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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 (𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

Part Two

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡/𝐄𝐦𝐨! 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)/ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥/𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞/𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞/𝐝*𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 (𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐛 (𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩*𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧).

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐘/𝐍 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝐊+

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @hanatiny @vocalyunho @galaxteez (payback you little bitch)

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Awoken from her daydream, Y/N grumbled when her best friend shoved his notebook in her face.

"Earth to Y/N!" He shouted as he ruffled her hair with the object in his hand.

"Mingi! What the hell?" She complained as she pushed the notebook away.

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past 3 minutes. Are you even listening to me?" He questioned her.

"I am!" She interjected.

Giving her a quizzical look, he crossed his arms.

"Really? Then can you tell me what the answer is?"

Ripping the notebook from his hands, she looked over the equation that filling half the page, squinting at it every now and then before ultimately admitting defeat as she slowly handed it back to the genius sitting next to her on the bench.

Rolling his eyes, Mingi let out a small sigh as he began packing up his belongings, deeming it useless to continue his semi-tutoring session.

"Don't give me that look Min, not everyone is a cute nerd like you that can solve an advanced calculus problem in mere seconds."

"Ok! Although that may be true.." He held up a finger as he paused to fully zip up his bag.

"You're pretty smart too Y/N."

She gave him a small thankful smile at his comment.

"You're problem isn't that you're dumb. Your problem is currently standing right over there."

She hesitantly tilted her head to where his head gestured at, knowing fully well what she'd see. But as soon as she caught a glimpse of the black combat boots, her eyes stayed fixated on the figure reclining against the lamppost. Her eyes trailed up his ripped black skinny jeans, up his torso which was covered by a striped black and dark red turtleneck, its sleeves peeking out of the black studded leather jacket layered on top, until they landed on his nonchalant gaze. His eyes were looking down at his phone, the input connected to the headphones that were currently resting on top of his dark ash grey head. That was how one would mostly find Kim Hongjoong: lost in his own little world, blocking out the rest of his environment with a click of his music playlist, no doubt filled with bands like Linkin Park, Breaking Benjamin and MCR. Y/N wasn't going to lie, more than once she often thought about playing a G note near him just to see if he'd react or not. Thinking about him actually reacting to anything made her giggle on the inside.

"And there you go again!" Mingi's voice yelled in her ear.

She was so startled by his piercing scream, she actually fell over and hit the pavement kinda hard. She winced as she felt a pain on her derriere.

"Ow. Ow. Ow." She groaned as she began lifting herself up.

Out of nowhere, a pair of arms scooped her up and helped her stand upright.

"You all right?" The person asked.

"I think so. Thank you for-"

Her words got caught on her throat as a pair of dark brown eyes looked at her, black eyeliner smoked out to accentuate the shape of his eyes and make them look more intense than they already were.

He smirked at her before looking over at Mingi and nodding at him.

"Yunho sent you the invite right?"

Although he was quite familiar and somewhat friendly with Hongjoong, Mingi still had a hard time talking to him, so he merely tilted his head down in a half nod.

"So you're coming or are you going to stay home again and study for any surprise quiz Professor Nam might try to give us?"

Mingi poked his bottom lip out, somewhat offended at being called out like that. The dark male let out a soft snort.

"Seriously Mingi, going out once in a while won't hurt you. You don't even have to get fucked up if you don't want. Just come hang out."

Turning his attention back at the girl silently admiring him, he flashed her a wink.

"Bring a friend if you want too."

Bringing the headphones up to cover his overly pierced ears, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away in that usual way of his that made several people think he was on his way to commit a felony or crime.

Y/N watched him leave until he was completely out of sight, and even then, she still stayed staring at the corner he turned. Leaning in, Mingi stared at her with widened eyes.

"Your middle school phase of liking Andy Biersack copycats is really showing Y/N."

She scoffed and pushed his face away from hers.

"Shut up, you act like you didn't have your own infatuation with Hayley Williams."

Mingi stiffened, his ears turning slightly red at the memories.

"I got over it didn't I?"

"I don't know? Did you?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him teasingly.

"Some friend you are. And here I was actually thinking of taking you with me to the weekend bash Yunho and his friends invited me to."

Y/N looked at him in disbelief.

"First off, why would they even invite you? You're not even a part of their clique. Second, even if they had invited you, you wouldn't go. You're too uptight." She accused him.

Squinting his eyes at her, Mingi cleared his throat.

"For your information, I got paired up with Yunho, Hongjoong and Jongho once for a group project and we actually keep in touch since then."

Y/N dropped her hands to the side, a loud slapping noise made against her thighs.

"When was this?"

"Around the time you went to that trip with your parents back home." He answered.

Her mouth dropped open.

"And you never told me this because.....?"

Mingi rolled his eyes.

"Because you would have teased me or would have said something about a nerd, a jock, a teacher's pet and an emo goth, whatever hell spawn demon he is, in a room together and actually getting along."

"I mean, I get them getting along, not so sure about a boring old prick like you though." She stuck her tongue out at him.

Mingi held his fingers up, threatening to flick her forehead if she continued, but Y/N flinched away.

"You ass. And here I was actually thinking of going and taking you so you can hit on your dream boy." He expressed as he began his walk back home, already deeming it late to stay behind on campus grounds.

Following suit and placing herself on his left, Y/N uttered out.

"He's not my dream boy..."

"Really? Then why do you keep drooling over him and looking at him with googly eyes about to pop out of their sockets?" He inquired.

"He's just.....he's just a complex character. Full of mystery and shrouded in this dark aura that I want to get past and see what's behind it...."

She hesitated even though she was supposed to be answering a question. She felt kinda stupid for thinking like that, making Hongjoong seem like some type of enigma when in reality, he could just be a normal person like all the other people that walked past her on the streets. Her friend didn't judge her though, owing some of her curiosity to her psychology major and passion. Slumping an arm around her, he playfully nuzzled his nose against her cheek, making her emit a half-whine half snort hybrid sound at his antics, trying to release herself from his grasp.

"You're so cute. Now come on. I have to take you shopping."

Not even bothering to ask if she had plans or needed to be somewhere else, Mingi linked hands with her and pulled her with him as he speedily walked in the direction of the nearest mall available.

"Explain to me why that is necessary Einstein? You always hated going shopping with me." She nearly tripped trying to keep up with his long strides.

"Because if you want to win emo boy's heart, you at least gotta start looking like his type." He called back at her.

"And what exactly would his type be?"

"Just trust me and leave it all to me."

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Y/N wasn't sure about trusting Mingi anymore as they made their way through a dense, misty and dark forest, the only illumination available being the moonlight that casted a blue tinted beam at their surroundings. Her head whipped with every strange noise that came from bushes or behind a tree. It was kinda chilly and the light breeze that whooshed past them had her legs shivering, making her regret wearing the distressed black shorts and fishnet tights under an oversized Scorpions tshirt that covered most of the shorts, making it look like a no pants look.

"Mingi? Are you sure about this?" She was only thankful of her purchase of some Dr. Martens 1460 black boots which helped her not fall or trip easily on the dirt road.

Mingi, who was an even more scared baby than she was, was fumbled with the sleeves of his pullover hoodie.

"Yeah, Yunho sent me directions and it should be around here somewhere..." He tussled his hair back, trying to hear or distinguish any sound.

"Are you sure he didn't send you to his murder site?" She asked, looking around for any suspicious thing.

Right at that moment, a figure jumped out in front of them, causing both of them to start screaming in terror. Mingi in particular, pushed Y/N to the side and began running in the opposite direction.

"Well dang, he didn't even let me yell boo or something."

Y/N recognized the buff male in front of her as Choi Jongho, the running back of the football team. Giving her an apologetic look, he helped her up after Mingi accidentally pushed her onto the dirt. As she dusted the dirt off, Jongho looked at her band tee.

"Scorpions?" He pointed at it.

He uttered a small 'cool' before signaling her to follow him. Turns out, they were actually not far off from the location, which was actually an old abandoned 2 story summer house that resembled more a barn to her than an actual living space. Cars were all parked out around the area and music was blasting from speakers connected to who knows where. People who hung outside were either vaping their Juuls and chugging back bottles of Smirnoff or Mike's Hard beers, some already halfway to being wasted while others simply held it in their hands, hardly taking a sip as they scanned around trying to find someone to go back home with.

"Don't worry about Mingi. I'll go get him......eventually."

Hearing him snicker, Y/N was actually more worried about herself than Mingi. She only agreed to come because, as surprising as it was, he encouraged her to and knowing he'd be there by her side, being the only person she could stick to cause she did not know anyone else, gave her a little bit of courage. But not anymore after he just totally ditched her and left her alone in God knows where.

Seeing her shift around uncomfortably as they passed through a crowd of wild jumping people, Jongho laced his fingers in hers and brought her over to a more quiet side of the place, where 3 other people were standing around, chatting amongst themselves. Once the two huddled up close to each other saw Jongho and a mystery girl they'd never seen before, they began nudging and whispering among themselves, one of them chuckling under his breath. Hongjoong could already guess what his friend's conversations was about, but he simply rolled his eyes at their behavior and lustful gazes.

Until he turned his head and saw who it was next to Jongho. Then took out the red vape in from his lips and made it a point to exhale the fumes onto the younger member's faces.

"Yah! Hyung! What the hell?" His friend with cat like eyes remarked as he coughed and fanned away the cancerous smoke.

"Just cause you don't care about contracting lung's disease at an early age, doesn't mean San or I want any part of it." The other said.

"Wow. I'm impressed you actually know what contracting means Wooyoung." He smiled amusingly at his younger friend, who was not very pleased with his little joke.

"Hey guys! While trying to retrieve Mingi, I made a new friend." Jongho greeted them like a happy bunny as he held up his hand which was still holding Y/N's.

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed down at where they connected, an eyebrow raised at their physical contact as the hand that held his vape pen began fidgeting it rapidly between his fingers. Jongho of course was oblivious to the anger burning through Hongjoong's stare while Wooyoung and San caught on pretty quick and began debating whether to laugh or step in before bottles were thrown.

"Ok, so where is Mingi now?" San asked him.

"He ran off." Jongho shrugged.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Wooyoung pushed himself in between them both, effectively separating them as he pulled Jongho away.

"Great! Now we gotta go find him before he gets lost."

Looking back at Y/N, he waved.

"Hi! I'm Wooyoung, I'm bi and goodbye! You seem nice. Hopefully there's a next time."

Y/N blinked at the flamboyant boy's introduction and exit, wondering if it was planned or-

"No he didn't actually mean to rhyme. He's cute but too dumb to make up a poem on the spot." San answered the question on her mind.

Looking back at Hongjoong, he smiled mischievously.

"Hongjoong definitely can. He's into dark poetry and that Edward Pie guy. Have him recite something to you."

Hongjoong fumed at San who merely patted his shoulder and placed his cup in Hongjoong's hand before sauntering off with the other two.

"Edgar Allen Poe you fucking moron!" Hongjoong yelled as he lifted the cup up, tempted to throw it at him.

Y/N held her hand to her lips for a brief instant, trying to suppress the smile threatening to form across her lips. Hongjoong sighed as he stared down at the contents in the cup, swirling it around casually before holding it out to Y/N.

"Want some?" He offered.

"Umm....sure?"

She didn't even know why she accepted it. She'd never drank before in her life and for all she knew, it could have been laced with something. But not wanting to look like a little priss, she took a deep breath before trying to gulp down whatever alcohol was inside. It burned down her throat and she spat some of it back in the cup, unable to hide the cringing expression at the strong liquor.

"What. Is. That?" She questioned as she wiped the liquid that was on her chin and lips.

Hongjoong snorted as he responded that it was straight vodka, making Y/N feel embarrassed to have let him see such a spectacle from her.

"You're not much of a drinker are you? Or hardly one right?"

Her sheepish look was a dead giveaway which had Hongjoong laughing slightly, his lips parting slightly. Y/N was not only surprised to hear him laugh for the first time, but was intrigued when she saw something metallic on his tongue, making her wonder if he was chewing on something. Noticing her curious gaze, Hongjoong's lip curled up at one corner.

"Oh. That's just a piercing."

He had no qualms and simply stuck his tongue out to let her see the silver bar that was plunged through his tongue, each end having a round ball.

"Wow.....that's impressive." She couldn't deny it was extremely attractive.

Hongjoong himself was just attractive in general. Standing there wearing his usual leather jacket, a black tshirt with red letters, and a red turtleneck peeking out from the top, covering his neck. His usual preference for ripped black jeans was not missing, only this time, he added a little flare by having a piece of red plaid fabric chained around his waist, making it look like a half-skirt look. It seriously made him more hotter than he already was.

"Yeah I know. It's even more impressive when I put it to work."

Pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against, he stepped closer to Y/N, one arm propping against the wall in front of her as he looked at her with hunger and desire in his eyes, those eyes that were once again covered with smoked out eyeliner, only this time he added a hint of red that really made them stand out more and seemed to lure you in and see deep in his soul.

"Wanna experience it first hand?"

She was so lost in his eyes, she almost didn't hear him, until she realized what he meant.

"Here?" She mouthed and gestured around them.

Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed.

"Obviously not here. I'm not like those people outside who are probably already getting to 2nd base in front of everyone."

"Oh....." Now she really felt her cheeks flush red.

Hongjoong patiently tapped his black colored fingernails on the concrete wall, waiting for her answer. She seemed to be debating withing herself so much, until her eyes fell on the patch of skin that was showing when his jacket sleeve rose up, letting her catch a glimpse of black ink that probably went up his arm.

