#one of the few arts of mine that i still like and look at fondly tbh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

i am Dying to see eddie and steve swap battle vest and letterman jacket and eddie supporting steve at all his games and swim meets just as much as steve supports eddie’s things….maybe more of a modern au? because that shit would not fly in 1985 lmao. steve deserves a bf who is proud of him i think.

THANK YOU!!! I am not having the best day mentally today but I have been staring at this prompt since like six a.m. and I knew what I wanted to do, but I don't know that I got all the way there. It feels a little clunky to me, but I hope it's still fun! - Mickala ❤️

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

Eddie Munson met Steve Harrington his junior year. They were unlikely friends; Eddie was one of the few gay people who were out in Hawkins, a metalhead who played guitar in a band, a guy who didn’t really fit in with any one group of people, but his access to good weed made him a guy everyone at least talked to. Steve was a basketball playing, swim captain, jock who had loaded parents and stuck up friends.

Eddie hated sports, he hated jocks, and he hated Steve’s friends.

But he loved Steve.

He didn’t say so, of course. Steve was straight as could be, and he was a good friend, maybe even his best friend besides Gareth and Jeff.

They made fun of Eddie constantly over it.

“Oh, it must be Steve time, he’s checking his hair like he could ever fix that mess,” or “Steve texting you dirty pics or are you just sunburnt?”

It was annoying.

But it also kind of sucked.

Steve was kind of a mystery in some ways. Sure, he was rich, or at least his parents were, but he didn’t seem happy.

He once told Eddie the happiest he’d ever been was the day they hung out after he scored the winning basket for a game. All they’d done then was smoke a little at Eddie’s trailer and have pizza, but whatever. If that’s what made him happiest, Eddie could do that every day.

When Eddie found out he wasn’t graduating, he showed up at Steve’s house with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to tell Wayne,” he sobbed as Steve held him close, whispering that he would be fine and now they could be seniors together, that Wayne wouldn’t be mad.

Steve kissed his forehead.

Eddie’s brain was short circuiting. He stared at Steve, who was giving him a calm smile.

How was Steve so calm?

“Was that like a comfort thing or…” Eddie started, not sure what else to say.

“It was more of an ‘I’m super in love with you and hate seeing you upset’ thing,” Steve said, like it wasn’t a big deal, like he hadn’t just admitted he was in love with Eddie, like he hadn’t just completely changed everything Eddie thought he knew.

Eddie just blinked back at him.

Steve sighed, but smiled fondly at Eddie, like Eddie was adorable or something.

“I didn’t really expect the blank look when I told you.”

“What did you expect?”

“Maybe that you’d let me kiss you? For real?”

Eddie didn’t hesitate, leaning in to press his lips against Steve’s.

“I’m super in love with you, too, by the way,” Eddie said when he finally pulled away.

—----------

All summer, Eddie booked his band at any bar or local festivals he could.

He told Steve it was because he knew he wouldn’t go to college, knew he would be stuck with a job like Wayne if he didn’t find a way out of this town.

He wanted Corroded Coffin to make it, to be seen by just the right person, to open for bands he’d only dreamt of seeing live. Maybe one day have their own tour.

Steve wanted that for him.

Steve’s parents almost never came home during the summer, usually only for a day or two around Steve’s birthday to keep up appearances that they cared about him.

But Eddie was playing at a small local art vendor show a few towns over on his birthday, and had insisted that Steve go so they could make a whole day of it and celebrate his day after their set.

Steve couldn’t say no.

He left a note for his parents, threw on Eddie’s battle vest (“you’re mine and this will show everyone that you belong to me”), and drove to Eddie’s house so he could ride in his van with him.

It was the first show he was attending as Eddie’s boyfriend.

They even put him in the band group chat and jokingly called him the band’s boyfriend.

He loved that he fit in with all of them so well, how kind they all were to him, even though he didn’t share many of their interests.

The vest felt good, it made him feel loved and protected, which he’s pretty sure is what Eddie was hoping for.

His parents called him on the drive to the event, but he ignored it, knowing they would ruin his day if he answered.

They were either home and mad that he wasn’t or they were calling to tell him they wouldn’t be home for a while and a present that he didn’t even like would be delivered soon.

But he didn’t want that and he didn’t want Eddie to be mad at them. Today was supposed to be fun. It was about Eddie and his band, his friends, showing their talent and having fun on stage. It was about Steve getting to be a part of it and enjoy himself, maybe even walk around the vendors and buy something for himself.

He wore the battle vest as armor, just as Eddie had, and as anyone who knew the importance of them did.

He wore it to support Eddie, his boyfriend, who put his heart and soul into his music and into Steve.

He wore it because he’d never known what it was to love someone so much, or be loved by them in return, but he felt it most when he was surrounded by physical evidence of how much Eddie cared.

—----------

When school started, Steve was already on track to being the Varsity captain for basketball and the swim team.

But his biggest accomplishment, and he’d tell everyone this for years, was being able to say Eddie was his boyfriend.

Steve coming out had been big news for about a day, and then some girl ended up leaving school because she found out she was pregnant, and he was old news.

But then Eddie showed up wearing Steve’s letterman jacket.

That caused a hell of a scene.

For days, Steve dealt with endless questions about how long they’d been together, why he chose Eddie, if he knew that Eddie was a drug dealer and wouldn’t ever be anything.

He didn’t care.

He smiled as Eddie walked proudly through the halls wearing his jacket, gave him a kiss before class, and met up with him whenever he could.

“You should wear my battle vest if I’m wearing your jacket.”

“You think that’ll go with the polos and jeans?”

“I think if you’re wearing it, it could go with anything.”

“Gross. Are you in love with me or somethin’?” Steve asked with a smirk as Eddie leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Or somethin’.”

People at school left them alone, not sure what to do when their sports hero was dating the guy who failed his senior year.

It was probably the best case scenario for them.

Sure, they got judgmental looks from students and teachers, and when Steve’s parents found out, he’d probably be disowned, but it was worth it.

And Wayne loved Steve. He would come with Eddie to the games and swim meets that he could, cheering louder than anyone else when Steve pulled off something great.

“Maybe you should wear the jacket.”

“Now, now. Jealousy ain’t a good look on ya, kid,” Wayne said as he slapped Eddie's shoulder in the stands.

“Maybe you should marry him.”

Wayne’s head snapped to Eddie.

“Is that somethin’ you’re thinkin’ about?”

“Yeah. I mean not now obviously, we’re in high school. And it’s really only been a few months. But I think so.”

“Have you talked about it?”

Suddenly, all of Wayne’s attention was on Eddie, not the game happening in front of them.

“Not really. But he’s doodled Steve Munson on just about every piece of paper I’ve seen,” Eddie said with a smirk.

The conversation dropped off when Steve made another shot, Wayne jumping up and cheering like it was the game winner. From what Eddie could tell, Wayne thought every basket was a game winner if Steve scored it.

—----------

Eddie didn’t manage to graduate.

He was heartbroken.

Steve managed to get through with halfway decent grades, but hadn’t bothered applying to college since he didn’t know what he wanted to do.

His parents came home for the first time in over a year for his graduation, complaining almost instantly that they didn’t understand the dramatics over doing what was expected and required.

And then they met Eddie.

Eddie, who wore Steve’s jacket to his graduation, proud of his boyfriend even if he was bummed that only one class kept him from graduating alongside him.

Wayne sat next to him in the stands, ready to cheer the second they called Steve’s name.

Steve’s parents wouldn’t sit near them, refused to believe that Steve was friends with anyone living in a trailer park.

Eddie was letting him tell them when he was ready; he knew how terrifying it could be to face people who should love you no matter what but probably wouldn’t after they knew.

Steve insisted he wear his jacket regardless.

“Let them come to their own conclusions if they want. They’ll know by the time they leave again that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

So Eddie did.

And Steve’s parents were pretending they didn’t notice.

At the end of the ceremony, after Wayne subtly wiped his eyes and Eddie gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, they both made their way towards the parking lot.

Steve told them his parents made them dinner reservations he couldn’t miss, but that he’d be over after. Wayne was baking him his favorite dessert for later from scratch: confetti cake with buttercream frosting. And Eddie had his own plans for the night once Wayne left for his night shift.

So when Steve showed up only an hour later wearing Eddie’s battle vest, looking like he’d been crying for most of the last hour, his hackles rose.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

Steve fell against his chest, letting out a sob that drew the attention of Wayne in the kitchen.

“What’s goin’ on? Steve, are you hurt?”

Steve just cried louder and Eddie’s eyes widened, panicked look pointed towards his uncle.

“Stevie, can you look at me for a minute?”

Steve pulled back and sniffled a few times, but managed to look at Eddie.

“Is it your parents?”

Steve nodded.

“They kick you out?” Wayne asked from behind Eddie.

Steve nodded again.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if ya need me,” Wayne said. “But Steve? You’re welcome here. You understand me? I love ya like my own, and you have a place here if you want it.”

Steve nodded, clearly holding back another sob at Wayne’s words.

“Wanna talk about it or just sit on the couch with me for a bit?”

“Both.”

Eddie smiled down at him before placing a quick kiss to his head.

They sat down on the couch, Steve practically in Eddie’s lap for how close he was.

“I told them why you were wearing my jacket. They didn’t believe me at first, said that I was just trying to rile them up for attention. Then I went upstairs and got your vest and tried to tell them again and they-” Steve took in a gasping breath. “They said no son of theirs would be seen with trash like the Munsons. I said that at least the Munsons care about me and that was it. My dad said I better be gone before they get back from the dinner that was supposed to be celebrating my graduation.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You can stay here with me.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to let me move in just because we’re together, Eds. Robin offered to split rent at her apartment. I’d have to sleep on the couch since it’s a one bedroom, but it’ll be cheap.”

“If you want to do that, I’ll support you, but…” Eddie sighed. “I’d really love to have you here. I know Wayne would too. You’re my family, a Munson if I have anything to say about it, and-”

“Wait. What?”

“What?”

“I’m a Munson?”

Oh, well, okay. Guess his plan was shit now anyway.

“I had a whole plan. Jesus. I don’t want your memory of this to be ruined by your parents.”

Steve’s eyes widened.

“Were you…?”

“I was. But I’ll come up with a new plan, sweetheart.”

“No! No. Please. I don’t want this day to be ruined by them. I never want another moment ruined by them,” Steve begged, his eyes still wet, but a smile replacing his frown.

“Stay here then.”

Eddie ran to his room, grabbed the box he had sitting in his dresser for the last three months, and ran back to Steve in record time. He probably would’ve passed PE the first time around if he knew Steve was waiting at the end of the mile.

He kneeled on one knee in front of Steve, who was crying but for a totally different reason now.

“Stevie, I know we’re young and technically I haven’t even gotten my high school diploma yet, and I’m not really sure what kind of future I can even give you, but I know I want you in it. I know I want us to figure it out together, here or somewhere else. Anywhere else preferably. I know any minute I spend away from you is a minute wasted. And I know that I will never love someone half as much as I love you. So if it’s okay with you, I think I’d really like to marry you. Sound good?”

“Can I change my name to Steve Munson?”

“We can go sign the papers tomorrow if that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

Steve leaped forward, practically tackling Eddie to the floor, kissing his cheeks and neck and forehead.

“Is this a yes?”

“Yes! I wanna marry you right now.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, can we?”

“You don’t wanna do something nice?”

“No, just want you and Wayne and Robin to witness it. And I wanna save up and buy us an RV, and I want our honeymoon to last forever. We can travel the country, you can perform at random bars and I can be a bartender for the night or something. Use the tips to fill the tank of the RV and pay for our cell phones.”

“You’ve put some thought into this.”

Steve leaned in to kiss Eddie messily, lips wet with spit.

“It’s all I’ve thought about for a year, Eds.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. Wanted to be yours forever for so long.”

“Let me put the ring on then, ya goof.”

Steve was smiling. Eddie was smiling. They couldn’t see him, but Wayne was smiling from the entrance way to the kitchen.

“It’s pretty. Where’d you get it?”

“I gave it to him,” Wayne said, finally entering the room.

“What?” Steve looked back down at the ring now on his finger, and back up at Wayne.

“Made him promise to use it for you. You’re the only one I trust with Eddie’s heart.”

“Wayne, I-”

“No arguin’. It was my wedding ring. Ain’t doin’ me no good now. I know it ain’t much, but it means a lot to me and I know it’ll be important to you.”

Wayne had told them both the story of his one and only love. How they’d met in high school, got married when they were 18, and enjoyed what little time they had together. She got sick young, doctors didn’t know half of what they know now, and she was gone before they could even think about finding treatment.

He wore his ring every day for the last 35 years, only taking it off if it needed polishing.

Until the day he gave it to Eddie and said, “you better ask that boy and he better say yes.”

And they did.

On the day they got married at the courthouse, Eddie wore Steve’s letterman jacket and Steve wore Eddie’s battle vest, new gold wedding ring patches displayed proudly on the front of each.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wayne munson #oh no not steve having neglectful parents #they share jackets as their love language #it's very cute #anon requests #requests

450 notes · View notes

maybelinefox · 1 month

Text

2003 Lighthouse AU Chapter 1: First Meeting

This is inspired by @beebopurr 's Rise lighthouse au, and you should definitely go see theirs for yourself. I love their art! The first meeting in this chapter is taken almost directly from theirs as well as an ask they got. The rest is from me.

TW: mentions of guns and the use of them and an injury caused by one in this chapter and the next. Weapons (mostly guns) will be a continuing plot point that will eventually lead to the usage of one in the last chapter that will result in a major injury, but no death. If you don't want to see that, don't read. Minor swearing throughout the story as well.

Here it is on AO3:

Thank you @wendigomahana for beta reading!

Chapter one under cut!

I take a deep breath before stepping off my boat onto the pier. From a distance, the only thing I could see of this island was green. Now that I'm up close, I still only see green, aside from the giant-ass rock cliff the lighthouse is sitting on. I've never seen this many trees gathered in one place in my entire life.

I can't tell if it's gorgeous or intimidating.

I probably shouldn't do any exploring until I've studied a map of this place or something. Knowing me, I'd get lost in like ten minutes.

Once I reach the walkway leading off the pier, I look back up at the lighthouse to see a person walking out of it. He waves, and I wave back. Looking back down to the ground, I see the walkway leads to a path curving up onto the rock. I shove my hands back into my pockets as I follow the trail.

"You're a couple hours early," the man states as I reach the entrance to the cliff.

"I purposefully overestimated my arrival time in case the ocean tried to pull me back. Or in case I forgot how to sail."

He nods, breaking a smile. "Well, I s'pose that makes sense. You sail much?"

I shake my head. "Just got that boat a couple months back. Haven't been able drive one myself much lately, but I practically grew up on the water."

He chuckles and looks out towards the pier. "Certainly looks a lot better than my old dingy. Haven't used that thing in a few years 'cept for reef fishin. Hope it still works."

His shoulders move in a near silent chuckle as he turns towards the lighthouse.

"Already got all my stuff packed up. Friend a mine came and got the bigger things last week. Place should be cleaned out for ya, 'cept the bare essentials and furniture it came with. All of which 'sides the food is pretty old. Most of it's been here longer than me."

He gives me a tour of the place, which entirely consists of four and a half rooms. The main living area with a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a small storage closet all on the bottom floor, and then a curved set of stairs leading up to the bedroom. The stairs keep going up to the top of the lighthouse where the main workspace is, and then up to the light itself.

