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morelikeravenbore · 1 month

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Pandora's Book, part one

🔞 Sebastian Sallow x Book | PART ONE

Unhinged!Sebastian, objectophilia, sexual acts with a (sort of) inanimate object, an exploration of grief and acute loneliness. Seventh year, minor changes to canon.

Warning: explicit content. All characters 18+. Minors do not interact. Reader discretion is advised.

Seeking distraction from his interminable apathy, or a temporary relief from his guilt that didn't resort to obliterating his own memory, the girls he took made him feel good, said pretty things that made him believe, for a while, that he wasn't broken and irredeemable. But then, issues of that nature were likely a job for St Mungos rather than some girl's mouth in the back of a disused classroom, and over time, the thrill of mindlessly fucking his pain away began to dull, and he recoiled from their sweet nothings and gentle affections; like everything else in Sebastian's life, even the flames of desire eventually turned cold, and his escapades became less about feeling better and more about feeling anything.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

A/N: Erm. I'm not even sure how to introduce this one, but I've had this idea in my head for months now and — well, brain rot. I KNOW it sounds like a crackfic — and it kind of is — but it's also an (unhinged and smutty) exploration of grief. This'll be a multipart story, probably three parts. I'll update as quickly as I can but I'm a turtle writer so please be patient with me. Thanks for reading, fellow unhinged bebes, I luv u.

Word count: 3k

[ao3 | wattpad] ✨ [HL fic masterlist]

The gate is opened, and the night

Rushes across the sky with a shout.

The gate is opened, and the evil

Comes pouring out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ⁺ . ⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

'Oh, shut up, would you?' Sebastian muttered as a particularly vocal book wailed directly in his ear.

Darkness surrounds you... your soul is lost, torn between light and dark, ripped to shreds by your own hand... darkness creeps, ever closer... ever closer...

'Yeah, yeah,' he muttered, pausing just long enough to cast a cursory glance at whichever accursed book was taunting him aloud this time. Ah, of course: Secrets of the Darkest Arts. That one had always been especially antagonistic toward him — even before he'd murdered his uncle.

Rolling his eyes, he gave the offending book a swift two-fingered prod, sliding it deeper into the dark recesses of the shelf it was chained to. It shuddered with indignation — if a book was capable of such a thing — and cursed him so vehemently in Latin he would've been impressed had it not been calling his dead mother a swine.

Unphased, Sebastian scoffed and kept walking, the sound of his footsteps dampened between towering bookshelves as he made his way deeper into the deathly stillness of the library.

To another, perhaps less traumatised sort of person, the idea of inanimate objects giving voice might've been a bit unsettling, but Sebastian was quite used to books shouting at him by now; having spent more time in the Restricted Section than he suspected even the librarian had, their disembodied voices were sometimes the only interaction he got outside of his N.E.W.T classes — that is, if he didn't count Ominis Gaunt, whose insults were often far worse than anything a Dark Arts book could conjure, and who generally addressed him with an equal amount of spite and derision. In fact, Ominis was partly the reason why Sebastian spent so much time alone with a bunch of talking books to begin with: it was one thing for a book to berate you for all your past mistakes, but quite another when it came from your best friend.

No, when it came to facing resentment, Sebastian would sooner bear the brunt of it from some gruesome edition of Magick Moste Evile than see it written clearly across another's face. In fact, there'd been a time when the incorporeal voices of those awful books had enticed him, called out to him like a siren song, drawn him in with promises of power and glory the likes of which he'd never dreamed of. And he, driven by his desperation to free his twin sister from the grips of a dark curse, had immersed himself in their age-browned pages so thoroughly he'd begun to hear their voices in his dreams.

But that was then.

Now, those ghostly whispers, once a comfort to a boy who'd had very little of it in his life, were more like the incessant buzzing of insects, harsh and irritating. He was no longer interested in what secrets they had to offer him: Anne was dead, and nothing in any book would ever bring her back — of that, he was certain.

Stretching up to reach a high shelf, Sebastian slid another misplaced book into its correct place, feeling a sense of pride he seldom felt any more. Being voiceless, this particular book couldn't thank him for his tireless commitment to reorganising the forbidden library, but at least it couldn't offend him, either.

Having nowhere else to go after his classes and homework were done, he'd come to frequent this part of the castle so often that he'd appointed himself as an unofficial librarian of sorts. Judging by the general air of neglect about the place, old Scribner never bothered venturing this deep into the forbidden recesses of the library, so rather than tossing and turning in his bed, Sebastian spent his restless nights bringing some semblance of order to the forsaken space, dusting shelves, repairing book spines, and clearing out the infestations of spiders that'd taken up residence in the darkest corners. It didn't matter if every so often some ancient tome insulted his dead parents or taunted him for his lack of an intact soul, if it was incorrectly catalogued, missing a cover, or simply in need of a good clean, he would diligently set it right again and move on. It was a library, after all, albeit a nefarious one, and it deserved respect.

He was just turning a darkened corner, muttering about the lack of proper organisation and general disregard for the correct cataloguing procedures when something — no, someone — distinctly moaned his name.

Well, that was new.

Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks. In all the time he'd haunted these aisles, he'd never once come across another living soul — at least, none who wasn't made of paper and evil.

Calmly depositing his armful of books onto a nearby desk, he withdrew his wand from his pocket. Not much scared him any more — committing murder and raising the dead made one rather fearless in the face of anything less — but it was apprehension, not fear, that had him casting Homenum Revelio under his breath. This was his peaceful hideaway; he neither wanted to share it nor have it taken away by some meddlesome idiot.

But the spell resounded through the empty library, detecting no living presence besides his own.

He was alone.

Strange. Either Sebastian was officially going mad, or the books were becoming more sentient — for all their moaning, whining and idle threats of bodily harm, none had ever addressed him by name before.

He paused, held his breath, strained his ears.

There! — There it was again, a distinctly feminine voice calling out for him.

s e b a s t i a n... i n e e d y o u...

Swearing under his breath, he followed the spectral call as best he could, his fingers trailing over the dusty shelves as he hurried down the aisle, leaving streaks through the grime that might lead him back should be lose his way.

As desensitised as he was to all thinges evile, some distant part of him wondered whether he might be better off ignoring the call of this one — he was surrounded by evil books, after all, and Sebastian wasn't stupid enough to forget that anything gained from cursed pages demanded something of the reader in return: a sacrifice, some sanity, a little piece of the soul. But the desperation in that voice, the pain — the longing...

'Say it again!'

Whimpering moans, a body squirming beneath his; the cute Ravenclaw had been giving him the eyes for weeks before he'd finally gotten her alone.

'Say it again, or I won't give you what you want.'

Lustful eyes met his — pretty, but he couldn't recall their colour now; they all looked the same after a while.

'I need you,' she whined, grinding her hips against his. 'Sebastian, I need you.'

He was sweating by the time he found it; tucked away in a small side chamber he hadn't gotten around to cleaning yet, and half-hidden behind piles of long-forgotten junk, the voice called to him from an innocuous-looking cabinet in the corner. Its glass panels were thick with dust, but the door opened easily, unobstructed by lock or magic.

Inside, the books weren't chained to their shelves or bound shut with leather straps, nor made of flesh or covered in suspicious-looking stains. They were just — books; plain old inanimate books.

All but one.

He wasn't exactly sure what first drew him to it. Instinct, he supposed, for it bore no title to pique his interest, and the cover was dull and plain, free of any macabre embellishments that usually made restricted books so alluring. But when his gaze settled upon it, the sudden, terrible ache at his separation made him sure this was the one.

Mine.

He snatched it up, clutched it to his chest — laboured breaths mingled with his; the book was panting as hard as he was, sweet, breathy whimpers against his chest — and when he felt a second heartbeat thumping against his own, knew he'd sooner die than ever let it go again.

s e b a s t i a n...

'Yes,' he growled, squeezing it tighter, his grip possessive.

i n e e d y o u...

'I know.'

w a i t e d s o l o n g...

Striding over to a small table against the far wall, he cleared a space amongst the ancient clutter and gently laid the precious tome atop it, stroking the cover with the adoring touch of a lover, tender and gentle. How supple it felt beneath his calloused palms, and strangely warm.

'I've got you,' he breathed, reverently tracing the hardcover edges with his thumbs, his eyes glazed and heavy.

p l e a s e, s e b a s t i a n...

'Please what?' He leaned down as if to whisper in an ear that wasn't there, his breath ghosting the surprisingly pristine pages.

t o u c h m e...

Loneliness had a way of changing people; extroverts became withdrawn, optimists turned cynical. But when that loneliness was the direct result of one's own failings, it withered anything pure that had ever bloomed in a person's psyche, leaving only a wasted garden in its place, a bed of rotting roots.

Once a boy of friendly disposition and bright curiosity, Sebastian's innate optimism had slowly eroded away after every loss that'd darkened his life: his parents, his sister, his uncle, each death a blow to his happiness from which he never recovered, rendering him withdrawn and bitter, a tree lopped well before its time. — But though he might’ve been emotionally damaged beyond repair, but there was certainly nothing wrong with his body.

Sebastian was tall for his age, handsome and broad-shouldered as his father had been, his muscular physique and toned forearms the result of several years playing as the Slytherin Beater. He wasn't ignorant to the way girls looked at him, nor oblivious to the effect he had on them when he flexed his arms or ruffled his hair. And despite his melancholy (or perhaps because of it, as one Slytherin girl had told him), he attracted intimate partners with surprising ease.

When he'd lost all sense of himself under the crushing weight of grief, it was sex that made him feel alive again.

Ever the resourceful Slytherin, he used this inherent charm to his full advantage, setting his sights on only the prettiest girls in his year level, the most unavailable, or the ones too shy to meet his gaze. He revelled in their blushes and giggles when he brushed his hand against theirs, their darkened pupils and parted lips when he finally had them pushed up against a wall or straddling his lap, and soon, Sebastian found himself addicted to the taste of soft lips against his hungry mouth, the flush of goosebumps beneath his demanding touch, slick thighs and flushed skin.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

Maybe he really had lost his mind.

'Touch you?' He swallowed roughly, fingering the notches of the spine. 'Where?'

s p r e a d m e... t o u c h m e...

With his entire body throbbing with need, Sebastian spread the book open to the middle pages. He ran a slow, measured finger down the length of the inner crease, imagining the soft hollow of a collarbone, the sensitive dip of an inner thigh. But to his immense surprise, his finger did not glide over the smooth paper as he was expecting, but sank in, disappearing into the spine as if he'd breached some concealed opening. Instead of meeting a paper barrier, or even the polished wooden table beneath it, he delved into a strangely wet, yet pleasantly warm depth.

He added another. Sebastian's fingers were thick, but the pages yielded easily to accommodate them, stretching and pulsing around him.

Something inside him roared to life.

'Is this what you want?'

Mingled breath, pretty skin. Snow was falling outside but her body burned against his.

'Yes! Yes, Sebastian, please!'

The resulting moan that fell from the book's lips — pages? — ignited a primal, aching need inside him. Musical and clear, and so deliciously lustful it made his knees tremble, it was the single most beautiful sound Sebastian had ever heard in his life: ethereal and otherworldly, pretty and bright — and yet, somehow, achingly familiar. He slid his fingers deeper, the slip of the unmarred pages like silken bliss against his skin, and when the voice whimpered in approval, he thought of the last girl he'd fucked under the Quidditch stands who'd made very similar noises with his fingers inside her. Sebastian smiled, remembering the way he'd had to hold her up when she came all over his hand, her knees buckling and her mouth agape in a silent scream of bliss.

'Oh, so this what you need, is it?'

Sebastian was grunting now, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he curled his fingers deeper into the pages' soft, wet void.

The empyreal voice only cried out in reply, but the tight, hot opening fluttered around his fingers in that additive way he knew proceeded a mind-shattering orgasm. He smiled again, half-feral with lust as he pawed at his own crotch, roughly stroking the evidence of his depravity that was straining against his breeches.

'I'm going to finger fuck you until you fall to pieces.' He picked up his pace, the veins in his forearm bulging with the exertion of the efforts, his hair falling over his eyes. 'Is that what you want? To be ruined?'

'Sebastian! Sebas— fuck!'

Frantically rocking hips, fingers slippery with desire.

'Do I make you feel good? Do I? — No, look at me when you come!'

Well past the point of no return, Sebastian watched the rhythmic pumping of this fingers with a singular intensity, marveling at the way they slid so easily into the mysterious depths of the book only to come out coated in slick. This was better than any real girl he'd even been with; this was all-encompassing, mind-numbing bliss, each glistening stroke soothing his burdened mind, mending the roots in his ruined garden.

This was magical.

It was some time before a cramp in his hand had Sebastian reluctantly peeling away from the books' lush center— but the pain of their separation was immediate and unbearable. Whimpering, he went immediately for his breeches, his stiff, slippery fingers struggling with his belt and fastenings until, finally, in a half-blind sort of daze, hot and throbbing, he stroked himself with a raw, gutteral cry. The table groaned under his weight as he leaned over it, mimicking the sounds that fell from his ruined throat.

i n e e d y o u...

His hips bucked.

With one knee propped on the table and a pant leg still tangled around one leg, the angle was awkward, uncomfortable, and if he weren't so utterly fucked out of his mind, he might’ve stopped to reconsider, well... everything.

But he couldn't stop. Now now.

Instead, mumbling stupid, unintelligible praises, he managed to angle himself in just the right way to swipe his weeping tip through the deliciously slick cease.

His mind went blank.

There was no warm body to hold onto, no hips to bruise nor neck to sink his teeth into, just an old splintery tabletop and smooth pages — and yet, if he closed his eyes, he could almost envision a trembling, sweat-slicked body beneath him, as warm and needy as any he'd had before.

If somebody were to walk in on him now, hovering half-naked over a book, painfully hard and inarticulate with lust, they'd be hard pressed to make him stop.

At this point, not even a team of Auror's could pry Sebastian cock away from these pages.

They'd have to crucio him to make him stop.

And even then...

Trembling with the effort of holding himself steady, he gingerly probed the spot his fingers had just been enjoying.

He slid in an inch. Then another.

The book shuddered.

His vision blurred.

i n e e d y o u...

'Sebastian, I need you!'

He fell forward, knees buckling, pleading, whimpering — then a voice, maybe his own, maybe the books', let out a garbled, broken cry as he sank into the sweet, tight abyss.

The world narrowed to the euphoric point of connection, and nothing else.

Pleasure, exquisite.

And nothing else.

[part two coming soon]

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow x book

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shawnxstyles · 11 months

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sweet alert!

DATE: JUNE 30, 2023

summary: peter invites you to the cabin. later, jax tries to talk to you and peter recalls his past.

song: Science- niall horan

words: 4.3k

warnings: mentions of death and blood, language, angst, and bits of fluff

note: the big chunk of italics are a flashback, but i think that’s obvious. i hope you guys like this part 5, it’s been awhile :) part 4 // peter masterlist

—

peter thought that walking you home would have been the most stressful thing in the world. but it turned out to be one of the most comfortable and heartwarming things he’s ever done. even in this cold weather.

together you talked about little things, but important things. things that seemed impossible, but only to the small-minded. not like your favorite color or schoolwork, but your dreams. what’s your dream vacation spot? your dream house? dream car? what do you aspire to be? who do you aspire to be?

questions like these were brought up, but not all were answered.

you said you wanted to get out of queens and live in the suburbs. or somewhere secluded and alone with nothing but the wilderness surrounding you. you didn’t care too much about money; you wanted to hear people’s stories. so you said you wanted to be some type of social worker too—in all, you just wanted to be happy. random, but notable.

were you not happy now? peter thought.

peter didn’t care what questions you were answering. but at the same time, he cared an overwhelming amount. he just loved hearing you talk and worshiped the things you said.

like you, peter had dreams. he believed everyone had dreams. who didn’t? besides his career dreams and bucket list goals, you were a walking dream in his eyes. a fleeting, golden glow of essence that affected him more than any superpower he had.

if only you saw him the way he saw you.

peter was a perfectionist. now, he wasn’t perfect by any means, but he wanted to be the best for you. he’d realized later, though, that you were simpler than that. sometimes, peter put you on a pedestal, afraid to touch you or even look at you. he didn’t need to be some perfect man to just hang out with you. so, peter resorted to being himself. kind of.

he wishes he was courageous enough to swoon you on your doorstep under the porch light. as you would turn away to walk inside, he would spin you around by your wrist and catch you in a deep, movie-like kiss. ha, imagine if he asked you to go to the cabin with him. now that would be ridiculous.

would it?

as he walked you home and envisioned this, these scenes were just one of the many fantasies he pictured with you. it was all only a fantasy.