"Listen, if you don't want to that's fine. I know when no means no-" He began to assure her.

"Ok." She quickly responded, interrupting his speech.

"Wait- you're serious?" He slumped his arm off the wall, quite shocked she'd agree.

She nodded. "Yeah."

When it was now Hongjoong who was standing quiet, Y/N giggled and leaned in.

"I mean...if you don't want to-"

She had no time to finish the sentence and his hands gripped her waist and pressed her against him, his breath fanning over hers, the strawberry scent of the vape pen still lingering in his mouth.

"Trust me, I've wanted to for a long time."

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As soon as the door to Hongjoong's room in the dorm clicked shut, the tension in the room seemed to thicken. Y/N gulped slightly as she realized this is really happening. Not that she didn't want it to, but to actually have Hongjoong standing in front of her, his eyes already undressing and fucking her, while his bottom lip was caught in his front teeth, was definitely not a reality her brain was fully convincing. It wasn't until Hongjoong's thumb grazed her bottom lip, making her exhale a tiny gasp, that it fully dawned on her what was going to happen.

"Don't worry babydoll. I promise you'll get breathless after I'm done with you."

Wrapping his hand on the back of her neck to tilt it slightly upwards, his lips came down and covered her own, pressing against them before slightly parting and covering them once more. He started out slow before turning it more intense, nipping down roughly at her top lip in an effort to get her to open her mouth for him. When she did, his hands cupped the sides of her jaw, thumbs pressed against her cheeks to keep her face from moving as his tongue poked out and slipped inside her mouth. A muffled moan protruded from her throat when Hongjoong rolled his tongue over hers, his tongue piercing grazing the roof of her mouth. He then began swirling his wet muscle around her own, letting her feel the cold metallic jewelry that was sending shocks down her body. When his hands released their hold on her face, they only did so to glide down her torso before snaking down underneath her shirt to cup the back of her shorts, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks, nails lightly raking across the exposed skin under the ripped hem.

Feeling like things weren't going fast enough for how needy she was growing, Y/N ran her hands across Hongjoong's chest, going up to his shoulders and sliding his leather jacket off them. Getting the hint, Hongjoong let it fall to the floor and soon his graphic tshirt followed suit, leaving him in his tight fitted red turtleneck that practically clung to his skin, his pectoral muscles that were well above average for someone his size perfectly outlined. As eye catching as it was, that wasn't what caught her attention. What kept her eyes trained on his chest was some weird thing poking out suspiciously.

He chuckled as he knew what she was curious about.

"Oh. That my dear doll, are another pair of piercings I got."

Y/N nearly drooled as he lifted his shirt off, not only revealing the hidden 11 abs he owned, but the arm sleeve tattoo that went from his wrist to a little bit above his right upper arm. On his left side, there was no tattoo on his arm, but instead on his ribcage. But the thing that made her squeeze her thighs together were the black colored metal pieces that were lined across his nipples. Unable to help herself, her hands reached out to touch them, but Hongjoong quickly stopped her.

"Ok doll, before you get ahead of yourself, at least one article of clothing has to come off your body." He smiled cheekily at her.

No hesitation, Y/N soon discarded her own shirt, tossing it somewhere on the room, leaving her torso covered with only her black lace bra that didn't exactly cover much.

"Fuck babygirl, where you hiding that all this- Oh, oh my!"

Hongjoong nearly fell back on his bed when Y/N pressed her face against his chest, her tongue darting out to lick around his pierced nipples. He swallowed as he collected himself, trying not to get too turned on as her tongue played around with the piercings, sometimes nipping at them. Hongjoong arched his back slightly, letting her take as much of him in her mouth as she pleased. The nipple that wasn't being made out with her mouth, was being pleasured by her hand, pinching and gently tugging at it.

"You can go as hard as you want."

Giggling darkly, he took her free hand and placed it on the erection poking out in his pants.

"I'll have you know I enjoy a little pain."

Making her squeeze down on it, Y/N could feel something odd, which prompted her to poke and grope him more fiercely. Wanting to satisfy her curiosity, Hongjoong unzipped his pants and pulled them down mid thigh to let her admire the last set of piercings he owned:

A Jacob's ladder running up the base of his dick and an ampallang pierced through the head.

"Holy shit...." Whether she said it out loud or not, Y/N didn't care. It was the most erotic image she had ever seen and she could not believe that in mere minutes, it would be inside her, no doubt destroying and tearing her walls apart.

Leaning in, Hongjoong sloppily kissed and sucked her jaw and down her upper neck.

"You're free to play with it as you wish doll. I got them for more than one reason. And that's one of them."

Not needing to be told twice, her hand wrapped around the base of his erect cock, her thumb running across his slit. Hongjoong hissed slightly when her hand began pumping him slowly, purposefully applying pressure to the silver metal adorning his length. Taking advantage of the his hazy state, Y/N returned to her previous task of playing with his nipple piercings. Hongjoong threw his head back at immense pleasure he was feeling, loving when Y/N would squeeze him a little to harsh or bite roughly at his nipples. He felt more intoxicated and high being painfully pleasured by her hand and mouth than with any THC chemical he'd ever introduce inside his system.

Without realizing it, he instinctively began bucking his hips up, wanting to chase the release that was building up inside him. Knowing what he wanted, Y/N lifted her head up and sucked on his neck, speeding up her hand movements.

"You gonna cum for me Joongie? Gonna cum all over my hand? Make a mess and soak my fingers with your dirty cum?" She taunted at him.

Unable to hold back especially after her dirty teasing, with a mutter of curses, he spilled himself all over her hand, some of it splattering onto her fishnets. Once he regained his senses, he looked down to find her looking at him with a shit eating grin.

"Heh......don't think you're in charge here doll. This is still my territory."

Swooping her up, she let out a little yelp when he tossed her onto his bed, immediately crawling in between her legs. After getting rid of his pants and briefs, his hands gripped on her belt loops to pull her shorts down. His eyes scanned her body, trying to decide on something. He hummed softly as his hand pressed down onto her clothed heat.

"I'm not going deny it, those fishnets do look remarkably sexy on you....."

With mock pity, he sighed. "Oh well."

Y/N gasped in horror as he tore a hole right in the crotch area, leaving the rest untouched. Opening his desk drawer, she widened her eyes when he took out a pocket knife and flashed it across her face.

"Relax doll. I like pain, but knife play isn't really my thing. On me or my partner."

After ordering her to stay still, she watched as he carefully cut on the sides of her lace panties, just enough to carefully slip them off her body without having to take off her tights. Although in any other situation she would have instantly closed her legs, she didn't feel like doing it this time. It turned her on and made her feel sexier to instead pry her legs open, letting Hongjoong peer down at her glistening folds that he caused, her hands running themselves down her chest as she bit down at her lip.

"Fuck! You're practically drenched already Y/N." Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow at her.

She only giggled before reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, slowly pulling the straps down before flinging it behind Hongjoong, letting it join the other pile of clothes scattered about. Hongjoong instantly became hard again, but as much as he wanted to bury his pierced cock inside her and fuck her senseless, there was still one thing he really wanted to do.

Positioning herself in between her legs, his hands gripped the back of her thighs. Looking back at her, he sent a wink her way before attaching his mouth to her soaking heat, causing her to jolt up at the sudden sensation. Knowing exactly how to get her head spinning, Hongjoong slid his tongue up her slit, making sure to drag the metal piece across her folds. It was unlike anything she felt before. Hongjoong already was demonstrating his powerful tongue skills, but the piercing just added a whole new sensation that had her shivering. She couldn't contain the moans spilling out her mouth when his tongue slipped inside her hole, her noises only turning louder when he flicked his tongue in a particular way that made the round metal tip thump against her clit. Hongjoong especially loved doing that little maneuver of hitting her clit with it.

When she felt herself about to burst, Y/N's hands clutched the sheets underneath her.

"Hong-Hongjoong I'm gonna- Aaah!"

The fire pooling in her lower abdomen broke free and rushed down, sending burning sparks up her body as her body trembled at the sensation. Pressing a hand down to hold her still, Hongjoong lapped up her her juices, moaning on her clit, the vibrations only serving to make her more sensitive to any move he made on her body.

When he felt she was ready, he swiftly sat up and positioned his pierced member at her entrance. Making sure to prep her, he got out a bottle of lube out of his drawer and poured some onto the tip of his fingers, spreading it around before inserting two fingers inside her. It had a slight cooling effect that made Y/N hum in pleasure, her mouth going slightly agape when he inserted a third finger, scissoring her out and overall making sure she was stretched out enough.

"Patience doll. I don't want to cause any unnecessary pain....."

She let out a whimper when he withdrew his hand and slapped her clit.

"That much." He finished.

Propping herself on her elbows, she kept her gaze in between their legs. She let out a cry when Hongjoong's head slipped inside her, the round tips of the ampallang piercing stretching her hole in a delicious burn. Next came the metal ridges that scraped against her lower walls, it was an absolutely exhilarating experience. Hongjoong himself let out a groan when he fit himself inside her tight and warm cavern.

"Jesus babydoll. When was the last time you had a good fuck?" He gripped her hips, trying to keep himself from moving just yet.

"Too f-fucking long." She disclosed, her head falling back against the pillow in a disappointed look.

"Well don't worry babe. I'll make sure to fuck any name out of that brain of yours, you won't even remember your own."

Snapping his hips up, he began a rather hard and fast pace, making sure to angle himself so he hit her g-spot. Y/N's hands held onto his arms, choked breaths and screams coming out of her mouth as she began drowning in the immense pleasure he was giving her. The way the metallic piercings raked against her walls every time Hongjoong thrusted in and out of her was indescribable. At first it felt strange and slightly painful, but soon it became addicting, almost to the point of being overwhelming.

Hongjoong took notice of the way her lips parted whenever the ladder piercing grazed at a particular spot.

"You're enjoying this my angel? Like being fucked by my pierced dick?"

Licking his hand, he dropped it down to spank her throbbing and swollen clit, grinning almost sadistically when she shrieked out at his pleasurable torture.

"Do you just enjoy being used like a dirty little hole? Isn't that what you are in the end? Just a filthy hole for me to fuck as I like?"

The corners of her eyes began spilling out tiny droplets of tears as his hand continued his assault on her clit, slapping it until it turned a bright shade of pink. Feeling the intensity build up yet again in the pit of her stomach.

"Hongjoong! I'm gonna cum!" She warned him.

Snaking his hand to grip her neck, Hongjoong sped up his thrusts, fucking her in a frenzy, sending her into a mental state of pure euphoria as he cut off part of her breathing. Y/N shut her eyes as a violent orgasm ripped through her body, her body thrashing and quivering under Hongjoong's. With clenched teeth and furrowed eyes, Hongjoong completely shattered on top of her, spilling himself inside her clenched walls that were milking him past his breaking point. Releasing his grip on her neck, he collapsed on top of her body, his hands spread out to keep himself from dropping all his weight on her.

"Oh my god!" He panted harshly as he tried to collect his breath and thoughts.

She was in no better state than he was, hair all disheveled, pussy still throbbing and her chest heaving up and down as her mind went blank. She only came to her senses when she felt Hongjoong get up and go out of his room, leaving her confused.

Did he regret it? Did he not enjoy it? Was he going to ask her to leave?

It turns out it was none of the above since he came back with a packet of wet tissues.

"You ok?" He asked, looking at her with concern.

After being reassured that she was fine, he plucked out some of the tissues and began wiping between her legs and thighs.

"Ok, these gotta go."

Hongjoong ripped more of the already destroyed fishnet tights and got them off her body, letting it hit the floor.

"Not like I would have used them again." Y/N agreed.

After cleaning both her and himself up, they both stayed quiet. Clearing her throat, Y/N made way to get up.

"Guess it's my cue to leave.."

"Wait don't go!"

Grasping her wrist, he pulled her back onto the bed, making her slightly straddle his lap. Looking up at her with such tender eyes, he offered:

"Stay the night. I don't want you to go just yet."

He said it with such a pleading tone that Y/N didn't have the heart to refuse his request. She just allowed him to place her beside him on the bed, his chest pressed against her back as one of his arms wrapped around her. She closed her eyes and slowly began drifting off to sleep. She was halfway gone when she felt Hongjoong wrapped something cold around her neck. Opening her eyes, she reached up and felt leather on her skin.

"What's this?" She questioned as her finger toyed with whatever was dangling from the device.

Hongjoong smiled fondly at the black choker strapped around her neck.

"Don't worry about it. Just wear it for me..."

His hand traced the red heart pendant dangling from the choker, the letters 'KHJ' engraved on the center of it.

"So everyone can see that you're all mine now."

✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽

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ackerslut · 3 years

Text

lost in the citadel (this is how villains are made)

ao3

Two Morties and a Rick stand facing each other at the end of all things.

Morty, the ordinary one, the stolen Morty--because as it stands C-137 isn’t his Rick and the family he’s stealing time with isn’t his family-thinks that maybe this is a beginning.

The beginning.

The start of something that was always going to happen. The splinter in the timelines that they’ve been careening toward for years but have always been brushing off with offhand jokes about serialized adventures and canon adventures.

Or maybe, instead of a horrifying beginning, it is the merciless end after all. The thrilling conclusion in the clusterfuck that is Rick Sanchez’s life, featuring one Morty Smith.

Or maybe they’re all missing the point.

Maybe this story isn’t about a Rick at all.