"And that's the whole building," he states with a shrug. "Not much, but they don't really expect one person to need more than this, I guess. Here, let me show you how all this works."

After about a half an hour of him going over all the rules and procedures and showing me what all the knobs and buttons do as well as how to work the phone and radio, we head back downstairs. Over the next hour or so he shows me a few chores that need to be done a certain way, and then goes over the rest of the chores that are pretty self-explanatory. Then, we find ourselves standing in the living room again.

"Well, I guess that's it," he starts as he turns to take one last look at the inside of the lighthouse. "Ya know, when I first got here, it only took me a couple months of boredom to become so done with this place I wanted nothing more than to leave it. Now…" he takes a deep, sentimental breath and shakes his head fondly. "Now I really think I'm gonna miss this."

"You can come back to see the place whenever you want," I tell him with a small smile. "Just keep in mind I took this job 'cause I'm a major introvert, so I'd like to be warned at least a few hours in advance, if ya could."

He chuckles. "I will certainly take that offer into consideration. And honestly, I may just take ya up on it within the next week or so. Got a feelin I'm gonna be homesick real soon. And this ain't even my home anymore."

"Where ya going?"

"Oh, I'm stayin with a friend a mine till I can find me a place. Gonna be doin nothin but house hunting for a bit now. Sure I'm ‘onna get bored with that pretty quick."

I smile. "Yeah, I can imagine."

He looks around one last time.

"Well, I s'pose I should get outta your hair now. Let you get yourself all comfortable and set up and all. Do ya need anything before I go?"

"What did you say your name was again, sir?"

He reaches his hand out for a handshake, and I take it.

"You can just call me Phil, little lady."

I shake his hand.

"It was nice meeting you, Phil."

"You as well, Ayla."

He turns to leave the building. Then, like he forgot something, he pauses and turns back to me, pointing towards something leaning against the wall next to the front door.

"Almost forgot, I'm leaving ya that rifle there, just in case."

"In case a what?"

He turns fully towards me now, eyebrows furrowed to show his seriousness.

"There's things out here. Don't know what they are, but they ain't human. Only seen one clearly once. Big green thing, walked on two legs, something wrong with its back. Now, I dunno what that thing was, but I sure as hell wouldn't let it get close enough to find out if I were you."

He walks towards the gun bag, unzipping it to show the rifle inside. A Marlin. Ruger-made.

"Ammo for it is on this shelf here right above it. I've shot at them with it a few times. They don't get much closer than the trees no more, but best to keep using this to teach them not to get closer. I got it all nice fer ya in it's bag, but it'd be smarter to keep it loaded and ready to grab at moment’s notice."

He gestures towards the door, hand still on the gun.

"Pretty sure I hit one a them last week. Not sure where, but I saw blood splatter on the ground the next morning. It's probably bled out somewhere, so hopefully that's one down."

He leaves the bag unzipped and walks back over to me.

"I've called people to deal with them. They got one a them, so they told me a few years back. But there's more, and those people come by every once in a while to try again. So, in case ya ain't feelin too safe, there’s no need to worry."

I nod, not sure whether to take this seriously or not. At least it's a nice gun.

"I'll keep that in mind."

He nods, satisfied, then turns back towards the door.

Standing near the edge of the cliff, I wave at Phil as he readies himself to pull away from the pier. At least we discovered the engine still runs, so he won't need to call someone to come get him.

Nice guy, but I got this job to be alone. Didn't want to have to wait a few more hours for someone to get here to tow his boat.

After I'm sure he's far from the island, I turn back towards the lighthouse. I'll get my stuff from my boat tomorrow. I've got all the essentials in my bag. For now, I'm exhausted from the trip and would rather just crash.

This lighthouse, like almost every other lighthouse in the country, is automated. Phil already did all the daily chores before I got here, saving the ones that needed demonstration for last so he could show me how to do them, so nothing to worry about until tomorrow.

The next week is pretty much just me getting the hang of things. The biggest of the chores is keeping the lens and windows in the tower clean so the light isn't any dimmer than it should be at night, as well as keeping an eye on all the electronics to make sure none of them are busted or wearing out or need replacement. Honestly, I'm already starting to understand what Phil meant by boredom. There's not much to do around here. I'm almost wishing I was living a few decades ago, when lighthouse keepers had way more to do without all the automated electronics. When they actually controlled the light and had to remain focused on their task. There's really nothing for me to focus on now.

I also haven't seen those "things" Phil was talking about. My first night, I thought I saw something moving around in the trees at the base of the rock, but I was so exhausted that night I wouldn't be surprised if I was delirious enough to think something moving in the wind was a monster. Or worse yet, maybe I was hallucinating. But after I got some sleep, everything was normal.

The second week begins just about the same. Chores about a third of the day at most, then finding ways to entertain myself for the rest of the time. I've begun researching hobbies that can be easily practiced on an island just a few miles from the mainland.

I get supplies delivered to me once a month. They take a list from me of essentials only, such as certain foods I like, what brand of toothpaste I prefer, etc., as well as anything anyone on the mainland wants to send me. If I want to order something online, I have to have it sent to someone I trust on the mainland, family or friend or whatever, and have them take it to the people loading the supply ship. Or just have them bring it to me themselves in their own boat. So basically, if I want a material hobby, like knitting or some other kind of crafty thing, I have to go through multiple channels just to get the supplies for it. So it'd be best to take up something I can do on the island with the bare essentials, just to avoid the hassle.

By this time, I've set up a comfortable chair on the cliff behind the lighthouse, overlooking the water. I've spent the last couple nights sitting out on this chair for a while to watch the waves.

It's on one of these particular nights I'm looking out over the water and watching the lighthouse light gleam across the sky in the distance, thinking on maybe taking up fishing again, when I hear something thud against the rocks beneath me.

I sit up straight, listening to see if I can figure out what that was before I have to investigate.

Or if I even want to investigate.

Not long after the initial thud, I hear what sounds like a groan, followed by a whimper and some thrashing in the water.

Shit.

Quickly, I grab my lantern, (extra strength, battery powered, obviously), and rush back inside to grab my med kit.

Something alive is down there, and probably hurt pretty bad by the sound of that thud.

I make my way down the path to the base of the lighthouse rock as quickly as I can before darting towards the water. Once I turn around the base to see the rocks beneath the lighthouse, I freeze.

There, leaning up against one of the larger rocks, is....

Something....

I can't tell what I'm looking at. The light from the lantern is barely hitting it, but I can see what looks like...green...scales? I can't tell, but it doesn't look like normal scale-less human skin. It's humanoid, but I'm not sure I'd call it human. And its back is...huge…

The second the light hits it, the creature whips its head towards me. I see what looks like brown eyes before they go completely white. They still look open, but there's some kind of...inner eyelid? I think? Covering them. Its head is a bit rounder than a human head normally is, and it looks naked, but there's something of a much lighter greenish color covering it in the front. And there's something wrapped around it, but I can’t really tell from here what it is.

Once it sees me, the creature quickly slides backwards to get away from me, but ends up trapped against the rock behind it. From the direction of the trail left by whatever it's trapped in, (I think it might be a fishing net?), it looks like it hit one of the smaller rocks closer to where I'm standing and pulled itself into an alcove created by the larger rocks further away. So it can't jump into the water and the cliff rock is too close to the rocks it's leaning against to be able to squeeze through.

It's trapped.

It seems to realize this after quickly turning to examine the rock it backed into, and whips its head back to me with wide, fearful, inner eyelid covered eyes.

I step a bit closer, allowing the light to cover more of the creature. The opening of the fishing net it's trapped in seems to be hooked over its neck. The netting is ripped and wrapped around its left arm and back, trapping the arm against its chest. The rest is dangling off, trailing out into the water and around the rocks.

I take a deep breath and step closer, causing the creature to curl up defensively against the rock. I hold up my med kit.

"Hey," I say, trying to sound as calm and soothing as possible. "I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm here to help, actually."

The creature turns its head slightly, towards the med kit. I can't see where it's looking with its eyes all white like that, but I can see something akin to recognition crossing its features before it seems to look back to me. It doesn't move, though.

I take another slow step closer. It still doesn't move. After a couple more steps, it suddenly decides to use another tactic to protect itself.

Unfurling itself, the creature crouches on its three available limbs and looks up at me with its teeth bared. The strangest, most menacing clicking noise I've ever heard escapes from its throat, and I immediately freeze in place.

When it sees that method had an effect, it takes what I can only assume by its still fearful face is something it believes to be a bold risk, and takes a step towards me.

Now I'm the one who doesn't move despite a terrifying, unknown creature advancing on me.

It snaps its teeth at me and clicks louder, stepping towards me again, but I can see that its resolve began waning when I didn't back away.

Making a bold move myself, I step towards it again.

It stops moving and flinches backwards a bit, causing a hiccup in the clicks.

"I want to help," I say again, holding up and pointing to the med kit. "This will help you feel better. I'm sure that net around you is painful."

It seems to understand some of my words, because it stops clicking and tilts its head as if it's listening. Now that there's more light on it, and in its current crouched position, I can clearly see what looked so strange about this creature's back.

It's got a shell. Like a turtle shell. That must be what's on its front, the plastron of the shell. And the sounds it was making just adds to that fact to tell me what's happening here, impossible as it may seem.

This thing is quite literally a giant, humanoid turtle.

I'm suddenly reminded of the description Phil gave me of those monsters he was talking about, and I begin to wonder if maybe he truly wasn't crazy, or if I'm already going crazy myself.

After a moment, the turtle creature straightens back up just a bit, sitting back on its legs and raising its functioning arm up off the ground about an inch or so, resting its elbow on its knee. It stares at the box.

"...help...?" It says slowly, curiously, in a raspy voice that obviously hasn't been used much.

I feel my eyes widen a little in shock. I don't know what I was expecting when I spoke to it, but apparently I wasn't expecting it to speak back.

"Y-yes," I say, taking another slow step forwards. It doesn't move back, but its head slides down slightly, as if it's watching my feet move. "Yeah, I want to help. I'm gonna see if I can get that net off ya, then this box has stuff in it I can use to fix your wounds."

I speak slowly, because I don't know what it can and can't understand. Hearing myself talk, I weirdly begin wondering if maybe it understands perfectly, and just doesn't need to talk, hence the raspy voice. So perhaps me speaking slowly and trying to use simple words is only being condescending. I shove those thoughts out of my head in favor of focusing on the situation at hand, deciding that if proof arises that this turtle thing does understand perfect English, I'll immediately start speaking to it normally.

The creature watches my slow approach, though now it holds just as much curiosity in its gaze as fear.

Once I'm almost within reaching distance of it, it falls backwards and pushes itself up against the rock again.

"Can...get it....no help...." It says slowly, reaching up with its free hand to grab the net around its other arm.

"Don't do that," I crouch down next to it, but it jerks away from me.

"No help," it says again, more firmly this time.

"You could hurt yourself doing that," I say, reaching into my pocket to grab my knife. "Let me get it,"

"No."

The turtle pulls on the net.

I reach out and grab its hand.

Jumping in surprise, it lets go of the net and turns towards me. Then just as suddenly, it's eyes screw shut in pain and it hisses, free hand shooting up to grab its neck where the net is hooked.

I sigh, figuring what probably happened, and bring the knife out of my pocket, holding the lantern up to see better.

Its eyes open, then immediately squint in the light.

"Here, can you hold this right here?" I ask, holding the lantern a bit closer to its free hand.

It turns its head to see me better as its hand comes up to grab the lantern. Unfortunately, in doing so, it sees the knife.

It gasps as it flinches backwards, it's hand shooting into the water behind it to support it leaning away from me.

"Oh shit-" I blurt out in realization as it uses its hand to scoot into the adjacent rock a couple feet away.

"Wait," I stand back up, adjusting the med kit on my back, hoping it didn't touch the water when I was crouched. "I need it to cut away that net. It's not gonna come off by pulling at it. I promise I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Bad men use," it states fearfully, pointing towards the knife. "Bad men hurt us with sharp thing."

Ok, so it seems to be capable of full sentences, weakly formulated as they are.

I sigh, stepping closer only a little and holding my hands up as open as I can while holding the lantern and knife.

"I'm not the bad men. I want to help. Knives can be used for good things too."

Staring wide-eyed at me, it slowly brings its hand back towards the net, gripping it but not pulling.

"That hurt you, remember?" I say, pointing with my lantern hand at the net. "Don't pull on it. This can get it off of you without hurting."

The turtle shrinks in on itself a little, staring at the knife. Its gaze slowly shifts over to me, and after a few moments of staring, it slowly nods.

"Ok," it says quietly. "No hurting...."

"No hurting," I repeat, slowly taking the couple steps necessary to get to it.

I crouch down next to it again and hold out the lantern for it to grab.

"Can you hold this for me? It'll make it easier for me to take the net off."

The turtle slowly reaches up and gently takes hold of the lantern handle, fingers brushing mine. That's when I notice it only has three. And they are indeed covered in scales. Very smooth, soft, green scales.

I try not to think about how strange that felt as I let go of the lantern.

"Now, just keep it right there, ok? This hopefully won't take long."

The turtle nods, keeping its white eyes trained on me, but it feels like its actual eyes are glaring at the knife.

Slowly, so it can see everything that's happening, I move the knife to sit underneath the net, blade pointed up, and begin sawing away, using my other hand to anchor the net in place. It doesn't take long before the thickest part of it is cut, taking most of the tension off the turtle's neck.

The second that tension is gone, the turtle sighs in relief, leaning back a little like it's deflating as the stress leaves the muscles of its shoulders. It keeps watching, though.

I cut away a few more pieces of the netting still holding its arm in place, then slowly reach up to its neck as I put my knife away. The turtle tenses up again, not sure what I'm doing and once again fearful of my intentions.

"I wanna look and see what it did to your neck," I explain. "It hurt you, so I wanna make sure you're not bleeding."

It flinches slightly away from my hand, then looks down at the net now in the water and its newly freed arm. After a moment, it looks back up at me and slowly nods.

I slowly place the tips of my fingers on its face and turn its head towards me to give me a better view of its neck. I can feel its hidden eyes on me as I lean around it to see the wound better. Luckily, it doesn't look like it's bleeding. At least, not badly. However, the skin (scales?) there has been rubbed nearly raw and there seems to be a small opening where the net sliced into the flesh.

"Ok, that's not too bad," I say. "Let me see your arm."

I release its face and move a bit in front of it so I can see the arm more directly. It raises its left arm, far less hesitant than I expected, and allows me to hold it in my hands. There are a few scratches but nothing major, the realization of which has me letting out a breath of relief. The turtle tilts its head curiously at the sound, but doesn't say anything.

"Well," I start. "It doesn't look too bad. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get you inside to look at it in better lighting and to bandage you up. Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to, but it would make me feel better to know your wounds are covered. At least the neck one."

What I can only assume to be this hairless creature's brows furrow in confusion at my words.

"Inside?" It asks. "Where?"

I point up to the cliff, where the top of the lighthouse is visible from underneath.

"In there. That's where I live."

It follows my finger, and when its eyes land on the lighthouse, its jaw drops in a light gasp. Unexpectedly, the inner eyelids covering its eyes slide open, revealing my previous assumption of its eyes being brown to be correct. Its surprisingly human-like chocolate irises stare up at the lighthouse in wonder as I watch on.

"In there?" It asks in disbelief.