“well, thank you with walking me,” you blurted out in the chilled air. your soothing voice shakes peter from his daydreams, or evening dreams because the sun was setting.

the sky faded from a cornflower blue to a deep indigo with white freckles. he forced himself to look away from the planet’s beauty because he could watch the sky all night—it was never leaving. however, you were leaving in a few moments.

“oh yeah, of course,” he stuffs his hand in his pockets to hide his fiddling fingers. you both slow down your stride as you approach your house, stopping in the front of your lawn.

“i’m sorry again about jax…” you look down as your eyes wander on the concrete, ashamed.

“it’s not your fault he’s a jerk,” peter is quick to reassure you as you slowly nod. you finally look up at peter, who is already looking at you. a familiar blush rushes to his cheeks, and he hopes you think it’s from the chill outside.

your eyes are sparkling from the streetlight as the area around you guys gets darker, colder. your face somehow still glows even during the night. not to be creepy, but peter could gaze at you forever like you were his favorite art piece in an entire gallery.

“sometimes, i wish i could get away, you know?” your eyes rip apart from his and stare towards your sneakers. your heart is beating way too quickly in your chest for a staring contest. it was cold and your body was trying to warm you up. simple.

“yeah,” peter’s first thought is the cabin, but you’d never want to go with him to that. you guys barely knew each other. even if you said you wanted to leave extremely bad, peter couldn’t ask you.

why? just ask her, you coward! the voice in peter’s head shouted. but what if she rejects you, dork? the devil on his shoulder retaliates.

you know what? he’s trying to be more courageous anyway. what’s the worst that could happen?

oh god i’m really doing this, he worries.

“i-i know a place where you can get away,” he stutters, mentally cursing at himself. you tilt your head in curiosity as you wait for him to continue. “my friend has this cabin that he’s going to next weekend with his girlfriend. he’s been begging me to go with him, but i didn’t want to third-wheel and you said you wanted to get away and i was just thinking maybe—”

“that sounds great, peter,” your soft, soothing voice cuts off his ramble thankfully. peter blinks a few times, in complete disbelief. instead of beating rapidly in his chest, his heart stopped abruptly. no blood, no breathing—he was just still.

wait, you said yes? no. fucking. way.

“fuck…” you groaned, clutching your stomach. peter pinches his eyebrows in concern.

“what—oh—right, sorry,” peter cringes at himself, realizing your pain. he wants to hug you and make it all go away. why couldn’t he have healing powers? but he can’t, so he just scratches his neck awkwardly.

“i should get going. text me the details,” you half-smile, clearly still in pain. peter waves you off, trying to hide his excitement. he waits until you shut the front door to walk away, a fluttery feeling erupting in his heart.

peter tucks his hands into his pockets, striding around the corner. looking all ways, he throws his hood over his head and readies his webs. he fires them towards the nearby lamp post and slings himself in the air.

while flying through the streets, he realizes that he doesn’t actually have your phone number. oh, well. that’s just another excuse for him to talk to you.

—

peter could not hold it in. he couldn’t wait the weekend to tell ned at school, so he facetimed him. he rambled from start to finish starting with the fight with jax and asking you to the cabin. ned’s jaw had fallen open in the beginning and didn’t close until the very end.

“peter…” was the only word he was able to form. peter couldn’t stop smiling, constantly replaying your soft voice in his head. it was like a dream; his dream making another dream come true. it was almost too good to be true. “you’re in, my dude! she totally wants you!”

peter didn’t think he could verbally deny it. of course, his head was telling him to not get ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help it right now. he felt like he was on top of the world, like the universe was finally on his side.

was it too good to be true?

—

peter knew this school week was going to be torturous. he knew that he would be crawling towards this three-day weekend slower than a turtle in quicksand. the only thing helping him through it was you, and the fact that he would see you every day during third.

speaking of which, as he was sitting patiently (or impatiently) in his desk, peter watched you strut into the room.

your hair was straightened, which wasn’t too often for you. a black, ribbed shirt fits your figure perfectly along with loose, green camouflage pants. moving past him, he saw your large gold hoops poking from your hair. his eyes were trapped in a gaze at where you stood, mesmerized by the air you left. when the bell rang, he was still staring, daydreaming into space.

every time he saw you smile he swore the clouds parted and the sun shined a little brighter. your smile could make angels descend from heaven.

“hello, class,” the teacher starts, folding her hands together. “i’ve given you all a few days to answer the before-researching questions. that should be finished by now. at this point, you should have some of your research done and should be writing your source pages…”

peter honestly zoned out. this is one of the first times he hasn’t paid attention in school. he wasn’t really worried about it though; he would catch up easily. when the teacher claps, that’s the cue for everyone to gather in their groups. peter snatches his bag and heads towards the back with a smile on his face.

“hey, parker,” you smile widely, almost showing your teeth. peter smiled back. you looked great today. well, of course, you looked great everyday, but you didn’t look ill anymore.

maybe your period was over.

your period was over, thank the heavens. that was one of the good side effects of your birth control. the bad ones consisted of horrible cramps and a depressive mood.

you really needed to change it…

peter laid the groundwork on the desk in front of him and started filling out some of the questions. last class he did everything by himself because he didn’t want you to stress even more than you probably were. you found it sweet. you found peter sweet. in a store full of candies and chocolates, he’d be the best thing there. he’d be the reason people come into the store, just so they can see him.

peter was really the only thing that made you come to english, and with a little smile on your face.

did that mean something? no, no.

“i can help, you know,” you chuckled, “i’m not completely useless.”

“of course, i know that. i’m just trying to get this done,” peter didn’t really want to say it, but you guys were a bit behind. last class he was so infuriated with how jax was treating you that he didn’t get much done. he’s barely finishing the before-researching questions.

“oh okay,” you nodded and folded your hands, not really sure what to do. you actually felt good today and you wanted to assist peter with the project. you were in a better state of mind than you were on friday. peter notices this from the corner of his eye. his heart skips a beat for some reason, even though it’s been relatively calm next to you.

peter’s heart? calm? next to you?

“actually, can you go grab a computer? then we can try to start our research,” peter suggests. you salute him and slide out from your desk, following his orders.

he finishes up the last question with ease since he read the book over the summer. peter doesn’t actually know if you read it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t. it’s okay, he doesn’t mind. he’s used to his partners not doing anything. but unlike them, you actually want to help. plus, peter really likes working with you.

suddenly, peter’s ears tingle, making his pencil halt. all the chatter in the room goes muffled for him besides the voices his ears are zoning in on.

it’s you and jax near the computer cart.

trying not to make it obvious, peter rests his head on his hand and sneakily peeks at you two while listening intently.

“looking good today,” jax clicks his tongue, smugness evident in his tone. you ignore and don’t engage—your motto. jax clearly doesn’t like that, so he continues on to get your attention.

“so, how’s your little nerd-friend?” jax taunts from behind you in line for the computers. you try not to indulge or be affected, keeping your face front as you wait patiently. but it was hard when your feelings toward peter were soft and endearing unlike jax’s poisonous intentions. he didn’t deserve to be bullied, especially by someone who’s a waste of space.

wait… feelings? like friend feelings, right?

“he’s good. thanks for asking,” you take a step forward, bending down to look into the cart.

“have you fucked him yet?”

your heart skips a chaotic beat, causing you to terminate your movements. your jaw and eyelids tick, frustration firing up in your veins. you swear to god you were going to hit him.

ignore, don’t engage.

“what the hell am i saying?” jax says with a dry chuckle, bending down near the cart. you turn your head towards him with an angry, confused expression. “you probably don’t even need to fuck him. he’s probably doing all the work for you and you don’t even have to bat a fucking eye. or—that’s all you do. just sit there and look pretty. isn’t that right?”

your lips were pursed together tightly at his words and your fingers were nearly shaking from rage. you swear at this point there was no one in your life that infuriated you more than jax. not even your father.

peter’s heart was pounding. he couldn’t believe the nasty words he was hearing. without thinking, peter stands up to head to the computer cart. his pencil snaps completely in half in his hand, too irritated from jax’s behavior.

you wanted to respond, but you couldn’t. you didn’t know what to say to such a comment. it was obviously wrong because peter wasn’t like that. he was pure and he was innocent, unlike anyone you’ve ever known. he wasn’t fucked up in the head. he didn’t need to go parties where there were drugs and drinks to make himself feel better. he didn’t need to fuck people to feel validated.

peter had a clear future, and you didn’t. he knew what he what he was doing, and you didn’t. he had self-control. and you didn’t. not anymore.

jax was getting in your head. you were more than just your looks. you were smart. you may not be peter’s level of intelligent and you might not be amazing at school, but you had your own thing.

as you opened your mouth to sprout fire on jax, a soothing voice appears like a guardian angel.

“i’m kind of stuck on one of the questions. do you mind looking at it? i can grab this,” peter rushes his words, trying his best not to stumble over them in anxiousness. his heart was racking impossibly quick in his chest with you staring at him and jax’s eyes burning into his face.

peter saw relief splash over your face like cold water. it was very rare for peter to need help on anything in school, so the fact that he was asking you proved that he was really helping you out. he gave you a clear out and you didn’t hesitate to take it.

“y-yeah, i’ll go look at it right now,” you tuck some hair behind your ear and shuffle your way towards the back, not giving jax another look.

peter didn’t think this far ahead. he didn’t think at all really. but now he was standing awkwardly with jax hovering practically above him, glaring at him with flaming machetes in his eyes. as peter reaches to grab a computer, jax aggressively pokes him with two thick fingers.

“you—”

“is there a problem here, mr. campbell?” the teacher announces beside both of the boys. her hands are folded together in front of her, waiting for him to respond.

with a strong jaw and the world’s tightest smile, jax replies, “no, ma’am.”

“we were just talking,” he roughly pats peter’s back before walking away and going to his desk. that whole interaction felt like hours, when it was maybe a few minutes. peter didn’t know. he just snatched a computer and made his way back to you.

“you okay?” peter softly asks, placing the device on the desk. you were completely zoned out, eyes still and lips remaining pursed. “y/n?”

you shake your head, hoops dangling through your hair. you turn to peter and give him a fake smile and lightly nod. the one you show when you’re not okay, but can pass for “i’m alright, don’t mind me.” people usually see that smile and leave you alone.

peter sees that look on your face and knows you’re not really okay. he’s seen the expression of someone trying to conceal their anger, fear, or sadness too many times. he’s seen it on victims in the street, his friends, family, and even in the mirror.

when peter lost his parents, he had that face a lot. people from everywhere asked him about his parents, even people who he barely knew or haven’t talked to in years. to peter, they didn’t really care, they just wanted to know more information. right after they say i’m sorry for your loss, their follow-up question is always what happened? even when they know. everyone knows. word gets around.

it’s not every day that someone’s parents die in a car accident while the child lives. devastating, right? peter was only eight years old. he remembers that night more vividly than any other memory. how could he think of anything else but the death of his parents?

his parents were the kindest people he’d ever known. most people don’t get to say that about their parents, but peter could say it without hesitation. when they were taken from him, right in front of his innocent eyes, everything just…

“that food was delicious,” peter’s father, richard, starts as they get into the car. peter was so full he could barely walk to the car, so his dad carried him. he got very sleepy just from the short walk.

“i agree,” mary, his mother, smiled with a nod. her teeth were big and white, while her bottom row was a little crooked. her hair was straight and short—a little past her shoulders like dark oak. peter thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. and so did his father.

his father was a smart man; assistant of some sort that peter didn’t remember. he just knows that he got a lot of money because he said peter could have any action figure he wanted. that’s so many!

he was clean shaven. he rarely had a beard, but when he did, peter knew he was hard at work. he had smile marks around his lips and the darkest green eyes peter had ever seen.

“what did you think, peter?” his mom asked, twisting her head. he yawned in response as he sat in the backseat, little hands rubbing his tired eyes. his parents cohesively chuckled as his father started the engine.

“are you buckled?” his dad questions, adjusting the mirror a tad.

“yes, dad,” peter grumbled, shifting around in his seat to get comfortable. he rests his arm on the right side door, leaning on his open palm.

peter feels the smoothness of the road beneath the car and gets even sleepier. he sees the dim headlights flashing behind his closed eyelids as he drifts off to slumber. his parents quietly converse all the way home.

“our sweet boy,” he barely hears his mother mumble. he can envision the endearing look on her face.

what felt like a few seconds went by, and then peter was jolted awake. his body was flung forward, neck straining and slamming against the side door. his body erupts in an ache, his right arm screaming in sharp pain.

when the blurriness fades from his vision, he zones in on the scene around him. it was horrific.

his beloved mother and father lie drenched in their own blood, heads bent towards their laps. peter couldn’t see their faces, but he desperately wanted to.

“mom? dad?” peter croaks. he unstraps his seatbelt with his left hand, clutching his right wrist. he leans over the console, staring at his parents’ state.

he was in such shock he didn’t know what to do. his heart was beating uncontrollably fast, but he felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. with wide, glossy eyes, peter stares at his parents collided with some white balloon, nudging them with desperateness.

“mom! dad! wake up!” he shouts fearfully, but they don’t respond. he pushes them by their shoulders until they’re shaking and he’s screaming their titles, but they don’t answer.

peter blocked out the squealing sounds of the sirens and the sight of the red and blue. the amount of brightness around should have blinded him, but nothing blinded him more than the scene unfolded in front of him.

choked up and crying, tears streamed down peter’s cheeks as the left side of the car door was open. his hands were trembling, vibrant with crimson liquid he didn’t know was there. he stares at the man with a shining flashlight, urging him to exit the vehicle.

peter is hesitant, but follows out of fear. arm still in hand, a group of people crowd him and usher him around. he doesn’t know what’s going on, everything is just slowed down. looking through the chaos of people, he spots another car that collided with his parents.

sliding his way through the officers and emergency workers, peter makes his way to the car.

the car that crashed into his parents’ seemed less ruined, and the guy in the front seat seemed less hurt. peter stared at the man covered in his own blood. he watched as his body slumped over the console, giving out.

mindlessly, the world becomes muted as peter get dragged away into an ambulance. he winces in pain as he’s strapped into a stretcher, neck burning. from the bottom of his eyes, he can see so many lights; white, red, blue, yellow.

as the doors to the ambulance shut, the only scene replaying over in peter’s head is the sight of his bloody parents and the drunk man in the other car. their last words will always echo in his head: “our sweet boy.”

over and over. and over and over. for his whole life.

it never went away. it never really…

stopped.

as peter got older, he was allowed to learn more about his parents’ death. he was able to accept it more. he went to therapy since then, but he hasn’t gone recently. he hasn’t felt the need to. and yeah, he knows that that’s the point when you’re supposed to stay because it’s working. but he’s too busy now. plus, he’s been a bit distracted lately. maybe that’s just what he needs.

may just listens, and he loves that. yes, she gives him lectures and all the normal parent stuff, but she never forces him to talk about it. not only did she lose her younger sister, but she was given a child without a warning. may was always a free spirit, someone who never settled. but she had no choice but to when peter was placed into her hands.

she took him in without a second thought, and he’s never been more grateful for anyone or anything.

“peter?” your hand rests on his tightened shoulder, which relaxes from your touch. his glossy, zoned out eyes blink a few times before focusing in on you, just like you had moments ago.

you noticed a shift in his demeanor, but didn’t dare to comment on it. you just concentrated on researching on your computer. you two didn’t speak for the rest of class. it wasn’t awkward but comforting. it was good to know that you didn’t have to forcefully converse with peter. sometimes you could just sit in silence. even though the classroom wasn’t very quiet.

when the bell rang, peter sighed and tucked his notes into his backpack. you watch with some sadness, wondering what off-set his mood so much. you gently shut the computer as peter gets ready to leave.