Morty Smith, dressed in a black jumpsuit and rapidly keying in sequence codes to the terminal beside him, offers Rick a cold glance over his shoulder and it occurs to the other Morty that this story isn’t about C-137 and or even himself.

It’s about a Lost Morty.

Because the thing is the Stolen Morty remembers the other Morty, the Morty who was President but who is now evil, but also maybe a little bit right, and very very Lost.

He remembers him tagging along after Evil Rick- the Rick who may have not been a Rick at all - remembers the expression on his face when he dragged Morty away from his not his never his Rick and the furrow in his brow after everything, before all the Morties got herded away by Ricks.

Something intelligent has always been gleaming behind the surface of this Morty’s eyes, and the ordinary Morty has been a fool to ignore it. He remembers Rick’s warnings of cocky Morties and his own itching trigger finger and how far he’s willing to go when Rick isn’t around or, even worse, how far he’s willing to go when Rick is around, how far Rick pushes him, how far Ricks push their Morties to do things against the shaky moral code they all possess, how much everything hurts so much all the time and how scared and lonely and worried he is all the time-

The Smart Morty, or maybe distinguishing him from other Morties as smart is wrong-because they’re all smart, you can’t be in their family and not have at least a little bit of something upstairs, despite what Ricks say- maybe the word he’s looking for is free , or even tired or maybe calling him Lost Morty was the most correct-

The Morty who’s currently making every Ricks killcount look pathetic turns and calls them “an infinite fucking baby” and the Stolen Morty thinks fucking relatable .

This thought is quickly lost in a barrage of oh shit oh shit oh shit as the Citadel fills with screaming. The place is literally falling apart around them, Ricks and Morties screaming as they try to activate protocol Phoenix, when a piece of the ceiling crumbles and takes C-137 down with it.

The Stolen Morty takes a step toward him, despite his anger, despite the now you’re evil Morty too ringing in his ears, when the Lost Morty turns and says-

- you can come with me and everything comes to a standstill.

Because the stolen Morty understands what the lost Morty is saying.

Just like how every Rick knows each other’s moves and hates each other, because how could they like each other when they don’t even like themselves, and understands each other on a level that no one else ever can--and despises every other Rick for it, like any of them could help it--just like every Rick knows what the other Rick is about to do-

Morty understands what the other Morty is saying.

Infinite fucking baby.

Jackshit, I’m leaving.

That’s what makes me evil.

Now you’re evil Morty too.

Or even,

You guys can’t help it-

Maybe they’re all Lost Morties and this Morty is the only one who can see that.

Except now the Stolen Morty can see it too.

And that realization breaks every foundation the Stolen Morty has, because hasn’t he been lost too for as long as he can remember?

Isn’t he lost and exhausted and hitting rock bottom only to find that there’s another rock bottom waiting for him after that one? Doesn’t he look in the morning every day and see another part of himself chipping away as he becomes more and more compliant to what everyone else wants, to what Rick wants?

Doesn’t he lie on the roof every night, with the stolen cigarettes from under Summer’s mattress, bare heels digging into the rough shingles, hoping that if he inhales enough smoke everything will stay numb when the sun rises and it all starts over again?

Isn’t Morty so so lost?

Two lost Morties and a Rick face each other at the end of the universe, the beginning of something, and the diverging of paths.

The stolen Morty, ordinary Morty, the Morty who keeps fucking up, the Morty who once opened a book and read about abuse cycles and snapped it shut, but has never forgotten but watches his mom stop drinking only to start up again two weeks later, but watches Summer promise to do better but then fall for Rick’s manipulations without fall again and again, but he, himself also keeps crawling back to the people hurting him again and again and again…

This Morty hears the words you could come with me and for the first time in his life sees possibilities.

Every taste of freedom Rick has ever given has been tainted with the knowledge that one of them always comes crawling back to the other. It’s a universal constant, as long as there’s a Rick there must also be a Morty. And usually vice versa, although Morty’s met Rick’s without a Morty. He doesn’t like to think about them.

But now someone stands before him and offers a world where “Rick and” doesn’t proceed a Morty’s existence.

He hears Rick say something about this being the better offer and something about him not having a plan, but there’s a high pitched whine ringing in his ears, breath squeezing tightly in his lungs, a burn like anxiety itching under his skin.

But there’s no time for that because everyone’s dying and Rick’s groaning with pain and the other Morty is about to leave.

Morty has only a split second to make a decision and he-he doesn’t-

He doesn’t know what to do.

There’s a burn in his lungs and a pulse in his ears and the only person in his life who’s even chosen him is in pain and Morty doesn’t even think , suddenly he’s across the room, helping Rick, the Rick that’s hurt him and forced him to hurt over people and won’t stop no matter how many self actualization moments he has or promises he makes to do better, but none of it matters to Morty because, because-

--Rick is dragging him out of bed, rambling loudly- loudly enough to wake the whole family, so Morty shushes him, makes panicked little noises begging him to just quiet down -but then they’re out in the garage and then in Rick’s ship and then they’re zipping through space and Rick won’t tell Morty where they’re going, why he’s dragged Morty out of bed this time, and on a school night again

but then Morty sees it, three orbiting stars going supernova and Rick is saying something about statistical anomalies and epic light shows , but Morty isn’t even listening because now he’s seeing colors he didn’t even know existed and he’s aware his nose is smooshed against the window and he’s fogging the glass, but he doesn’t even care-

-he fails another test and Rick tells him school is wasted on him anyway that not even he’s the kind of stupid that needs the American education system to mold him into a mindless citizen-

-the garage blows up and Morty has glass in his eye and he’s sobbing screeching yelling begging, but then warm, rough hands are on his face and everything goes numb for a second and then the pain is gone -

-Morty watches Rick fuck around the keyboard before sitting down next to him, exhausted because school sucked, school always sucks , but then Rick is guiding his hands toward the keys and saying shit like m-middle c, M-Morty, it’s not that hard , and then they’re pressing keys together and the sound soothes the itch under his skin-

-he’s no stranger to the smell of smoke, but the bar smell has him feeling a particular way, so he steps outside for a moment, just a moment to catch his breath, to quell the nausea in his stomach, but some humanoid creature follows him out and drags him into the ally and just before everything goes wrong , his assailant shrieks and crumbles to the ground and there’s Rick, streetlight silhouetting his furious face-

-he’s sitting in the Principal's office and they can’t get ahold of his mom because she’s at work and who knows where Jerry is and Summer ditched because that what she does now and Morty’s eyes hurt and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding on top of everything and the sensory overload is just too much he can’t

there’s a hand on his shoulder and a familiar drawl interrupted by belching and suddenly Morty’s being whisked away, he’s in the parking lot, he’s in the ship, someone’s pushing a pair of earplugs into his hands and it’s suddenly, blissfully quiet-

-his knuckles are red and his lip is split and Rick hands him ice cream and says next time punch with y-your two front knuckles, du-dumbass, and then something buzzes in his ears and his skin is healing-

-Rick slings an arm over his shoulder and belches loudly-

-a hand ruffles his hair-

-a voice that is soft sometimes but also yells sometimes and calls him names but also says things like I’m so sorry and I’ll do better and god, M-Morty would you just shut up -

The president Morty does that thing with the curve thingy and the citadel explodes.

____

When the golden light fades away and the crack in the curve slams shut after the other Morty--the smartest Morty, or maybe just the tiredest Morty, the Morty who had finally said enough and used his brain for something other than defending Rick--the Rickest Rick and the Morty who threw his chance at freedom away stand in what’s left of the Citadel.

Morty--possibly the dumbest Morty, the Morty that belongs to Rick C-137, even though this Morty isn’t from dimension C-137, the Morty that keeps getting a shot at getting out , but throwing it all away because at this point he doesn’t know how to exist without a “Rick and” in front of his name--turns in a slow circle, blinking rapidly.

Mortyberg is a little worse for wear, but nowhere near as bad as the rest of the Citadel, which is miles away and crumbling fast. Morty seriously doubts there’s any survivors --not after the clusterfuck that had happened there.

Morty turns back to Rick--not his Rick, but also his Rick--and his eyes lock on what the man has been staring at in horror.

The portal gun is empty.

They are lightyears from any civilization--possibly universes away, because even though Morty can’t really comprehend what the Citadel really is, he’s also fairly certain that it doesn’t exist in any universe besides it’s own--and Rick’s portal gun is empty.

Rick turns and stares at the closing crevice in the stars. Morty follows his gaze.

The tiny sliver of black disappears and so does Morty’s freedom.

He chances a glance at Rick. The man’s eyes are glued to-to-

Morty looks at the other Morties, some of them normal, some of them those terrible, hideous things they saw beneath the citadel, and realizes that it’s just them, just whoever Rick managed to drag to this part of the citadel and anyone fortunate enough to already be here.

He thinks he sees a few Ricks too, their Morty’s clinging to them in terror or watching with mild disinterest--cynical, jaded Morty’s, one step ahead of this Morty and yet still ones step behind.

“Well, shit,” Morty hears himself say, lack of stutter almost startling. It’ll come back full force in a minute, he’s sure.

Rick doesn’t say anything, lips thinning with either irritation or panic. Morty can usually tell, but the past hour has shaken him. Possibly shaken both of them.

Another Rick suddenly appears in the terminal that they’re all standing in and Morty’s stolen Rick goes expressionless again. There’s a lot of shouting that goes on, between them, between the other Ricks, and a couple of scared Morties, but this Morty barely registers any of that.

Everything has narrowed down to the other Morty’s voice in his head and the sound of his stolen Rick’s voice in his ear. Angry. Irritated. Worried.

The other Rick smacks a hand to his forehead in exasperation and says something that Morty doesn’t quite catch, but suddenly both Rick’s are practically shrieking at each other and it’s too loud -

Morty flinches away, stumbling into his Rick, who catches him on impulse, not really paying attention. His hand grabs Morty’s upper arm and he rights him, while continuing to throw insults in the other Rick’s direction. Eventually they calm down-although Morty isn’t paying attention enough to know how they actually came to a resolution on...whatever they were fighting about (he should really start paying attention)-and the other Rick sulks off, herding Morties off the terminal and into the streets.

Another Rick comes running- cop Rick-and takes over, gently talking to the Morties and asking them if they needed anything, if they were okay and everything right now between that and the Evil Morty-the Lost Morty- blowing the place up and Rick-Rick-

Everything right now is so surreal Morty distantly entertains the scenario that he might, in fact, have died. Or never come out of those memories.

He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes so tightly shut that stars burst behind the lids. When he opens them, he’s still standing on the last functioning part of the Citadel, with several Ricks, even more Morties, and no way of getting home.

No way yet.

There is no doubt in Morty’s mind that Rick already has a plan with at least fifty contingencies and contingencies for the contingencies. He is still Rick Sanchez after all, even if eight percent of his personality is a product of trauma.

But when he turns to look at Rick, the man is still staring blankly at the sky, where they had last seen the other Morty disappear.

His grip on Morty’s shoulder tightens.

____

It takes all of three hours to figure out that every Rick here has a plan, and not every plan really gets along with the others.

Morty’s Rick clearly has the best idea-and he’s not just saying that because he’s biased, he’s not - but it’s going to take a hell of a lot to convince the other Ricks, so Morty takes his exit when the fighting starts and finds a back alley to hunker down in.

There are much nicer places in Mortyberg to hang out in, he’s sure, but there’s also less chance a Rick will stumble across him or, even worse, his Rick.

He really just needs a moment to himself.

There’s a dumpster lying in the middle of the path, upended onto its side in the chaos, so Morty hops on top of it and sits, with his feet dangling over the edge.

Despite being the master of compartmentalization, Morty’s hardly been able to focus.

He and Rick often liked to joke about twenty minute adventures and about how cramming so much action into so little time was jarring, but this was the first actual time Morty felt it . Between the memories of someone else’s life- Rick’s life-suddenly dumped into his skull and the President Morty killing eight percent of the Citadel and offering to take Morty with him -

(he’s still not sure if the other Morty was kidding about the toilet thing.)

(he thinks he wasn’t.)

(but what if he was?)

-Morty barely can scramble his own thoughts together, let alone hold a conversation with anyone.

Which is why, naturally his self imposed solitude is quickly interrupted.

Cop Rick pokes his head into the alley and frowns.

“Y-You look like shit, kid,” he says, arms crossed as he approaches.

Morty scowls.

“N-nobody asked you,” he snaps, mirroring Cop Rick in crossing his arms.

“No, I-I mean you-you really look like shit. Christ, does your Rick even feed you?”

When Morty glare deepens, Cop Rick winces reflexively, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, di-did your Rick-was he on the Citadel or-”

Morty groans, already done with this conversation. “My Rick’s fine , he-he’s that asshole revving everyone else up.”

Cop Rick barks a surprised laugh. “Your-your Rick is C-137? Sh-shit, tough break, kid.”

“T-tell me about it,” Morty mumbles, drawing his knees up and looping his arms around them.

The Rick frowns at him for a second before hopping up beside him, letting his legs dangle over the edge next to his. “Wanna talk about it?”

This surprises Morty. This is still a Rick, still a complete asshole who smells like a liquor store and wouldn’t know what tactful was if it hit him in the face, but there’s also something surprisingly sensitive about him.

Morty doesn’t trust the guy--he doesn’t trust anyone , why would he trust a random Rick?--but something in his chest loosens ever so slightly at the almost kind voice.