The more I hear its voice, the more I believe this creature is male. It sounds young, (which doesn't help), with a very soft and somewhat higher pitched voice, but the tone sounds to be more in the masculine area.

"Yeah, in there," I say, slowly standing. "Don't worry, I live alone."

I reach out my hand to help it (him?) up. He turns his head back towards me, and his eyes move to my hand once he sees it hovering in front of him. After a moment of staring, he looks back up at me.

"Can't go there."

Now it's my turn to tilt my head, but more in confusion.

"Why not?"

"Angry man lives there," he explains, looking back down at my hand. "Very loud. Bang stick hurts. Can't go there."

My eyes widen in realization.

Phil told me he kept the "big green thing(s)" away from the lighthouse by shooting at them. He said he hit one last week.

I quickly look the turtle over again, but he doesn't look like he's been shot anywhere. Not anywhere I can see in this lighting, at least.

"Here," I say, holding one hand closer to his right and reaching for the lantern with the other one. "Grab my hand with yours. I'm gonna help you stand up."

He glances between my face and my hand a couple times and waits for me to pull the lantern out of his hand before he slowly moves it towards mine. Gently, his three fingers slide into my five, and we both close our fingers around each other's palms.

I'm suddenly hit with the thought that this guy is probably very heavy. But luckily for me, his left arm is not too injured for him to push himself part of the way, mainly using my grip for stability as he gets himself up.

"That guy left almost two weeks ago," I say as he lets go to test if he can stand on his own. "I live there now, not him."

The turtle, now standing just about eye-level with me, turns to look at me in shock after he's determined he's quite stable on his own two feet.

"Angry man is gone?" he asks, sounding doubtful.

I nod. "It's only me. No one else."

He stares at me for a moment before full comprehension sets in. He then snaps his attention back to the lighthouse and a look I can only describe as pure joy and disbelief lights up his features.

He points up at the building above us.

"I can go in there?" he asks in a quiet voice, seemingly in awe of the concept.

I nod again, smiling. "You sure can. Just follow me."

I turn to lead the way around the rock back to the path. I hear his steps behind me, and a couple jumps in the water as well, as if he were a child jumping for joy at the thought of going into a lighthouse.

I begin to wonder if he is.

A child.

That would explain how young he sounds, and his minor speaking comprehension.

Oh damn. If he's a child, how big will he be as an adult?

All thoughts and worry leave my mind the second my foot steps onto dry land. I cringe at the squelch and the rushing feeling between my toes.

I hadn't really thought. I'd just run out the door. I didn't grab the wading boots. So now my sneakers and socks are soaked.

Ugh, I hate wet shoes.

The turtle doesn't seem to care about the sound of my shoes, however, as his focus remains transfixed on the lighthouse building the entire trip up to it.

Once we reach the door, I pull off my shoes and socks, leaving them outside beside the doorstep to dry, before opening the door and stepping inside to set the lantern down and dry my feet on the doormat. I turn towards the turtle and gesture for him to come inside.

"Come on in," I say as I leave the door to head to the bathroom.

When I come back out wearing dry pants and holding a towel for him, I find him standing at the door still, wide eyes taking in every detail of the living room.

I step towards him, gently grabbing his good arm to tug him inside. My measly pull doesn't move him even the slightest bit, but he gets the hint and steps forward. I close the door behind him and turn to put the towel over his shoulders. Or, I try to. The shell ends up taking most of the coverage.

He turns towards me at the feeling of something touching him, then looks down in surprise to see the towel. I walk in front of the turtle to pull the towel up tighter around his shoulders.

"You can use this to dry yourself off. Like this."

I rub a small part of the towel over his wet arm, then pull it away to show the now dry scales.

He blinks in surprise, then grabs the towel and begins rubbing it over his scales, trying to recreate the magic in other wet areas of his body. I smile at this as I head over to one of the stools at the kitchen counter, pulling it out and turning it towards him. Setting the med kit on the counter, I turn back to see he's already mostly dried himself off.

"Alright come sit here so I can patch you up," I tell him.

He looks away from the bottom of his foot he's currently wiping the towel on and up at me before glancing down at the stool. He uses the towel for one last scrub of his other foot before slowly making his way to the stool to sit down. I step around in front of him as he puts the towel back over his shoulders and hugs it to him as much as he can.

"I'm gonna need to see your arm and neck, bud," I tell him, motioning to the towel. He pouts, but takes it off and bunches it in his lap, hugging it to himself. I make a mental note to get him my warmest blanket after we're done here.

I spend the next few minutes cleaning and dressing his wounds. Mostly the one on his neck. There's only one on his arm bad enough to need to be covered. His neck wound is the most concerning, but so long as it stays clean and covered the scales will probably grow back.

"There," I say, finishing the last one. "That should be better."

He looks down at the bandage on his arm. He hadn't reacted well to the cleaning alcohol used on his wounds, especially when it hit the raw open spot on his neck. But with some gentle encouragement, he had allowed me to continue. I'm not sure if that means he trusts me, but at least he's not afraid of me anymore.

"Can I see the light now?" he asks in a very excited, childish voice.

I glance into his eyes to see them wide open, a hopeful gleam in his irises.

I can't help but smile at the childish enthusiasm.

"Sure, but you have to be careful. We don't want to break it. The light is very important for the ships going by in the water."

He nods enthusiastically, dropping the formerly precious towel as he stands.

On the way up through the bedroom, I grab him a blanket, and he happily wraps it around himself as he walks up the stairs.

The turtle is practically shaking with joy the entire time we're up in the light. He stays true to his promise to be careful, but he apparently took it as "don't touch anything". On multiple occasions, I can see his hands twitching towards some mechanism on the light out of curiosity, before he remembers jerks them away. So, I show him some areas I'm not too worried about him touching, just to help him get that out of his system.

When his hand first touches the cool metal at the base of the lamp, he seems to melt into the touch, entirely in awe of the giant metal beast in front of him. He watches the lamp turn, marveling at the sight.

"Why does it do that?"

"Do what?"

He slowly looks towards me and holds one finger up before moving it in circles, similar to how the lamp spins.

"Oh, the lamp spins to give sailors the impression the light is blinking. Or turning on and off. That way they won't mistake it for a star, and will know they need to go towards it."

"Cool...." He says in an impressed, breathy tone, as he looks back up at the lamp. Then he tilts his head, seemingly confused.

"But..." He thinks for a moment. "It can...blink...itself?" He glances at me, then turns back towards the light, almost shy now.

"Sorry..."

Ah. He's embarrassed by his question.

"That's a good question, actually," I start, and he turns back towards me, blinking in surprise, before a slight smile graces his features.

"Back before they could just screw in a lightbulb whenever the light went out, they used giant lanterns. Those aren't nearly as easy to turn on and off, and would have to have someone sitting by them all night in order to keep it up. So that's why they came up with the spinning thing. The lens magnified the lantern light, and that's what was spun. It moved around the lantern to create the blinking effect."

As I explain, I gesture to certain parts of the lamp that are still somewhat similar, though the whole thing is essentially a giant flashlight. The turtle watches with genuine interest as I answer what he believed to be a stupid question with an entire historical/scientific monologue.

"They did that for so long it became iconic, and what sailors specifically looked for. So some lighthouses, like this one, still spin the light around. Just for sentimental reasons, to be honest."

"Woah...." He says under his breath, genuinely impressed by the reasoning. "That was so smart...."

"It really was, huh?" I look around a moment before an idea comes to me. I head back downstairs to the office area and look around the walls until I find it. Stretching up, I carefully pull the paper off the wall, smiling down at it in my hands before heading back up.

He had turned and stood to watch me when he’d noticed me leaving, and observes me curiously as I ascend the stairs. I hold the paper out to him.

"Do you know what that is?" I ask him as he takes it. His "brows" furrow in concentration as he stares at it.

"A....old....lighthouse?" He asks, unsure. He looks up at me and tilts his head.

"Yep. It's the first lighthouse. Or what they believe is the first lighthouse."

His eyes widen in excitement, and he looks back down at the drawing.

"There's a few different designs of what they believe it looked like, but that's the most agreed upon. The thing is in ruins now, so there's no way to be sure."

He listens to my words before pointing at a few written on the page.

"Pa...pa-ras?" He tries to pronounce the word above the building on the paper.

Ok, so he can kind of read. Interesting.

I point to the letters of the word.

"'P' and 'h' together make an 'f' sound, and that's an 'o', pronounced just like that." I don't wanna move too fast and try to explain the accent it should be pronounced with, so I stick with the basics. That should get him to pronounce it almost exactly.

He stares for a second longer before trying again.

"Pha...ros?"

"Yes!" I say, and he smiles at the praise.

"Pharos was built in Alexandria, Egypt. They think about twenty-five hundred years ago or so. It's the first known lighthouse, so everyone who studies or works in lighthouses are called 'pharologists' in honor of the first one."

He looks back up from the paper and points at me.

"You?"

I chuckle. "Yes, that would make me a pharologist too, since I work in a lighthouse and have studied how they work."

He beams at this information. "Cool!"

He asks a few more questions about lighthouses and the mechanisms of the light itself, and I do my best to answer all of them. After about half an hour, he begins slowing down. I notice he looks at the bandage on his arm a few times. Then he goes silent for a bit, staring out the window at something in the trees and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. I look out too, trying to see if I can find what he's looking at, but I just see trees.

Just when I'm wondering if I should question him or just leave him to it, he turns to me.

"Are you a doctor?"

I blink a few times in surprise at the random question, before shaking my head.

"If you mean a medical doctor, no. I have some minor medical training, but nothing to the level of an actual doctor."

"But you can fix...uh...wounds?"

"If they're not bad enough to need a hospital, yes. Why?"

“Hos...pital…?”

“It’s a place where sick or hurt people go to get better. The real doctors are there.”

He stares at me for a moment, seeming to contemplate something. Then he looks back out the window.

"We need a doctor...." He says quietly, almost too low for me to hear.

This is the second time he's referenced there being more of him. Phil had spoken as if there were multiple, so I had automatically been thinking like there were. But now that I'm actually thinking about it, I begin to wonder if there's like a whole tribe of them, or if it's just a single family. And if he's a kid, then what do the adults look like? Would they be more wary of me than this one?

"Do you need me to go somewhere?" I ask, almost hoping he says they can bring the injured party here. If there are bigger and far more untrusting and protective adults out there, I'd rather not risk going into their territory.

He turns back to me.

"He hurt to move. Sleep all day. Hurt when he's awake. Not eat much anymore."

"So, you don't think he can come here?" I ask.

He looks down to think for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Can't move."

"Ok..." I cross my arms in contemplation. "Do you know what's wrong with him? How he got hurt?"

At that, the turtle looks back up at me, and upon seeing me his eyes widen in some kind of realization before he flinches backwards.

Oh, he's scared of me again. What did I do?

I back up a step, holding my hands out.

"Are you ok? I'm sorry if I-"

"Human…" he says, wrapping his arms and the blanket around himself. "Bang stick...."

Oh....

OH.

The one Phil shot is still alive.

"Where?" I ask.

He looks back at me, confused.

"Where did the bang stick hit him?" I ask again.

A different kind of realization passes over his features, and he moves the blanket to raise his left hand and points to a spot on his right arm. Just below the elbow. Then he moves his finger across his scales from one side of the outer arm to the other, drawing a line.

So the bullet grazed him, but left a sizeable enough gash. That gash probably became infected.

Damn. That infection’s probably been raging for over two weeks. I'm almost shocked the arm hasn't fallen off. Unless it's already spread up further. Cutting the arm off to save the body is probably out of the question now, as it's highly likely it's already reached organs. There's no way he'd be able to survive much longer without antibiotics.

Of which I'm not exactly in rich supply.

Also, these are turtles. They have a different form of healthcare in certain areas. I know a lot about turtles, but I'm trained in human medical health. I wouldn't be too confident I'm doing the right thing if you threw a heavily injured turtle in front of me.

"Is it swollen?" I ask. I know the answer, but I'm hoping he can tell me it's not as bad as I think.

He makes a curious sound, almost like a chirp, as he tilts his head.

"His arm," I gesture towards my arm, then hold my hand open around it to signify a bigger size. "Is it bigger than it should be?"

He nods and makes a similar gesture himself to show how much bigger.

Ok, not too much bigger, I suppose. But then again, I can't actually be sure until I see for myself.

"Ok, let me get some stuff."

This definitely can't wait until morning. If he's had an infection in his arm since it was shot, every second counts.

I grab up my med kit as well as any and every antibiotic, painkiller, and anti-inflammatory I can find and throw them in a separate bag along with a few bottles of water and some clean rags. Stopping to think for a moment, I decide to bring some strong sleeping pills too. Just in case surgery or something painful of the sort ends up needing to happen. On that note, I grab multiple sharp objects of differing sizes to throw in the second bag as well.

This is really gonna suck.

Leaving the storage closet, I find the turtle blanketless and standing in the living room, staring at the door.

I should really find a name for him. Or maybe ask him and see if he's already got a name.

"Hey," I start, walking up to him. "So, I can't believe I haven't already asked you, but do you...."

I trail off as I notice his attention has not turned to me, and he's still staring at the door. Following his gaze, I freeze when I realize what he's staring at.

The gun is still by the door.

I debate whether I should try to pull his attention away from it or go over and physically move it.

Sighing, I figure touching it would make things worse.

"It's not gonna hurt you," I say softly.

He slowly turns to me.

"It hurt Mikey."

Mikey.

Ok, so they do have names.

Interesting.

"That's because the guy holding it wanted to hurt him," I say. "It can't hurt anyone unless it's being held by someone who wants to use it to hurt people."

Slowly, I move towards it. I hadn't closed the bag, so it's still leaning against the wall halfway exposed. Reaching out, carefully, so he can see what I'm doing, I grab the zipper and zip up the bag so the rifle is no longer visible.

"Now, no one's holding it, so it won't shoot. It won't hurt you. And it's gonna stay here. I'm not intending on bringing it with us."

Unless....

I look back at him.

"Is where we're going dangerous?"

He tilts his head. "Why would it be?"

I think for a moment on how to explain, and settle on: "It's probably not dangerous for you, but is it dangerous for me?"

He stares for a moment, thinking, before shaking his head.

"I'll be with you. They'll have to let you in."

Ok, ominous, but I'll take it.

"Then it'll stay here."

I move away from the gun to open the door.

"Why bring it to danger? That would make the danger worse?"

He steps around the gun bag to get through the door, giving it a wide berth and staring at it the whole time like it might jump out at him.

"Well, while some people use those to hurt, others use them to protect," I explain, closing the door behind us. "If we were going somewhere dangerous for me, I would be able to use that to protect myself. But I trust you to have my back, so no worries."

I also feel if he had that kind of reaction to seeing it, his family may be just as bad or worse if I walk up carrying the thing that put Mikey into such a scary state. It may end up causing the danger to me, whereas if I didn't have it I would be perfectly safe.

He thinks on what I said for a long time, leading me from the lighthouse into the trees, before finally speaking.

"Why can it do both? Why protect from something that hurts with something that hurts? Isn't that what shields are for?"

"Well, remember how I used the knife to help you? It can hurt, but it can also be used to help."

He turns back to me, still seemingly confused, but connecting the dots.

I sigh.

"If whoever is trying to hurt you tries hard enough, you may need to hurt them back to get them to stop."

He stares at me for a moment before going back to his task of leading me through the forest.

He doesn't talk any more after that.