“peter, wait!” you call out as you hurriedly shove the computer into its slot. he turns around with a wistful look on his face with a tad bit of sadness laced in his features.

“yeah?”

“thank you,” you inhale as you stare at him. eyes wondering over his face. he half-smiles at you, the same expression you were giving him earlier. “it’s going to be okay.”

you didn’t even know why you said that, but you felt like he needed to hear that. he releases a shaky, wavering breath as your hand lies on his strapped shoulders.

“you think so?” peter mindlessly asks, staring into your eyes. it’s the first time he’s ever been able to do it without feeling the need to look away.

“yeah, i do,” you smile, more genuine than before. you want him to know you mean it. “you’re a sweet boy, peter. so yes, it’s going to be okay.”

like before, your hands slide into his lightly gelled hair. your nails gently scratch his scalp, leaving peter’s head all tingly in their absence. with that, you leave the classroom and peter by himself.

he takes a deep breath, trying to internalize your words. you’ve called him sweet in the past and he never was affected this way. he would feel his heart pound and float because your words were so soft and kind. but after his recall of his parents death and their last, echoing words, he finds it crazy that you happened to say that.

our sweet boy, his mom’s voice lingers.

sweet boy, your kind voice repeats.

maybe with time, you’ll replace the sweet, painful words that kill him a little more every day. but he doesn’t know if that’s possible. not now.

even though he’s been able to accept it more now, there’s still a part inside of him that wishes he died that night too.

—

tags: @aesthetics-andfandoms @percyjacksonspeen @rafecameronsbadussy @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @slut4sarahpaulson @lnmp89 @juliatpwk @whothafugh @harrys-humble-housewife @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @angelayse @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @geralddil26 @serendipity-y @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

wow look at all the tags!! thank you!!

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fan fics #peter parker fan fics #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fan fiction #tom holland fan fiction #peter parker angst #tom holland angst

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pao-panda12 · 2 months

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So here's a list of headcanons I got for Bosch bc why not

Kalima is his and Yua's aunt: This is based off a line of dialogue I've seen when interacting with Yua after proving we're trustworthy to the Nayshalli Resistance (if I remember correctly), she describes Kalima as a relative- so that makes me believe she's either their biological aunt from either side of their family or a family friend that has supported them financially their whole lives and has spent little to no time with them when she worked as JP's secretary, but had more quality time with them once Kalima quit working for JP and inspired Bosch to fight for the resistance. Once it grew more and more Kalima started to have even less time for Yua since she had to tend to the rest.

Bosch and Yua are orphans: Assuming they lived in Old Nayshall since birth, both parents died young because of the poor healthcare and/or gang violence. This could've happened when Bosch was a kid and had now to take care of a baby Yua. Bosch recieved an allowance from Kalima which he mostly used for groceries and baby stuff for Yua, though sometimes money ran short so he had to resort to stealing (though this was on rare occasion).

Bosch, is in fact, a great cook: Since he had to basically run the house and raise his little sister on his own, he needed a lot of help and he got it through a nice old lady who was his neighbor. She taught him how to make a bottle for Yua, change diapers, care for the house, and of course- make mad delicious local dishes. Also, once Yua grew up a little she started to lean onto the old lady's cooking so he started to see her as competition for Yua's tastebuds, so he perfected the art of homecooking until the old lady unfortunately passed away by the time his little sister was able to barely remember her.

The origin of Bosch's scar: In the concept art and if you squint on his right eye (the eye his hair covers before he's experimented on) there's a scar thats only visible by the time he's revealed to be the Carboard Combatant and he's been experimented on by Neo Shadaloo (JP's faction) when irradiating purple from PP (Psycho Power). At first I thought it probably was because of a bad kitchen accident he had as a kid, but then I realized it could've also been one of the few times he stole out of necessity when money fell short, got caught, beat up and got that scar. That was the last time he stole until he stole that bag from Mad Gear in our second encounter with him in World Tour. (He can't lie to me that wasn't his first rodeo getting chased down)

Bosch is a great singer but is too shy about it (I blame his VA Griffin Puatu he's got blessed vocals): Okay so, ever since Yua was a baby he always sang her lullabies until she fell asleep and this has carried on until present day, which made him develop a good singing voice as a young adult, but is way too shy and introverted to show it off so his only audience who can testify about it is Yua.

Bosch can't lie for his life, even less keep one up: Look... He's by far way too expressive (and dramatic especially on his intro) to even lie about how he feels about something. You will be able to tell when he's happy, angry, sad, worried, etc. He may stammer a lie through his lips but one can tell what he's clearly thinking from one look to that beautiful puppy face of his. That why the only way for him to lie successfully is just running away before he says something he shouldn't. (RIP Bosch you would've loved being a theater kid)

Yua was the one who dyed his hair and did his braids: I did this on a previous post with a doodle on it but I'll say it again- Yua was the one with the idea of dying his hair red (with organic DIY hairdye) and was the one to braid his hair and place beads on it. Bosch just let her do it because it made her happy, plus it would be a reminder of her on his journey to the outside world, so when he got captured and his hair got butchered he would've been devastated since it was a piece of his sister that got ripped out of him.

Thanks for reading! (If I have more HCs I'll probably edit this or make a part 2)

#bosch waraya #sf6 bosch #street fighter 6 #headcanon

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imkazz · 5 months

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happy birthday genya!!! have some angst, have some fluff! (be warned before you open this, the word count is over 6k)

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52265803/chapters/133764163

“What a peculiar Blood Demon Art,” Shinobu nonchalantly giggled, “there’s not much we can do until it wears off… you defeated the demon, right Genya-kun?”

“I did…” Genya wearily replied, shuffling around the smaller human resting unconsciously in his arms. “How long do you think until..?”

“Possibly the rest of the day,” hummed Shinobu, shuffling around some papers, “but this is interesting indeed. Aoi, please show Genya to a room, for a little while?”

Outside, Aoi walked over and opened the door, motioning for the slayer to follow her. With a quick bow, Genya matched paces with the girl, who shot a glance at Genya’s arms. “What happened with that?”

“A… Blood Demon Art,” Genya explained, “hit me. The demon said something about my past? And this is me… maybe eight or nine years old.”

Aoi didn't bother trying to hide her gaze at the little Genya dozing in teenager Genya’s hold. She shook it off and opened the door to a private room. “Feel free to use this room, breakfast in around an hour. We can also try to prepare some sort of clothing for him- you? Yeah.”

“Thank you, Aoi-san.” Genya quietly shut the door with his foot, turning to the bed pushed into the corner of the room. He went over and… placed his own, younger self onto the bed, pursing his lips for a second before rubbing some grime off his younger self’s face.

Genya breathed deeply and sank into a chair nearby, already changed into the Butterfly Mansion’s patient clothing since his own uniform got torn. His minimal injuries had already gotten treated by the Insect Hashira, since he hadn’t resorted to his cheap trick of eating demons.

His yukata was ripped, though… just near the seam, so it would be an easier fix than some other damages the purple fabric had seen. Genya ran a hand through his hair, looking back at his younger self, face shining in the dying moonlight.

The curved shadows on his face had almost no meat, a childish, smooth face with no hint of a scar and hair shorter than what it was, when he was a teenager, along with thick eyelashes that would later be defined by some mascara.

He looked young.

Then, his eyes opened.

Very thinly veiled panic filled the younger’s face, though the two engaged in a lengthy staring contest, challenging each other to see who would react first, like a deadly duel.

Teenager Genya was proud to say that Gyomei’s lessons on patience paid off.

“Who’re you?!” Tiny Genya scrambled up, scooting away. “Where’s ‘Nemi?! Kaa-chan!”

“Hey, hey,” older Genya reached forwards, pulling out his long-disused comforting voice, which used to be reserved for his younger siblings, “you’re alright, you’re safe. N- ‘Nemi’s not here right now, but can you just breathe with me?”

Genya tensed as his younger self threw a punch. It didn't hurt at all, even with it going right to his solar plexus, but it hurt more knowing just how weak he was. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Genya continued talking calmly with his tinier self, making no sudden movements and not changing anything he was saying.

Eventually, after what felt like hours but he realistically guessed was maybe ten minutes, Genya managed to get his smaller self to at least hear him out. “I know it’s confusing, but some bad guys brought you to the future.”

“What kind of bad guys?” Genya huffed, crossing his thin arms.

The older one sighed. “It’s… complicated, but they can do magic.”

“And I believe you why..?” Tiny Genya scoffed.

“I’m you,” Genya explained to himself, “but older.”

A second of silence passed over the room. “Where’d you- I get that scar?”

Oh, fuck. Genya didn't want to answer that. “The bad guys, some years ago. This uniform means I fight them. Anyone wearing this uniform fights them.”

The younger Genya squinted in suspicion, until his eyes landed on something on his older self’s body, next to the black uniform he was holding up. “What’s that, then?”

“A sword,” Genya boasted, “wanna hold it? I use it to kill bad guys.”

“Is it real?” Genya reached out his small hands to grab the saya from the teenager, then gaping as real, actually sharp metal got pulled out. “Oh my gods.”

“Don't hurt yourself,” chided Genya, watching the child wave the wakizashi carefully, “but all of us have a sword. Isn't that cool?”

“Wow…” the younger Genya peered at the sword, then lowering it. “Where’s ‘Nemi? Teiko, Hiroshi, Sumi? Shuuya and the baby in mom’s tummy?”

Genya paused for a moment, looking over his own, immature face. “I don't know, right now. Sanemi might be on a mission, though.”

“A mission?!” Genya jumped up, making the bed squeak as he hopped up and down. The older Genya took the wakizashi back and slid it into the saya. “Sanemi also fights bad guys?! Of course he does, but we get to do it together!”

Genya felt his heart pang, as his younger self continued giggling innocently, spinning around as he jumped. A knock at the door stopped him, as it opened quietly to reveal Kanao. “Am I interrupting? We only found a jinbei from when I was younger…”

“Hi!” Genya grinned, his older version freezing at the abrupt and loud voice. “Are we friends?”

Kanao paused, glancing up at the teenage counterpart, who was blushing with embarrassment. She nodded and smiled. “I think that we are, Genya-kun.”

The small Genya cheered. Kanao placed down the jinbei on the bed, heading back out the door. “Breakfast might be postponed slightly, Aoi went out to town for something.”

“It’s alright, Kanao…” Genya mumbled, as the girl shut the door.

“She’s pretty!” The smaller one rolled around on the bed. “She was wearing that uniform, too, so that means she hunts bad guys!”

“Just hurry up and change…” Genya tossed the clothes into the smaller face. He wouldn't give the kid a sexuality crisis at the moment…

“Hey, hey, me…” Genya hummed in reply, whilst tying the final bow on the jinbei. “What day is it today?”

“July sixteenth.” He responded, making his younger self slump. “Why?”

“I mean… I was sleeping, and…” Genya’s voice dropped to a whisper so that only his teenage self could hear, “it’s my eighth birthday tomorrow. So this would be a real cool dream.”

Genya blinked, the knot half-finished. He recalled having some sort of nice dream, that birthday, that he couldn't quite remember… was that it? Was he helping himself have that nice dream?

“Can I play with your sword more?” Genya returned to reality with the childish voice calling out to him.

“No.” He answered immediately.

“Can't believe I’m boring, in the future…” grumbled Genya. “I wanna look around more!”

Well, that couldn't harm anyone. “Sure,” Genya shrugged and opened the door, immediately regretting it as his younger self zoomed out. Damn, he was a hyperactive kid.

Tanjiro stretched out his muscles as he started getting out of his training mindset, for breakfast. To keep up with a slayer’s nocturnal sleep schedule, Tanjiro would simply meditate whilst healing at the Butterfly Mansion, controlling his Breathing more and reflecting on himself.

The pitter-patter of tiny feet snapped Tanjiro out of his routine, as he looked around for the source whilst also sniffing. Something slightly demonic, but not strong… maybe the result of some sort of Blood Demon Art? Accompanying it came the scent of evergreens, maybe the hint of something earthy.

“Come back here, you little gremlin!” Tanjiro watched a young child dashing through the halls of the Butterfly Mansion, being quickly pursued by a much taller, gangly guy yelling at him.

“What a weirdo, talking to yourself!” The child giggled ferociously while running, skidding through the halls with his bare feet thudding against the wooden floors.

Tanjiro blinked a couple times before resuming stretching. He groaned as his lower back crackled.

“Gotcha!” Genya grabbed at his smaller self, encasing the little kid with his body in a huge bear hug before starting to tickle, not letting free even with the light hits small Genya gave whilst squirming and shrieking for freedom.

After some time, however, both of them became so overcome with laughter that they just lay on the hallway floor, heaving for air. A shadow fell over them, making two pairs of purple eyes open simultaneously. “If you two are done being a commotion to patients, then breakfast is ready.”

“Sorry, Kochou-san!” Genya sat up, grabbing his smaller self as well. “We'll get washed up!”

Genya let himself be dragged away by the teenager, only turning to spare one last glance. “She’s pretty! Like kaa-chan!”

Genya’s face burst aflame, his only saving grace being that his back was to the hashira. He hissed and dragged the eight-year-old along faster. Shinobu giggled into her hand.

“Did you go to town for watermelon?” Genya asked Aoi, when the girl presented it after everyone finished breakfast.

“I mean, might as well give him a treat.” Aoi gestured at the smaller Genya chomping away at the fruit. “What do you plan to do today?”

“Mmm, he said that he was brought here when he was sleeping, the night before his- my- our birthday,” Genya stammered, “so maybe just treat him still.”

“Huh.” Aoi hummed, before leaning in towards the boy’s ear. “By the way, Shinobu-sama sent Shinazugawa-san a crow about this.”

Genya jerked upright. “Sanemi knows about this?”

“If he even listens to her crow,” Aoi scoffed and crossed her arms, “you have no idea how he ignores other hashira’s crows.”

Genya wilted. He knew exactly how much Sanemi could ignore a crow. Aoi backtracked. “I mean, more like-”

“I get it,” Genya waved her off with a smile, continuing to pick out the seeds from the fruit, “thank you for going out of your way to get this watermelon.”

“Are you a picky eater? Or were you?” Aoi glanced down at Genya’s fingers. Genya thought back to chomping into demon flesh, eating mud because he was so hungry, and resorting to devouring rats on the street before he met Gyomei.

“No.” Genya grunted. “Watermelon seeds can grow in your stomach.”

Aoi started laughing at him. Genya flushed as he handed over the seedless watermelon slice to his younger self, who continued eating. “Who told you that?!”

“...Sanemi.” Genya mumbled under his breath, making Aoi only wheeze harder. They were starting to draw attention, the very serious girl who ran the Butterfly Estate in stitches with a tall, scary looking dude looking embarrassed with a smaller, carbon copy of himself gobbling down watermelon.

“How- how old were you?” Aoi gulped in air, clutching her stomach to try and stifle the laughter.

“Four.” Genya grumbled, getting up just as the smaller Genya finished up with the watermelon. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, hey, me!” The smaller one squeezed the older’s hand for attention. “Where’re we going?”

“Another big house,” Genya replied, walking briskly, “with different people inside.”

“Can you slow down?” Genya whined, making his little feet go faster. “And you aren’t telling me anything-”

Genya stopped walking to kneel down, pulling his younger self onto his back. “There, now we can go faster.”

Genya squealed as his bigger self hoisted him up, walking much faster than they ever could have if Genya continued walking with his much tinier legs. Genya couldn’t help but chuckle as his younger self continued babbling along, bringing them back along a familiar road to the Stone Estate.

“Tadaima-!” Genya called out when he entered the estate, then lowering himself off his back, the two of them quickly taking off their shoes. The morning air brought some crisp into the rooms, where Genya led his smaller self around.

“Do you live here?” The smaller one asked, almost in awe.

“Yeah,” Genya shrugged, catching a glance at the younger’s face.

“That’s so cool!” The younger one jumped around. “It’s so big and expensive!”

“These guys get paid whatever they want,” Genya explained, “so it’s obvious they get big houses.”

“They do?!” Genya gasped at himself. “What kind of guys?!”

“Hashira, they’re the strongest of all of us in this job, to kill bad guys.” Genya peeked into a couple rooms to no avail, his huge mentor nowhere to be found.

“Are we hashira?” Genya tugged at his own pant sleeve.