“Not really,” Morty mumbles, just the same, not really up for getting into the highs and lows of the clusterfuck that was Rick C-137 and the Morty from-from-

Christ, what dimension was Morty even from?

“Wa-wanna grab a bite, then?”

A few moments later finds Morty seated in a diner.

The place is a mess- tables and chairs thrown about in the chaos, but there’s still food in the pantries and freezers, so Morty helps himself to the remaining ice cream in the ice box. It’s the first time he’s eaten since this morning and he’s suddenly ravenous .

“Th-thanks,” Morty says, a few hours later and overfull with gross junk food, as Cop Rick guides him back to where he saw his own Rick last.

He gets a pat on the shoulder in response. “Don’t-don’t worry about it, kid.”

____

Morty takes to wandering around Mortyberg at night.

He thinks it's night, at least. The Citadel didn’t operate in a proper universe, so weather and season were completely artificially generated. Even in this broken off piece of the city, a fake sun still sets, blanketing the place in darkness.

Rick and the few other Ricks who managed to survive are still trying to find a way to create portal fluid. Morty doesn’t think it will take them long. The smartest man in the universe plus twenty more of him means there’s more than enough brain power to go around.

Enough brain power that Morty can keep to himself.

He comes across other Ricks-mostly Cop Rick, which is a relief because he’s the nicest Rick and all the other one’s make him feel weirdly uncomfortable for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint-but mostly it’s just other Morties.

He meets mostly Morties like him-a few dimensions off, or a dimension where Jessica is a guy, or Summer is dating a girl, or Jerry is out of the picture-but there are a few oddities: a lizard Morty, a Morty that hit puberty faster than the rest of them, a Morty with curly curls than the rest of them, and even a Morticia.

He spends time talking to some of them, even realizes that a few are some he knew from before, whether it was from the few times Rick has reluctantly dragged him to the Citadel or the occasional Rick and Morty duo they ran into during adventures.

Most of them are Rickless which is both a terrifying and freeing concept to Morty.

He asks some of them what they’re going to do now.

“O-oh, y-you know. Go to school and j-just be normal now, I-I guess,” one Morty says.

The idea of going back to a regular life-a pre -Rick life, is inconceivable to Morty. Even during times Rick has taken off for weeks at a time to do his own thing or the more recent adventure breakout they had, Morty was still traipsing around the universe(s) getting into trouble.

Morticia squints at him when he asks her. “Wh-what kind of a question i-is that?” she asks, arms crossed.

He shrugs.

She scoffs. “O-obviously Summer and I will figure s-something out.” She shakes her head and walks off, muttering things about dumbass boys and what the fuck does normal even mean .

Morty wonders if it’s weird that out of all the Morties here, he and Morticia have the most in common.

____

Morty begins to have dreams on day three.

They aren’t really dreams. No, they’re memories , memories of that brainscan he’d dumped into his own mind. He doesn’t know how long he’d been out, but he guesses it had been somewhere between ten to twenty minutes, which was ridiculous considering the amount of information he’d taken in.

Most of it had barely registered due to, well, everything .

But now snippets are coming back.

When Rick finds him, sitting on a rooftop, a few nights after the dreams started, he only sighs with vague annoyance before joining him.

With all the Morties scattered across Mortyberg, this Morty is distantly surprised that Rick knows it’s him.

Or maybe he’s not.

“He broke the curve, di-didn’t he,” Morty says, eyes glued to a constellation of stars that might not even be real.

Rick flops onto his back, arms spread.

“So there’s a chance tha-that we can go to places wh-where you aren’t the smartest man in the universe?”

It’s barely a question.

Rick doesn’t respond and Morty doesn’t look at him.

“Wh-which means your chances of finding the Rick that-”

“ Jesus , Morty, I said w-we could stop talking about it.” He doesn’t even sound that mad, but Morty shuts up anyway.

He crosses his arms and lays down on his back too.

The roof he’d chosen to perch on belonged to some restaurant establishment Morty barely remembered the name of. It was mostly flat, but he’d found a section of it that reclined slightly enough that it felt like sitting on the roof at home.

If he closes his eyes, in fact, he can’t even feel the difference.

His fingers itch for a cigarette. He wonders if anyone here has any.

When he opens his eyes, Rick is staring at him. He looks irritated, but not in a M-Morty stop being a du-dumbass way. There’s something else behind it, something watchful and analyzing. He wants to know something, but is too proud to ask.

Whatever. It’s not as if Morty can read his mind.

“H-hey, do y-you think anyone here has any ciggs?”

Rick frowns. “W-what, you smoke now? Christ, I leave you for like-like three weeks and y-you’re developing-”

Morty groans and rolls onto his side, fed up with Rick’s hypocrisy for like. The zillionth time since the man steamrolled into his life and derailed it.

The silence echoes between them, only occasionally broken up by a Rick or sometimes even a Morty in the street shouting or saying things that Morty can’t quite catch. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, and, like usual, he can’t get it to calm the fuck down .

He likes to think of his own energy as a cup. When he’s around his family the cup is about half full. When his parents are fighting-are being loud , are talking about him like he can’t understand them, when they say things like “special” and “different’ and “needs”-it spills over the edges, little trickles down the side. When he’s at school it’s definitely overflowing, his patience and the amount of energy he needs to function around people fluctuate wildly.

When he’s around Rick it’s either empty or overflowing so quickly that he’s ready to throw up from the intensity of it.

Right now it feels like that.

His breath starts to come in sharp gasps, adrenaline shooting through his body for the first time since he and Rick escaped the exploding Citadel. His eyes are on fire and his lungs aren’t working and his skin feels wrong -

Rick lays a hand on his shoulder.

It doesn’t urge him to move over or do anything other than simply rest there.

Morty feels distantly-because anything other than feeling overwhelmed is distant right now-surprised. Usually when he gets like this Rick either yells at him or offers to sedate him.

Or just leaves him alone.

But it wasn’t always like that, was it?

Morty can remember a time, when he’d just turned 13- or was it 14? It’s hard to remember a time before Rick- and his grandpa had come literally crashing back into their lives and suddenly there was someone who understood who said things to his mom like jesus what are they teaching kids there, and ye-yeah Morty’s special, bu-but you don’t have to treat him different, wow, and sure it was all condescending, sure it was just another way for him to insult someone else-

But someone had understood .

This is abusive , Rick had said a few weeks ago.

It feels like forever.

Maybe he had actually understood this time.

Or maybe, one again, Morty has been duped into believing the great lie. That a Rick could change. That his Rick is different.

Jesus, this isn’t even his Rick.

But he’s one sitting next to him and absentmindedly rubbing his thumb into Morty’s shoulder.

It’s nice. Morty closes his eyes, skin soaking up the warmth.

“I don’t regret it,” Morty says softly. He feels Rick startle next to him, but doesn’t roll over. He keeps all of his limbs interlocked together, ankles crossed, arms folded, as if he can keep himself from falling apart.

He squeezes his eyes shut and whispers. “I don’t regret it.”

(Morty wakes up halfway a few hours later when Rick picks him up. He falls back asleep a few minutes later--soothed by the rocking of Rick’s gait and his annoyed g-go back to sleep --but something in his chest settles at it.

Maybe everything’s going to be fine.)

____

Morty doesn’t really know how they did it-he thinks some Rick’s salvaged some tech from the floating remains of the Citadel and did some sci-fi shit to it or whatever-but a week after the curve thingy explodes, Rick and Morty are in a ship, headed home.

“Aw j-jeez, what are we gonna tell Mom?” Morty says, face pressed into the window. His sleep schedule, which is normally fucked, is now completely nonexistent. The ride home was supposed to be for napping, but the ever prevalent anxiety is keeping him awake.

Rick shrugs. “T-tell her whatever you w-want, Morty, I seriously d-doubt she’s gonna care.”

It stings a bit, but it’s true.

Well, maybe not as true anymore. His mom has been much sterner with Rick over dragging Morty and Summer on dangerous adventures of late, but Morty thinks it has more to do with control than actual concern.

Still, it’s doubtful they’ll get more than passing irritation for being away for a week.

A couple of minutes before they reach earth, Rick stops the ship.

He lets the engine idle for a minute, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

When the silence goes on long enough that Morty is distinctly uncomfortable , he groans and uncurls from his fetal position against the door and blinks bemusedly up at him.

“R-rick?”

“W-we should dial it back for a while,” Rick says. “Maybe go back to s-solo adventures.”

Morty clasps his hands together, twisting them into uncomfortable positions nervously. “I-I don’t know, Rick. It-it seems like wh-when we’re apart things get-they get worse.”

“Y-yeah and you almost di-died like sixty times this week, Morty, I-I don’t think you get a say in w-what’s worse,” Rick sneers.

Morty sighs and looks out the window.

“Rick,” he says, wearily and then cuts himself off.

The man in question glares down at the center console like it personally offended him. “L-look, Morty, you-you may have had a point about not-about not trusting me and-”

“Yeah, okay.”

“-and, wait what.”

“I s-said, okay ,” Morty presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I-I just-we keep doing this, Rick and I-I’m just-”

He sucks in a breath and pulls his hands away. Stares up at Rick with wide eyes and an expression that bleeds emotional vulnerability, but he doesn’t even care anymore because he just threw away every chance at freedom, at a life free from the bullshit that’s so deeply infected in everything he touches, for this man, this guy who can barely even look at him and he’s-he’s-

“I-I’m really tired, okay?” His voice is small. “Can we j-just go home?”

Rick stares at him for a minute before putting the ship back in drive.

The rest of the drive home is silent.

Beth is mad, surprise surprise, but not as mad as she could have been.

Morty lets Rick bare the brunt of it and seeks refuge in his room. It’s a mess, exactly like it was when he left, because Beth isn’t the type to come and clean up after her kids and she’s the only person who’d ever actually walk into his room, except Rick, who doesn’t give a shit.

Morty collapses in bed, intent on sleeping for the next couple of hours or days, when the door creaks open.

It’s Rick. Of course.

He scowls. “W-way to go on having m-my back, M-Moorty,” he says, rolling his eyes in irritation.

Morty rolls his eyes back. “Y-you said that s-she wouldn’t care !” he points an accusatory finger at him.

Rick glares back.

After a moment of prolonged, uncomfortable glaring, Morty looks away. Rick takes this to mean that he won or whatever, because the tension in his shoulder loosens a bit and he flops down on the end of the bed, facedown.

“J-jeez, are y-you having another crisis?” Morty mumbles, tugging the blanket up over his head.

Rick mutters something into the bedding unintelligible so Morty ignores him. Sleep is darkening the edges of his vision anyway.

Before he completely passes out, the door creaks open again.

Everything fades as Beth and Rick start talking.

____

Morty doesn’t think they’re ever going to talk about what happened.

Rick clearly doesn’t care about the other Morty- why would he?- but it’s very clear that he’s upset about....something.

If Morty was to garner a guess it’s because Morty could have left with him.

And he almost had.

He should have.

But no, he hadn’t in the end. He’d chosen to pull Rick up and follow him out of there, instead of taking a deal no other Morty had been offered. And Rick was either mad that he hadn’t or mad that he almost had , and Morty didn’t know how to apologize for either.

It was almost easier in that week when they were stuck on the Citadel because then Rick could take out his ire on other Ricks and Morties or throw all of his energy into solving their predicament.

Now there’s just Morty and the rest of his dysfunctional family.

A whole lot of not talking about it and arguing about other things goes around for a while, with Summer trying to break up the tension by forcing them to go on adventures with her or Beth demanding in hissed whispers that Rick figure it how or whatever because I’m not finding us another therapist.

Morty basically tries to ignore everyone.

Until one night, he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling because insomnia’s a fucking bitch, when he realizes…

Why should he have to avoid Rick?

Why did they have to avoid each other in the first place?

“Y-you know wh-what? The other M-Morty was right, you’re a big fucking baby!” Morty says, bursting into the garage.

Rick looks over his shoulder, eyebrow cocked.

“First-first y-you leave and then you come back and s-suddenly everything’s m-my fault j-just because y-you’re mad that you were wrong about something! It-it isn’t my fault that you figured out y-you’re toxic and don’t know wh-what to do about it!”

Rick looks irritated. “Morty-” he begins, voice already a sneer.

“No, I’m talking right now!” Morty points at him.

Rick crosses his arms and waits.

“I-I don’t regret it, but I should, shouldn’t I? B-because you’re always gonna be a dick and I’m always gonna just be h-here.” Morty swallows, fight suddenly draining out of him. “It’s never gonna change, huh.”

Rick sighs and puts down whatever he was working on. “Look, M-Morty-”

Morty groans, running his hands through his hair. “This blows, can w-we-can we stop? Lets-lets just go watch some interdimensional cable or something.”

Rick drags a hand over his face and looks as tired as Morty feels. “S-so that’s it? We-we’re both fucked up and we’re just gonna go watch tv? Real-real healthy, Morty.”

“Y-yeah, you really can’t call me out on that.” He turns on his heel and makes for the door. Rick catches him before he reaches it.

There’s a pause. Morty doesn’t pull away and Rick doesn’t let go. He just frowns down at Morty for a moment, brow furrowed, that same look in his eyes as that night on the roof. Curious. Analytical.

Then,

“Your mom’s already pissed at us, I-I’m not gonna wake her up.”

Morty blinks. He had maybe forgotten that it was 4am on a Sunday night. “Oh y-yeah.”

Rick’s hand tightens on his shoulder. “But w-we could go out for ice cream.”

Getting ice cream at 4am on a Sunday night isn’t much better than staying up watching tv, but at least Beth wouldn’t lose her shit with them.