A while later, as we near some kind of grove-looking area with what appears to be a small cave hidden in a thick patch of trees, the turtle stops and turns to me, nearly swinging the lantern into my face with how quickly he spins.

"Is that why?"

"Is that why what?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out for a moment as he contemplates his question.

"Is....is that why he hurt us?"

"The angry man?"

He nods.

"Did he think we hurt him?"

I stare at him for a moment, opening my mouth to answer, but ultimately closing it as I try to find the right words. He watches, patiently, waiting to know if he and his family had done something wrong.

I take a deep breath.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. He thought you were going to hurt him, and he wanted to stop you before you could."

"But..." He looks back towards the grove.

"Mikey got too close. He did not hurt angry man. He just wanted to see what angry man was doing. He said angry man was tearing up the lighthouse and he want to see why. Then angry man used the bang stick. Mikey was just watching. He did not mean anything-"

I hold up my hand to stop him.

"Of course he didn't. But the angry man didn't understand. He thought something else was happening. He's the one that misunderstood. Mikey did nothing wrong."

He watches me as I talk, big brown eyes looking about ready to cry.

"What's your name, by the way? I'm sorry I haven't asked."

He sniffles a little, then rubs his eyes.

"D-Donny," he says. "Father called me Donny."

Uh oh.

That was past tense.

Wait, Phil did say one of them was caught a few years ago.

Shit. Are there a bunch of children out here without an adult?

Is there a mother nearby who doesn't talk much, if at all, so she never says names, and that’s why he only mentioned his father?

Is there another type of adult and offspring care system I'm unaware of happening here?

…am I in danger and Donny doesn't know?

I shake my head, just barely enough so Donny doesn't see.

"Ok, Donny," I say, hopefully in a soothing voice. "My name is Ayla."

A small smile appears.

"Hi Ayla."

I chuckle.

"Let's not think about the angry man right now. Mikey needs help, right?"

Donny nods quickly, turning back to the grove.

Masterpost Next

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt #tmnt au #tmnt lighthouse au #tmnt lighthouse au 2003 #tmnt fic

7 notes · View notes

jaskwritesthings · 2 years

Note

I have a Dream x Hob prompt. I would love a fic where Hob talks about being in or having had a relationship with a man, dude's hundreds of years old and I refuse to believe he never tried this, and Dream is just lowkey being jealous. Maybe he knows why, maybe he doesn't either way he's just mad someone else got to know Hob in ways he hasn't. Would love it even more if Hob just gushes on without realizing that Dream isn't just being all regular dark and broody, he's in Advanced Darkness and wants a name and that name's worst nightmares. Thank you. I would just love to see our emo boy being all jealous.

tags: none

(ao3)

“You appear to have a fondness for this magazine?” Dream said as he admired the framed covers hung up on Hob’s walls. The style was new to him, more sketch-like than the art he’d seen before his imprisonment. The mixture of men, women and children looked like dolls in some ways, almost all of the individuals had ruby red cheeks and the faces were familiar enough to suggest a single artist behind all of the pieces. A faded handwritten tag named the artist as ‘J. C. Leyendecker’ below each print.

“Hm? Oh, that. No, no interest in it, but the man who made the covers, old flame of mine. Damn good artist, couldn’t help but collect his pieces. Got a few originals tucked away,” Hob offered up just as easily as he did every aspect of his life for Dream.

Dream felt a flicker of something dark in his chest, it lashed out like the thump of a cat’s tail, a warning of its ire, “He drew for you?”

“Anything and everything, not just me. But he did paint me once or twice, can’t really loan those ones out to a museum though. People might catch on a bit, you should see what they say about Keanu Reeves,” Hob chuckled as he handed Dream a cup of steaming tea he’d been preparing as Dream snoped around his flat.

“You remember this artist fondly?” Dream questioned softly, no longer admiring the work.

“Joseph? Very, I always try to remember the ones I love. Gets difficult over time, wish I’d never pawned Eleanor’s portrait, can’t really remember what she looked like anymore,” he sighed sadly, an old grief that Dream recognised in himself.

“I’m sorry,” Dream offered though he knew from experience the words were never quite enough.

Hob smiled, it wasn’t as bright as some of his previous ones, tinged as it was by an old ache that had never fully healed, “Not your fault, learned from my mistakes anyway. I try to keep some things from old loves.”

Dream turned his attention from his friend to the artwork proudly displayed in his living room. There was little else of note in the room that Dream could guess at having belonged to someone other than Hob. To hold such value in Hob’s heart, the relationship must have meant a great deal to the immortal. The dark thing in Dream’s chest thrashed its tail more, a growl growing deep within it. It unsettled him how the fact of this relationship could upset him so.

“You loved him dearly, to keep his works in your home,” Dream pointed out.

“I did. We parted well, not always the case. Plus his work is beautiful, not really a hardship to hang it up,” Hob admitted with ease, why wouldn’t he. Why was Dream expecting him to hide his love affairs as though they were something to be ashamed of? He never had. Nor should he have to hide them. But it still set him on edge, a strange anger bubbling under the surface.

“You do not keep the trinkets of others here, just his,” Dream said and even he could hear the coldness of his tone, the accusation he had no right to lay out.

Hob appeared oblivious to this new mood as he sipped his own tea, “I try to keep with the fashion of the times. Minimalism is a hard one to shake, glad we’ve moved on from the white interiors, right pain to keep those clean. Clutter’s coming back in so I’ll probably bring some more stuff out of storage, not everything mind you, some of it’s too fragile. These are prints, good way to have him here without wrecking his originals.”

“How long were you together?”

“Only a few years, I didn’t stay in America long, England’s home for me,” Hob smiled fondly, though for the memories of his former lover or of his homeland Dream couldn’t guess. A voice within him that sounded too close to his siblings whispered spiteful things he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Such a short time, yet a lasting impact,” Dream said, aiming for an aloof air and knowing he fell short by quite a distance.

“I seem to have a fondness for the quiet brooding ones,” Hob teased a touch tentatively as though worried he had a right to tease Dream anymore.

“You found him not long after our parting,” Dream surmised and he wished he could take back the words as Hob’s face dropped into something colder at the reminder.

“You mean after you threw a tantrum and ran out on me making me think I’d never see you again?” Hob reiterated as he left Dream’s side to flop down on the overstuffed sofa. His absence left a cold bitter wind in its wake and Dream shrunk just a little into the folds of his coat.

“I have apologised -“

“And I have accepted that, as I hope you will accept the fact that I needed more than one friend that I only saw every hundred years,” Hob pointed out and the truth of his words irked Dream. He was right as he had been in the White Horse Inn all those decades ago. It didn’t appear it was getting easier to accept that he wasn’t always right.

“I do not begrudge you your friendships,” Dream said, settling down into one of the armchairs, it hugged him and pulled him in. He shouldn’t be surprised by such comforts. Hob was a hedonistic creature, greedy for life and all it offered. His home reflected that in a way, comfort and warmth in equal measure. A sanctuary against the ever changing world that he could retreat too.

“But my lovers?”

Dream paused too long before offering a begrudging, “…nor them.”

Hob appeared unconvinced, rightly so, “Joseph was a good man, we loved each other.”

“I am glad,” Dream said, a pale offering that landed as heavy and as welcome as a brick.

“You hate him,” Hob said, lips twitching in amusement.

“I do not -“

“Calliope isn’t my favourite muse,” Hob interrupted and it was such a sudden change of subject that it took Dream a moment to process the absurdity of the statement.

“You dislike Calliope?” Dream asked slowly as though ensuring he had heard Hob correctly. Hob nodded.

“For the same reason you want to burn my art prints,” he explained and clarity snapped into place like a missing jigsaw piece.

“I do not wish to burn them,” Dream attempted to defend but it was a weak attempt.

“No?” Hob asked, almost laughing.

“…Perhaps replace them,” Dream admitted in a whisper he wouldn’t repeat if asked.

Hob heard him though, he seemed keenly aware of Dream in a way few were. He leant forward, elbows on his knees, as he fixed Dream with a warm, hopeful look. Dream suspected they had moved on from discussing art prints, “You can’t replace them. Any of them really. But you can join them if you’d like.”

#jask answers #the sandman #dreamling #dreamhob #i-will-find-an-untaken-url

58 notes · View notes

kryptonitecore · 5 months

Text

Re-Read: Megatron: Origin

I came into this having read Megatron: Origin during a past attempt a full read-through, the one that was felled by the Costa run and the looming menace of Heart of Darkness. I remembered this book quite fondly as, following all the Furman stuff, I think I appreciated something a little longer and more decisive in its characterisation.

I can see why I remembered it fondly - it’s a fairly quick and brutal introduction to one of the franchise’s major characters, not prone to the subtlest characterisation, but at least it’s there. It’s much more sparsely written than the later stuff from IDW1, but that makes sense, considering this comic goes about a mile a minute. Seriously, my big issues with this mini-series are the art (dark and sometimes confusing) and the pacing (so, so fast). I suspect some of my issues with the art are made worse by the pacing and probably vice versa. I had to rely on the wiki to help me work out what was going on in some of the gladiator scenes.

If our Lord and Saviour TFwiki is to be believed, this was originally intended to be 6 issues long, then was shortened to 4, plus was punted over from Dreamwave to IDW, which might explain why the pacing and breaking up of the issues sometimes feels a bit odd. Similarly, there was once going to be a mentor character (à la Terminus, supposedly), which could have been useful in smoothing Megatron’s character development over, but alas, the cruel hands of editing.

The comic plays very deliberately on your expectations for characters (Starscream’s probably the most obvious example), so that’s an interesting feature, but it could probably have done with those few more issues or even being a more extended mini-series. That, or it needed a laser-focus on Megatron’s perspective in order to give it a natural limit within which to work. The big, glaring elephant in the room here is the jump from Megatron as frustrated Miner who accidentally kills a Senator’s guard to hesitant gladiator to insurgency leader who kills unrepentantly and is openly motivated by a desire for revenge. Those… are some pretty big leaps in character, but most of the transition between them takes place off-panel, which is a pity, because I like what the author does overall.

On the other hand, I appreciated the way the Decepticon cause is introduced here, specifically in that it is shaped by its early leadership - not just Megatron, but Soundwave, and Starscream, too. I also like Sentinel’s set up here, where he has that ‘when all you’ve got is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail’ mindset - he literally compares his security forces to a hammer at one point. Although the series leans quite hard on edge it still sets up some important parts of the continuity going forward, such as the attention paid to Megatron’s perspective and the idea of functionism, with the Senator Decimus’ comments about all having their role or being a cog in a larger machine.

A long-standing bugbear of mine, however: how do they have ‘Houses’? As in the House of Decimus, which is referred to here, but later series do the same, like Minimus talking about him and Dominus being part of the ‘House of Ambus’. I mean, Minimus and Dominus are brothers, but how else do you have ‘Houses’ when there is no generational aspect, unless there is some kind of adult adoption or vassal position? Ah, it just always drove me up the wall.

Overall, though, not a bad way to start this read-through!

#transformers #megatron origin #rereading!#the grand reread 2023-2024

2 notes · View notes

dopaminearmy · 1 year

Text

Omg this one is so amazing i swear to go god, realistic and hits just right (im close to the topic of body image issues), i would've read it even if it wasn't a smut. I was exstatic when i've found out it's also posted on AO3, as i prefer the way the trigger warnings are up front there by design.

Sadly somehow i can't reblog it and the author is leaving tumblr and AO3 in a while along with their works. (For more info read their pinned).

@here2bbtstrash alltought i don't know the full story of what happened and why, anonims bully you (which btw sucks, when people got something to say but are to scared to tell you in person- cowards). Still i apreaciate you rewriting whatever you feel the need to.

So far i have read only one work of yours and i must say it was such a nice fresh breath from other fanfiction. I love the soulmates and other fantasy tropes, but as of lately i'm trying to kind of steer away from daydreaming as it's draging me down and procrastinantion that could be like half an hour streches to few hours. This one really helped to bring me down, and realize that actually... as an art student who rides to school by underground subway... it's a reality super close to mine. So yeah maybe that's a lot of mindfullness bs form me right now but... it felt really good reading my reality as a literary fiction. I felt that i actually wanna be me for once. Just as i am.

I still can't get over how sensible and understanding of humans and their anxious thoughts you are. I really apreaciate the nod to Jimin's earlied years as an idol as it is, a trurly awfull industry.

I'd really like to talk to you someday @here2bbtstrash . I do realize it might not happen, so take care. I think you must've poured your soul into all that you write so, if you can (do it for yourself really), when you dissapear from tumblr and AO3 along with your works. Have them saved somewhere. Really. I write myself, and alltought i don't post anywhere, I look really fondly at the byproducts of all my fixations from earlier years.

I just hope you get to keep that, and these people who make you leave for your own good and mental health, won't make you hate your works and delete them for good.

Love,

@dopaminearmy

0 notes

satellite-blossom · 1 year

Note

tell me the story of your greatest creation!

Oh boy, "greatest creation"...? It's gonna be hard to pick one since I've relearned to love what I create.

I've worked on a lot of things : art, animations, custom game content, written stories, OCs, edits, ... I'm not sure what to pick !

At risk of sounding cheesy, I must admit that I feel like my greatest creation has yet to come ; not that what I've done so far isn't good already, I just feel like I keep improving ! My greatest creation of yesterday may not be my greatest creation of tomorrow, and that's to say nothing about the months, the years, the decades that await me !

Every time I put together a new fairy kei outfit (IRL ; yes I do actually wear pastel alt fashion !), I feel like it's my best coord so far.

Every time I tweak something in my artstyle, I feel like it's the greatest my art has ever been.

When I make a new bead bracelet I think "wow this one is even cuter than the others !".

Every time I come up with a cute outfit for a piece I think it's the cutest fit I've ever drawn...

It's something of an exaggeration/hyperbole of course, but I do feel like I'm constantly improving lately. I've stopped hating on every word I write, every piece I draw, every mistake I make, ... ; I enjoy creating things and looking back on them now ! It wasn't a magical switch, getting new meds and a better environnement greatly helped. Also I must say that switching to better art programs helped too ; of course you feel more frustrated with your art when it took over ten hours to make, drawing with your fingers till they hurt, using a barebone app running on an overheating phone just for your art to seem lesser than other artists'.

I guess I could make a short list of some of my favorite things from over the years ?

1) Some of my earliest drawings made with Sony Sketch, the drawing app I've used the longest :

This app made my hands hurt (literally, that's not a joke) but I've managed to make some cute things with it. I look back on this era fondly ; I used to draw a lot and be very positive about my art back then.

2) Some small animations I've made with Flipnote Studio 3D :

I used to make silly animations with the original Flipnote Studio for the DSi, so when the 3D version arrived I've tried to make a few things. It was super hard but I've managed to make some gifs a few years ago ! The smoothie one was for a fan-made Splatfest on Amino ! The dog is the mascot of a French YouTuber called Mister Flech ; the colors came out a little wonky when I've exported the animation as a gif... The red girl is Google Plus-chan, and lastly we have Finalfest Pearl doing... A thing. I was team chaos, by the way !

3) Some of my 3DS games shenanigans :

Here you have screenshots from two of my favorite 3DS game : The New Style Boutique 3 & Animal Crossing : Happy Home Designer ! As you may be able to tell, I love the 3DS to bits and I adore games that are easy to customize !