The older one shook his head slowly. “Anyone with gold buttons is, but silver just means people below.”

“Wow…” Genya fiddled with the silver button his future self wore, “we have to become a hashira! Right, me? To feed kaa-chan and the kids!”

“Course…” Genya mumbled, patting the younger’s head. “We have to become a hashira.”

“Sanemi!” Genya called out, clutching his new uniform tight. “W- wait!”

“Aah?” A chalky voice met Genya’s still childish one. “Who’re you?”

“Sa- ‘Nemi, it’s me,” he stammered, “your otouto. Genya.”

“I don’t have a brother.” Sanemi spat, eyes glaring viciously, “get lost.”

“W- wait!” Genya reached out to clutch the older’s white sleeve, where the back was decorated with the kanji for kill. “I-”

“Said to get lost, didn’t I?!” Sanemi growled, fist tightening as he yanked his arm back, “so do it. Hashira’s orders.”

“He might be out back,” Genya led his younger self through the hallways, “training or something.”

“Who’s he?!” He asked his older self, who was stepping outdoors, “is it Sanemi?”

“No,” Genya said as nonchalantly as possible, “my teacher. Himejima-san.”

“Is he a hashira?” The younger one stayed with the older one on the unfamiliar pathways.

“Yeah,” Genya grinned, “the strongest of them all.”

“Seriously?!” Genya gasped and jumped, “that means we have a real good chance of becoming a hashira!”

“Himejima-san!” Genya called out, shushing himself to keep the younger from crushing the older’s dreams even more. “I’m back! I was hit by some sort of Blood Demon Art, and my younger self was brought to the present for now!”

“Namu-amida-butsu.” Genya jumped at the deep voice calling out from somewhere, then immediately looked at his older self, who didn’t seem fazed. He trailed after the bigger one, down the riverbank and towards a huge, gushing waterfall. “Hello, Genya. Hello, young Genya.”

“Wow!” Genya semi-whispered to his older self already hidden by the roar of water. “He’s real huge!”

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Genya watched the huge man rub together some praying beads in his palms, withstanding the onslaught of water with three logs on his shoulders, tied to huge rocks.

“Yes, back at the Butterfly Mansion.” Genya explained to his mentor, the younger one in awe of how mature and big he sounded in the future. “I would join in on waterfall training, but…”

“It would not be wise for a young one to enter the waters,” Gyomei finished, “you could go and push the rock around, whilst taking care of your… yourself.”

“Thank you, Himejima-san.” Genya bowed in respect before leading himself away. “C’mon.”

“What’s the rock?” Genya wondered. “You just push it around? That’s called training?”

“Shush,” Genya smiled coyly, “you haven’t seen the rock.”

“A rock?!” His younger self gaped at the thing sitting in the middle of a clearing. “That's not a rock, that's a full on boulder! You’re gonna push that thing around?!”

“All the way around the estate grounds,” Genya rolled up his sleeves, taking a deep breath, “you know what? You wanna sit on top of the rock? I can push you around, too.”

“Can- can you really do that?” Genya trembled, looking between the rock and his own, tiny, frail body. In the future, he’d really be able to shove that thing around?

“Here, try pushing against the rock.” Genya guided the smaller’s body towards it, watching himself struggle to shove the rock. “I can help you up, just sit on the top and sort of grip the rock with your fingertips, so you don’t slide off.”

Genya put his hands underneath the younger’s shoulder, pushing himself upwards onto the rock. The younger one scrambled to the top and found a comfortable position, giving a thumbs up when called upon. He watched as his older self took off his uniform top, then sputtering in absolute shock with the muscles on himself. The bulkiness threw him off just as much as the scars covering his future self’s body, chiselled shape to his form without even tensing up. He was so strong in the future. Future him could compete with Sanemi!

Genya positioned himself against the rock, shoulder pressed up against the stone with both legs implanted into the ground. He took a deep breath. “…shaekoku-gijugikkodokuon-yodaibikushu…”

“Huh..?” The younger peered down the side of the rock, watching as his older, more defined face twisted into something akin to pain, whilst muttering something under his breath. When he was about to call out to the older version of himself, the rock started moving.

It was slow, at first. Just a couple centimetres. But that was better than anything Genya, at the moment frail and poor, could do. Then, he felt the boulder move even more. Genya looked back down to see that they’d moved a good two metres, and his older self didn’t look to be stopping. Actually, he looked to be in pain, but not like shoving the boulder was giving him the pain.

Should Genya interrupt his older self? Was that normal for pushing the boulder? It would have a lot of strain, and the huge man Gyomei had told his older self to get the boulder all around the estate.

“Least… you see scenery…” Genya looked back at his older self groaning out those words and with that, he started looking around from his heightened point of view, where a trail on the ground showed that the path he used to push the rock was a regularly-used one.

Genya huffed and continued repeating the amida-kyo under his breath, quieter than usual so that his younger self wouldn’t have to listen to a very sudden conversion to Buddhism. The faces of the younger Shinazugawa’s swam through his memory, much more formulated and real with his actual younger self being there at the moment.

He looked so innocent. Demons took that from him. Genya groaned and pushed harder, ears buzzing as his babyish face flashed past his memory, looking up at him in wonder. When would he tell himself that he was a failure? He failed to protect his family, he failed to be a good brother, he failed at being a slayer, he would never be a hashira and Sanemi never wanted to look at him again.

“You can do it, Genya!” He stumbled at the small voice cheering him on, a slight whisper. “Go, go, go!”

Genya clenched his jaw and pushed harder, dragging the boulder through the ground and back towards what he always remembered was his start point. He’d successfully made it around the entire estate with a whole child on top of the rock. Heaving, Genya made it back to where the boulder started.

“That was so cool!” Genya laughed as his older self helped him down, Genya running around in circles as his older self leaned on the rock for a breather. “I can’t believe that I can do that in the future! How many of our siblings can you hold up? Is nii-chan stronger than you? How long d’you think until you become a hashira?”

Genya just stumbled away, making the smaller follow right after, still spitting out questions. Gods above, Genya was just so tired. He didn’t get how his younger self could be so innocent. Just six months after said birthday, his eighth, they would all be dead. Sanemi would hold a butcher’s knife over their mother's body and he would call his beloved brother a murderer, Genya would be forced to bury five little, cold bodies on his own, and he would survive off stealing and eating rats.

He couldn’t handle seeing that spark in his own eyes.

“Hello, you two.” Gyomei greeted them as Genya shuffled inside, his child self also bouncing in. “I already started on lunch. Are you alright, Genya?”

“I’m gonna… go lay down.” Genya muttered. “Would you mind… taking care of him- for a little? Sorry, Himejima-san…”

“No matter. Rest well, Genya.” Gyomei rubbed the praying beads in his hands nervously. “Namu-amida-butsu.”

“What’cha making?” Genya peered around the man’s arm, trying to catch a glimpse at the food. “It smells good.”

“Miso,” Gyomei replied, “did you see anything interesting whilst going around?”

“I got to watch me push a huge boulder!” Genya used his own body to showcase, “it was like, thi–is big! No, bigger!”

“Ah. Of course.” Gyomei nodded. “I am blind, however, and cannot see what you are showing, but I understand how big the rocks are.”

“...oh.” Genya mumbled quietly. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, young Genya.” Gyomei stirred the soup. “I heard that it would be your birthday the next day, from when you were brought here?”

“Yeah!” Genya grinned. “I’m turning eight! Isn’t that huge? How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.” Gyomei answered. “If you multiply the age you're turning by two, you get the age your future self is right now.”

“I can’t do math.” Genya replied with no hesitation.

Gyomei paused. “Then, eight and eight put together.”

“I said I can’t do math.” Genya repeated.

“Then how do you know what age you’re turning?” Gyomei wondered.

“Kaa-chan told me.” Genya replied. “Am I able to do math in the future?”

“...I do not know.” Gyomei hummed. He at least taught Genya to write, so why hadn’t he thought of math? Did he just assume that Genya could do basic math, or simply forgot to teach him? “Say, how do you usually celebrate your birthday?”

“Well, Sumi and Teiko usually sew up something,” Genya thought, rolling around on the ground, “and Hiroshi likes to find some sort of cool rock to give. Sanemi uses some spare change to get me some sort of sweet, kaa-chan even comes home a little early!”

Gyomei’s heart panged as the boy continued describing how the Shinazugawa family would usually spend a birthday. Genya, as a teenager, did nothing of the sort. Gyomei would sometimes spot the boy sending off a letter, then heading out to where Gyomei assumed was a visit to a family grave.

A knock on the front door. Gyomei stood, making the child go quiet. “Please stay here and watch the soup. I will go to the door. Namu-amida-butsu.”

Genya took his duty very seriously and went up to the pot, watching the soup bubble and steam. Gyomei headed down his familiar hallway, ending up at the genkan, where a person stood. The aura the person was giving off, though… that was a hashira.

“Namu-amida-butsu.” Gyomei rubbed the praying beads. “What brings you here, Shinazugawa?”

The man remained silent, moving only to Breathe. The rest of him remained still, almost so that if Gyomei wasn’t so strong, he might have had to do a second take to make sure someone was even there. “...I’m here to see.”

“If it is true?” Gyomei pressed. “That a younger Genya has been sent to the future by a Blood Demon Art?”

“Is it?” Sanemi growled.

“Would you like to come meet him yourself?” Gyomei responded.

Sanemi remained quiet. “No. I just want to see.”

“You wouldn’t be able to hide, if you wished to spy.” Gyomei warned. “You would have to make yourself known.”

Sanemi didn’t say anything more, so Gyomei persisted. “He doesn’t seem to have been told the reason he joined the Corps. He has been talking about you nonstop.”

Gyomei heard a skip in Sanemi’s heartbeat, a Breath stuttering in his chest. “Just go meet him. Genya, the current one, is resting.”

Another beat. Sanemi huffed. “Lead the way.”

“Young Genya,” Gyomei called out, making the younger’s head perk up. “Someone is here to see you.”

Genya furrowed his brow until someone else stepped into the room. “Sanemi!”

“O- oi, not so lou-” Sanemi started, only to be tackled in a hug by the child.

“I missed you, ‘Nemi!” Genya’s joy was muffled by Sanemi’s haori. “I got to see so many cool things!”

“R- right…” Sanemi cautiously went to pat the boy’s back, shooting a look up at the Stone Hashira. The man seemed to understand despite his lack of sight, and disappeared out of the room holding the pot of miso soup, most likely to a dining area.

“How’re you, nii-chan?” Genya peered up at his older brother. “Where’d you get the scars? From the bad guys?”

Sanemi blinked back, before slowly ruffling Genya’s mohawk. “Yeah. Lotsa cool stories of battle.”

“Wow…” Genya murmured, until his eye caught on Sanemi’s uniform. “You’re a hashira too!”

Sanemi felt almost overwhelmed by the small child gripping onto him, chatting his ear off. Gods, he missed that. So, so much. If Genya just quit the Corps, Sanemi would be able to experience that kind of nostalgia all the time.

“H- hey, just- take a breather, yeah?” Sanemi gently pushed the child off. Genya stumbled backwards, hanging his head low. Yeah, okay, he was a lot more to handle then the big, mature guy he was gonna become. Of course Sanemi would get used to a more calm, older Genya, right?

“Shi- shoot, Genya…” Sanemi started to console, seeing the disappointed face of his very young brother. “I’m sorry about- I’m sorry, Genya.”

Genya continued hugging himself, making himself smaller. That was what Sanemi always told him to do when the old man returned home after drinking and gambling. Make himself small and unnoticeable.

Sanemi’s eyes widened as he saw what his brother was doing, instantly feeling his heart drop. He just made Genya act like how he usually did when their old man was around. If it really was Genya from right before his eighth birthday, then that piece of shit would still be alive for the next month, before being stabbed out in the streets.

Sanemi lurched forwards on his knees to wrap his tiny brother up in a hug. He could almost feel the confusion radiating off the small child as Sanemi brought him closer, one hand digging into the familiar purple yukata and the other wrapped up in Genya’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

Genya heard the muffled apology coming from Sanemi’s face pressed into his shoulder. Despite his nii-chan’s being so big, with a broader back and deeper voice, Genya could still feel warmth and comfort radiating off Sanemi, because something like that would never cease. Kindness.

“It’s okay!” To comfort his brother more, Genya started patting Sanemi’s back as well, making the man only hold Genya tighter. He smiled innocently and just returned the hug, grinning because Sanemi only ever held him close after their father finished beating them and that would be the first time in a long time that Sanemi had hugged in apology.

Fuck, Sanemi thought, his body was so small. How could a man beat someone as sweet as the kid he was hugging so close at the moment? Fuck, how could he push away someone so sweet as Genya for joining the Corps? Well, he supposed it was for Genya’s own safety. Safety that Sanemi knew the tiny Genya in his arms wouldn’t face just yet.

Sanemi continued cradling Genya in his arms, because fuck, that was the first time they’d touched with such tenderness in years.

Genya peeked through the shoji, watching the younger version of himself get coddled more by the current Sanemi than Genya had felt in years. His insides squirmed and chest tightened as Sanemi continued embracing the child, hugging tightly. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn't have called Sanemi a murderer. They could’ve been hugging like that, still, if Genya hadn’t just messed it all up.

Waves of tears started building in Genya’s eyes, though they still refused to tear away from the scene. Sanemi holding his younger self the same way he wanted to be held, his current verison, with all scars and growth and mistakes. He wanted Sanemi to act like that towards him in the current day.

He shut his mouth fast to prevent sobs escaping, lip trembling as tears started rolling down his cheek. His fists clenched and throat burned as the younger one started giggling, swaying around as Sanemi continued to hold him.

They met eyes. The child looked upwards to see his teenage self quivering near the door, spying in on the two. Genya stumbled back and away to prevent his younger self from ruining any hopes he had of the future.

“Hey, ‘Nemi?” Genya asked, trying to pull away to see his older nii-chan. “Why’s future me crying?”

Sanemi tightened his hold, making Genya sputter a little bit with the sheer strength his brother received from fighting bad guys. “Nii-chan, why’s he crying? Hey, nii-chan, are you crying as well? Is that why my back feels sorta wet?”

Sanemi dug his hands deeper, to just preserve himself. He wouldn't just let Genya see him crying, no matter what or when. Genya’s body was so small and thin and frail and beaten, Sanemi wouldn't know how to face the kid again if he pulled away from the hug.

“Nii-chan, let’s go comfort future me!” Genya decided. “C’mon, let’s go! You always comfort me when I’m down!”

Gods. Fuck. Sanemi couldn’t handle just how much joy Genya had. It was so hard to ignore, Corps uniform or not. The child resorted to tugging gently at Sanemi’s hair, fiddling with the white strands whilst also humming Sanemi’s name in an attempt to get them standing again, to find his future self.

Finally, Sanemi pulled away from Genya to quickly wipe his tears away. Genya giggled and waited for Sanemi to finish, then tugged at the man’s calloused fingers. “Let’s go! Himejima-san might know where older me might be!”

Sanemi couldn’t reply as Genya tugged him away, the two of them finding the Stone Hashira in a room just down the hall. Immediately, Gyomei pointed the two of them to look for Genya in his room, then adding instructions to aid them. Genya started humming a lullaby while leading Sanemi, tiny fingers gripping a couple of Sanemi’s using his entire hand.

“Heyyy, heyy, you in here?” Genya started knocking on doors, making Sanemi more and more nervous. “You looked sad! Did you want a hug? Hey, future me, hey!”

The door slid open a crack, Genya’s form barely visible through the gap. Seeing both Sanemi and his younger self, Genya slid it open even further. “That’s… alright. I don’t need a hug, I’m not sad.”

“But you were crying!” Genya protested at his teenage self. Was that how all teenagers acted?

“I- I’m alright, just feeling a little off.” Genya attempted to laugh nonchalantly. Sanemi couldn’t see Genya acting so weak! It would ruin whatever minimal steps Genya had taken to becoming stronger, showing his brother that he was just as capable a slayer as any others. “Besides, I used the time on my bonsai.”

“Bonsai?” Genya perked up, trying to peer into his future room. “You have bonsai?”

