Later on, she moves to NYC for some reason and they start dating.

There is something sweetly disarming about calling Wolverine ‘beautiful’. (X-Men 120)

Anyway, Magnum is holding Japan hostage: either they give him what he wants - I think that might be money, sorry, wasn't paying attention - or he sinks Japan by activating the fault lines and you guys, I am sooo bored. Unsurprisingly, the X-Men stop him and for once, it’s Banshee who gets to play the most important part.

It’s a good thing I was terrible at science, otherwise I might have to point out that earthquakes and sonic waves don’t work that way! I simply get to be entertained by little rascal Colossus, plugging his ears like a toddler, and Sunfire’s gritty determination to not be impressed by some silly screaming Irishman. (X-Men 119)

Banshee pays a steep price for the victory, however: his vocal chords end up damaged, leaving him effectively powerless for the remainder of the year.

Oh, and here’s interesting fact about the above spread: you may or may not know that Chris Claremont and John Byrne were notoriously terrible at working together; this issue became a particular sore point between the creators. See, Byrne wanted to run the above panel without the sound of ‘Kra-Koom’, believing the art was strong enough to convey the destruction. He was livid when the finished product ended up containing a sound effect after all. I get your frustration, man, but if you want a writer who knows how to say less with more, you should maybe not work with Claremont?

(One of the reasons Claremont liked being so verbose and descriptive in his scripts was because otherwise, the artist would fill in the blanks using his own imagination. It’s no wonder these two found it hard to work together.)

On the flight to the US of A, Colleen Wing hits on Cyclops. It has to be the jawline, right? It can’t be the personality. All of a sudden, a snow storm causes their plane to be diverted to Calgary. The cause of this delay is Alpha Flight, who want their Wolverine back!

When even the narration is all “and they think they’re equal to any team of superheroes”, you know you’re a bunch of C-listers. Ugh. (X-Men 121)

Vindicator, previously known as Captain Alpha. He changed his name after accidentally shooting Moira that one time, which is exactly the kind of hollow gesture this dude would make. Ugh. If you think his new-found remorse won’t let him threaten an airplane chock full of innocent passengers, you would be wrong.

Shaman, doctor by day, magic user by night. Him and his magical little pouch are to blame for the snow storm.

Sasquatch, Canada’s answer to the Hulk. (Hilariously, the theory on why he turns furry instead of green is because he’s closer to the Aurora Borealis and this somehow messes with the radiation?)

Snowbird, a young Arctic goddess. Precious. To be cherished. Barely there for this adventure, sadly.

Northstar, an arrogant, hot-headed speedster, the twin brother of

Aurora, a lover, not a fighter. Together, they have light powers.

Vindicator and Shaman hog most of the spotlight, so Alpha Flight continues to be the ever-loving worst. They’re really wasting Northstar’s first appearance here. Here's why they suck:

Alpha Flight accidentally smashes a plane and keeps threatening to drag Wolverine back to the military against his will.

They push the cover price of the comic to a whoppin’ 40 cents.

Johnny fuckin’ Hudson even provokes Storm into an attack in the middle of a mall.

Shaman lets his blizzard get out of control.

After Storm fixes this mistake for him, Northstar has the gall to knock her out, “because she’s obviously the strongest”. Like, you’re not wrong, but damn, y’all a bunch of unpleasant superheroes.

To stop the fight, Wolverine decides to turn himself in. The X-Men leave, but while flying back, they already make plans to save their teammate. Wolverine saves them the trouble, casually sauntering into the cockpit while claiming that pulling a fast one on them was the easiest thing ever.

To be fair, I understand why you’d want to put a country between yourself and those bozos.

And finally, the X-Men are home! Xavier left them the equivalent of a Post-It saying “off to space”, so they try to pick up their life as best they can. None of them contact Jean’s parents, make an attempt to visit her grave or happen to see Beast on TV and by now, my suspension of disbelief is stretched so far that it could replace Reed Richards on the Fantastic Four.

Ororo, meanwhile, makes a little pilgrimage to Harlem, to the building she grew up in before she moved to Cairo.

I have failed you as a recapper, because I have absolutely no idea how to parse this scene. (X-Men 122)

I think I’d have to write a full-on thesis before I could properly analyse this, because so many things intersect here: poverty and racism, the boundaries of a superhero comic, confronting a (shared) past. I can’t even fully gauge if this is a clumsy, privileged attempt at tackling a serious topic or rather, a valuable moment in a comic that continually tries to expand on its themes of racism, exclusion and prejudice. One thing I will note is:

Luke Cage delivers the sort of trite conclusion that they’re superheroes: they’re better at fighting Galactus than at fixing the human condition. Point is, he kind of has to believe that, doesn’t he? It’s the sort of blind spot we all permit ourselves: you can’t fix everything. None of us have the power to fix the earth, or humanity, or the economy, or whatever: if you’re lucky, you can maybe tend to your own garden and leave it better than you found it, ensuring some happiness for yourself and a few loved ones.