4) New Horizons shenanigans :

Here you can see my island : Saly ! It's the first ever island/town I got to five stars, and it's not even done yet ! Still, it has many corners I love, like the orange county side, the camping area, the museum area or even my pink fair ! All of the custom designs there were made by me ! I've improved a lot since 2020 already !

5) My more recent art :

Here you have a piece from 2020, one from 2021 and the two last ones are from this year !

I've kept trying new things and improving I think ! But I still love those four pieces, and they're just some of my favorite drawings of mine.

And lastly...

6) My main OC : Léa Acorn !

They've come a looooong way since their first appearance ! And they've remained my flagship OC ever since !

Dimensional Hoper, Magical Enby, and Tortured Soul it's them ! The blorbo from my brain that I love but keep putting in the worst situations. But hey at least I know how their story ends now, and they get a revenge & peace at last !

I used to be very self-conscious about Léa ; I was afraid of people calling them a "Mary Sue" or mocking the fact I was using them to depict a fantasy of mine, so I used to talk somewhat derogatorily of them to say "hey I know it's a Sonic OC (how cringe !) but don't worry I'm aware of the cringe and Mary Sue stuff, see I'm mocking myself first so you don't have to !", and I think it was pretty sad. Even though Léa's "Mary Sue" attributes are justified in the narrative now (loved by most people, super powerful, ... for reasons that would spoil everything), I think it would be fine if I hadn't tried so hard to rework them. I'm proud of the progress I've made, but sometimes you just have to be self-indulgent and have daydreams about someone kinda like you going on adventures and beating their abusers up, y'know ?

Anyway I'm glad of where I've taken Léa, the flagship of my current paracosm. And I'll never get tired of rambling about them, haha.

Not sure if this really answers the ask, but I've enjoyed rambling here, so thank you for the ask !

#berry rambles #berry sweet asks #berry replies

1 note · View note

huicitawrites · 3 years

Text

Re:incarnate

“Reincarnate”

Yandere! Sukuna x Curse! Reader

(fanart not mine, artist not found)

Word count: 1,377K

Warning: gore, mentions of death, yandere themes

AS HE IS THE KING OF CURSES, it would be expected of Ryomen Sukuna to hate. That, being crafted from the scourge of men’s heart; of envy, of wrath, of sadness, of vast egos- such a creature would ‘hate’ in his innate nature.

Yet, the king of curses never lowered himself to such pathetic, trashy emotions. It was a waste of time, curses or humans alike, Sukuna relished in their pain. He never hated, because hatred would not allow him space for enjoying the shrieks of his victims and the taste of the mixture of blood and tears. Sukuna felt joy under the suffering of others, by his hands of course.

The way his victims begged for their lives, how they squealed like lowly pigs, the way tears spurted from their eyes, the dawn of horror over their face as soon as realization fell over their tiny, squishy heads.

Yes, Sukuna felt joy over the death by his hands.

However, if Sukuna felt Joy, then he could very well experience Grief, and if he could grief, then the King of Curses could love- and then, he would hate.

This predicament fell over him when he met the one he’d title the Curse of Solitude, [Y/N]

[Y/N] was born from pain entirely, and the worst kind there is- heartache; abandoned children and spouses, betrayed friends and lovers, castaways and friendless people. Hence, [Y/N] was lonely from the start- though Sukuna found them.

The King of Curses found the curse as a newborn, lost within the woods. In spite of the rejection their tears brought him, Sukuna experienced something which he had never before.

Sukuna’s four eyes had softened its gaze at them, and the first thing that came to mind was to comfort them. On the days to come forward, Sukuna would nurture the Curse of Solitude. He would provide the tear-stained curse a home within his shrine, curses at their liege, villagers to pray on, and last but most importantly- company by his side.

Eventually, and as curses grew fast, the King of Curses and the Curse of Solitude became great friends and partners in crime. Together, they would bring forth suffering, misery and death upon countless villages.

They grew strong together, over years and years he got to see how they developed. Though [Y/N] was tied down to sadness, they’d wear a casual, warm smile on their lips and a soft look on their eyes. Their voice was pleasant and sweet in his ears, relaxing in his mind- ridding him of his existence as a curse and the blood on his hands. Soon, Sukuna found himself satisfied and content with the delicate [Y/N].

In spite of his feelings, [Y/N] did not reciprocate- at least, not as he would wish.

Because the Curse of Solitude yearned for their innate loneliness to banish. For hours, they found themselves observing fondly the way human children ran around with sticks, the way humans would eat and laugh together, or hold such intimacy between them.

Such was not possible with the King of Curses- not even after the afternoons they spent together, or the skies they gazed at, no. [Y/N] was not born human, and they despised themselves for it- for how children would crumble at their touch, how adults would turn away in despair only to be consumed by their shadow.

Then, [Y/N] would cry and thrash and hate their predicament. Truly, a pitiful existence which Sukuna would treasure and cling desperately to- if only they would focus on him, think solely of him, yearn for him as much as they did for those pesky, disgusting humans.

Ah, yes, Sukuna began to hate.

The King of Curses’ dark heart, but not empty, would putrefy in envy against the humans which stole his beloved’s sight and it would as well putrefy on the drunk lust he held.

His, his, his, ONLY HIS.

And thou still, his feelings are not returned but in fact, stolen along the clan he’d curse for all eternity to come, Zenin vermin.

Such ultimate, lowly, scum of the head of the top three clans which barely attempted to pose a threat to him - and to his partner.

[Y/N] could not see this, no, they were blind. Blind to his love and to the deceit of the dark-haired man’s lies.

The Curse of Solitude snuck each night, when their shadow could not stand out, to observe the peculiar man which had caught their eye. His eyes, the cursed user had felt, held the peace and warmth they craved.

After many nights, they had put up the courage to talk to him. In the midst of the shock upon the sorcerer’s friendliness, perhaps because they had at last mastered the art of disguise, the Curse of Solitude found themselves relieved.

On forth of the nights to come, the lonely curse would sneak from the King’s shrine and embrace to seek the doomed and forbidden love- Megumi Zenin.

The pair would only meet at night and celebrate under the pale white of the moon, and with hopes for the future, they would relish in their company.

That is until the King of Curses would find out at a night’s noticed absence, and in fury he would watch the way the Curse of Solitude had found warmth in the company of the stupid, imbecile scroundel Zenin.

Thus, he came to hate and destroy the village under the custody of the Zenin. In ecstacy, he relished on the screams of children, men and women as he massacred each one by one.

A few survived, Sukuna scolded himself as he picked up his widened-eyes and tear-drowned fiance.

Peace was short lived when stepping at the stairs of his shrine came the three angered clans, annoyed Sukuna had to move his fiancee from the custody of his lap and strong, four caging arms.

“Don’t move, I will return once the garbage is dealt with” with a fast peck [Y/N] wished to rid off, the Curse of Solitude watched helplessly as the four-eyed beast lunged forward into battle- or to cause yet another massacre.

As the dreading seconds went off by the sounds of pierced flesh and blood-curdling screams, [Y/N] awaited impatiently, that is until they sensed the presence of their beloved. At the speed of wind itself, the curse ran down the path to their beloved, across the battlefield and onto their arms.

Without wasting any more seconds, [Y/N] quickly brought their thumbs up his cheeks and wiped away their tears.

“I love you, Megumi” the curse confessed and thus, both kissed in desperate reunion- which lasted mere seconds as a cursed weapon was driven onto the curse’s back- and into his lover's chest.

Ah, yes, Sukuna despised.

A roar, a cry of pain so audible and chilling, echoed through the battlefield and blood was spilled mercilessly. Bones creaked, muscles were shredded and throats were torned.

Carefully, he encased the vanishing curse onto his arms and cradled them close as the King wept and screamed. The void in his heart growing rapid and aching strongly as ever.

He could, though, bring them back with his reversed technique but before he could lift a single one of his twenty-clawed fingers, he was sealed in despair.

For centuries, the harboring hate, despair and yearning grew within his cage soul.

A clumsy, salmon-haired boy found him and oh lucky Sukuna was to found a proper vessel, and even luckier he was.

Destiny had blessed him, for he had found them once again- this time void of cursed energy and with the soft features of a human yet familiar ones.

The boy had befriended the reincarnated scum of the -now- Fushigoro, but at last, Sukuna had found what was rightfully his-

“[Y/N]”, without warning Yuuji’s hands grew sharp nails and his voice turned volumes deeper- like a guttural growl. “I found you at last,” the tall unknown yet familiar figure said, as his strong arms wrapped so perfectly and nicely as would a cage they had been accustomed to would fit, “I will not let you go, never again”

He spat, his eyes opening sharp and glaring with spite at the dark-haired man standing behind her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------A/N: It has been a long time since I've published something. Hope you like it.

#yandere x reader #yandere sukuna #sukuna x reader #megumi x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere fanfiction #yandere

591 notes · View notes

hannahhasnofriends · 3 years

Text

happier | dream

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

summary: based off the song happier by olivia rodrigo!

pairing: dream x reader

warnings: angst, break ups, this is just fucking sad lmao, real names are used (srry not srry)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i love olivia rodrigos new album i literally have not listened to anything else since it came out omfg😎 also i think i like this fic?? idk gimme some thoughts n feedback :)

We broke up a month ago Your friends are mine, you know I know You've moved on, found someone new One more girl who brings out the better in you And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But she's so sweet, she's so pretty Does she mean you forgot about me?

"Hey guys! I've missed you all so much." I hug Sapnap tightly and move on to the next person I was greeting.

A "reunion" we were calling it, it'd been a year since the SMP ended and everyone wanted to get into touch again. It was bittersweet seeing everyone , it seemed like we'd grown up so much since then. Hell, I know I have.

"Hey darling, " I turn and see Niki, I missed her so much. We were the first female streamers on the SMP, she'd been my best friend. "How are you?"

"I'm good, really." I could see the sympathy in her eyes. I pretended not to notice when everyone did a double take when I walked into the room, they really thought I wasn't going to come today.

"That's good, I've missed you." She had a tight smile on her face. "You know he's coming today, right?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, I knew someone was going to ask. It was fine, I had prepared myself for the questions and stares. It'd been 6 months, half a year, 6 damn full moons since we'd ended. We share the same friends, it was hard knowing they were going to pick sides, we both knew it wasn't going to be mine.

"Clay? Yeah, I know. Don't worry, we've both moved on. We're adults and I don't need to hide from him. We're friends!" I was lying through my fucking teeth. I saw his instagram posts, the subtweets, and everything else that had her named burned into it.

"Ok, I just wanted to check in. I know we all took the erm- break-up pretty hard." Her eyes avoided mine but I know she truly meant well by everything she was saying. "Anyway, I'm going to say hi to a few others. I really want us to talk more, ok?"

She squeezed my arm as she was walking off, I nodded my head even though I probably wouldn't be able to bring myself to message her after this.

I took a deep breath and eyed my other company. I was sticking out like a sore thumb, everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. Honestly, it'd probably be best to make a cowardly dash before he showed up.

Just as I'd made up my mind, I saw it. The main doors opened and there they were. Well. Too damn late for that.

He was as tall and gorgeous as he was 6 months ago and she was stunningly perched on his arm. The worst part wasn't how goddamn good they looked, it was how you could just tell they were right. You could simply glance in their direction and tell she was nice and kind and he was completely devoted to her.

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Just like that, all the air in the room had been sucked out. I was doomed.

As he made his way around the room, his eyes finally found mine. His smile faltered and I could tell he was taken aback. I averted my eyes quickly, this was so stupid.

“Y/n! Hi!” I jumped as I heard his voice, sneaky little bastard. I forced my best smile on my face as I turned to face them. She was standing next to him, still arm in arm but she stayed silent.

“Hey! How’s it going.” I pressed my lips together, he seemed so… ok? His eyes no longer had those dark circles and the cuts on his knuckles look healed.

“I’m good! How about you?” He tilts his head, curious.

“I’m doing good, too. Pretty busy, but you know.” I nodded along to what I said, it wasn’t a complete lie.

Abruptly, she clears her throat and side eyes Clay, obviously wanting something. “Oh, right! This is Grace.”

“Hi, I’ve heard great things about you.” She smiles so warmly, she seems so great. I could feel the jealously sinking into my skin, it was suffocating.

“Hello, it’s really nice to meet you.” This time I really was lying. But I couldn’t tell her the truth. How I couldn’t let her boyfriend go.

And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean Remember when I believed You meant it when you said it first to me? And now I'm pickin' her apart Like cuttin' her down will make you miss my wretched heart But she's beautiful, she looks kind She probably gives you butterflies

She kept up the small talk with me. I learned she was an artist and slightly older than him. She taught art to kids on the weekends and her parents were still married. She even volunteered to help me move.

I noticed the rings she wore and thought about whether he gave them to her. If he gave her the same gifts he gave me. Maybe she knew too. Maybe she knew he took her to the same places we went. Did the same things, laughed at the same jokes. I hope she did.

But the conversation continued, and I kept searching for a flaw. Something to make him realize she wasn’t meant for him. Something I could point out and have my aha moment.

But she was perfect. And I had nothing that would make him pick me instead of her.

I wish you all the best, really Say you love her, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on her I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The music picked up again and they excused themselves to the dance floor. It was a sappy, corny love song. It fit them perfectly. I could see him whisper in her ear and rock her back forth to the beat. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

As they swayed, I was hoping he was thinking of me. I hoped he would drop her right then and there and grab my hand and lead me out of this mess. I hoped he would lock eyes with me and pretend none of this happened. I hoped they weren't as happy as they looked.

I hope you're happy Just not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

As I watched them, I swear every memory we shared came fleeting into my mind. Every smile, every laugh, every fight, everything. The way he’d let me wear his sunglasses in the car and the time we danced in the rain and we’re sick for days after.

As I watched them I wondered wether they were truly happy together. If he was in love, if he loved her more than he loved me. If he ever thought of me when he was with her.

I wonder if he watched me as I left.

#dreamwastaken #dream smut #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamnotfound #dream mcyt #dream team #dream x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #snapnap #georgenotfound #dream #dream fluff #dreamwastaken fluff #dream angst #mcyt imagine #mcyt angst #mcyt fluff

443 notes · View notes

translytherins · 3 years

Text

Just my Type

Pairing: Karma Akabane x Slightly oblivious! Male reader

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

Narrator's P.O.V

"Alright class sit down! I have a very exciting announcement to make!" Koro-sensei said after everyone stopped firing Anti-koro bullets at him.

"We have a new classmate joining us today! Come in new kid!" Koro-sensei said excitedly while everyone else started whispering about either how they're behaviour would be, how good they were at assassinating or why they got transferred into their class.

The door slid open, making everyone go quiet, and a male with [hair coloured] hair came in the room. He was walking towards Koro-sensei and he kept his head down, seemingly trying to avoid eye contact with everyone which was true. He stopped walking when he reached Koro-sensei he lifted his head up and turned to face the class with his hand in her pocket.

"Please introduce yourself to everyone!"

He didn't say anything, instead he lifted his head up, letting everyone see his [eye colour] eyes and looked around the classroom before speaking.

"[M/n]... My names [L/n] [M/n]... It's a pleasure to meet you... I hope we get along with each other..."

"Good! I'm Koro-sensei and I'll be you're homeroom teacher! I hope you can kill me before graduation! Please take you're seat at the back!"