“Wanna see?” Genya used the opportunity to distract his younger self, leading the child into the room and towards the window, where all his trees were kept. “Himejima-san told me to do it, as a hobby. Neat, right?”

“Meh, a bit boring.” The younger one shrugged. “How’d you get the leaves to be all nice-shaped and stuff?”

“Trimming,” Genya gestured to the scissors, “pruning, as well. I make the tree look nice in my free time, and it helps my aim become more clear.”

“I guess that could be fun…” the kid mumbled, “like sewing, or something.”

“Exactly.” Genya hummed. “I also have a sewing kit over there.”

“What do you sew?” The younger one asked.

Usually, it was himself after battle. But should Genya really tell that kind of gorey thing to an eight-year-old? “The yukata, whenever it gets torn.”

“After fighting!” The kid’s eyes lit up. “You said that the bonsai also helps your aim? For fighting?”

“Sort of, yeah.” Genya laughed. Sanemi watched the two interact from the doorway, eyes still red. Usually, they would be like that because of dryness, but in that moment, it was because of tears. With a deep, shaky Breath, Sanemi silently stood. He shot one last look at Genya, his baby brother, no matter the age, before shutting the shoji quietly and shuffling backwards.

Genya looked back up at the door as his younger self observed the trees closer up. Sanemi was backing away. From him. The two brothers, matured to their correct ages in their time period, locked eyes.

Suddenly, Sanemi couldn’t back away anymore.

“Hey, ‘Nemi-nii!” The child called out, making the two older ones freeze. “Come look at the bonsai with me!”

Cautiously, Sanemi stepped forwards towards the door again. If he entered, Sanemi knew he would have to drag himself away.

Sanemi opened the door.

The younger Genya was waving Sanemi closer, to look at the funny design the bonsai had when looking at it from a specific angle. The older Genya was staring with wide and surprised eyes, making Sanemi’s heart shatter. Sanemi stepped closer to the child, looking at the bonsai with him, while the older Genya sat back.

Sanemi only wanted a version of Genya that hadn’t called his brother a murderer. A version who wasn’t riddled with scars.

With a Breath, Sanemi pulled Genya closer to him. Genya gasped as his brother brought him closer, the first time they’d touched in years. Sanemi was holding him. As a teenager. Genya remained tense as Sanemi put a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, still paying attention to the child rambling on about whatever it was.

After minutes of Sanemi holding teenage Genya up to his body, he started relaxing into his older brother’s arm. Almost leaning on him, the two sat on the floor in front of Genya’s bonsai that he took care of so gently, as if they were actual children.

“I still don’t get why you two were crying,” Genya crossed his tiny arms, “but you’re hugging right now, so that means everything’s okay!”

It very much did not mean that, but Genya didn’t want to argue with the child. He just had to use his very limited time that Sanemi would allow very carefully.

“I’m tired, though.” The child stretched out on the tatami mats, like a starfish. “I like sleeping! The sun’s so warm, too…”

“I like sleeping, too.” Genya agreed, but he didn’t budge unless Sanemi would show any signs of not wanting to be around sixteen-year-old Genya anymore. When Sanemi made the first moves to get up, Genya immediately jumped off him, scooting away as Sanemi stretched out his limbs.

“Can I have a nap, future me?” Genya requested. “And wake me up? I like being here, but I also like being with the younger ones! Can you bring them over, too?”

Two pairs of eyes stared at younger Genya, sadly. “Maybe when you wake up, ‘kay Gen?”

Teenage Genya looked up at Sanemi and blinked rapidly, while the younger one giggled and made himself comfortable in a patch of sunlight on the floor. “A’ight! Can you kiss me goodnight? Maybe?”

“Course.” Genya felt jealousy warping over his body as his older brother kneeled down to press his lips against the child’s forehead, then patting his head. The feeling then changed to confusion as Sanemi stood and walked over again, then leaning down to press a kiss to Genya’s forehead, as well, before patting his head as well.

“Sleep well,” Sanemi called as he exited the doorway. Eight-year-old Genya giggled in reply while teenage Genya sat there, absolutely floored.

“I can’t wait to start fighting bad guys with ‘Nemi,” Genya breathed, curling up in a ball with his back facing his future self, “lookin’ cool and stuff. Swords and bonsai and pushing rocks.”

Genya couldn’t bring himself to answer as his smaller self dozed off. His body felt so warm. Where Sanemi was pressed up against him felt so good, butterflies filled his stomach and his face felt all fuwafuwa. His heart beat erratically and Genya couldn’t help but shed a couple of joyous tears.

Maybe… their relationship could be salvageable after what Genya said to Sanemi eight years ago?

________________

Genya mumbled under his breath as he stretched, foot accidentally slipping out of his futon and letting in some crisp, winter air. Bareilly opening his eyes, Genya felt little hands starting to shake him awake. “Gen-nii, Gen-nii, happy birthday!”

More choruses of those words sprouted out around the tiny shack, where seven bodies lived. Genya sat himself up as all the younger kids started presenting gifts and a breakfast much larger than what Genya would usually be able to eat.

“Happy birthday, Gen,” Sanemi ruffled the mohawk, a smile covering his face. Genya rubbed his eyes again as everyone continued chattering and laughing. He felt so good, and that rest was so nice… he must’ve had a real good dream.

words: 6187

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

Text

Like Waves in the Ocean

Summary: Jensen surprises Y/N...more than once.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Lots of smut. Fluff, mainly at the end. Unprotected sex, PinV, light fingering, slightly rough sex, semi-public sex.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Y/N

Word Count: 2,037

A/N: So, thanks to the video above that Jensen posted and the imaginings of @charred-angelwings, I absolutely HAD to write this Jensen fic.

This will also count towards my 30 Days Writing Challenge. This story will be for the prompt: Use the title, Like Waves on the Ocean. (It just seemed like too perfect a fit!)

For someone who hadn't written a RPF in my life, all this hot af Jensen content lately is sure smashing down that wall. Cause this is now the 3rd entry in this little Jensen x Reader saga. The first two are:

The Art of Creating Sex Hair Sexy Hair

2. Who's Blushing Now?

You don’t have to have read either of them, to read this one, but it might be more enjoyable. Plus who doesn’t love more Jensen smut! 🤤

As always, of course this story is about a Jensen from a different part of the multiverse, who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @firefly-graphics

As you walked out to the beach you looked out at Jensen on the water in the distance. He sat comfortably on the paddle board you'd rented for the weekend. Easier than buying and then lugging a personal one from home.

Plus it would have been hard for Jensen to surprise you with this trip to St. Lucia if he was carting around paddle boards and oars.

After the Toronto shoot had ended two weeks ago, you'd lamented to him that you so badly wanted to get out of the city. Jensen had merely nodded and grunted his agreement.

So, it hadn't occurred to you for a second, that your complaint would prompt him to book the two of you into a five day stay at the Calabash Cove Resort and Spa!

Since Toronto, you hadn't had a chance to see each other. It had been almost a full two weeks and you missed him like crazy.

Phone sex and sex over shitty Skype calls was not the same as having his magical hands on your skin. Sure, the man was very skilled at dirty talk, and still managed to give you incredible orgasms by watching him stroke his big hand up and down his cock while he described, in excruciatingly hot detail, every little thing he was going to do to your body the next time you were together.

But it could never be as good as him actually doing those things to you.

So when you picked him up at the airport the day before yesterday, it wasn't that surprising to you that he just booked you into the hotel there for the night. The two of you had barely made it through the hotel room door before you were ripping each other's clothes off.

But it was incredibly surprising yesterday morning when he'd woken you up with kisses and then told you to get ready for a trip.

You'd laughed at him, confused. "Excuse me?" You'd asked, wiping sleep from your eyes.

"I know you have no jobs booked for the next week, so instead, I booked you a surprise. Don't bother packing because whatever you need, we'll just buy there."

"Where?" You were laughing as he pulled you out of bed.

"It's a surprise. Come on baby, just throw your toothbrush in a bag and let's go!"

Despite his assurances, you packed a carry-on bag with a couple t-shirts and shorts and basic toiletries.

It wasn't until you got to the airport that you discovered where you were headed. At least what city and country. Jensen refused to to tell you anything about what resort you were going to. So the grandeur and oppulence of the Calabash Resort had made you speechless.

You spent yesterday evening getting a couple's massage in your room and then straining your muscles all over again, making slow, gentle love, lulled into peace and sensuality by your oiled muscles and the rhythmic sound of the ocean approaching and retreating from the shoreline.

As you watched Jensen now, being rocked slowly by those same waves, it hit you that your relationship, newly defined as it was, was a lot like the ocean's waves.

It was constantly shifting; as you discovered new aspects of each other's character, you approached and retreated from each other, sometimes reaching forward, willing to risk your heart, sometimes pulling back, still unsure, still scared.

Everything was still and ebb and flow, changing and altering like the tides.

As those same waves pushed him closer to the shore, you found yourself breathing a little harder at the vision he made.

His skin was tanned and glistening in the sunshine. His muscular, solid body never failed to make your core clench. No matter how many times you saw his naked form, how many times you got to watch his biceps and triceps strain against something heavy, or how many times you watched his back muscles ripple beautifully under his skin, no matter what, your reaction was always the same.

He made you breathless, made your heart race, soaked your panties through, and left you in awe that you were allowed to touch him, allowed to beg him to touch you.

He was yours, and that still felt like a surreal miracle.

When he was close enough to the shore, he hopped off the board and waded his way towards you.

As he emerged from the water you swallowed hard at the way his swim trunks clung to him, sticking to his hard, thick thighs like a second skin. They also pulled tight against the bulge you could see at the front of the brightly colored shorts. His broad chest was gleaming with droplets of water, his hair damp.

He dropped the paddle board on the sand and walked straight to you. You opened your mouth to ask him a question and forgot it immediately as his mouth crashed down on yours, taking advantage of your open mouth to sweep his tongue inside.

You moaned into him as he sucked on your tongue. He gripped your ponytail in his fist, roughly pulling your head to the side so he could suck and bite at your skin as his sinful lips moved down your neck.

"Fuck, Y/N it should be illegal for someone to look that hot in a plain black, one piece bathing suit." He growled in your ear.

He pulled away suddenly, but kept hold of your hand. He tugged you along behind him as he entered one of the wide tents placed along this stretch of private beach for those staying at the resort.

They were meant to be used to change in and out of bathing suits. And although Jensen pulled the one piece you were wearing down to your waist the second you walked into the shaded spot, you were pretty sure he didn't plan on using the space for it's intended purposes.

He bent and fixed his lips around your nipple, sucking hard. The action shot currents of heat straight to your core and you gasped and pulled his hair.

He growled and sunk his teeth into your skin; you yanked harder on his hair, head thrown back, mouth open.

Cupping your ass, he lifted you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. Your arms encircled his neck and you licked the skin there, tasting salt - his sweat and the ocean waves. He was delicious and you couldn't help sliding your tongue across more of his bare skin.

He carried you over to the chaise lounger that had been provided inside the tent, and sat down. He leaned back against it, adjusting you so you were straddling him. He reached down, and pushed your bathing suit aside, swiping his blunt fingers through your slick.

He put his dripping fingers into his mouth, decadently licking your essence from the tips.

You moaned at the vision of his lush lips wrapped around his thick fingers, tongue swirling and sucking. You whined impatiently and ground yourself down against his cock; you could feel it through his shorts, pressing hard, warm and wet against your now bare pussy.

He popped his fingers out of his mouth and then folded his hands behind his head. He lifted his chin towards you.

"Well, pull it out, baby. It's all yours."

You moved your hands down to his trunks, reaching in and grasping his warm, throbbing cock.

Jensen's biceps flexed tight as he moved his hands behind his head to grip the back of the lounger, his fingers squeezing it hard as you stroked him.

"Fuck, Y/N! Yes, just like that. Take what you need baby!"

You needed no further encouragement to position yourself over him, ready to slide down and seat yourself fully on his lap. But you had to tease him a little, running the head of his cock slowly through your soaked folds.

His hips bucked up towards you and his expression promised that you would not get away with the teasing. Payback would be coming.

You panted at the thought and slid down his full length. Both of you moaned loudly as your cunt clenched around him.

You set a slow pace to start, knowing you'd tire out quickly in this position if you didn't pace yourself. Also it was an exquisite torture to feel every vein on his cock press into every single inch of your pussy. And the slower you went the more precisely you could feel them.

Jensen allowed you to be the driver for a while, throwing his head back and biting into his plush, pink bottom lip. You could see his stomach muscles straining as he fought the urge to drive into you.

But finally when he could take no more, he took over. With a guttural growl he sat up and wrapped his arm around your waist. He braced his other arm behind him. In this position he could slam into you, while simultaneously lifting you and then crashing you back onto his lap.

The sound of slick, hot, skin slapping together was obscene and loud in the small cotton tent.

You could feel you were both on the brink when Jensen brought his hand from behind him and circled his hard middle finger against your clit. You dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades, raking your nails down his sweaty back.

He growled harshly at the pleasure-pain you were causing him. He brought both hands to your hips, and then using his weight and momentum, he pushed you backwards on the chaise so that your head was hanging over the end. He continued to rail into you in this new position, all the blood rushing to your head and making you feel even more disoriented with pleasure.

He got to his knees and angled himself so that he was hitting your g-spot with every pass.

He held your hips in place above the chaise while he pistoned into you, shaking your whole body with the force of his thrusts.

Finally, with a deafening roar you felt him explode inside you, triggering your own climax to hit you, rolling over you and over you like waves in the ocean. Jensen fell heavily on top of you while your body continued to pulse from aftershocks.

As you both came back to reality, Jensen pulled out of you and climbed off of you.

"Shit, I'm sorry, darlin', I kinda crushed you there, didn't I? And you're gonna end up with a head rush." He said as he carefully helped you sit up.

"Mmm..nnooo." You mumbled as you waved away his concern. "That was incredible!"

You shifted so you were sitting his lap again and reached up for his mouth. Pulling him to you, you kissed him long and deep.

You pulled back to breathe and panted against his lips. "You are incredible."

You thought he might make a flippant or teasing remark about your praise of him, but instead he cupped your jaw and lowered his lips back to yours. But his kiss was all softness, gentle and languid, soft brushes of his mouth over yours, followed by the undemanding press of his lips.

He pulled back and pushed his hands through your hair.

"You're more than incredible, Y/N. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And maybe this is too soon, and maybe I'm gonna freak you out, but...I love you."

You stared at him, unblinking.

He ducked his head and looked away. "You don't have to say it back, I mean...I don't expect you to - oof!"

The rest of his sentence was cut short as you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and over-balancing the chaise, knocking it backwards.

He bore the brunt of the impact, with you landing completely on top of him. He was laughing though, as you smothered him with kisses.

He took hold of your cheeks and halted the onslaught. "I take it then, you didn't mind me saying it?"

"Um - no, Mr. Ackles, I definitely did not mind you saying it." You grinned at him. "Mind if I say it back?"

Jensen's smile was pure sunshine. "Well, if actions speak louder than words, I think the concussion you just gave me might be enough."

He kissed you hard and fast. "But you can say it anyway.

"I love you, Jensen."

The waves crashed loudly outside the humid tent, but as you leaned down to once again capture his plush lips with yours, you realized that you'd finally found your safe harbor.

@akshi8278

@lgranger67

@maggiegirl17

@carryonwaywardgirl

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@foxyjwls007 @b3autyfuldisast3r @myloversgone @kazsrm67 @fangirlxwritesx67 @kickingitwithkirk @charred-angelwings

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@b-i-t-c-h-i-e @twirpbunwarrior @mysweetlittledesire

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Masterlist

Tag Lists

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles rpf #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fan fiction #jensen ackles fan fic #30 days writing challenge

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ytptennis · 3 months

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Does Ole know how to fight? He looks like someone physically trained in the sense of combat, the jump in the gas station scene is very well choreographed (congratulations to Sam for the performance, even considering his height) - I'm a jiu-jitsu fighter and a ballerina, he did a jump very acrobatic in that scene, and I also imagine that he wasn't the type of hitman who kills you with a sniper, but the type who, if necessary, will go into brute force combat.

There's also the scene of him rescuing Dot from the well, Munch literally arrived with everything at Roy's henchman, unarmed and with only a knife (considering he had the knife that blinded Gator), I wanted to see the combat scenes with him, like we saw Malvo, Numbers, Wrench and so on. He seems very well trained to me.