Morty smiles. It’s more real and less tired than it’s felt the past couple of months-years even, if he’s being honest.

“Okay,” he says, allowing himself to be herded toward the spaceship.

Once inside, he clicks his seatbelt on and lets his body relax to the sound of the terrible noises the engine makes when it turns over. Rick backs them out and takes off, looking far more at ease than Morty’s seen in a while.

He wishes this could last.

It’s not going to. Of course it’s not. Rick will do something fucked up and Morty will either walk away for a while or continue to be addicted to making the man happy. Their own fucked up little abuse cycle, fueled by shared and separate traumas that neither will admit to, let alone work on.

And still, even knowing-even knowing the shape of the rest of his life, he can’t bring himself to say he made the wrong choice.

He doesn’t regret it.

He can’t bring himself to, because he would go literally insane with it. How could he go on knowing that he threw away the best chance at happiness he’d ever been given?

Morty leans back in the passenger seat and lets Rick’s ramblings and the ambient sounds of the ship wash over him.

It’s the closest thing to peace he has.

____

#morty smith #rick sanchez #evil morty #rick and morty #rick and morty fanfic #my fanfic

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 4 years

Note

Why is it that people seem to always support trans women more than trans men?

Lee says:

If you’re part of an online forum community that is primarily transfeminine, for example, then there’s going to be a lot of resources for transfeminine people.

But if you’re part of an online forum community that is primarily transmasculine, for example, then there’s going to be a lot of resources for transmasculine people.

And just as there are particular online spaces and communities that tend to be predominated by a certain group, there are also IRL ones that are primarily transmasculine or primarily transfeminine even if they are not explicitly defined as such.

If you feel like you aren’t being supported enough in the space you’re currently in, see if you can find a community that does focus around the resources you’re looking for!

As an example- you may have noticed that the transmasculine post-op community on Tumblr is pretty small. There definitely are multiple bloggers out there, and I think I actually follow all of them, but this isn’t really a thriving hub of phalloplasty information or support, or a large community of transmasculine folks who are post-op and post-transition (Thanks, Tumblr NSFW ban!).

So instead, I seek out the spaces where the community I want to be a part of actually is gathering. Now I’m part of many different transmasculine lower surgery groups on Facebook (over 20 of em lol), I’ve attended IRL transmasculine lower surgery support group meetings in person, and now I’m in two different Zoom-based transmasculine bottom surgery support groups.

I also believe that if you want to see more of a particular thing, you should be a part of putting that thing out there! So I still maintain my transition sideblog here on Tumblr, where I will eventually document my phallo when I get stage 1 in May. And that’s how I support the transmasculine community, in my own way. So if you want to see more supportive posts for transmasculine folks, start typing!

We also have to remember that uplifting transfeminine doesn’t automatically occur at the expense of support for transmasculine people. We aren’t trying to tear each other down, so being resentful of the transfeminine community for the people who support them isn’t a good look. Transfeminine people can never have “too much” support!

I do think that there are certain spaces online that tend to focus on positivity and support for transfeminine folks, and there’s nothing wrong with that- again, yes, transfeminine people do deserve support! Transfeminine people often face the brunt of society’s violent transphobia, and it’s important that we recognize the way that trans women specifically are targeted more than other groups are.

Trans women are often hypervisible and a lot of transphobic movements are aimed at them as a result; bathroom bills because transphobes don’t want “men” in women’s bathrooms, banning trans athletes because transphobes don’t want “men” to take over women’s teams, trans people being banned from gendered homeless shelters because transphobes don’t want “men” to sleep in the same room as women, and so on. When you listen to any of these politicians who support these gross things, you’ll hear them constantly talk about the “danger” that trans women pose (while insisting on gendering them as “men” and refusing to recognize that they’re even women). Trans men aren’t even an afterthought.

Being culturally hypervisible in the media means you’re the target of a lot of hate and the recipient of a lot of support, which is all happening at the same time. On the other hand, the transmasculine community at large is less visible in the media which means we often slip under the radar as a community which of course does tie into the erasure of the community. Transmasculine people more often slip under the radar on a personal level too, because many transmasculine people are able to pass by at least 5 years on testosterone and many choose to go stealth as soon as they’re able to.

That doesn’t mean that all transmasculine people can pass or want to pass, or that transmasculine people don’t face transphobia and violence either, or that the vitriol targeting trans women doesn’t invalidate us as well or affect our rights too, or that we shouldn’t get to share our experiences or ask for support.

We can and should talk about transmasculine people’s experiences as well, and transmasculine voices shouldn’t be erased. Studies have shown that suicide attempt rate for trans boys is approximately 20.9% higher than it is for trans girls, for example, and there are many similar statistics showing that trans men struggle in many ways and face a lot of discrimination, which of course deserves acknowledgement.

Experiencing discrimination and subsequent mental health struggles isn’t something that should be glossed over, yet there are many pseduo-progressive folks in the LGBTQ/feminist communities whose posts can sometimes come across as “men are bad and trans men are men so they’re bad!” When you point out that there are plenty of marginalized men out there who need support, people are quick to say “Well, I’ll support you for being trans but I don’t need to support you because you’re a man since men have privilege and therefore perpetuate oppression!” But in the case of trans men, supporting someone for being trans is the same thing as supporting them in being a man, you can’t separate the two.

And you can spend all day talking about in what situations transmasculine people have access to male privilege and in what conditions the privilege applies and so on, but that is a separate conversation from the point here, which is everyone deserves support and that includes trans men (and gay men, and disabled men, and Black men, and Indigenous men, and Asian men, and so on).

Things like body-shaming men for having neckbeards or small penises is seen as okay even though body-shaming women for having body hair or having small breasts is recognized as misogynistic. Sometimes folks respond by saying something like “you can’t oppress your oppressor” which... makes no sense in this context. Making people feel that their bodies are bad goes against the whole body-positive feminist movement, and that’s true no matter which people you think you’re targeting.

It’s also pretty obvious that being a man doesn’t inherently make you a bad person, but a lot of the hate and anger directed at men (whether it’s posted as a joke or said seriously by someone who went through trauma) can make it difficult for trans men to recognize that they’re men because they don’t want to become the thing everyone hates.

So how do we navigate allowing marginalized people to vent about groups who have privilege without causing collateral damage to other oppressed people?

Some people have tried to solve it by saying “I hate only cis men, not trans men!” but then of course you’ve created a new issue which is the arbitrary distinguishment between a cis man and a trans man. A trans man can be just as misogynistic as a cis man, and being trans doesn’t mean anything about who you are as a person, all it says is something about the gender you were assigned when you were born.

When you say that you only hate cis men, you’re implying that you don’t hate trans men because you think they’re different than cis men in some way in their thoughts/behavior/actions which is a transphobic assumption.

Or you’re saying you know that trans men and cis men can be identical in their thoughts/behavior/actions because they’re all men, so the reason you don’t hate trans men is ... ?? because they had certain genitals at birth (which they may not have anymore) ?? And that’s also transphobic because it’s saying you hate people solely because of their bodies which they can’t always control or change and implies having a particular type of body is morally wrong somehow or that your body makes you a bad person.

When someone makes a point of telling a trans man that they hate men, it’s sometimes a deliberate transphobic tactic used to make the person feel like having a male gender identity is inherently bad and makes you bad because it’s who you are, so the only way to become a good person is to not be a man which means not being transgender. And this is some how TERFs try and convince trans teens who were AFAB to re-identify as women instead of embracing being men. It’s hard to embrace being something that people have told you is problematic so people try to repress their feelings and ignore who they are.

Yet folks who don’t say “I hate all men” and instead say “the patriarchy sucks but it’s okay to be a man and not all men are bad” have found that statement controversial too.

Even that phrase, “not all men,” is a red flag because it’s primarily used by the “men’s rights” folks who try and defend their misogyny and push their anti-feminist agenda while denying the ways that they personally benefit from the system. All men benefit from the system of patriarchy if they are recognized as men by the system, but that doesn’t mean every individual man is personally responsible for actively perpetuating oppression or that every man is a bad person.

So when someone points out the ways that men are taught to hate themselves by people who are constantly bashing on men in hurtful ways, or the struggles that men face (even if they aren’t struggles unique to men), there are people who just freak out because they think that acknowledging this is in some way trying to say that men can’t be oppressors, or that pointing it out is somehow delegitimizing women’s experiences or part of a pushback against women’s rights because the MRAs have tried to stake a claim over the entire topic.

So any nuanced conversation about ways that we actually can support men and break down oppression and uplift marginalized folks has been silenced because this toxic group has dominated the conversation and nobody wants to accidentally seem like they support those things, so they don’t support anything that focuses on men at all.

Similarly, when someone posts about something that affects trans men people (usually cis people TBH) often will respond with “trans women have it worse with that issue, and everything else too!” which isn’t a helpful response because while it’s important to recognize the way that trans women face multiple axes of oppression, uplifting trans women in a way that makes it impossible for another marginalized group to have a conversation doesn’t help anyone. It’s okay for some posts to not be about or for trans women without starting to play the Oppression Olympics games because transmasculine people also need support and space and allowing transmasculine people to talk about their experiences doesn’t mean that transfeminine people are being ignored.

All that being said, I would argue that people definitely don’t always support trans women more than trans men, and I wouldn’t even say that people usually do so. It very much depends on the space you’re in. While I do believe that there are a lot of positivity/supportive posts about trans women on Tumblr, this is, in many ways, a direct reaction to counter the large volume of hate that’s also actively being directed at trans women on Tumblr. And while there are plenty of “love trans women!” posts, there is also an issue with the lack of practical resources and material support for trans women because most of the content does not go beyond the surface level heart-emoji type post.

So in what I’ve noticed on Tumblr specifically (as this varies depending on the platform you’re using and the space you’re in), there can be more vocal (aka performative) support for trans women but it mostly tends to focus on their identities saying they’re valid women and so on but doesn’t give them much information or material support or anything else that I would deem a useful resource, whereas there might be less support for trans men in terms of “gender identity positivity for being male” but there’s more practical resources and information that they can use to aid in their transition.

Again, whatever you do, don’t complain that transfeminine people have too much support- that’s not the same thing as saying that you’d like more support for trans men struggling with X issue.

And yes, while we do have many things in common, there are some differences in the struggles the community faces and the experiences we have, and it’s okay to want to talk with other folks who are going through the same thing. That doesn’t mean that you don’t care about transfeminine people or that you think they should have a smaller platform or something, it just means you’d like support for your identity and transition (which is wholly unrelated to how much support there is or isn’t available for them).

So if you are looking for more support for trans men and feel like you aren’t getting what you need in the online or IRL spaces you’re currently moving in, you should try finding the spaces that are meant to be supportive communities for trans men and join them, whether they’re specific blogs, Facebook groups, Discord servers, or in-person/on-Zoom support groups, and also do what you can to create the support you want to see for your community!

#Lee says #not really sure what to tag this as #transphobia #discourse #suicide m #Anonymous #trans #transgender #nonbinary #lgbtq #lgbt #transgender teen survival guide #transgenderteensurvivalguide #TTSG

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kuroshitsuji-scenarios · 4 years

Text

[ Void ]

Pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x Reader

Words: 1,136

Prompt: 7. “You didn’t heed my warnings, so I guess I should make it clearer for your human brain.”

[ taglist ] [ commissions ]

Tall flames fluttered on the soft blow of the wind and the shadows danced along on the walls, swirling between the painted flowers and ivy. It was difficult to focus your vision on any particular object, although you knew the room you were in perfectly well—you could clearly recall the location of the old furniture; heavy, wooden wardrobe right in front of you, the set of armchairs at your right with a small, round table in between and the enormous, magnificent painting of the landscape of some distant land hanging above. There was a dressing table at your left, the one you admired for a long time, often imagining that it could stand in your bedroom instead of the guest room, the addition so stunning and practical you almost felt the regret because of how useless it was there. Sometimes, when you had too much time for yourself, you would come to this room, sit down and observe yourself in the mirror, the design allowing you to see yourself from three different angles.

It did not seem as much as an innocent fun now, that you realized that the mirror held no reflection. No candle light could reach the silver surface, as if it became empty all of a sudden, a portal to the different, dark world—a void.

There was a thrill crawling down your spine like a cold, slippery serpent, spreading the fear through your veins and making you feel it deeply in every single part of your body. It was cool and unpleasant, reminding you of the sensation of standing at the edge of the high cliff with the wind blowing from behind. One step further and you would be falling down.

How relieving would it be, to open your eyes and find yourself on an open field with the endless sea spreading in front of you instead of standing in the room which seemed to suffocate you, drain the light from every corner and devour your sanity with every passing second. The outline of the furniture was familiar and strange at the same time, as if it was reversed.

As if you were captured in the mirror.

“Took you long enough.” You knew the sound of the voice which echoed in the room, the velvety tone smooth and caressing your senses with the delicacy of a devoted lover.

Still, you did not answer, eyeing your surroundings with a careful gaze, partly wary of what could you accidentally spot in the dim light. It was quite obvious that the source of the voice must have been coming from the right corner, perhaps from one of the armchairs but it all seemed to be covered with a thin, milk fog. Or could it be a veil dulling your sight.

“Come closer,” the voice encouraged softly but with the following statement you could sense the droplet of venom sliding on the silver tongue. “I won’t bite you.”