The male, now known as [M/n], nodded his head before walking towards the back. While making his way towards his seat, he "tripped" making Koro-sensei rush to catch him but before he hit the ground he placed the palm of his hands on the ground and swung his right leg up, where he taped a Anti-koro knife onto the bottom of his shoe before he came to school, and managed to slash two of Koro-sensei's tentacles. Koro-sensei jumped back at that while [M/n] landed in a crouching position before standing back up. He started staring at Koro-sensei who was staring right back at him. They just stared at each other while the class were looking at the new transefer student with disbelief. The class looked at them back and forth before Koro-sensei spoke up with his tentacle regrowing.

"Impressive! You might actually kill me before graduation! Such a good strategy!"

"Thank you Koro-sensei... When you have an out of control speedster as a younger brother... You need to think ahead or else alot of things in the house will be destroyed..." [M/n] said before sitting down at his desk which happend to be placed right next to a bright red tomato head, also known as Karma Akabane.

Karma was staring at him with a wide smirk on his face.

'Attractive, smart and good at assassination... Just my type!'

Ohhhh... If [M/n] knew what he just signed up for... He wouldn't have pulled that stunt in the first place.

[M/n]'s P.O.V

Everyone in class 3-E was nice. I just wished they get more credit from the school but then again... I don't want them to be mindless slave that only want good grades. One thing though, ever since i transferred Karma-kun has not stop bugging me. He's literally glued to my side. Wherever i go, he's always there with me. Now, i don't mind him doing that. I'm grateful because he wants to deal with my sorry arse. The only thing that bothers me is the fact that he keeps making flirty comments towards me but i didn't think to much of it and got used to it after a while.

"Hey Cutie-chan! Wait up!"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I just kept walking, knowing that he was fast and could catch up. Once he caught up with me, he put his arm around my shoulder.

"Looking cute as always Cutie-chan~" Karma said in a flirty tone with a grin on his face.

"Thanks Karma-kun" i said before looking at the ground, hoping that he wouldn't say anything else because me and Yuma, my speedster little brother, had an anime marathon yesterday and we stayed up until 2 in the morning.

I think he noticed how tired i was because he kept quite and started to run his fingers through my hair which was quite relaxing if i do say so myself. We continued walking to class in silence.

-Timeskip to Lunch-

I was eating lunch with my new group of friends which consists of Nagisa (who i, at first thought was a female in disguise), Karma (of course he's here) , Tomohito and Kaeda.

(Author: Did i get it right because i keep forgetting how many people are in Nagisa's friend group)

"Hey [M/n]-kun... I've been meaning to ask you something?" Nagisa said.

"Sure... What is it Nagisa-kun?"

"How come you're in class 3-E if you're smart?"

"Nagisa-kun's right! You're always not paying attention in class and you still get the awnsers right when either Koro-sensei, Karasuma-sensei or B*tch-sensei asks you to awnser a question" Tomohito said now looking at me, waiting for an answer

The other follow suite and were looking at me expectantly, Karma pretending not to care about what I was going to say. I chuckled slightly while internally cooing at them because they were acting like cute little puppies.

"I punched a few students and a teacher. The teacher was by accident though"

It took them a few minutes for them to comprehend what they had just heard before they suddenly shouted excluding Karma who was smirking at me.

"YOU DID WHAT!?!"

After they got over their shock, they started bombarding me with questions on why i did it.

"Because they were acting like b*tches by talking sh*t about you guys so i took the liberty to punch them across the face and the teacher startled me by putting their hand on my shoulder so i accidentally punched them thinking that they were trying to hurt me and the rest was history. Honestly, I'm glad i got transferred here because i don't think I'll be able to stand being there for another minute. Besides... I think i like it better here with you guys" i said with a smile on my face before i was tackled in a hug by Tomohito, Kaeda and Nagisa which suprised me alot considering he was normally very calm.

They were crying tears of joy making me panic, thinking i said something wrong. Unbeknownst to me, Karma was watching us with a fond smile on his face instead of his usual smirk.

I was waiting for Karma outside of our class building because he said he wanted to tell me something. After a few minutes, i saw him walking up to me making my heart beat faster and i started sweat slightly for no apparent reason. He stopped right in front of me with one of his hand behind his back. I could tell he was nervous because he was shifting on his legs.

"You said wanted to talk to me about something Karma-kun?"

"Ye-yeah... Uhm..."

I looked at him slightly bewildered because in the weeks that i have known him, he was outgoing, confident and cocky. I was about to ask if he was alright before he pulled out a [favourite flower] flower crown from behind his back and handing it to me.

"Uhm... I made you this... I overhead when you were talking with Kaeda that you always wanted a [favourite flower] flower crown but never had a chance to make it and i thought it would be nice to give you one..."

I wanted to make a snarky comment but i decided against in and put the flower crown on my head while smiling.

(This is what you look like wearing it and can we just appreciate how adorable Midoriya looks with a flower crown!! Also art is not mine so credits to the original artist)

"Thanks Karma-kun... I love it..."

"I also have something else for you"

"What is i-"

I was caught off by a pair of lips connecting themselves onto mine, specifically Karma's lips. I tensed up slightly because i have no idea what to do because I've never kissed someone before! This is my first time kissing someone. I heard Karma chuckle slightly before pulling back.

"For someone attractive you clearly have no experience before... But don't worry! I will show you how relationships works if you agree to be my boyfriend" Karma said with his signature smirk back on his face.

I was in a daze slightly making me miss the fact that Karma's smirk faltered a bit.

"Is that a yes or no" ha said making me snap out of my daze.

I didn't trust my voice so i frantically nodded my head before hugging Karma and burying my face in his chest to hide my blush making him chuckle before wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my hair because i was slightly shorter than him. We stayed there in silence before we were interrupted by a squeal from nearby. We looked at where the squeal came from and saw Nagisa, Tomohito, Kaeda and Koro-sensei watching us from the bushes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?!"

They started running for it while Karma chased them making me laugh.

'I didn't even realise it until now that I like Karma-kun. I must be more oblivious than I thought' i thought while smiling fondly at the thought that someone like Karma would ever want someone like me but I'm glad he did because he's just my type.

~The End~

#assassination classroom #karma akabane #karma assassination classroom #gay #x male reader #male reader #male #karma akabane x male #karma akabane x male reader #nagisa assassination classroom #kaeda assassination classroom #tomohito assassination classroom

410 notes · View notes

sweet-milky-tea705 · 3 years

Text

Abandoned Studies

Felix Escellun x GN reader, fluff, slight spice, word count: 1400

(I apologize for any bad writing or grammar, It’s my first fic lol)

——————————————————————————

I stare blankly at the mountain of books, loose pages, and scrolls piled on the table before me. The room I was given in the tower was nice, the bed was soft and comfortable, light filtered through the dark curtains of the open window while a gentle breeze blew through them, plus, the ambiance of the room was warm and cozy despite me only being here a few days. I took a deep breath of the fresh, yet somehow also dusty, air and picked a book from the pile. The title reads, “The Comprehensive Study on the Art of Magic Cultivation”, I frown at how long and serious the title is. I take it with me and drop down onto the bed.

“At least it's not history,” I sigh, “This feels like school all over again.” My hands reluctantly open the book, I’m somehow surprised at how well the pages are preserved, the burgundy leather cover looked worn and it was clear it was more than just old, the thing seemed ancient. I turn a few pages and start reading, It’s more interesting than I had thought. I was never a huge fan of being forced to read things but if this book was on Earth, The author would’ve been a complete nutjob. I’m definitely not used to all this magic stuff here, not to say I’m not enjoying the hell out of it.

Next thing I know, hours have passed and I’m more than a quarter through the book, which is surprising given the fact that it’s about as thick as a brick. It was starting to make sense to me, but that’s definitely more in theory than practice since I technically haven’t tried anything yet. Maybe when I do I’ll at the very least understand it more. Just as I look back down at the book, I hear a knock at the door to the room, at first, a tentative tap, then a slightly more firm knock.

“Come in,” I say, laying the book and my glasses next to me on the bed. The door creaks open and I find Felix standing in the doorway eyeing the massive pile on the table. “Well...uh, that sure is a lot. Eager to study, hmm?” he says with a small, almost awkward smile. I laugh at the thought of being eager to work on anything, I don’t necessarily fit that narrative. “Not particularly, I just grabbed as much as I could carry, figured I could sort through them later.” He chuckles and takes a few steps into the room, looking at the little changes I’ve made during my stay here.

When the silence stretches a little too long I decide to speak up. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed your company lately, I’m lucky to have such a talented young mage here to help me with all this magic stuff, among other things of course.” I say the last few words with a playful tone, he flushes slightly at it before quickly regaining his usual composure.

“Of course, I have also enjoyed your presence, I can only stand Sage’s banter for so long. You have certainly been a nice change of pace.” I stand up from my place on the mattress and make my way towards him. He was a little too far away for my comfort. “Have I now? I think I understand Sage just a little bit, you are fun to tease.” Slightly flustered, his eyes widen a little bit and he coughs, moving his gaze back towards the books and changing the subject. “Good to know I suppose. How has the research been going?”

“Pretty well, it’s a lot more interesting than I was expecting. I’ve never really been a big reader. Why don't you come look?” I gesture towards the book I left open on the bed and my round glasses tossed next to it. He agrees to look at it and we both plop onto the small bed. I pick up the book and begin reading aloud to him. “It seems nice, you’ve gotten rather far into it for it being only a few hours,” he says finally, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to read aloud that much since I’m not the best speaker, but I guess he wanted to hear a good bit of it. Regardless, I smile at the praise, I’m glad I seem to be doing well, I didn’t usually hear that often.

I notice the room has gotten considerably darker, It’s getting late, isn’t it? I look at Felix expecting some sort of remark on the matter, but his attention seems to be elsewhere. Golden light shines in through the window and a small gust of wind gently blows through his hair. I never realized how long his eyelashes were, or how rosy his cheeks are. Wait. I look back up at his eyes and realize I had been staring. “O-Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to stare, you just look amazing right now.” Oh my god, did I actually just say that?

I look down at his lips, parted in response he can’t seem to get out. I chuckle and cup his cheek. His eyes widen and his blush deepens even more at the touch, “You know, this book has been getting a little boring, don’t you think?” I ask, tossing the book aside once more with a smirk. When I turn back to face him for an answer, I’m pulled forward to find my lips pressed against his. Surprised at his sudden boldness, I gasp, yet I melt into him quickly regardless, the kiss deepening slightly and our lips matching pace with one another. I part away for a moment and he whimpers slightly, arm draping over my shoulder. I kiss him again harder this time. Then again.

I go further, moving onto his lap and slipping my tongue into his mouth. At this, he inhales sharply and pushes forward, hands grasping at the buttons of my shirt while mine run through his hair. Soon, my shirt is slipping down my shoulder and I tug at his hair gently. I didn’t know his lips were this soft, we move together like water against each other, only small gasps of air and the sound of our own heartbeats cutting the silence of the room as the sun continues to go down.

Our lips part after what could’ve been ages or only a few moments and I meet his gaze breathlessly, our clothes and hair awry. To my surprise, the sun had almost completely gone down and the room had gone almost dark. Felix was only barely visible, but still, the sight of him was perfect. “You are so amazing, Felix...” I whisper before peppering kisses on his face, granted, not very well since we were smiling too much. He pulls me back down for one more kiss and looks back up at me, satisfied at the happy little mess we had made of each other. He sends a small flame at a nearby candle to light up the room a bit. I look down at the floor and chuckle at the poor book that had fallen off during our...research.

I pick up my glasses and say with the most shit-eating grin I can muster, meeting his gray eyes, “Maybe we should study more often like this, don’t you think?”

“I’ll look into it,” he laughs playfully, running a hand through his hair, “Though I severely doubt much work will get done.” How can he be this effortlessly beautiful? I smooth down my own hair and pull my shirt back over my shoulder. Suddenly, with a growl of my stomach, I realize neither of us has eaten yet. “So... dinner?” I look at the door and then back to him expectantly.

He looks surprised for a moment, as if he hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was. “Yes,” he says, smiling fondly, “Let’s go eat something.” He opens the door and the candle goes out, leaving the room empty and dark aside from the gentle moonlight. The cool air ruffles the curtains a bit and the crickets chirp outside. What a lovely way to spend the evening, I think to myself and walk out the door.

132 notes · View notes

yuyupowers · 3 years

Text

aristocrat!seonghwa

aristocrat!seonghwa x fem!reader

genre: fluff

trigger warning(s): patriarchal society mostly. let me know if there’s anything else!

author’s note: none of the pictures are mine!!

for reference, i’m using british peerage (hierarchy). there are five ranks: baron, viscount, earl (count), marquess, and duke - the highest being duke, and the lowest, baron.

second son of a duke

i imagine seonghwa to be someone who values tradition

unlike hongjoong who finds who finds the numerous aristocratic mannerisms pointless, hwa believes upholding these (rather stringent) rules is a sign of respect

perfect gentleman pt.1

excellent in swordsmanship, horse-back riding, and hunting

well versed in poetry, literature, art, and finance

(can maintain a conversation about politics but honestly it kinda goes over his head)

a bit on the shyer side, but a decent conversationalist

good at keeping the flow and mediating in case anyone becomes a little too heated about their opinions

definitely cares about his and his family’s image

naturally caring and tends to dote on those close to him

(translates into excellent manners)

holds the door open, offers his hand when stepping out of carriages, makes sure to walk on the side closest to traffic, diverts conversation when things are too “distressing,” wouldn’t be caught dead alone with a woman that wasn’t related to him or his fiancée/wife

and surprise, surprise !!

this is where you come in

you’re the second oldest daughter, fourth child out of six; born to an earl

hwa’s family had the highest title bestowed upon aristocracy

whereas your family accumulated more wealth and land than the park family

and since both you and hwa were prime marrying age™, your parents decided upon a mutually beneficial marriage

the first time you met seonghwa was under the watchful eye of both your parents, when the park’s invited your family for dinner

tbh, you were pretty relieved when you met him

“prime marrying age” was different for men, so you were just glad he wasn’t some old geezer

and he seemed like a decent person !!

a well put together gentleman, and his image was only consolidated throughout dinner

all in all, you didn’t have much to complain about from the initial impression

though it was kinda annoying when your little sister would not shut up about how he was the handsome man she’s ever met

even if you agreed

and didn’t she say that when she met woo?

anyways

after the first meeting with the park’s, both your parents set up multiple occasions for you two to meet

whether that be evening walks, picnics in the park, etc,,,

you learned a great deal about seonghwa

how his favourite is black, how he loved the stars and that his favourite planet was mars

how he loved kids and doted on your youngest siblings (much to your sister’s glee)

how he enjoyed spending a quiet afternoon with you reading dickens, discussing afterwards the contrast between carton and darnay

how he was always considerate of your feelings and opinions

you liked to think you were a decent judge of character and thought overall that seonghwa was a kind and caring person

but you also noticed a few characteristics that-

you wouldn’t say it was off-putting or anything but,,,

it might bother you in the future

see, you were pretty good friends with hongjoong

and while you weren’t as extreme,

(you didn’t sneak out weekly to hang out with a bar maiden that you definitely did not have a crush on)

you certainly agreed with him on certain points

like hwa, you thought that abiding by certain mannerisms = display of respect

but unlike him, you didn’t care all that much about your image

okay, that was a lie.

you couldn’t say you didn’t care about your image

(social ostracization isn’t exactly fun ya feel)

but you thought it was,,,exhausting

it’s one thing to be respectful, but it’s another thing to say things you don’t mean

to fake humility

to undermine people that are supposed to be your “friends” or “one of you”

to be perfect, when “perfect” was such a subjective term anyways

it just felt so fake and that left a bitter taste in your mouth

even now, you could see all the efforts seonghwa made to constantly keep his image of a “perfect gentleman”

with perfect mannerisms and perfect answers and perfect-

yeah, it kinda frustrated you

not to mention how obedient he was?

of course you didn’t fault him for being a dutiful and filial son, but his loyalty blinded him

and it wasn’t like his parents were bad people !!

no, you’d say they were much kinder than the average noble family

especially considering their status

but when they made important decisions for their son without consulting him,

(because they were more experienced, because they knew better, etc,,,)

and he accepted whatever decision they handed to him?

well,,,

nevertheless, despite being his fiancée, you, by this point, had realistically had known seonghwa for a couple months

and you didn’t feel like it was your place

(at least not yet)

to point this out

so the two of you continued your cordial but emotionally distant meetings

that is until “the incident” (as hwa fondly likes to call it)

okay, so-

one day you paid hwa a visit and the two of you decided to take a walk in his family’s garden

chattering about this and that

a lovely time !!

it was a bit overcast, but it didn’t look too threatening

so the two of you ignored the clouds looming in the horizon and wandered deep into the garden

big mistake

the weather took a turn for the worst, and soon it was pouring

by this point seonghwa was a little panicked

he knew that for women, getting ready could be excessively long and tenuous task

(courtesy of his little sister’s complaints)

and now !! you were getting rained on !! because he didn’t bring an umbrella !! just in case !!