(he seems to follow more of a stealthy style of combat)

ooo yes I love this question >:333

yes I do believe munch knew how to fight, though not formally. again, this is a situation where time is on his side; his own personal form of self defense that he's used for so long it almost resembles a discipline of martial arts were it not for how bestial & instinctive it is. at least with martial arts you can tell there was a before and after while the skills were honed, but munch has always needed to lash back at predators. its likeness to formal combat comes with his eventual incorporation of firearms combined with the pseudo-psychic knowledge he has of human behavior.

munch seems to prefer firearms as a last resort, though & doesn't appear to like relying on them. idk he seemed exasperated when he had to pull out the assault rifle in ep1, & when defending himself against gator in ep2, the scene clearly reads that he is the weapon, and not the pistol. age has not withered him but made him unnaturally strong and fast. thats more my headcanon since its feasible for a grown man to snap another grown man's wrist but learning of munch's supernatural origins adds that different flavor to his physical prowess.

im of the mind that munch's path to becoming a hitman was a complicated one rather than something he just picked up to survive. "a man is paid to soldier" but then he lays down his arms to go live with a community that welcomes him, until "the cannon & the musket" pull him back into solitude. i think thats when he starts using firearms as an extension of himself, to seek revenge. he probably had his own formal hunting skills, sure, but now that the significance behind those skills has been ripped from him, he wants to feed that cruelty back. bows & arrows become guns, and when he cant pick off his enemies from afar, he uses his hands and teeth. it might also be a form of punishment, like attaching a gangrenous limb to a stump. it provides you with temporary reach at the cost of poisoning you.

I thought it was interesting that he knew he was going to be ambushed the second he saw those men through the bushes & yet still followed gator to the shed (?) instead of incapacitating him before they turned the corner. I think he wanted to humiliate him, and, in turn, roy, by proving he's just as useless being supported by others as he is alone. kinda pretentious here so bear with me, but I also thought it was great that munch subdued gator by yanking his groin. a very good blink-and-you'll-miss-it instance of munch using the tillmans' masculinity against them.

the whole thing with dot's rescue will always be fascinating to me no matter what bc of all the unspoken layers leading up to it. munch went to the ranch with the intent of hurting gator, but somewhere along the way he sensed dot's presence, like he could smell her fear, and he followed it. from the way that one henchman was pulled, we can infer munch snuck up from behind, maybe from low ground, which would explain why the others didn't readily see him from their peripherals. that combined with his ferocity threw them off guard just enough that he could disarm them. instead of approaching them as another henchman, which he temporarily was, he rips them apart. instead of leaving dot to use the ladder, he checks up on her, remarks about the unfairness of her situation, and extends a hand. there is a clear thought process here, not entirely governed by animal instincts. he does sense the caged animal in dot, but the residual human in him desires contact and reassurance and the need to help, especially someone who's so like him that it haunts him. I've waxed on about it before but its so "stray animal learns to respect the human that feeds it" except he & dot weren't on that level yet. it was just a spiritual connection, one that was unequivocally necessary to act on. humans are social animals, but animals all the same, & that dormant part of his brain that yearned for love all those centuries was poked at, ironically, after being beaten in battle by this woman who was at her most animalistic. a prey animal turned predator.

#💌#fargo fx #ole munch

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woodywood101blog · 1 year

Text

I posted 36 times in 2022

10 posts created (28%)

26 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@neghort

@bigmpregnm

@mpreg-celeb

@justmpreg

@bmbu122

I tagged 30 of my posts in 2022

Only 17% of my posts had no tags

#mpreg - 29 posts

#mpreg caption - 29 posts

#male pregnancy - 29 posts

#mpreg morph - 29 posts

#legal jargon - 1 post

#comment - 1 post

#novak djokovic - 1 post

#novax djocovid - 1 post

Longest Tag: 14 characters

#novak djokovic

My Top Posts in 2022:

No one would've picked up that Matt was a teen dad in his suit. The only indication now of having pushed a child out of him were his disproportionately larger legs, which linked to his slighter wider hips compared to other guys... otherwise, he seemed to have kept fit and well after labor.

99 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

The only reason his ass is like that is because he pushed out a large baby the natural way... Not too sure if it will deflate at all, but at least he attracts all kinds of attention.

103 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

Nick had no idea why his belly had exploded in growth over the last month or so, but he's not complaining with the looks of curiosity and pure lust he's seen from other guys at the local pool. Hopefully he might track down the guy who caused all this to happen a couple of months ago, and fast!

Image source: https://www.deviantart.com/kennysosa1234/art/Wet-Outdoors-Morph-941179250 by kennysosa1234 on DeviantArt

104 notes - Posted December 16, 2022

"Jesus, Ben, how many are in there?" John asked.

"I don't know, I think the doctor said there were 4 or 5? But I just don't want to think about it..."

"Bit hard to say that when all your shirts don't fit, you've resorted to bras and unbuttoned jeans, and you are on the verge of having your skin rip apart from how tight this belly is."

"Ughhhhhh...."

111 notes - Posted December 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

"Oh bro, come on! You try to not get hungry when you have something inside you that is sucking all the energy out of you All. The. Time!"

Image source: https://www.deviantart.com/kennysosa1234/art/Caught-in-the-Act-of-Endless-Snacking-Morph-923174883 by kennysosa1234 on DeviantArt

197 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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sunlightandsuffering · 1 year

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Not long ago you said you wanted to write an enemies to lovers as sorcerers. I firmly believe in this au Mikasa is the one to initiate the hate sex, not Eren. Mikasa is done with crying for him and all the drama, she’s just furious with him for resorting to dark magic and leaving her. She’s done, wants to blast off the dark sorcerer and rescue her Eren from the ashes.

Now this Eren parallels his canon counterpart. He is tragic, somewhat aware of his sad destiny. He thinks himself a coward for being unable to confess his love to Mikasa, and impure for turning to such foul dark arts. At the same time he is too far gone now, has to finish what he started. And dark magic is for the caster like an armor that wears the knight. He knows he might die soon, either on the battlefield or perish due to the dark magic consuming him. He accepts Mikasa’s anger and is ready to take it all. This Eren is precisely the type to give Mikasa the long dream in the cabin, where they are free to be happy and in love, as his poor compensation for being unable to be with her in real life, before facing his own demise.

Omg ANGRY MIKASA!! She rarely gets angry and Eren never actually thought she would be angry with him, he didn't think she had it in her but then she's just absolutely ripping him apart for all his mistakes and hitting him in the chest, shoving him onto the bed and tearing his clothes off!!! She's so angry he put them in this position, that the love of her life is now involved in dark magic and there's nothing she can even really do! THE ANGST, THE DRAMA, THE HATE SEX!

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impossiblycolorfulpanda · 2 years

Text

energybending epiphany

I have a theory on how energybending works and how one could achieve it without the need of a lion turtle.

From what we’ve seen, energybending can be used to give and take bending on a whim. Chi serves as the root of bending, so it’s obvious that energybending equals chi-bending.

But Aang was able to sense where Appa was in the swamp with some type of energybending, and with Korra, she was able to bend external spiritual energies, and can bend even after astral projecting.

But how one could achieve such powerful art without having it be bestowed by a lion turtle?

“In the era before the Avatar, we bent not the elements but the energy within ourselves. To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable or you will be corrupted and destroyed.”

In LOK, Tenzin gives the same advice to Korra, and we see her standing on astral lights. She sees a large projection of herself, holding a ball of light. That is exactly the same scene we saw in Aang when he was under his chakra session with Guru Patik.

That said, wouldn’t opening and mastering one’s chakras count as bending the energies within oneself? Not to mention four out of seven chakras represents the four elements, one chakra helps you see past the illusion of separation, even the divisions of elements themselves are but an illusion, and the last chakra allows one to harness pure cosmic energy from the universe.

“The true mind can weather all the lies and illusions without being lost. The true heart can tough the poison of hatred without being harmed. Since beginningless time, darkness thrives in the void but always yields to purifying light.”

Spiritbending, while only seen be preformed by waterbenders, might actually be a sub-skill of energybending, and with enough effort, any bender could use this.

The avatar is required not only master the elements, but the ideologies of the other nations. Had Aang opened all chakras, he’d would have truly mastered the ways of the air nomads, in a way Yangchen never could, while doing the same with other nations. He’d have complete and total control over the avatar state and there for a fully realized master avatar.

Sure, he briefly does that, only to be zapped into a coma, but instead of learning how to do it again in a safer area this time, even after learning to accept firebending, he still chooses to cling on to his selfish earthly desires, at the expense of the time left for the world. That’s when the lion turtle comes in at the last second. Being fed up with this kid’s stupidity, this deus ex machina creature quickly teaches him only different ways to give bad guys spiritual dismemberments that’ll make everyday, for the rest of their lives, a hell on earth, and make himself even more of a dreaded figure then he already was to the fire nation.

And of course, he doesn’t make a sifu out of the lion turtle and further study the ways of energybending in hopes of reviving airbenders, he probably tried but LT said exactly what Patik said, let go of Katara to unlock the art’s secrets, but the “good guy” aangy was all like “hard pass” and never bothered again. He also lets the charade of separation keep on going.

Had he did open his last chakra, I don’t think he’d resort to killing Ozai or brutally ripping away his bending. Instead, Aang permanently opens all of Ozai’s chakras for him and restore physical, mental and spiritual balance from the inside out. Ozai can either serve as fire sage shaman, or he’s teleported into the spirit world to find peace.

#energybending #chakras #chi #atla meta #atla critical #lion turtle

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weepingcanines · 2 years

Text

Graffiti

Lobo spends another night on watch duty for Eleven and becomes curious.

---

Content warning for: cursing

Yet another night to spend lingering in some decrepit, back street alley of Naples, back against the wall as the moon lazily rose through the sky. It was too far in the city for the crickets to fill the silence and hardly anyone ever passed by these alleys in the dead of night.

And so, Lobo leaned against the wall, letting out a lung-full of air in a huff. Her arms crossed along with her legs. There was still a light throb in her forehead from consuming too much alcohol the day prior, but it was a welcome distraction from the otherwise boring watch duty.

Eleven was a few paces away, glancing up at the wall in planning for his artistic designs. Eventually, when he had whatever vision was in his mysterious head, he picked up a can of paint and began. He moved in deliberate, perfect moments- almost like a robot, but with palpable will to bring whatever was in his head down onto whatever canvas he desired. Skin, bricks, paper, it was all the same to him.

He rarely talked during these outings, leaving Lobo to watch and entertain herself however she could. She almost wished some trouble would come waltzing on along sometimes - at least then she wouldn't have to resort to singing songs in her head and counting bricks.

On this night however, looking over upon the enigmatic boy, a question crept into Lobo's mind.

"hey. Why do you paint here, anyway? Why graffiti?"

Eleven acted like he didn't hear her at first. Or maybe he really didn't. His focus was razor sharp, singled on on a single point, painting lines over and over in perfect rhythm.

The werewolf's eyebrow twitched with annoyance at this lack of response. She turned her gaze back over the the buildings surrounding them in deep blues and dark blacks, figuring her time would be better spend repeatedly losing count of bricks anyway.

"Because, it's something everyone, anyone, can see." He finally responded, putting down a blue spray can while he squatted close to the concrete. His blue eyes had an eerie and serene glow in the moonlight while his orange sweater appeared pale and washed out.

"A kid on their way to school? A fisherman? Hell, maybe even a mafiosi, its here to catch anyone's eye. Paper gets wet and rips- it's small, and hard to get people to look at. Not the best way of spreading a message, I find. Have you ever read a flyer handed to you on the street?"

"message?" Lobo questioned, not moving her head but training her eyes on her companion.

"Yes, a divine one."

"...divine? Like, religiously, or in a fancy " this is divine cuisine" way."

It was rare that something she said caused him seem taken aback, but that particular sentence seemed to cause the guy some genuine pain. After squinching his nose a little, he responded in a deadpan tone.

"Divine as in what it actually means. Divine."

"But what the fuck does that mean?" Lobo scowled. "Like, are you saying your art is from god?"

"No, my work is from me alone." Eleven closed his eyes. " I try to inspire feelings of hope in my art, like an angel." He seemed like was going to say more, but quietly trailed off.

Lobo kept an intrigued eye on him. She'd never seen him so... Human. He kept his emotions in check, so close, so obscure. She didn't really trust him yet, not entirely, not with knowing nothing about this guy.

But in watching him go back to silently putting down his 'message', seeing his passion, it made her think. Maybe, just maybe, this guy wasn't lying when he said his intentions were pure.

It was like Eleven could express himself in the most perfect way. With an omnipotent understanding of the feelings captured in his head, and with unbelievable precision he could execute that vision. For a man so guarded and mysterious, he could paint the clearest image from within his head for all to see.

She envied him in that perfect understanding. Feeling her hand drag across her arm as they uncrossed and fell to her sides, she looked to the moon watching them from between the clouds and buildings. What he wanted to say, he could. He knew what to say. He didn't even need words.

And yet, like a child, she never seemed able to say what she wanted. How she felt- she couldn't even describe it half the time. Her mind always in knots, lost, trembling. Riding waves of emotions until it dropped her in the destruction left in its wake.

In the night, she saw the shadows shift. And in them formed Fenrir, it's eyes bright and sharp as she peered directly into her own soul. She didn't understand what she saw there, and it made her blood run cold.

Lobo put all her weight on the wall and sat down on the stone beneath her, tail wrapping around her legs in a feeble attempt to comfort her sudden unease. And yet, despite her discomfort, Fenrir approached anyway, and she reached her hand out to it so it could rest it's huge nose in her palm.

"We'll never be serene, like him." She told the wolf. "I don't know what we can be, but its not pure."

Fenrir didn't respond, but it couldn't, anyway. And so they sat and watched on, half shrouded in a building's shadow.

-----

First thing I've written/finished for awhile, so I'm pretty rusty! Also still learning how to best format Tumblr posts so any tips are appreciated! Thank you, if you read this far, it means a lot and encourages me to write more!

#jjba #vento aureo #jojo oc #jjba oc #writing #part 5 oc #lobo jojo #eleven jojo #dbbdhdhdbdhfndnd nervous #not fully proofread #My glasses are also broken im sorry for any errors

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goodbysunball · 2 years

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Mid-year report: 2022

The year's halfway gone and I'm still sifting through the stacks, trying to be an effective filter and engaged listener. Witness as I try to explain why these six LPs are tops for this year so far. Shaking off the rust, here goes nothin'.

Börn, Drottningar Dauðans, (Iron Lung)

No disrespect to the actual cover art, but the art Jensen at Iron Lung put together for Börn's latest LP test pressing was/is so sick that I had to grab it. It could've been the inflated price tag that led to initial listens to Drottningar Dauðans leaving me a little cold, but now I understand that every track here burns hard and bright and fizzles out spectacularly. This is probably best illustrated by "Þú Hvíslar," but it happens on nearly every track, sometimes sounding like the band collapsed in exhaustion while recording, unceremoniously cutting a track short. Börn rips way harder than the million death rock-tinged punk bands flooding the scene, though, not least of all due to the crisp, loud recording. Another not-so-secret weapon is the vocals, cloaked in reverb but still caustic as hell and single-handedly capable of increasing the tension tenfold (see "Norn"). The band holds their own, fueling the vocalist with heat and enough open space to thrive, pushing each other especially hard on the ripping 1-2 of "Flakandi Sár" and "Þú Skuldar Mér Að Vera Sexý." A real shot in the arm, this LP, over and out in 22 minutes. Iron Lung strikes again. Please tour the U.S.