Your legs were working against your will when you took a step forward—a step over the edge—and stood straight, the breath caught in your lungs and rapid heartbeat in your chest. From that angle you could look at left, at the dressing table and notice that you, indeed, did not have any reflection either. Instead, there was only one thing vivid and clear as a day, the sharp, lean silhouette of a man sitting in an armchair. His neatly tailored suit was always so perfectly ironed, you wondered how could he never miss a single fold, how there was never a tiny bit of dust or hair on the black fabric, no matter how much did he work that particular day. How did he always smell so good, how there was never a drop of sweat upon his temples, how was he always so collected, how was he so skilled, how could he possibly be human.

The answer struck you like a lightning when you woke up few weeks ago, your mind solving the mystery which was torturing you for months in your sleep. The riddle so difficult and unbelievable held the simplest answer—they always did.

He was not.

Sebastian Michaelis was not a human.

“Cat got your tongue?” The creature, whatever it was, chuckled and only then you finally felt that you were, indeed, falling. You stepped over the cliff and you were falling down into the abyss, while his warm, red eyes were observing your misery with a glint of amusement. “Barely yesterday you were so eager to interrogate me that I believed you might have a list of questions to ask. Was I wrong? That is rather disappointing…”

You could not speak a word, not while he was looking at you, not when you felt the weight of his gaze crushing your shoulders and the last remains of free will.

Sebastian leaned forward and the movement of his body was so swift that it was hard to distinguish in between the dancing shadows caused by the flames. He could be one with them as well, the entity not caged in the frames of the flesh. He rested his elbows on the knees and smiled at you, now that you could see his pale features in the gentle light, and in every other situation you would probably consider this gesture as polite, right now, however, you could swear that you have never been as frightened in your whole life.

“I thought that I made myself clear,” despite his expression, the tone of his voice became spiteful. “Following me would only bring you bad luck and look where did it get you? Are you satisfied now? I have to admit that you have a wit, indeed, but it would be cruel of me to speak of your advantages while you must be regretting using them, are you not? Did it occur your mind that perhaps it would be much better if you were not as observant? If you did not allow your intuition to guide you into the doom? What a shame that there is no coming back.”

You wanted to scream when he stood from his seat, especially since you were certain that he has somehow became taller, like a tree branch spreading to the endless sky. There was no rustle of the fabric when he moved closer, no sound of steps on the carpet, just a shadow floating to you and the inhumanly wide smile sprawled across the creature’s mesmerizing face.

The butler leaned to you, his nose mere inches from yours, the demonic eyes staring into yours and burning with violent excitement, with raw, bloody, carnivorous passion. In the next second he was whispering, his hot breath stinking of brimstone and mustiness.

“You did not heed my warnings, so I guess I should make it clearer for your human brain.”

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis x you #sebastian #scenarios #demons #queue

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

Dressed Up For Halloween (SeokJin)

Summary: At a friend’s Halloween party, you end up meeting the handsome guy you had been hooking up with lately. Your sexy costume leads him to you once more.

Warnings: SMUT! All the BTS fics revolving around this ‘Dressed up for Halloween’ series will be smut, I think. One for each member! So, for this one there will be: erotic body touching, grinding, unprotected sex (figures...!), straddling with girl on top, missionary position.

Word Count: 3037

To say your outfit of choice was risky would be an understatement. Not so much for the context of the costume itself, but more so for the careful maneuvering it would have to be involved throughout the night. Maybe you should reconsider drinking at the party.

The red sequence fabric hugged your curvaceous figure delectably, falling from your wide hips down to just above your ankles. You thought the strapless dress would be difficult to handle because you would be pulling the top over your chest the whole night, but it turns out it was very much secured around your larger breasts. The problem would be the very high slit on the side of your right leg, exposing the smooth skin seductively, but also being so high up that a miscalculated step forward could end up with you flashing your lacey black underwear to everyone.

Sighing, you realized you would have to be careful the entire time at the party. Or drink so much you wouldn’t even care about it and wouldn’t remember it the next day either. One of the two.

Make-up and hair already done, you put on your black strap high-heel sandals and your purple evening gloves, all the way up to your elbows. A look in the mirror and you smile proudly at how good it all looked together. No one would have any trouble recognizing who you were dressed up as for Halloween at the party.

Picking up a long warm coat that would cover you up on the ride there and a small clutch overfilled with things you deemed necessary, you call a cab and take it to your friend’s house where the party was held.

“Y/N! You finally made it!” your friend squeals as she opens the door for you to come in, hugging you and evidently already tipsy, with a glass of something in her hand.

As you scan the populated living room just next to the entryway, your eyes meet with a tall, broad-shouldered individual you had been hoping – actually, more than that, craving – to meet today. And you couldn’t be more glad that the coatrack was just in view of said man. He had noticed you too and you smile knowingly as you undo the belt of your coat and let it fall down your arms, feigning ignorance to how wide his eyes got and how his mouth fell open.

You ask your friend where to get a drink and she takes you to the table where the drinks were. Grabbing a cup, you take a few sips as you lean against the table and make small, uninterested conversations with the guys that came up to you with hungry eyes and a slick talk. They weren’t worth two cents of your attention, not when you had your mind set on a particular man.

“I confess. It was me” a voice suddenly whispers against your ear, not too dark nor too bright.

You turn just in time to see Jin resting against the table next to you, a small smile on his plump pink lips and a drink in his hands, a big glass only half-full. He was sporting a black suit with straight leg pants and a notch lapel jacket, with a white leafy stitching on the right side, on top of a white shirt with ruffled detail at the collar and down the front. Long black hair parted sideways, long fringe styled to curve just above his eyes, he looked absolutely ravishing.

“What was?” you ask back, as if you had not been completely struck by the man’s presence and his undeniable effortlessly beauty.

“I did it. I framed Roger Rabbit.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as your eyes fall back on the living room ahead. You should have known he would make some kind of joke about you being dressed as Jessica Rabbit. He loved his word play and silly anecdotes.

“Well then, I suggest you turn yourself in, Mister…”

You realize then that he seemed to be in perfectly normal clothes, you couldn’t think of any character he would be trying to imitate with the outfit. But this was a themed Halloween party, everyone was dressed up as something.

“What are you suppose to be, anyway?” you give in and ask.

“What? Isn’t it obvious?” he stands on his feet, body turned to you and gestures to himself with his hands, as if that would help you understand. Although you much appreciate the opportunity to eye him up and down bluntly, you end up shrugging your shoulders at him. He huffs and pouts in discontentment. “I’m a vampire! A modern one.”

“And how is anyone supposed to know that? Where’s the teeth? The blood?” you defend yourself, laughing at his mild crossness.

“I don’t like the feeling of having fake teeth in my mouth. And I tried to add blood at the corner of my lips, but it would smudge and get on my teeth. I want to keep my smile perfect, thank you very much” he explains, returning to his spot next to you against the table and looking at the party as you were. “By the way, I don’t think I can turn myself in today. The police officer seems to be busy hooking up with… is it a unicorn?”

“God, I hope that’s a pink unicorn” you exhale, scrunching your nose up as you see them by the corner of the living room going at it.

He agrees and moves his body facing yours to set his glass on the table, making the fabric of his jacket brush your uncovered upper arm and face just low enough to be in perfect reach for your lips. You fight the goosebumps and the tremble creeping up your spine, but as he raises back up, he stares perceptively at you with the corners of his mouth tugging up. In retaliation, knowing he was doing it on purpose, you straighten up and cross your legs, the slit falling open and showcasing the plump skin of the leg you cross on top of the other.

Jin swallows hard as he can’t quite look away from your delightful figure, the smallest thread of black underwear showing at the very top of the slit. He clears his throat and forces himself to look away, noticing in the meantime how other bold eyes were set on your exposed bulky leg.

“Care to join me at my private quarters, Miss Rabbit?” Jin suddenly asks, standing up again and holding his hand out for you.

“Please, call me honey bunny” you tease as you take his hand and let him guide you through the house. “Although, how do you have ‘private quarters’ on a house that’s not your own? Hum?”

Quietly rushing up the stairs without anyone noticing, or at least he hopes so, Jin opens one of the many doors and pulls you both into a room, closing the door behind him and grabbing the key that was on the inside of the door’s keyhole.

“When you have a key, you always have private chambers, honey bunny” he declares, using said key to lock the door.

“Must be the thousands of years of experience you have over me, that make you so unbelievably intelligent, mister vampire” you propose, throwing your arms around his large shoulders with a poised smile. This was what you had been looking forward to all day.

“Must be” he agrees, surrounding your plushy waist with his arms, hands placed at your lower back. “We seem to always end up here, you and me.”

It was true. Somehow, the two of you were always drawn together, pulled to one another by an invisible force. From the first meeting that ended up with personal numbers exchanged, to the second meeting that ended with a chaste peck. To the third and the fourth and the fifth, pecks and kisses and raging hormones that you thought would be over by now taking over.

But it was only that, hook ups and seductive indulgences. They were seldomly planned, the universe working in your favor and making you two meet often. The problem lies with how it was supposed to mean nothing. Just two adults having a good time. And you were so scared of losing even that if you asked for anything more.

“So it seems. I say, whatever happens, happens.”

To prevent him from saying more, avoiding anything that could ruin the moment, you lean forward and capture his lips with yours. Jin avidly responds and soon your mouths melded together making it impossible to distinguish one from another, his lips covering and tasting yours, your lips nipping and tracing his soft ones. Your gloved hands clasp at the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck while his pull your fluffy body impossibly closer to his tall slim one, a hand at the middle of your back and the other at your plentiful rump, squeezing the malleable flesh there.

Impatient, you slowly start to push him in the direction of the bed, making him fall into the mattress with a bounce. Jin sits and watch with hooded eyes as you slowly take off your gloves and then start to unzip the red dress. The top half descends first, showcasing your strapless black lace bodysuit, a piece you bought just for this particular night. Pulling the fabric of the dress that had gotten stuck at your wide stomach and hips, your force it down your legs until it pooled at your feet.

The gulp that moves Jin’s Adam’s apple up and down his throat does not go unnoticed by you, nor does the way his lustful eyes take in every inch of you with burning desire, nor the stiff bulge pressing against his pants. The fact that your bountiful body could provoke such strong reactions from this sin of a man was a confident boost you were getting rapidly hooked on.

Slowly, you straddle his lap with your knees on each side of his hips on the mattress, your eyes set intensely on his as your hands removed his jacket. You wanted to remove his shirt too, but your impatience must have been contagious, for Jin latched his mouth to yours with savage intensity and pulled you down to him, making you grind on his groin and short-circuiting your brain with how good it felt. You moan and throw your head back as you grind on him again, purposefully this time, Jin taking advantage of the angle to suck on your neck and bite at your pulse point as if he was a real thirsty vampire.

Your skin singing and heart hammering loudly in your ears, strong currents of unadulterated lust spiking at your heated core, you try to remove his shirt while he busies himself with staining the skin of your shoulders, but that’s when he grabs you by the wrists and leans back just enough to look at you in the eyes, mere inches away from your face. His cheek, ears and neck are red and eyes glistening with tamed need.

“If… If we are doing this again” he whispers, hot minty breath mixed with some fruity alcohol hits your face “we need to make it clear. Make it official. I really like you, Y/N. More and more these days. So… be my baby, Y/N. Be with me.”

Time stands still as you look at one another, you with astoundment and him with vulnerability.

“You… you’re asking me to be your girlfriend? On Halloween? At my friend’s house party?”

“I… I admit it’s not the most conventional place or time to do this, but I really-”

You shut him up with a searing kiss that steals his breath away, lips hot and open as tongues mingle together and sink into each other in a passionate dance. Your hands return to the buttons of his shirt and you sense the desperate way he struggles with undoing his cuffs around your back. Soon enough, you are touching his beautiful toned skin and the shirt is thrown to the floor with little grace.

“Is- Ahh… - Is this a yes?” he questions as you assault his statuesque neck.

Smiling, you lean back and take his face in your tiny hands.

“Yes. Yes, Jin, I would like to be your girlfriend.”

Immediately smiling back, mouths search for one another once again as the little clothes that remain are slowly being removed from each other’s bodies. You easily forget where you are, why you should be careful. The sounds that leave your parted lips as he plays and teases your naked breasts would be much to loud if you remembered this was not your house and there were a bunch of people downstairs. Thankfully, the music must have been loud enough to smother your moans and mewling.

You only leave his lap once, to take the remaining of the bodysuit off your body and leaving you completely bare for him. Satisfied with the animalistic grunt and facial expression overflowing with desire, you help him get rid of his boxers too. The tall erection springs up from the fabric and stands flushed against his lower belly, red and angry. Pulsating with the beat of his heart.

Your insides trembled and clenched at the sight, the few times you have done this before a reminder of how heavenly it would feel to have him inside.

As if reading your mind, Jin pulls you in back to his lap and you both shudder and gasp as your slick scorching womanhood makes the first contact with his hard shaft. It’s only a slight brush, but it sets a volcano on fire.

Grasping the most he could of your ass checks in his hands, feeling the dimples in your skin against the tip of his fingers, Jin takes control and leads you down onto him, slowly, inch by inch, watching your welcoming pussy taking him in. It’s a vision that makes him so mad with lust that he closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe, taking a second to control himself once he is fully enclosed by you.

You are clawing his shoulders and arching your back as he stretches you out deliciously, his cock inside you throbbing, filling you entirely and the tip nestled perfectly right up against your cervix. It was like he was made for you, or maybe you were made for him. You both were made for each other like separated pieces of a two-piece puzzle.