Chasing bank robbers is easy. Superhero stuff. But here? Who do you attack here? These kids, or the system that failed them? You can’t really punch a needle exchange into being. Maybe that’s the appeal of superhero comics: there’s a clear villain, which is so sorely lacking in our day to day lifes. There, we are ruled by systems that are rooted in inequality, patriarchy, gender...

But Storm isn’t like Luke Cage, not in this regard. Before she became an X-Man, she used her powers to help people that came to her. And the whole point of the X-Men - other than beating up villains in colorful spandex - is that they want to change the system. They want to fix things, they want to fix a dark part of human nature, the part that hates which we fear.

Storm doesn’t really respond to Luke Cage here, but we know she’ll keep fighting the good fight, despite insurmountable odds. You can’t fix mankind, I don’t think, but you can sure as hell try.

*coughs*

Anyway!

Black Tom and Juggernaut hire Arcade… to kill the X-Men! I’m not sure why? I thought these two usually attempted to solve things on their own and Arcade’s fee is, like, a million bucks, so…? Maybe Black Tom asked his boyfriend what he wanted for his birthday and Juggernaut clenched his fists and said “I WANT THE X-MEN DEAD” and things escalated from there.

So, Arcade is a subtle villain. While Scott and Colleen Wing are on a date, this happens:

I can’t decide which is funnier: kidnapping people by sneaking up on them with A GARBAGE TRUCK or the fact that Spider-Man deduces this is Arcade’s doing by the noise alone. (X-Men 123)

Spider-Man doesn’t really figure into the rest of the plot, by the way.

Arcade successfully kidnaps all of the X-Men (and their dates: Colleen, Amanda and Betsy). Who is this Arcade? Well, he is an assassin who lets his victims run through a gauntlet of some sort, testing them with potentially deadly results in his Murderworld. He’s like a discount-combo of Saw and the Joker, except a lot less competent and a lot more spoiled rich kid. He barely kills anyone, ever, until maaaybe Avengers Arena, some forty years later.

Arcade veers heavily to the silly side of the silly-to-sinister scale, but he at least commits to a theme. Bonus is that trapping your heroes in a bunch of ricocheting balls fubars them ever-so beautifully. (X-Men 123)

This whole adventure is very silly and has very little bearing on the overarching plot, but it’s a fun enough romp: Cyclops nearly gets squashed by a hydraulic press, Nightcrawler gets attacked by bumper cars with chain saws attached to them, stuff like that. The absolute best part is when Colossus is hypnotized by an illusion of the KGB and becomes THE PROLETARIAN.

His insignia is Vladimir Lenin, y’all.

After various shenanigans, everybody is freed from their respective booby traps, everyone except Colossus. See, Piotr has been feeling down, torn between the exciting new loyalty to the X-Men and the more dutiful loyalty to his family and his motherland. (Also, he’s been feeling like a failure because he came up short a couple a times, aw.) Those feelings are exactly what Arcade has been abusing, but when Colossus comes in for the kill, Storm gives the most heartfelt plea:

I’m not crying, you’re crying. (X-Men 124)

Arcade’s all: “Eh, can’t win ‘em all” and yeets the X-Men out of Murderworld. The story has barely any other repercussions, except we stop seeing Colleen Wing and Betsy (Piotr’s date) after this. To be fair, being kidnapped by a super villain is a good reason to stop seeing someone.

Even more inconsequential is the adventure in the Annual. The only important thing to glean from there is that, when Thor is unavailable, Storm is a suitable substitution. Couldn’t agree more.

The quality of the comic has been steadily ascending throughout the year and ends on a supremely high note: Proteus. Because I think it might be Claremont’s best work so far, I’ll be dedicating a full post to that. (Man, that 10-picture-limit is a real bummer, huh?)

Ugliest Costume: I don’t care, I just want someone to cosplay the Proletarian.

Best new character: There’s actually a few options - Snowbird, Northstar, Proteus - but both Jean-Paul and Narya don’t really show their best sides this year, so I’m going in a different direction. My pick is the Shadow King. He is a very effective foil to Xavier, perhaps even moreso than Magneto. I know I rag on Xavier and his cavalier attitude to bending others to his will a lot, but imagine if you had his powers: wouldn’t you just make people do whatever you want? Just, like, all the time? The Shadow King is an effective reminder of what Charles would have been like, had he been immoral. (Well, more immoral.)

No matter how cool your psychic battle may be, this is what it looks like to the rest of the world. (X-Men 117)

Turns evil: Colossus, for the first time!

What to read: 117, 125 - 129.

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