Thomas Bush, Preludes (Mammas Mysteriska Jukebox)

Back in the heyday of Low Company (le sigh), the store/label called Thomas Bush's Old and Red (warehouse find!) record of the year the second it was released. I do like that record, bought sound unheard due to Low Company's recommendation, but it's high time to revisit it after the spell Preludes has put me under. I remember Old and Red being delightfully hazy but dense, and perhaps a bit overlong; Preludes is (at least to my memory) a distillation of the best parts of Old and Red, less opaque but doubly effective. Preludes starts out with "Firstly," which is as standard of a mode as you'll find Thomas Bush in, his inner gently plucked acoustic guitar singer-songwriter fully activated. The script quickly flips to his primary mode of smudged pop impressionism on "Paid to Love" and reaches its logical conclusion on the gorgeous melancholy loops of "Cadence." The distance traveled in the first 5-6 minutes of the record is immense in some ways, moving from what could be popular to the sub-underground, but it's all tied together beautifully, thanks in part to the steady, calming flow. This is a perfect record for rain, a contrast to unrelenting falling water (or accompaniment to it, as on "Jennifer"), something to help process the overwhelming day-to-day with cool detachment. The restraint it takes to make a track like "Odeep One," barely held together between electronic drumbeats, is impressive without considering the deep emotional impact. Preludes isn't happy music, but it is rich in sensory detail without being heavy or oppressive, something best exhibited by the meandering, Daniel Schmidt-esque "In the Sunken Undergrowth." I don't think hearing individual tracks will do the trick, though; Preludes should be heard and experienced in full, and while that attention to something so spare is hard to buy, it's well worth the effort. Stone cold stunner; well recommended to folks who enjoyed last year's Monokultur LP.

Joe Colley, Deformation of Tone (Total Black)

"You tie the chain around your waist and... that's it, baby." Joe Colley, the indefatigable, locates an unmapped spot between the abrasive and the surgically precise aspects of noise; sound grinds, chirps, pounds and whirrs, but is pared back to the fewest elements necessary to make that possible. It is no small feat to have a noise record sound so spare and yet so quietly powerful without resorting to the usual tricks of transgressive lyrics/samples and unrelenting feedback (though there is something to be said for the latter). With due deference to the effort it takes to make these sorts of records well, Deformation of Tone sounds very clean, very professional, with the right amount of grit and spatter and a dose of existential dread injected to make the two sides deeply affecting. There are track titles, but it's recommended to take this in as two movements, the unrelenting background noise of modern industrial society interwoven with the debilitating anxiety hanging over every moment. It's grim, but it's real, and as hinted at by Seymour Glass in his assessment of the record, Deformation of Tone is completely devoid of the eyeball-seeking tactics of more well-known artists working in the same sphere. The art speaks for itself. Stunning LP jacket to boot, featuring Joe's cement speaker and the apt warning "Playback discouraged." Record of the year so far.

Heavenly Bodies, Universal Resurrection (Petty Bunco)

Petty Bunco continues to work its magic: across a couple of tapes and a previous LP, Heavenly Bodies didn't make much of an impression here, but then they transition to a full-on force once they get picked up by the nation's finest guitar rock label. Slow-building instrumental rock by a trio is what's for sale, and Universal Resurrection is a 25-minute track split across two sides of an LP. I'm a strong proponent of the single-sided 12", but the choice to split the track in two as naturally as possible was sound here. The A-side is the glistening build-up, weed smoke practically unfurling from the speakers, and the B-side comes crashing in with ecstatically smeared guitar heroics that oughta satisfy any Les Rallizes Denudes head. There is something almost formless and definitely mysterious about how the band builds tension at the start, a far cry from more generic "post-rock" practitioners, in that Heavenly Bodies seem much more comfortable not knowing what may come next. To be sure, the volume does slowly build as expected, but it's never clear what will follow each segment until you flip the record and the 20-foot wave descends on you. The whole movement of the two sides feels renewing, some cobwebs shaken and some bullshit left behind. What other point is there in listening to music anyway? Trust in Petty Bunco.

Incipientium, Belastning (Förlag För Fri Musik)

While there have been arguably bigger releases coming from the rich Gothenburg vein this year, something about Incipientium's Belastning keeps drawing me in. There is a fresh and untethered feel about the project, well-captured on the shapeshifting "Kall Savann" that takes up the A-side, where vaguely human noises emerge and disappear in the hazy mist of a half-remembered memory. It sounds like the needle's hit a locked groove near the end, and you'll probably wish the grimy, syrupy loop would keep going, too. The plodding, seasick lurch continues on the B-side, but after the warped moaning of "Cuna," things open up to a blinding white void near the end of "Sol Tympanum," distorted keyboard notes dropping the listener in the center of a frozen northern lake with not a cloud in the sky. It's probably this stunning finish that keeps me coming back, looking over the rest for the hints of bright white against the oppressive yet captivating gray smothering the proceedings. It's probably obvious, but this record did the trick in the doldrums of winter, sympathetic and transportive at once. Incipientium quickly followed Belastning with a CD on iDEAL, well worth seeking out as well.

Rose Mercie, ¿Kieres Agua? (Celluloid Lunch/Jelodanti)

Truth be told, I had forgotten all about Rose Mercie's self-titled record in the avalanche between 2018 and now, but now I'm left wondering if I would've been better off with Rose Mercie at my side during the tumult. If the cover didn't give it away, this is a much more self-assured record, despite the primary ingredients staying the same. The vocals switch seamlessly from English to French to Spanish, the guitar lines are slow and rudimentary, the tom-heavy drums pushing everything forward with a quiet, repetitive intensity. Tracks like "Dinosaur" and "Cats & Dogs" pair heartbreak with resiliency, the group acting like an informal gang, one member supporting the next. The music sounds as tight-knit as a chosen family oughta be, but portrayed with a looseness belying the myriad textural choices made apparent over multiple spins. Rose Mercie stretch things out on a few tracks to great effect, like "Regresar," where dark contrast is added by sheets of dissonant guitar pushing against the grain. On most tracks the storm simmers and rumbles but rarely bursts ("Des Pierres"), but the vocals are often colorful and emotive, though the harmonizing of the group often as acidic as it is sparkling. Don't let that last part scare you away - check "Chais Pas," the band's got switchblades in their boots. There are a lot of really good things happening on this record, with the repetitive drumming and confident vocals leading the way; mostly, though, this just sounds like a group of badass friends linking up to make a record that is as fun to listen to as it is a richly detailed piece of art. Rose Mercie, four in a million. If my daughter's ever in a band, I hope she'll reference the blueprint provided on ¿Kieres Agua?. Never stop witching.

Other new stuff that I like & recommend:

Brain Tourniquet, s/t 7" (Iron Lung)

Cube, Proof of Bells CD (H&S Ranch)

Darksmith of California, "Island of Stability" / "Primitive Version" CS (No Rent)

Primitive Man, Insurmountable 12" (Closed Casket Activities)

Sunhiilow, Waking Through the Dawned Shades CS (Ikuisuus)

A few reissue/archival releases:

Incapacitants, As Loud As Possible 2xLP + 7" (Total Black)

Mura, 2008-2021 LP (An'archives)

Black Easter, Ready to Rot 7" (No Plan)

#Börn #Iron Lung Records #Thomas Bush #Joe Colley #Total Black #Incipientium #Heavenly Bodies #Petty Bunco #Rose Mercie #Brain Tourniquet #Cube #Darksmith #Primitive Man #Sunhiilow #Incapacitants #Mura #An'archives #Black Easter

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pridefulrose · 5 months

Text

This has been on my mind lately but I want to say it: some time ago I was part of an anime community with a lot of Americans and i had been more or less active in anime fandoms on twitter. You would think this has nothing to do with the current political situation but if you are kind and patient enough I want to tell what I saw in those few months in that community and what I have seen on twitter.

I have seen many americans ask for money for donations specifically because they can’t afford healthcare. Some of these campaigns are super important things like fighting against cancer and sometimes is as simple as getting into an accident and not having money to even pay for the ambulance to go the ER.

I met many beautiful people who had to resort to sex work in order to pay for their college tuition.

Sometimes the tuition was so high that students had to leave college because their bodies were collapsing with stress over having to work sometimes multiple jobs and studying at the same time. A lot of this people were disabled or became disabled due to the constant stress of having to pay bills and not being able to afford sometime off to heal.

I have had a couple of friends who I had the luck to be able to help get a couple of meals that week because they couldn’t afford even a couple of ramen noodle packages. I can’t always do this because my currency is way too cheap but I am happy they could get some relief.

I have had to see someone I like beg people to help him out to get enough money to pay rent and move from a very abusive situation. I had seen how it is sooo soo difficult to get out of poverty because something is always happening because of said poverty. This person is disabled and can’t work and their only sort of income tends to be their art but even that is extremely difficult because they depend so much on their digital assets that losing one might mean struggling financially for weeks or even months and I am saying this because his story is something that I see often on twitter in the art community.

I have seen people beg for money because they could not afford the funeral for a family member cause said family member died unexpectedly and it is either one of two scenarios it is a sudden death and they didn’t expect it therefore they never planned to buy an insurance or the family is too poor to even have an insurance.

I saw a friend wait MONTHS to get treatment for his teeth because he could not afford to go to the dentist even though there was a huge risk of infection that could put him in a very dangerous situation.

And these are only a few things that I can remember right now. And I don’t know what to say anymore because this stupid and senseless massacre in Gaza has made it sooo soo clear to me that Americans come from a very rich country that has enough money to pay for every humanitarian program they need in their own country. They have enough money to invest in every social program they can think of but somehow they do not have access to the money they need because the politicians are using their hard earned money to kill people on the other side of the planet and not only that but Isnotreal is ripping off the benefits of the billions of dollars that is supposed to go to the Americans.

Imagine how baffled I was to see the propaganda of the IDF and see people from Ukraine, Netherlands, Spain, France etc get free healthcare, free housing and free college tuitions because of the American population. So Yeah Americans you were right about the immigrants getting your free taxes but it was not the poor immigrants inside US soil as they gaslighted you into believing but immigrants on the other side of the planet ripping off from your hard earned money and using it to kill Palestinians.

I see the suffering of a lot of Americans on a daily basis but I never knew how deeply manufactured their misery was until this whole thing happened. And it is not only the Americans that pay for this situation but the innocent Palestinians who are being murdered every second.

#free gaza #free palestine #free us all #palestine

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lonestargreys · 2 years

Text

Escape to the country

ESCAPE TO THE COUNTRY FREE

There were so many negatives, and they came back to whatever small town they were from in Middle America, and these Tiki bars and other establishments started popping up. Sven Kirstin says in his Book of Tiki, is when the veterans came back after World War II, after being in exotic locales in the Pacific, they wanted to relive the positives of that experience. So I heard all these stories about what was then called the Orient. KRIS KRAUS Okay, so I grew up in Buffalo, which is probably the least tropical place in America …my grandparents met in the Philippines. They can provide insight into how people get into Tiki Culture. That’s because back stories are important. And they have, I believe, ten minutes to battle it out and make a cocktail for all six judges.īartenders get points for creativity, taste and the story behind their cocktail. She says the final round will be done Iron Chef style with Sassy Stilletto adding some flare to the proceedings.ĭOTTIE DEVILLE …, she is going to rip open a bag where we're going to display the secret ingredient, where they have to battle it out. Libations are important to Deville who is co-hosting the bartender battle. You grab a libation and you mosey on to the next party. They will set up a bar and you go in, you experience the livelihood of Tiki Oasis nighttime parties. So for the room and suite parties, you won’t be seeing people moving out the beds and furniture as much as they used to says Dottie Deville.ĭOTTIE DEVILLE So they decorate their rooms, they have a theme, they bring in different bands, artists, DJs, performers. Last year Tiki Oasis returned from quarantine to celebrate its 20th year at the newly renovated Town and Country Resort, which boasts a lot of the mid-century décor that Tiki Oasis revels in. It will address appropriation versus appreciation of cultures as it discusses minority cultures, Tiki Culture and Mid-Century Americana with the goal of providing a forum for education, knowledge and conversation.

ESCAPE TO THE COUNTRY FREE

On Sunday it’s holding a free to attend seminar called Talking Tiki presented the Tiki Oasis Diversity & Inclusion Council. It's like a vacation within a vacation.īut Tiki Oasis acknowledges some of the criticism it’s received. SASSY STILETTO So it's really nice to kind of kick back with your friends, have a few drinks… and you get to hang out by the pool. SASSY STILETTO …There's nothing too serious at Tiki Oasis and I think that we've had a few serious years. But we don’t have to think about that all the time and for those times when you want a break from the real world, there is Tiki Oasis. Yes there are horrible things going on in the world from COVID to Monkeypox to the war in the Ukraine. Let me say this upfront: Tiki Oasis is about escape. The Art Show and Tiki Marketplace are free and open to the public. TAG: Tiki Oasis kicks off tonight and runs through Sunday at the Town and Country Resort. KPBS arts reporter Beth Accomando previews the event that kicks off tonight. For more than 2 decades the convention has drawn people from all over the globe to celebrate tiki culture and escape the real world. LEDE: Tiki Oasis returns to Town and Country Resort for what it boasts is the biggest Tiki Weekender on the planet.

#Escape to the country

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nyaitsu-writes · 2 years

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I feel spoiled with how many es blogs i'm finding- anyways, can I ask for some fluffy headcanons with ritsu, natsume, kaoru, and suou stumbling across their easily flustered fem s/o's sketchbook and complimenting her for her artistic abiltiy please? (like she downplays her abilties because of how shy she is) and thank u!!

sooo this is one of those requests that has been sitting at the very bottom of my askbox for a whiiile now ahaha i'm sorry.... since i write for 3 charas max i just chose the first 3 i had an idea for... and kinda ran with it... for 2k... (*/ω＼*) i relate to this rq on a personal level so it made it really easy to just,, write a lot about it <333

✧ kaoru, natsume, ritsu | finding their s/o's sketchbook ✧

RITSU SAKUMA;

✦ ritsu has the habit of accidentally stealing people’s stuff. since he can be found laying/resting virtually anywhere, no secret is safe with him (and his naps!). there’s also the fact that he’s stuck to your side 24/7, keeping watch of every little thing so he can protect you <3 protect you and that little sketchbook you keep carrying around, of course!

✦ ritsu will lean on your shoulder, putting his arms around your dominant hand to try and restrain you just to peak into the pics. because he knows just how quick you are when it comes to hiding this particular notebook! if this attempt doesn’t work out, he’ll resort to cute whining and being (adorably) annoying until you let him see. he’ll call your name and poke your cheek so softly yet so insistently i’m giving you 5 minutes before you sigh in defeat. ritsu sakuma, master of persuasion ( ‵▽′)ψ

✦ so you end up placing the sketchbook on your lap, quietly flipping through the pages under ritsu’s attentive glance. you would think that ritsu being ritsu will stay quiet during the entire flip through but he keeps pointing at his favourite doodles and asking about the story behind them. about what you were thinking about when you drew it, about what that character means to you: he’s putting genuine interest into it!

✦ ritsu finds art to be a really really good hobby. why you ask? because you can be together! he’ll be kind enough to lean on your non-dominant hand this time so you can doodle properly~ he thinks the sound of the pencil gliding against the paper is comfortable… makes him sleepy <3 that is what he says but as soon as you start sketching at his side he will rest his head on your shoulder and look at the pic. he thinks your art is beautiful and wants to see more and more of it. and he is not afraid to compliment you for it!

✦ i think that ritsu can become a bit of a hoarder sometimes. this means every time you’re working on a sketch that you don’t like as much and rip it off, he will ask to keep it. this probably takes you by surprise the first time. and the second time. because you know, he’s not asking for the almost finished pics (he is too, but not now) but rather the messy doodles you gave up on halfway through! you try to say no but ritsu won’t accept no as an answer. if he has to stand up and grab the wrinkled piece of paper, he will （｀ 3 ′） this shows just how stubborn he is into taking care of your pictures!!

✦ he has this cute little folder in his room with the doodles he has managed to snatch from you. it’s like a dragon hoarding a big treasure of gold coins and jewels but it’s ritsu sakuma collecting a lot of your sketches <3 i think he wouldn’t be opposed to hanging some on the walls of his room. imagine going to his room and finding up this nice frame and when you try to look into it you find your art… no matter how much you ask him to please, please take it off because it isn’t even done he’ll shake his head…

✦ “mrmm it’s a placeholder then. i like seeing your art every day… i might reconsider putting a full illustration if you don’t like this one… i think it’s pretty though~” see he tricked you. it’s all a trick so he gets more of your art. he’s so smart isn’t he!