Even though you were technically the one on top, it was with ease that you fall into Jin’s control, his hips being the ones moving back and then back up with increasing speed, one hand still at your ass cheek and the other at your plush waist, helping your move with him. The position had you both flushed against one another from hip to shoulder, your sweating bodies sliding together with ease. Your chest is pressed against his, your hot breath hits his face while his does the same to you, half-lidded and hazy eyes staring at one another whenever they didn’t close at a particular deep pleasurable lunge.

The room is much too warm for October and all it could be heard was the squeaking of the mattress, the heavy breathing from both of you and the slickness of your joining bodies, over and over and over again, growing faster and faster.

The edge was right there, right at your feet, the molten lust sizzling in your abdomen about to erupt, white hot flashes tearing through you as the tension keeps on building up, his hard length pressing against a pressure point deep inside that sends sparks radiating through your body. Jin’s hips snap forward harder and faster and your orgasm is a step away, but you need the extra stimulation to reach it. So, you take one of the hands that was holding on for dear life to Jin’s shoulder and try to slide it down your bodies, to where you were joined.

Distracted by your movements, Jin slow downs and realizes what you need. Before you know it, you are flipped around and end up with your back to the mattress, Jin still flushed against you and amazingly still linked together at the pelvis. He smiles at you, that perfect smile that melts your heart, with sweaty skin and damp hair sticking to his scalpel.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you” he says.

He kisses your already bruised lips from all the kisses from before, a deep and loving kiss, just as he starts thrusting again. This time, the rhythm increases in speed much faster than before, this position giving him better friction to snap his pelvis just right against your own again and again, dirty and deep until you are right at the edge once more in record time, your walls pulsating rapidly around his dragging cock, begging for release.

That’s when he leans back, takes his own hand in between your bodies and, keeping up the feral pace, finds your clit and mercilessly jiggles it with his thumb, at the same time his shaft hits deep inside at that perfect angle.

You break apart in a cracking squeal, your back arching off the bed and hands clawing the sheets, mouth hanging open with your eyes closed as absolute bliss crashes into your body. Your legs squeeze at his hips tightly before giving out completely, all of the accumulated tension from before washes away by the waves of pure unmatched relief.

Grunting, Jin’s hips lunge in a more frenzied movement as he feels your walls collapsing on him, almost like sucking him in. It’s all too much and his body jolts and burn under the unbelievable heat, something dropping in his stomach as he stiffs completely while releasing his thick ropes of cum into your womb, only to sag down on top of you, boneless and spent. Your plump body warmly welcomes his weight, a world of comfort enveloping him.

“This… this was the best Halloween ever” he breathes out against the skin of your neck once he can talk again.

“I would have to agree” you concur, chuckling a bit.

#halloween special #bts x chubby reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #bts #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts seokjin #BTS jin #jin #seokjin smut #jin smut #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #kpop smut #kpop plus size #kpop chubby reader #13 stories for halloween #Smut

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owakoblack-portspa · 3 years

Text

(APH PortSpa) African Holiday

APH fan fiction. I do not own the characters.

Pairing: Portugal/ Spain, Spain/ Portugal

Pedro is the nation of Portugal and Antonio is the nation of Spain. For convenience, I use their human names instead of names of nations in this fiction. Pedro and Spain meet at Ceuta, a city in Africa.

African Holiday

On a very quiet night, a long-haired little boy was sleeping alone on a large, soft bed. Such a huge bed was more suitable for at least two boys lying on it, and sure enough, this boy lied on the right side of the bed, as if saving a place for somebody to sleep on the left side.

Suddenly, a knock on the bedroom door broke the silence, causing the boy in bed to wake. He did not get up at once, but simply turned onto the other side.

“Disculpe, may I come in?” A sweet voice of a little boy called out beyond the door. Both the boys had dark-brown hair.

The boy in bed reached out for a spare pillow lying on the left side of the bed, and pressed it upon his ear, trying hard to continue sleeping.

“I can’t sleep, can I sleep with you?” The child outside the door raised his voice, and knocked more loudly.

“How old are you? Can’t you sleep alone? It’s time to grow up!” The boy in bed finally replied.

“Lo siento.”

Since then, the boy outside the door never came again.

In Ceuta, a harbour city on the northern tip of Africa, you can find everywhere talkative Spaniards, logos written in Spanish, products from Europe, flags in red and gold colours, and you feel there is no difference from Andalusia on the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. However, Africa is not Europe after all. It is much more significant to travel from continent to continent, rather than to travel from province to province, or from country to country.

A barbería on the opposite of the port has no difference from most of the barberías on the Spanish mainland either: right now inside the barbería where Enrique Iglesias’ dancing songs were playing, a barber with a big beard was sweeping away hair left on the chair, while swaying to the music, cheerfully. It is a mystery that the Spaniards can keep excited all the time, perchance because of lovely sunshine, perchance because of the blue sea–it is a happy nation after all.

As the wind chimes on the glass door of the shop rang merrily, the door opened, a cool sea wind blew in, and a tall young man walked inside. His long dark-brown hair was tied into a pony tail, a caramel jacket rounded his slim waist, and a pair of goggles hung on his well-built chest.

“¡Buenos días! ¿Tiene una reserva?” As soon as the barber straightened up to see the young man’s face, his smile turned into a surprised look, “Dios mío, did I just trim Señor’s hair? How come it grows back even longer than before within a blink of an eye?”

“Don’t worry, Señor Peluquero, I’m still here. I just paid at the counter.” Another young man touched the back of the barber from behind, and put both of his hands in front of his face to form a picture frame, “after trimming my hair, I’m as cool as a breeze!” The short-haired young man winked his light green eyes while smiling brightly, and incredibly, some stars fell out of the frame.

“What a coincidence, Antonio. I just arrived from the port, and spotted you inside this barbershop.”

“Isn’t it Pedro? I’ve never expected you here!”

The confused barber turned his head to look at the picture-framing, short-haired young man, and then turned back to see the long-haired young man who just walked into the shop. He found that both of their faces and bodies exactly the same, even the colours of their hair, eyes, and skin the same too, as if God conveniently used the same colours from his colour palette to paint these two , except that He dotted a beauty spot under the right eye of the long-haired one, in order to distinguish from his twin. “You two are twins!” the barber exclaimed.

“We are not twins!” the two young men protested in one voice.

“So…you two are brothers who look much alike?”

“We are just neighbours!” two men, one voice again.

“Are you really just neighbours? I can tell from your appearances that you two are related by blood!” The barber stretched out his strong arms to bring both of the young men close together, and shouted to a girl at the counter. “Isabel, don’t you think they look much alike? Mira, mira,” the barber turned Pedro’s face towards Isabel, “when his pony tail couldn’t be seen from the front, even their hair styles are los mismos!”

“Even so,” Isabel shrugged her thin shoulders, “los amigos have told you they ain’t bros, so they ain’t bros, are you thinking of helping people recover their long-lost familia?”

“I see, it’s a matter of hair style.” Pedro mused, “por favor, Señor Peluquero, could you make a new hair style for me?”

Half an hour later, Pedro’s long dark-brown hair was trimmed thin and made more stylish, which reached down his prominent collarbones.

“Listo, as cool as a breeze!” Imitating Antonio, the barber put his hands to form a picture frame in front of Pedro, but this time there were no fallen stars, for Pedro did not wink, but instead smiled mildly to his mirrored self. “In this way, you two don’t look the same any more!” the barber admired his masterpiece happily, “Señor looks so handsome, bueno, guapo!”

“Gracias, but I’m a navigator, it’s better for me to tie my hair while sailing at sea. However, today I have a holiday, and Antonio is beside me, let me forget the pony tail for a while.” He brushed gracefully his long hair with his hand, satisfied.

After leaving the barbería, Pedro and Antonio walked leisurely in the direction of the old town. Pedro’s caramel jacket was again tied around his waist, and despite the hot African weather, he wore short black gloves. He and Antonio both wore short-sleeve shirts, and their opening collars revealed deep shapes of their chest cleavages.

“Pedro, why are you in Africa?” Antonio walked a step ahead of the quiet young man, turning around to look at the other with his bright green eyes.

“Me chame de Pedro, faz favor. In Portuguese, you should pronounce ‘Pedru’, instead of ‘Pedro’.” Pedro spoke in Portuguese–even though he had spoken fluent Spanish at the barber’s, he had got used to speak Portuguese to Antonio whenever they were alone.

“Todo bien, ‘Pedru’. You know although I can understand Portuguese, I don’t speak it well.” Antonio continued to communicate with Pedro in Spanish, while the other spoke Portuguese.

“Our ship is heading to a tall ship festival in Marseilles. When we crossed the Strait of Gibraltar, I thought of our past in Ceuta, so I stopped to visit here.”

“Our past in Ceuta? You mean yours and mine?”

Pedro nodded slightly.

Antonio began to feel anxious, deliberately avoiding Pedro’s gaze.

When they were approaching the gate of the old town, they saw a huge coat of arms of the city which looked very similar to the Portuguese national coat of arms: in the middle of the red shield are five blue mini shields, surrounded by seven golden tiny castles.

When they were about to cross the street, Pedro stopped short.

“In Spain, you don’t have to wait for traffic lights all the time…” Antonio wanted to push him, but he found the Portuguese was gazing on a sculpture in the middle of the round-about. It was the sculpture of Prince Henry the Navigator.

Pedro kept silent, but his emerald eyes spoke for him. In his eyes, there was a mixture of worship, nostalgia, and sorrow. Such a beautiful, bright young man was suddenly shrouded by sadness, just like the sun shadowed by dark clouds, and a cool breeze laden with salt.

“Disculpe, I suddenly remember I have some important thing to do, can I leave?” Antonio tried to escape, but was stopped at once by another.

“Don’t you go, you should be my tour guide.”

“Even though you wish so, there is not much worth tour guiding…”

Much against his will, Antonio led Pedro to a bastion east to the old town gate, which is one of the landmarks in Ceuta. An edge of the bastion extended gracefully into a moat circling the city, where deep blue seawater turned into emerald, and a big school of small fish attracted the attention of several migrant birds. Above the top of the bastion, a flag of blood and gold was flying proudly.

Antonio noticed that Pedro was becoming more and more moody. He felt so guilty that he wanted to climb up the bastion to tear down the flag, if he could.

At this moment, a pair of Asian twin girls went towards them.

“Excuse me, do you speak English?”

Antonio was not confident in his English, so he eyed Pedro for assistance.

“How can I help you, beautiful ladies?” Pedro replied in British English, and later, according to these girls’ request, took photos for them. Antonio chuckled quietly, because he knew that Pedro had kind of “yellow fever”, for he had a particular passion for Asians, which had been one of the secret reasons why he had ventured so far away to Asia during the Age of Discovery.

“May I ask if we could take photos together? We are all twins!”

“Pero nosotros no somos gemelos…” Antonio tried to deny without a second thought, but these Asian girls did not understand his Spanish.

“Certainly! Antonio, come here!” Apparently, Pedro was afraid of making the shy Asian girls embarrassed, so he did not deny he and Antonio being twins, and pulled the Spaniard to take photos together.

“Can we ask a question about history?” the girls asked carefully.

“Ask away, darlings.” Pedro winked, smiling.

“Doesn’t Ceuta belong to Spain? Why are there so many Portuguese emblems here then?”

“Umm, as for this question, it’s better to let Antonio explain, for he’s the local tour guide.”

Antonio felt stressed, for it would be a challenge for him to explain the complicate history related to both Spain and Portugal in his “broken” English. It was obvious that Pedro wanted to make fun of him. However, if he cast the task back to Pedro, when recalling the past, would Pedro become sad again? Antonio did not feel like seeing that sorrowful face, so he began to explain slowly in English:

“Ceuta was a part of Morocco long time ago. In the year of 1415, Prince Henry of Portugal conquered this military fortress…”

“Excuse me, who was Prince Henry?” the girls asked.

“He was a great navigator who started the Portuguese Age of Discovery. From then on, Portugal gradually discovered new sea routes. The new route to India discovered by Vasco da Gama was in fact the continuation of Prince Henry’s sea routes. In other words, if there were no Prince Henry, there would have been no Vasco da Gama, or even the Portuguese Empire. Perhaps Prince Henry is not as famous as da Gama worldwide, but for Portugal, he was the most important person.”

The twin girls began to admire this prince, “How brave are the navigators to discover the unknown world!”

“He is also a navigator.” Antonio pointed to Pedro, who was smiling in the shade of a tree. “Let me continue the history of Spain and Portugal. After the conquest, Portugal rebuilt Ceuta, so the city coat of arms contains Portuguese emblems. Between 1580 and 1640, Portugal was ruled by Spain. Many Spanish people migrated to Ceuta, so even after Portugal’s independence from Spain in 1640, Ceuta still sided with Spain. Finally in 1668, Portugal ceded Ceuta to Spain. Therefore, you can still see Spanish flags flying on the African continent today.”

After the twin girls had left, Antonio and Pedro found all museums closed at noon. As the sun was becoming hotter, they had no choice but to sit down at an ice cream parlour by the seaside.

It seemed that Pedro was exhausted by the hot weather, for even ice cream could not cheer him up. He kept silent and ate quietly without looking up at Antonio, which made Antonio unbearable. Finally, Antonio broke the ice:

“Pedro, I want to say that I am sorry, for I have taken up the place you had cherished.”

“Which place?” Pedro tucked his long hair behind his ear, and had another spoonful of ice cream.