!!!!

he turns to you, ready to shield you with his jacket and lead you back to the manor

but he’s at a loss by what he sees

he had expected you to be upset, to huddle closer to him, to,,,idk, maybe reprimand him for this thoughtlessness??

but instead, he finds you staring up at the dark sky, eyes shimmering with barely contained glee with the biggest smile he’s ever seen from you adorning your lips

he likes your smile

and if he was already confused (he was), he was about to become even more so

because the next thing he knows, you’re hiking your dress in one hand and grabbing his in the other, running through puddles of water and mud and everything in between, laughter falling from you like the rain

up until this point, you had been acting like the perfect (you hate that word) lady

polite, demure, charming-

in public settings, you only spoke when spoken to, with a voice that was purposely soft and soothing

you chatted with his mother and sisters about traditionally feminine things over tea with impeccable manners

whenever you two met, you were always prim and proper; never a strand of hair out of place

but here you were, getting not only yours but his clothes soggy and muddy, laughing without a care about how pleasant it sounded or how loud it was

seonghwa liked to think he wasn’t a judgemental person-

he wasn’t repulsed or anything by your sudden change in demeanor

just.

really confused

and when you looked back, you could tell,if his expression was anything to go by

but your grin only grew wider, because you could work with this

he wasn’t enjoying himself per say; a bit too confused and bit too stiff to do so

but he wasn’t horrified or disgusted

okay maybe he was a little grossed out; he liked to be clean thank you very much

you could work with this.

and so over the next few months, you showed him things he never dreamed of doing

some of which he liked, some of which he didn’t

some he was willing to try, some, less

like sneaking into the restricted section of the library (he’s never been so scandalized in his life)

or visiting the kitchen in the middle of the night so you could teach him how to make some basic recipes (which he surprisingly enjoyed)

or meeting hongjoong

(“of COURSE it matters if they got the colour wrong?! lord help me you’re the most insufferable person i’ve ever met-”)

and the more the two of you explored, the more he,,,real he became.

and vice versa.

gradually, the mask of perfection he worked so on hard to maintain was slipping before you

don’t get me wrong, he’s still kind and caring and a gentleman

but sometimes he would whine and complain when you encouraged him to do something he was less than enthusiastic about (usually something that involved getting him messy)

or he made The Face™ (the disgusted one) to you and when he didn’t like something or someone

or he would be stupidly stubborn about some random fact that you KNEW was wrong but he just WOULDN’T admit if even when you showed him proof

(“seonghwa for the last time toads don’t give you war-” “LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU” “eye-”)

once, he even playfully stole the strawberry from your cake

(big mistake. he’s never doing that again. he never knew a woman could move so fast or be so scary.)

it made you so, so happy because the two of you were finally getting to know each other

actually know each other

then one day, while the two of you were reading underneath a tree at the park

“,,,hey love?” (hwa)

“yes?”

“why are we doing this?”

“what do you mean, dear?”

“i mean,,,i’m not complaining, but i guess,,,why did you decide to show me this part of you? the part that runs around in the rain?” hwa

you don’t reply right away

instead, you shut your book and idly stared at the willow swaying over the pond, wind running its fingers through its drooping leaves

after a few moments of silence

“,,,i wanted to know you and what you believed in. actually believed in.”

seonghwa tilts his head slightly to the side

“love, i hardly think my convictions have changed”

“but do you know what your convictions are?”

and you know when you hear something that resonates with you?

something that strikes deep in your core and makes you rethink everything you’ve know?

yeah,,,this is one of those moments

now it was seonghwa’s turn to set his book aside, falling deep in thought

after an unnaturally long stretch of silence, you began to panic a little

because ?? maybe you misread the situation and got a little too comfortable-

cause i mean you were questioning his core values, which is something he takes very seriously

o god you messed up didn’t you o crap you need to apolog-

“will you help me figure it out?”

“,,,huh??”

“will you help me figure out my convictions?” he asked

and you swear, you’ve never seen such a smile from seonghwa

one that conveyed a plethora of emotions, ranging from honesty and vulnerability, to confusion and loss, to lightness and warmth

it filled you with an unnameable feeling

like something sliding into place, fitting perfectly; like it was always meant to be there, filling you with comfort

shyly intertwining your hands for the first time, you looked up to meet his gaze with a pattering heart and a smile matching his own

“,,,of course.”

129 notes · View notes

huenjin · 4 years

Text

dripping.

pairing — lee minho x reader | devil!au

word count — 2.6k words

rating — 18+

genre — smut, includes jealous sex, semi public sex (in a gallery), manhandling, spit play, sir kink, breast play, possession kink, fingering, orgasm denial, blow job, deep throating, degradation, humiliation, spanking, marking.

note — happy lino day! i speed wrote this to post something for his birthday so it's heavily unedited. this is filthy af and i might, just might, make a part two of this to delve more into it, haha, because lmao, i love this so much.

It's a big red stroke over the area that should have been for the eyes.

You drop the paint brush with the ends of the bristles still coated in deep red paint. The white plastic sheets underneath your easel prevents the white floors of the room in the back of the art gallery you own from being stained. You look up at the man before you, your friend of all these years, Bang Christopher Chan, shirtless in all his glory as he poses for you. His hands are shoved into the jeans of his pockets, built abs that are clenched and shine under the spotlight and his sharp side profile in your clear vision, all for you to paint down on a white canvas.

"It just needs to dry up now," you smile at Chan and look at him as you lean to the side of your chair, your fingers gripping on the circular edge to keep your balance. "You did well!"

Chan relaxes and walks a few steps to the side to grab his black shirt, only to pull it over his built physique. You take the smaller brush and dip it in the water in the can by your side, lightly brushing it over the toned abs in the picture to highlight it. The model walks towards you, moving behind you and bends forward. He observes the picture. His hot breath fans over your skin and you can feel the goosebumps rise. Chan speaks into your ear, "Damn! I look hot."

A soft laughter leaves your lips and you turn to look at him. Bang Chan is way too close to you, enough for you to see the golden specks in his eyes.

"It better do. Those are a lot of hours gone into you flexing and me painting."

Chan straightens his spine and takes a step back. You place the brush on the projection on the easel and stand up, removing the apron off of you and placing it on the chair.

"Why do you not sell your paintings yet, Y/N?" Chan asks as you walk with him to the door. You shift your dress fabric slightly, a small smile to yourself and you look at him. He continues, frowning, "I mean, you put your whole soul into it."

His face appears into your head. Chiselled jaws, sharp eyes that are able to radiate sheer softness in moments, veiny hands that cup your face while he kisses you like he is going to take possession of what he owns. You respond finally, "You say I put my soul in it and maybe that's why I can't sell it. Because it's not mine. I can't sell something that is not mine, can I?"

Chan looks at you like you are of one screw short. He laughs nervously and pulls the glass door. You take hold of the handle from him, holding the door out for him. His right arm snakes around your shoulders and hugs you, his warm cologne hitting your nose as you let him hold you, to bid him farewell.

"See you later, crocodile."

"You too, dork."

You stand by the door, watching Chan walk away till you cannot see him anymore. You fondly stare in the distance and pull the door backwards to close it.

"Who would have thought the devil's girl is here flirting and drawing naked men?"

You hear the very familiar voice, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your head quickly turns, back hitting the glass door as you look at the devil himself, clothed in a black shirt — of course, the devil wears Prada. Lee Minho grazes his thumb over the edge of the painted canvas before taking it up. You walk towards him, folding your arms over each other.

"Keep it back, Minho," you frown. You look up at the brooding man hovering over your height. His eyes narrow down at your figure and then stare at the picture. He laughs darkly again, "How dare you flirt with another man when you know you are clearly mine?"

He throws the canvas down and you huff in disbelief. The devil can truly act like a child at times and you swear to both the heavens and hell, that you will never get used to it. You bend down to pick it up but Minho clicks his tongue, almost as if he is sending you a warning — a final one because you already ticked him off seemingly with Bang Chan's presence.

"I wasn't flirting with him," you look away and Minho takes a step towards you, his fingers holding your jaw and pulling your face to look at him. He lifts it up slightly, locking his gaze with yours.

"Were you not now, my darling?"

You remember the abdominal muscles of Chan's — sculpted and formed that you sigh, and his broad shoulders, wide and strong. Everything, however, changes when Minho's eyes darken and your mind is filled with lust. Minho's other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer into him. You are pressed against him and you gasp. A lustful expression makes its way to your face and your thoughts are clouded with Minho now. Everything Minho. His arms, his hands, his eyes, his plump lips that edge closer to you.

His thumb digs into your cheeks and the other four fingers grip your face as he opens your mouth with pressure, tongue jutting out slightly. Minho sniggers, "You might as well be begging to get fucked right now." Your eyes glisten, thighs and core clenching. Minho spits into your mouth and you swallow immediately. He laughs. "Ah, you slutty whore."

Your hand brushes against his growing bulge, up and down gently and you beg as he grips your face tightly, "Do me, please, sir." Minho's hand leaves your face. His nose brushes against the skin by your neck as he breathes hot air against it and you feel a pool of wetness gather on to the already damp fabric of your underwear.

"What thoughts do you have of me generally, angel?" He presses a chaste kiss against your jugular. "Were you hoping for something like this to happen tonight?" His head drops in between your breast, teeth clasping onto the thin fabric and pulling it down, exposing your supple breasts to the devil. He buries his face in between them, sucking in sharply. One of his arms pulls you in impossibly close to him whole the other sharply moves under your dress, teases the wetness of the fabric before rubbing his fingers against them. You gasp, inhaling air sharply.

"S-sir," you stutter. You know for a fact that you would have collapsed had it not been for Minho's grip around you. "I didn't—"

Minho's fingers pull the underwear strap away from your flesh, wrapping around them and in a minute, he pulls them down furiously. Strings of your wetness connect your dripping core and the underwear that is pulled down and Minho is laughing. Loudly.

"What lies! You are dripping, angel." Smirking, he raises an eyebrow at you and taunts, "See, I was correct."

He runs his index finger along your slit teasingly. You buckle under the sensation, gripping on the collars of his expensive black shirt, knees slightly buckling. Minho mumbles, "So wet and all for me. This is all mine," and he prods the index and the middle finger into your core, slightly circling the edge before entering completely – knuckles deep – without any warning and you gasp, scream leaving your lips with words calling for mercy from the devil himself.

Minho thrusts his fingers, in and out, as he sucks on your breasts. His tongue laps around your flesh, areolar and then the nipple. He sucks on it, the sound resonating loudly in the gallery and you worry if the security guard would come in to check.

"Minho—"

Thud. You jerk, spine straightening up and pain seeping through every end of your nerves as Minho's palm hits against your pussy. Your eyes water and you pull Minho closer, your head dropping onto his shoulder. His fingers come in a harsh contact with your core once again and you let out a choked sob.

"It's sir to you, slut. It is sir to dirty whores like you, flirting with men when you clearly know who you belong to. You belong to the devil, angel."

He slaps your pussy once again, your spine straightening up and your head thrown back and he orders, "Who do you belong to, angel?"

"The devil's," you cry, a sole tear falling down your eye, staining his shirt. "I belong to you, sir. I belong to you."

"Good girl," and his fingers enter you once again. You moan out his name. The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand clutches his shirt tightly, pulling it a bit and you hear the slight ripping sound.

He presses his thumb on your clit, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you are going delusional. Your mind is empty and the devil is contaminating you, slowly like black ink in water, ripples that soon spread around, ruining everything.

"Sir, oh my fucking heavens."

He sucks on your breasts, tongue lapping against your erect nipple. He lets go only to hover a little above and suck purple hickies all over, telling you, "Fuck, you are insane. Insane for this." His teeth graze against your nipple and you shudder in his hold. His fingers, three in already at your sopping wetness, thrusting in at an impeccable pace. "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. What a mess you are making and look at this filthy hole, sucking my fingers in and devouring them. You really are a slut."

You cry out at the feeling of being overwhelmingly full, your head falling down and your teeth biting into Minho's shoulder. Your walls are stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this slut being a needy girl for me."

He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Minho slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily and pushes at it constantly. You feel the knot building up and you are moaning, voice barely leaving your lips.

The devil is evil and that is what Lee Minho is.

He removes his fingers the minute he realises you will snap any minute. The emptiness you feel breaks your heart and makes you weak. Your voice, croaky and husky, barely lets out, "Why?" Tears fall down your face at the orgasm denial and your knees fail to keep you up as they hit the ground. Minho lets you fall down on your knees, your vision now his huge bulge.

"Sluts don't get it easy. Ever."

Minho unbuckles his belt, unbuttons and unzips his pants, lowering the pants to his mid-thigh and he takes out his cock. His hot angry girth with heavily leaking precum is right in front of you. His fingers coated in your wetness enters his mouth and he wraps his tongue around it, loudly sucking. His eyes do not leave yours and you understand what he is asking you to do.

He expects the same. You open your mouth wide, tongue slightly stretched out like a girl thirsty and Minho shoves his cock into your mouth. You gag at the sudden entrance, arms lifting up automatically and hands wrapping around his length as you begin sucking on it.

Before you know it, his hand is flat against the back of your head, shoving your head forward. His big cock pushes past your buccal cavity, going deep down your throat and you gag against his length loudly. Minho moans before holding you there, your nose brushing his pubis and you are breathing through your nose, eyes watering.

There is nothing gentle in the devil's movements. He pulls himself back only to thrust his hip forward, cock going down your throat again. He abuses your mouth to his pleasure as he moves against you, procuring pleasure from you hollowing your mouth and your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, slightly wrapping around the length and teasing it now and then.

Your fingers try to move down without his notice. Your index finger finds your clit silently and you rub against it fast, trying to drive yourself to the orgasm you were just denied. With a blink of the eye, Minho pulls himself back, pushing you away from him and you whine. You are on your knees and you look up at Minho, arm stretching forward to grab his length, mumbling like a bitch in heat, "Want it, want it, want it."