✦ all in all i think ritsu is very supportive of your hobby (❁´◡`❁) he tries not to be too pushy but he still wants to see everything you do, to learn more and more about the things you love. he understands what “not being enough” feels like and he knows just how important it is to have someone by your side reminding you that you are enough. skills take time to develop! but you don’t have to be the very best. if it’s your passion and it makes you happy, then that is good enough!

NATSUME SAKASAKI;

✦ they say curiosity killed the cat but that doesn’t apply to natsume: once he catches an interest in something he’ll be fixated on it until he’s completely satisfied. call it a scientific method, call it him being nosy and wanting to find out everything: both are right! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

✦ you keep spending your free time together with him in the secret room, sitting down on a comfy corner with a notebook in your hands and natsume didn’t even think too much about it until now. it’s always the same notebook, same cover, decorated with the exact same stickers. and as soon as he walks by and turns his head just by the tiniest bit, you’re already turning the sheet or closing the book right on his nose. so he’s growing more and more curious by the minute. if he were to snatch your notebook…?

✦ but there’s no need to! one day his prayers are heard as you have to run for a quick errand and forget it right on his table. right next to his stuff. look, you got this one on yourself. he is most definitely not prying around your stuff, you knew exactly what was going to happen if you left your stuff unsupervised!

✦ so natsume opens the notebook with the utmost curiosity only to find out it isn’t the kind of notebook he thought it would be. instead of pages full with scribbles and notes, he’s surprised to find little doodles and half done illustrations. it’s actually a sketchbook!

✦ natsume isn’t even trying to be coy about this. you’ll come back into the room and catch him sitting in your favorite corner, happily flipping through the pages and nodding along with every pic. you don’t get a chance to complain about him stealing your notebook (because you forgot it yourself, he reminds you), but rather he goes straight into asking.

✦ “and so? how long were you planning to keep this hidden from me? ah no, i’m not giving it back it’s mine now” camera pan to natsume keeping the sketchbook away from you while he keeps staring intently into each and every page. maybe when he’s done,, he’ll consider giving it back. maybe. if you’re good <3

✦ so from that day onwards, he keeps getting just a tiny bit closer to you when you’re doodling. like yeah he does have stuff to do but mayyybe he can take a bit of a break. no he’s not staring at you?? you’re just making things up jeez (he’s is indeed staring at you)

✦ methinks natsume is good at art, maybe in a different sense than you are? it does of course depend on your style and the things you like drawing better! but this little man here can draw some pretty impressive rune circles and stuff so he knows what good art looks like when he sees it <3 and even if what you do were to be totally out of his area of expertise you won’t even realize until he’s done some proper research about it ehehe

✦ he’s also comes across as a biiiit rude sometimes… natsume kind of rude. maybe not rude but painfully honest? you don’t downplay your skills in front of him because he can and will roast you into accepting that you are wrong. that you are wrong in thinking you are not good, that’s the right thing ( ˘︹˘ ) oh wow a bit of a twisted argument isn’t it? but it somehow works. he keeps using logical arguments and things you can’t quite deny to prove that you are indeed a good artist and just painfully modest. but who needs modesty? just learn to accept yourself with your good and bad points (mostly the good ones, like he does but shhh) and you’ll be happier and safer. good advice from your local fortune-teller / boyfriend! be sure to listen to him!!

✦ if those kind of arguments don’t work on you, it’s natsume we’re talking about! he surely has some tricks up his sleeve to make you finally accept that he is right and you need to love yourself a bit more. if has to… tease you into accepting, he will. maybe he’ll pull just so close to you, so close you can see every golden sparkle in his eyes… so close you can almost kiss! only to try something along the lines of “now, if you talk nicely about yourself for once i might consider giving you a reward? do we have a deal~?” here we have it,, another master of persuasion in all his glory www

KAORU HAKAZE;

✦ ohhh kaoru. this is going back to ritsu square: won't stop whining and being annoying (but in a cute kaoru way) until you let him see. if puppy eyes are needed and some adorable "babeee pretty please let me see?" then he won't stop until he gets his point across.

✦ he is just so surprised. like, he knew you could draw (he is surprisingly smart at realizing people's hobbies, actually) but not at this level! he's literally showering you with compliments. That's some real talent!! ♪(´▽｀)

✦ so kaoru finds in art a couple bonding experience. that is, he asks you to teach him how to draw. other than a couple silly doodles he really can't do much but he's excited to try! Sitting together for a chill afternoon, just doing your best at doodling each other. oh yes! be sure to get his right side, okay? and then you can exchange the pictures. more like, he’ll ask to take your picture with him, just to keep it somewhere safe. getting your s/o to draw you in their style,, he’s getting this precious little fluffy feeling in his chest, he couldn’t be any happier

✦ kaoru is the absolute king of boosting people’s self-esteem no matter the situation. i’m sorry but that’s the rules <3 seeing as constant compliments don’t really work, he tries to shift his strategy and rather asks you why you think so badly of your art. first of all he calls your half-done doodles art (and that is utterly adorable) but then he asks why. why do you? maybe you feel like your skills aren’t good enough or you keep comparing yourself to other people. maybe you’re just shy… but worry not! best boyfriend kaoru hakaze will work with you on getting rid of whatever makes you feel like that. he’ll be your personal cheerleader!

✦ he would also like to be your personal model if you don’t mind? he’s always up for the offer ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ …oooor that is what he says. because they day you actually say yes he’s even more surprised than you are for finally accepting. please don’t look at his blush please don’t look at his blush please don’t— suddenly his heart started beating so much faster than usual? lucky for him it only takes him a couple minutes to recompose and smile brightly. well, you did accept after all! and kaoru is positive when it comes to his looks <3

✦ he will try to mask his nervousness by aggressively flirting with you, cute winks included. “heh, you love me so much you can’t help but stare, can you? that’s cute…~ (๑・ω -)～♥” which could have worked had kaoru remembered that he is… modeling for you. that. that’s the entire point of it, you know? as an idol he is used to, it’s just,, he wants to do it well for you, okay?

✦ also! kaoru makes some really good company at all times but when you’re casually doodling? absolutely awesome. you can play some light music in the background while you listen to him talk about his day, about work or anything he might remember. it brings this sense of comfort… of feeling at home no matter where you are, as long as you’re together (❁´◡`❁)

✦ would it make him a mean person if he said he likes the way you blush? you really make the cutest expressions when he says something nice about your drawings… which only prompts him to say even more sweet things about them. of course he means it! it’s just your cute reaction is extra points for him ehehe indulge him a bit! <3

#ensemble stars #enstars #ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars headcanons #ensemble stars imagines #enstars x reader #enstars headcanons #enstars imagines #ritsu sakuma #ritsu sakuma x reader #natsume sakasaki #natsume sakasaki x reader #kaoru hakaze #kaoru hakaze x reader

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introvert--weeb · 3 years

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Hello! I love reading your works but can i have request?

If it's not too much i request for a mikey, draken, mitsuya,angry,smiley,ran and rindou (sorry if it's too much, i love them all i can't pick) with a s/o bakugou katsuki? But the s/o is a bit calmer since she have a angry management but when she snaps she became the explosive queen?(lmao) and called someone extras,nerd,shitty and when fight she keeps saying "DIEEE!"

Oh God! I love this idea so much!

And of course I can write for all of them! I really don't have that much of a limit on how many characters I'm willing to write about in one request 😅 I'm also really glad you enjoy my other writings :)

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!!

Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, Smiley, Angry, Ran, Rindo with a fem!Bakugo Katsuki!reader

TW: mentions of language, anger management, violence, name calling

Mikey

Just like Mikey, you would like to give others nicknames rather than call them by their actual name. However, while the blond would simply add '-chin' at the end of names or change the way it's said, you would create these nicknames by either how annoying they were to you or if you were friends, by their features.

You were like a firecracker. Short fuse and when it was lit, you were explosive in both your words and actions. Many of Toman had learnt this the hard way. Especially poor Baji. He had made a comment that had set you off, next thing he knew he was facing the sky as Draken and Mikey were holding you back. Never again did he make the mistake of saying something that would upset you.

While you were usually OK if not provoked, there were times when you couldn't hold back. This was especially true when it came down to fights. Even the Invincible Mikey knew to not get too close during these moments. After all, he had witnessed what happened to those that had.

You would be the loudest and most explosive on that entire battlefield. It was intimidating for the rival gang when you had gotten into the zone. Yells of you telling all those 'extras' to get out of your way, with each punch you would scream out for them to 'die'. Yep, the others are going to get as far away from you as possible.

Would be back to your calm self after letting all your frustrations out. This is what surprises your boyfriend the most. You could be yelling at people to die as you punched them only to become sweet and innocent afterwards. It did remind him to never provoke you to the point of you losing it.

Draken

No one could understand how Draken had ended up with someone as arrogant as you. You made it no secret that you believed in your skills as a fighter, even looking down on others you deemed too weak.

However, this was mainly to make sure others knew that you should be taken seriously. Being a girl in a gang, especially the girlfriend of the Vice Captain, had others looking down on you all the time. You were strong on your own merits. You didn't need to be dating Draken to get people to notice this.

Most of the time, you were pretty calm and people felt they could approach you without any harm coming towards them. After all, you were actually a nice person under all that harsh exterior. But they still made sure to watch what they said around you, remembering how short your fuse was.

When you snapped, the person who got you to that point best start praying for their life or running as far away as they could. You were known to be quite agile when it came to fights and this would be no exception. A swift punch to their face followed by you yelling for them to 'die you shitty extra'!

Ken would never admit it but you terrified him when you got like this. After all, he was the Vice Captain to one of the strongest delinquent gangs in Tokyo. He shouldn't be scared of a girl that was shorter than him. People reminded him that he could stop you by picking you up. Draken knew this wouldn't do anyone any good.

"Ken-ny, you not going to stop her?" Mikey asked, appearing at the side of the taller blond while munching on his dorayaki. Draken just sighed before explaining that he couldn't. In fact, he doesn't even believe that Mikey could stop you when you got like this. The best course of action was to just let you have your fill so you could calm down.

The poor boy who had lit your fuse was now lying black and blue on the ground, blood pouring out of his now-broken nose. You simply blew a strand of hair from your face before making your way to your boyfriend, not wanting to talk about the incident.

Mitsuya

Being a pacifist, Mitsuya didn't agree with how fast you would turn to violence when you lost your patience with somebody. After all, he was a firm believer in that most situations can be sorted by talking it through. So people were really shocked when it came to light you were dating.

You were both the complete opposites of each other in how you dealt with overwhelming stress. However, you both did make a great couple when it came to other aspects in the relationship. It's just people hardly saw that. And nobody seemed to remember that you were actually quite a calm person who just so happened to have a short fuse.

What seemed to set your fuse of the most is when others looked down on you or your boyfriend. People seemed to think that because he didn't actively fight those he had a disagreement with.

So when someone dared to talk smack about your beloved Takashi, you were not going to take it. And so, that is how Mitsuya was trying his best to hold you back as you were shouting and trying to kick out at the person that had made you angry.

"Let go of me, Takashi! I'm gonna rip that shitty nerd's arms off, that's all!" You may have been trying to convince your boyfriend to let you go but the threat of removing the arms of the boy was keeping him from doing so. Even the boy who had annoyed you had begun to feel scared for his safety and so chose this moment to walk away.

"Oi! Get back here you damn extra! I'll kill you!"

Mitsuya simply held you until you calmed down, softly shushing you as you yelled out more threats. But when you finally had calmed down enough, that was when Mitsuya would begin to lecture you on how violence and threats were uncalled for in situations like that. Although he would express his gratitude that you stood up for him.

Smiley

You both would get on so well together. Same energy and love for violence and threatening people. in fact, you both would tell each other "I'll kill you" (affectionately of course) when the other was being annoying. The best type of relationship.

You would definitely give Smiley a nickname that only you would call him. And Nahoya would reciprocate with his own nicknames he had for you. They would definitely just be affectionate insults.

When you would be on dates, Smiley would love how you muttered under your breath about all the extras and nerds that were getting in your way. Sometimes you may actually call them that to their face if it was a particularly bad day, scaring the poor souls at how aggressive you seemed.

Nahoya would ride his bike with you clinging to his back. You would both ride around Shibuya, speeding around corners just to feel that adrenaline high you both would crave. Sometimes you would both find yourselves in a fight against people that made fun of you both.

Smiley loved watching how intense you became. It was like a switch flipped in your mind, turning you into a small ball of pure rage. Shouts of 'DIE' could be heard throughout the streets of Shibuya as you delivered blow after blow against your opponent. This was when he knew you were perfect for each other.

Angry

You would remind Souya of a female Nahoya, just without the constant smile. No, instead you would usually appear unapproachable with your resting bitch face.

Angry would be the sweeter of the two brothers and so would do anything to keep you safe. But that was easier said than done. As you were a lot like Nahoya, you would get annoyed easily and quickly resort to violence.

The main reasons why you ended up In fights was to protect your cute boyfriend. One comment on how he looked stupid with his angry expression and the person was seeing stars. There was no way you could let someone get away with making stupid comments about Souya! These damn extras needed to learn their place in the world!

Your anger made your vision red. The word 'die' seemed to become a lot more frequent, to the point where your victim was beginning to genuinely fear for their life.

Souya had to grab your arm to get you to stop. He was scared that you could end up getting hurt or worse, you could end up going through with your threat. He didn't know what he would do if you ended up in juvenile detention. Especially if you could be there for 10 years.

"Please stop Y/N!" The fact his voice was so teary is what had snapped you from this rage-filled trance. Turning your attention to the blue haired Kawata, you got off the now unconscious boy and decided it would be best to continue your hang out in an attempt to calm down.

Ran

He would love how you had two sides to you. One side was calm yet arrogant, similar to his own, while the other side happened to be his favourite. You would explode and takedown a handful of gang members on your own.

Ran wouldn't admit it out loud to anyone but you, but he found the second side so hot. Maybe it was how you moved so elegantly as you dodged each punch before dealing your own? Or maybe it was the strength you used behind each throw you aimed towards your opponent? Either way, he thought you were a damn work of art.

It really didn't take a lot to get you to switch. However, you made sure not to explode when Ran or Rindo was testing your patience. You may have agility and strength but you were nothing against their combo. However, Ran would never hurt you and Rindo would only gently restrain your limbs. It would definitely be just to show you that you were not on their level.

You often followed the brothers when they were going to deal with gangs that tried to muscle in on Roppongi. That could not be forgiven. After all, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.

While the brothers were busy with the leaders, you would be left to take out the others. It would be a struggle but you could manage most of them.

"You damn extras need to learn not to take what doesn't belong to you!" Another one had fallen. This continued until Ran and Rindo finally dealt with the leaders. It was an obvious victory for the brothers.

"You look so hot splattered with blood, baby," he would whisper in your ear before leaning back and sending a wink. You rolled your eyes before starting the journey back to their home.

Rindo

You were like his own personal guard dog. Not that he needed one but he did appreciate how you were always there for him. In fact, he loved that you didn't view him as the weaker brother and instead saw his amazing combat strength. You had to keep reminding him that Ran couldn't actually use his baton as efficiently without Rindo locking them down.

He had yet to really see you in action as the 'explosive princess' people knew you as. It did bother him a little but he never did express this disappointment outwardly. After all, he was a Haitani brother and so had to keep up appearances. Especially if he wanted to be viewed as an equal with Ran.

It was as he was on a date with you one day that he saw the mysterious explosive side of you. And he totally wasn't prepared for it.

It started when a high schooler had approached you both, telling you how you should ditch a weakling like Rindo to be with him. Rindo was about to kill this boy for even trying to get you to leave him as well as to prove that he wasn't weak.

However, he was left speechless when you had thrown a punch into the boy's stomach, causing him to double over and drop to his knees. You used your boot to push him onto his back before starting your assault on his face.

'Who do you think you are, you shitty extra! My Rindo is a hell of a lot stronger than your weak ass! Now do me a favour and die already!" Even as you were talking, fists smashing into his face as blood exploded from his nose and lips.

Rindo could only watch, not knowing whether to be terrified of you or to find this whole display extremely hot. The blood that covered your fists was a sight he wished he could see more often.

Once you were satisfied that the lesson had been learnt, you stood up and dusted your clothes. "Let's continue our date babe!" And now you were back to being the calm and sweet girl Rindo knew best.

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