He hums, gloating and pride washing his whole face, "What? You want more of it?" He slowly takes many steps backward before falling onto the stool before the easel. He spreads his legs, dick up and erect and he points at the ground before him. "Alright. Come here."

You are quickly on your four. Your right hand moves forward, followed by your right knee flat on the ground and then your left limbs. You crawl towards Minho, lips dark pink, swollen and open in desperation. You want to suck him off more, feel him down your throat, constriction your airways. You want to feel him so close. You want to taste him more.

You wrap your lips around his cock once you reach, pushing your hair away. Kissing the angry purplish red tip, you suck at the head. Minho throws his head back in ecstasy. You feel him twitching in your mouth, every single time you take him deep down your throat, gags hitting off the flesh and dying in your mouth. He pulls out barely before he is pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the white walls of your bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs emitting out from Minho's lips as he fucks your mouth mercilessly. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him.

The flat of your hot tongue presses against his length. He finally lets you take control by a bare minimum. You lick his length, moving your head up and down as your wrists twist slightly, the right amount of pressure applied. Minho mumbles, "You finally decide to act like a good girl, didn't you, you slut? Did you think you might get rewarded then?" He holds a fist full of your hair and pulls you back to have you look him in the eye.

"You are mine," he emphasizes. His eyes darken and your heart beat races for the personification of evil. "Your soul, your body, your heart," he tightens his grip and your eyes widen, "They are all mine." He bends forward to kiss you, his tongue lapping against yours, taking in the salty taste of himself. He kisses you like he wants you to lose your sanity or bring him some.

And when he lets go, he holds his cock and he finds you salivating, eyes fixed on it, lips wide apart.

"Now, make the devil the happiest tonight."

760 notes · View notes

ellewriteswrongs · 3 years

Text

picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y’all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night.

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing.

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway.

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news.

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it.

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night.

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win.

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus.

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin.

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face.

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless.

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless.

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value.

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it.

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever.

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them.

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old.

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair.

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face.

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all.

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related.

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat.

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!”

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose.

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out.

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment.

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out.

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign.

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green.

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?”

Remus choked on his own spit.

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids.

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off.

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm.

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house.

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile.

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip.

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them.

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him.

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn’t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face.

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot.

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries.

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head.

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him.

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk.

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face.

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,” Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle.

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense.

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth.

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night.

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate.

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within.

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing.

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him.

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe.

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way.

#anyway.......i would die for them #my writing #tsbandau #sanders sides #ts remus #ts janus

55 notes · View notes

silkling · 3 years

Text

So, @pastelpaperplanes, I did it again. Apparently a) I have no self control, and b) my brain wouldn’t stop screaming at me till I wrote this. The song for this drabble is at the end of the post, but be warned there’s a very minor twist after the “keep reading”, so try not to spoil yourself by getting to it early. I hope you all enjoy this! (Maybe now my little gremlin brain will let me go back to my Dojo Ghost Prowl AU)

Yoketron watched Lockdown with a critical eye, stepping in when the youngling’s stance was too wide to nudge his feet closer. His student looked at him, eyes curios and demanding an explanation. The ninja smiled, fond. This was why Lockdown was one of his favorite students. The young mech always wanted to learn and understand. He didn’t mindlessly listen and obey, but rather questioned so he could better know why things were done instead of just how they were done. It was refreshing.

He blinked, both he and Lockdown freezing in place when there was a knock at the door. That was...unusual. He’d always made it very clear that he wasn’t to be disturbed when he was in a lesson, unless it was a true emergency. He glanced at his student, pondering his next actions for only a moment before nodding. “Lockdown, you may take a break. I will see if this is not something I can solve without halting your lesson.” When the youngling nodded and folded himself down to begin a series of easy stretches, Yoketron turned and walked to the door. He blinked, resignation settling in his chest as he was greeted with who was on the other side.

It was his son, Prowl, held in the arms of his most recent caretaker. His very frazzled looking caretaker. The femme made a sound of manic hysteria, shoving the infant into his Sire’s chest as soon as she saw him. He brought his arms up on reflex, hands curling around the small frame as he allowed his son’s back to settle into the curve of his arm. “I can’t do this anymore!” the wild looking caretaker wailed. “That is not a normal sparkling! I quit!” With that, she whirled around and sped off as if the Unmaker himself were at her heels.

Yoketron stared after her for a moment, then with one hand he slid the door shut and turned an unimpressed look onto his son. “Again, little one? That is the third caretaker in a month. You cannot keep doing this.” he scolded. Though, it clearly had no effect, because the little bot only looked pleased at the attention being directed to him. Prowl gave a soft whuff of a breath, one hand lifting and pressing the knuckle of his thumb to his mouth as he stared up at his Sire.

The Dojo Master heaved a sigh, briefly turning his gaze heavenwards as if praying to Primus for some form of a sign. His son wasn’t a poorly behaved sparkling, not really. He never screamed, or cried, or broke things. He never made a mess, and was he really was very quiet and peaceable. If he had done any of those things, then Yoketron knew that caretakers would be able to handle him. But no. His son acted out in more...discreet ways. He refused to listen to anything that was asked of him. He stared his caretakers into a terrified silence whenever they tried to talk to him. He somehow appeared suddenly in front of them in places they hadn’t left him. He got into extremely dangerous situations that his panicked caretakers would take ages to figure out how to fix and wander off to disappear while they were doing the fixing. He deliberately hid from them, doing it so well that none of them could ever find him and they had to get his Sire to find and retrieve him. He even hid their belongings. Rather than be loud and destructive, Prowl had mastered the art of infant physiological warfare. So far, he had driven 18 separate caretakers into a stress induced breakdown. Well, now 19, he supposed.

“You are, I think, far too attached to me for anyone’s good.” Yoketron informed his son succinctly. Prowl just tiled his head curiously as his Sire looked down at him, then wrinkled his nose and sneezed. He looked very irritated at his body’s action once he’d done so. Yoketron sighed, shaking his head before he turned back to his student. Unfortunately, there was no one else in the Dojo who could take care of Prowl right now. That meant that for today, at least, he had to keep his son with him.

Lockdown had finished his stretches, and by now was staring curiously. “Who’s that?” The youngling asked, head tilted as he padded over slowly. Yoketron hummed, lowering his arms so his student could get a better look at his child.

“My son and heir.” he remarked dryly. “He is very fond of me and absolutely no one else. I’ve yet to find a caretaker who can handle him for more than a week. The longest lasted a month, I believe.” he sighed.

Lockdown just blinked, staring at the sparkling. His plating was thin and dull, his colors not yet fully settled and intense as they’d be on an older mech. It made his coloring look softer, which combined with rounded, squishy features made the small bot look very unthreatening. “This pipsqueak is that much of a terror?” he asked incredulously. “What does he even do that’s so bad? Throw a few too many tantrums?”

Yoketron only sighed. “I only wish that were the case, my student.” he stated, turning his head to give his son a look. “No, this little menace has somehow mastered his own unique form of psychological warfare.”

Lockdown stared at the sparkling, who had turned his head to pin him with a startlingly intense look. After a moment, the infant’s eyes narrowed, as if deciding he didn’t like this smaller-than-an-adult newcomer. “...he what.” he deadpanned. “How does a baby even use psychological warfare?” he asked.

His master only sighed. “That, I do not know. He is far to smart for his own good.” he grumbled, then straightened and tucked his son more firmly into his chest with one arm, his other lifting to place a hand on his student’s shoulder. “I apologize, Lockdown, but I will have to keep him with me for the remainder of your lesson.” he said.

The youngling only shrugged. “Don’t matter to me. Not like there’s much time left to it today anyway.” At Yoketron’s gesture, the youngling returned to the center of the mat. The older ninja paced around the younger, eyes narrowed and focused.

“Metallikato, Forms 34 and 56.” he instructed. Lockdown nodded, then obediently shifted through them. Yoketron watched his student with a critical eye, calling out corrections where they were necessary, but otherwise remaining silent. A glance at his son showed that the sparkling was starring unerringly at Lockdown, his gaze sharper and more intense than most youngling’s his age would be. Yoketron knew his son was observing, and learning as much as he could at his current level of mental and physical ability.

Prowl was a clever sparkling, with more cunning than even some adults Yoketron knew. He didn’t have complete mobility yet, and his limbs were still soft with infancy, but already he could see his son’s frame beginning to develop its own hidden strengths. He knew the sparkling would grow into a powerful ninja one day. Perhaps, one even more so than himself.

He returned his attention to his student, continuing to give out forms for the youngling to practice, until their lesson came to an end. Lockdown turned, bowing his his mentor before leaving the room. Alone with his son, Yoketron turned his attention to Prowl, who only looked deeply pleased that Lockdown was gone. Yes, the infant was far to attached to his Sire.

Yoketron only gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head and carrying his son to his room. Prowl’s crib was in the corner, but the ninja simply ignored it in favor of grabbing his favorite scroll from the shelf and settling on his bed to read. He had long mastered the ability to read his scrolls one handed, so one arm remained curled under his son as he settled against his pillows and opened the scroll. He read for a while, stopping only when the clock on his nightstand informed him it was time to eat.

He went to the kitchen, grabbing dinner for both himself and Prowl, before returning to his room. After he ate, he prepared Prowl’s bottle of sparkling energon and fed it to him, watching fondly as the little bitlet gripped at the nozzle of the bottle with small hands and suckled almost lazily. When the sparkling finished, Yoketron quickly returned the dishes to the kitchen before he returned to his room. There, he made his way back to the bed, settling in comfortably. He ignored the scroll for a moment, curling both arms under his son and lowering his head to look the infant in the eye.

Prowl stared at him, burbling softly and reaching out with a little hand to grab his father’s nose. He gave a tiny, pleased coo at his success. Yoketron’s gaze became infinitely softer as a delighted smile pulled the sparkling’s lips, humming gently as his son babbled something at him. He pulled his nose free, then lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Prowl’s forehead, in the middle of the tiny chevron. “You may be trouble, my little one, but I am so very pleased to call you mine.” he murmured fondly.

He settled the infant against his chest again, directly over his heart since he knew Prowl liked to listen to his heartbeat. He freed one arm, then reached for the scroll again. This was perhaps his favorite story. Prowl was too young for it yet, but Yoketron had read it countless times. The scroll told the tale of an old man who was beloved by his family. He had only one child, but he considered all in his house to be family, though of course his most beloved family member was his son. One day, a terrible calamity swept the land. A drought so bad and so hot the ground burned the feet of those who walked it. The old man, who remembered the old tales that most of the town had forgotten, knew what he had to do.

He went to the old temple in the forest, and prayed to the gods to save his home and his family. The gods had answered, but they had demanded a price. The old man would be forgotten by the town, as if he had never existed at all. He was distraught, but when he remembered his weakening son he agreed. It rained the very next day, and all in the town forgot who the old man had ever been. All of then, that is, except for his son, for he too knew the old stories and had always carried a protective talisman with him. When he realized that no one remembered his beloved father, and that the rain had come so suddenly, he knew it was the work of the gods. He went to the temple himself, and demanded the return of his father. The gods, who had spirited the old man away so he could be truly forgotten, were surprised. They had not expected anyone to remember, had not expected anyone to stand against their magic. The gods refused, however, for a deal had been struck and the son had played no part in it. Then they retreated to their own realm, leaving the son alone.

The son, overwhelmed by grief, abandoned his home and struck out to find the gods. He would have his father returned, even if he would die doing it. And so the son travelled for years and years, always trying to chase down the gods who had stolen his father from him. Along the way, he found on old falcon who became attached to him, and stayed by his side for his journey. What he didn’t know was that the falcon was his father, who the gods had given a new shape to ensure his old life would be forgotten by all who might know him. The son and the falcon travelled long and far, and there were many records of their adventures in the many towns which they took rest in. No one knew what became of the son, but some say that in the dark of the night, if you go to the last place he had been seen alive, you can see two pale, misted falcons, flying into the moonlight above.

It was a story of love and fatherhood and loss, and though there was no happy ending, or even any true ending at all, Yoketron had always enjoyed the deeper meanings of the story. By the time he finished the scroll, night had fallen and the rest of the Dojo was quiet and peaceful with sleep. The ninja stood, returning the scroll to its place and stepping towards the crib. Immediately, Prowl made a noise of discontent, and Yoketron heaved a sigh. He didn’t want to deal with his son’s stubbornness tonight. So, he simply turned to his bed, placing Prowl down on it so he could get them both dressed in sleeping clothes. Then he picked his son up, tucking them both under the covers and pulling Prowl to his chest. He knew Prowl would not fall asleep easily, but he had one trick that always worked.

Yoketron lifted his son closer to himself, humming deep in his chest. Immediately, the little one’s attention snapped to him, rapt. He smiled, warm and fond, and lowered his head to press his forehead to his son’s. Prowl’s eyes closed at the soothing hum he heard from his Sire, though he obviously wasn’t falling asleep. Yoketron’s lips twitched into a bigger smile, and as he stared at his son he opened his mouth to croon an old lullaby.

“Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes...”

Prowl woke with the echoes of an ancient lullaby in his ears. A song he’d thought he’d forgotten years ago. He stared at his ceiling, his room deep and dark enough to tell him that it was still night out, and wondered why he was awake. There was a breeze from the cracked open window, and his cheeks felt cool. He startled, sitting up slowly and lifting his fingers to touch his cheek. They came away damp, and his sleep-heavy mind struggled to understand why.

Something dropped to the blanket pooled on his lap. He looked down, noting a small wet spot, as if a drop of water had soaked into the fabric. He stared down, uncomprehending, and another joined it. That’s when it clicked. He was crying. His cheeks were wet with tears. Tears he was still shedding. But why...?

Then he remembered his dream. His Sire. It hadn’t been a dream, it had been a memory. An old one. He didn’t know how he was able to remember that. He’d been so young. He shuddered, still able to hear the peaceful rumble of Yoketron’s voice as he crooned that old lullaby. Without realizing it, he found himself grabbing the old ribbon from under his pillow, the only scrap of his Sire he had left. He clutched it in a fist, bringing his hands to press the heels of his palms into his eyes as he choked on a sob. He had forgotten that his Sire used to sing him that lullaby. It had always soothed him, even when he’d been big enough to think he didn’t need soothing.

Another ugly sob tore from his throat, and his shoulders shook as he fought to silence himself. He missed the Dojo. He missed the gardens. He missed the training hall. He missed the smell of old paper and ancient, well treated wood. He missed the sounds of training. He missed the peace. He missed Jazz him. He missed his Sire. He missed that lullaby. He missed home.

Prowl forced himself to lie down, curling his hands into his chest and rolling onto his side. He shuddered and heaved as he cried silently, his pillow soaking in the tears that fell. He screwed his eyes shut, knowing it wouldn’t help, but wanting only to fall back asleep and forget this breakdown ever happened.

He did drift off, eventually. As another breeze swept into his room through his open window and dried his tears, his mind, half-asleep and unfocused, could almost hear the echoes of a song on the wind that caressed his cheeks.

“Someday we'll all be gone

But lullabies go on and on

They never die

That's how you and I will be....”

✧

Also, probably fairly obvious, but the song for this drabble is Lullaby (Goodnight, My Angel) by Billy Joel. Listen and W E E P.

youtube

112 notes · View notes