“This place, Ceuta.”

Pedro fell silent again for a moment. Then, his head turned slightly towards Antonio, a pair of scorching eyes stared at the Spaniard fiercely behind long hair, and he said: “Now you know that you’re sorry, you know that…” he covered his mouth with a hand, as if trying hard to suffocate his moaning, “…you already know that Dom Henrique was the person I had most respected, most loved…and this place had been the first step where we began to explore the world…and yet, you…!”

“Pedro…”

“You were too strong, too powerful–so powerful that you swallow up everyone who were close to you…Aragon, Navarre, Granada…being your neighbour, you had no idea how hard I had tried to survive…and you still don’t know why I want to keep distance from you–you’ve never cared about others.”

“…lo siento.”

“…that’s why I set my knights guard against you on borders.” Pedro added.

Antonio did not know how to reply, and Pedro lost the interest of continuing their conversation, so these two kept silent while watching the blue Mediterranean Sea and eating ice cream. After a while, two identical cats approached them for food, and they gave the cats ice cream respectively. Later, the cats curled up to sleep under their legs. It was time for siesta. The two young men bent on the table and fell asleep too.

When Antonio woke up, he found himself alone, a caramel jacket covering his back.

“Señor, did you sleep well? Your brother has already paid the bill.” A waiter came over and smiled at him.

“When did he leave?”

“About half an hour ago. He went in the direction of the port, perhaps to board a ship.”

Hearing this, Antonio grabbed Pedro’s jacket at once, and ran towards the port.

There were countless vessels from all over the world at the port, but Antonio had some clue for finding out Pedro’s ship.

Sure enough, before long, he spotted a huge sail ship with three masts. Upon the white sails, there were red crosses of the Order of Christ.

“Disculpe, is Pedro on this ship?” Antonio stopped a sailor who was about to board.

“Which Pedro? We have many Pedros on the ship!”

“He has long hair, and a spot under his right eye.” Antonio panted from running.

“Let me think…” the sailor looked baffled.

“Alright, he looks very much like me!” Antonio finally confessed.

“Ah, I see!” the sailor turned around and shouted to the top cabins of the ship, “Captain, your little brother has come to see you off!”

“I’m not his brother,” Antonio said quickly, “and I just come to return his jacket.”

“Thank you for returning my jacket,” Pedro went down slowly from the ship. He wore a set of deep blue navy uniform, his long hair tied neatly behind. “By the way, I do recall that you had called me ‘mi hermano’ when you were a very little child, didn’t you?”

“It’s not true, I had only called you by your birth name…it’s you who had called me ‘meu irmão’.”

“I’d never done that.”

“Yes, you had.”

When the siren was blown, Antonio knew that Pedro’s ship, Sagres, was about to set out. He raised his hands high in the air and waved happily towards Pedro, who was standing on the deck, watching him whom was down below.

“¡Adiós, Lusitania!” Antonio smiled, brighter than the sun.

–Lusitania, isn’t this Pedro’s birth name? Suddenly, some long-lost memory flashed back to Pedro’s mind.

On a very quiet night, he was lying on a large bed sleeplessly. Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Lusitania?” a sweet voice of a boy called out.

“Sim?” he replied lazily.

Knowing the boy in bed was still awake, the boy outside opened the unlocked door, and went in.

“Can I sleep with you, Lusitania?” a pair of light green eyes was looking innocently at him.

He opened his arms to the boy, and smiled mildly, “claro, meu irmão.”

Long long time ago, Pedro had indeed called Antonio “my brother”, and only Antonio had called him by his birth name. Are they really not related by blood? They look so much alike, they had been so close, and nobody could understand them better than they understand each other. What made them separate from each other?

Looking at the young man waving on the quay who had the same face as his, Pedro suddenly had an urge to touch, to embrace, and to merge with him–his brother. Before the ship started moving, he dashed down to the quay, and jumped onto Antonio.

“Lusitania?”

Pedro held Antonio tightly in his arms. Back lighted, his bright green eyes had never seemed so profound before, as if trying to convey millions of words. However, Pedro chose not to say a single word, but to kiss directly on Antonio’s petal-soft lips.

Basking in orange light of the African sunset, the two brothers embraced and kissed each other for a long while, until eventually, Pedro broke the kiss and left silver saliva on his brother’s lips. Antonio looked at him, confused, intoxicated.

“If we’re not brothers, I think it’s fine to kiss you.” Pedro smiled mildly.

“Claro, we’re not brothers at all.” Antonio blushed, and kissed Pedro again.

#APH #hetalia #aph spain #aph portugal #iberian brothers #aph iberia #hws #portspa #spaport

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mxmorganmorph · 3 years

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Things Change

“You are her sole survivor, Matthew.”

“I don’t know, a heart attack or something. It’s not like we could pay for an autopsy.”

“It’s okay, you’re going to have a great time! I’ll be right at home waiting for you, alright?”

“You want us to help pay for MORE schooling after you wasted your degree on fag studies?”

“I do this because of you. You did this to me.”

“Leave the pup alone. Because I says so, tha’s why!”

“Alright, we’ll help you. But there’s something you have to do for us in the meantime.“

“Don’t come home.”

“Matti, look at me. I know this is scary. But your Mother, she’s going to be alright. She’ll pull through. And even if she-- you will ALWAYS have me, do you understand, Matti? I will never, ever leave you. I promise.”

“Matthew Morgan, you are found guilty on all charges.”

Returning home had left Morgan in a fugue state, reliving memories that they had long since tried to bury. They came disjointed, out of order, and seemingly at random, with no particular trigger. Some moments they’d be cooking in the kitchen they grew up in, completely fine--while others they would just be getting the mail and a wave of grief would hit so hard, it would send them into hours long sobbing fits. They didn’t reach out to anyone--the only person they stayed in contact with was their real estate agent as they trudged through the process of selling their childhood home. As soon as an offer was made, they accepted it, wanting it out of their life as soon as possible.

Once there was nothing left for them, they returned to the only place they’d called home--Redwood Hollow. They stepped out of the Uber that had transported them back to the small town from the airport, lugging a pink suitcase behind them with one hand while the other hugged a manila folder tightly against their chest. They squinted and blinked at the rising sun, wishing they’d worn one of their hats with a brim, rather than their typical black beanie.

The cool morning breeze told them that the first hints of fall were beginning to descend upon the town, a stark reminder of just how long they’d really been gone. Selling a house turned out to be much more of a process than they’d originally intended, especially with the deteriorating state it had been left in. Especially with the deteriorating state they had been left in.

With a heavy sigh, they began forward in the direction of their apartment. The wheel on their luggage caught on an uneven crack in the sidewalk, causing them to lurch forward and drop the envelope they were holding. It tumbled to the ground, with several photos splaying out of the folder and onto the pavement. A small gasp passed their lips as they fell to their knees, starting to gather everything up.

The first picture they retrieved was of three people in front of an artificial, blue background. First was a woman in a white turtleneck and a deep navy dress layered on top. These colors were starkly contrasted by her long, vibrant, red hair that curtained down over her shoulders, framing her wrinkled but neatly made up face. The smile she wore was wide, crinkling the sides of her eyes that were also alit with joy. She had a hand on the shoulder of each of the people surrounding her. On her left was another woman, about the same height but with shorter, choppier, red hair and a much more plain style of clothing--a simple cardigan atop a blouse. Despite being clearly younger, she seemed just as aged as the first woman, with dark bags under her eyes and skin pulled taut across her face. The smile she wore was small and strained. Between both the women was a young child in a pale blue dress shirt and black pants, signatured by a bright blue bow tie and wild red hair that stuck out in every direction. The smile they wore was the only one that showed teeth, a bright and shining grin.

*CHK!*

As the camera clicked and flashed, the three individuals let their expressions drop, looking away from the photographer and stretching their stiff limbs.

“Are we almost done?” The short haired woman complained.

“Just a few more, Mia, this is important! This is the picture we’re going to use for the family holiday card!” The older woman responded, sounding and looking a lot more energetic than her counterparts.

“Jews don’t send holiday cards, Mom.”

“Well this one does. I think it’s a wonderful tradition and it gives us the chance to show all of our friends back home how we’re doing.”

“Yeah, and you ever notice how none of them ever send cards back? Your friends all think you’re crazy.”

“Oh, hush. Now get ready, just a few more.”

“A few more?! Fuck that, I’m taking a smoke break first,” she grumbled, giving a half-hearted wave as she pivoted and walked out the door. The older woman sighed before turning her attention to the young child, who was fussing with their bow tie.

“Matti, stop that!” She scolded.

“But Bubbe, it itchessss!” They whined back, lips puckering in a pout.

“Here, let me loosen it for you,” she replied, taking the bow in both of her hands and gently pushing it looser, all while rearranging it so that it still looked prim and proper. She then took the opportunity to begin running her hands through the child’s hair, smoothing it out and styling it.

“Bubbeeeeee!” The child whined again, though knew better than to try and wriggle from her grip.

“Hush. Don’t you want our friends to see what a handsome young man you’ve grown up to be?” She pulled her hands away and within seconds, their stringy hair popped back up to its original, wild state. She sighed again, but gave a weary smile. “Well, it’ll have to do. It’s important Matti, that we all look our very best. No matter what happens, you always have to smile.”

Despite everything they’d gone through, Morgan had made an effort to dress up coming back to Redwood Hollow. “Dress up” was probably a strong term for it, as they were in the usual, dark casual wear they were best known for out of their drag. They were no longer in the tank top and sweats they’d worn almost every day while at home, nor was their hair the unkempt mess that they’d let it grow to over the months. At the very least, it now stuck out in a styled fashion from beneath their beanie. In all regards, they looked exactly the same as the day they had left, as if nothing had happened at all. They hardly believed themselves to be a well-beloved figure in town that everyone missed, but they did know that at least a few people were going to ask where they’ve been and how they’ve been doing. Morgan had spent the entire trip home preparing and practicing these answers, putting on their best face and their most winning smile.

The next picture they retrieved was outdoors. The edges were lined with beautiful greenery and distinguished looking white marble buildings, which people in the background were walking through from every direction. In the center of the picture was a large and imposing fountain with lavish design, with water cascading from ivory statues. Standing in front of that fountain was a young individual with wild but much longer red hair pulled back behind their shoulders. Holding it all down was a wide brimmed square black cap with a golden tassle hanging from it, which matched the flowing black robes they were wearing and the golden cord that hung around their neck. They held their hands up in a dramatic and flourishing pose, teeth shining in a bright grin.

“Ooooh! This is all so exciting!” A much older woman called as she lowered the camera, motioning the other to approach her.

The young person lowered their arms with a sigh, their grin dropping into a much smaller, much more exhausted smile as they walked across the plaza, where many other gowned individuals were also getting their picture taken in front of the ostentatious landmark. Once together, the woman threw her arms around them, squeezing them tight.

“To think, my little Matti graduating college! And me, getting to witness it!” She chirped, squeezing them once more before finally letting go. “Now come on, show me the rest of your campus! It’s not every day I get to visit a prestigious university, you know.”

Responding only with a nod, they started leading her down the path towards one of the many buildings that surrounded the quad. As the two walked together, the woman glanced over at the other, who at this point had grown taller than her. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’re being awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing, Bubbe, I’m fine,” they replied, once again putting on that winning smile.

“Matti...” She warned. They shifted uncomfortably before finally sighing.

“Could Mom really not come?”

The woman looked surprised for a moment before her expression and gaze fell to the pavement. “Your Mother...she’s in one of her states right now,” she explained carefully, though they both knew what that really meant. Still, putting on her own smile, she looked back up at the other. “But she wanted me to let you know how very proud she is of you. And how much she wished she could’ve been here.”

“Right,” they replied, seemingly not convinced. They kept their gaze forward until they felt a hand on their shoulder, causing them to glance over.

“Regardless, I’M proud of you, Matti. What you’ve accomplished over these last few years is incredible and I need you to know that I recognize everything you’ve done to get here. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“I know.”

“...That’s not the only thing, is it?”

A heavy silence hung between them before they admitted, “I don’t want to go back home.”

The woman looked like she had just been struck, eyes wide in shock. As the confession sunk in, she swallowed hard and looked away. “...I see.”

“Bubbe, it’s not because of YOU,” they backpedaled, stumbling over their words. “It’s just-- It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to graduate, get a job, get my own place, start my own life. I was going to rent myself a nice apartment that I could dress up in whatever way I liked and have you come visit and see how much progress I’ve made. I’m not supposed to just-- move back home. If I was going to end up back where I started, why did I even bother getting a degree?”

“Matti...those things will still happen. You’ll find work, eventually.”

“Yeah, with a Queer Studies degree? If I can’t find work in my field in a liberal city like this, how the hell am I supposed to find anything back in West Virginia?” The woman’s mouth opened before closing again, not having an answer.

“...I wasted everyone’s time and money. I should’ve studied something useful,” they said when she didn’t respond. They felt a bony hand squeeze their shoulder.

“You studied something that you were passionate about and makes you happy. You learned so much more than me or your Mother ever could and regardless of what anyone thinks--you got an education. That counts for something.” This time, it was their turn not to respond, staring ahead.

“...And hey, if all else fails, you can always become a beautician just like your old Bubbe, eh?” She said, voice lilting upwards to try and lift the mood.

“Yeah,” they snorted, “I’m sure Mom will be thrilled at the idea of paying for even MORE schooling.”

“We can work something out. Whatever it is you want to do with your life, Matti, I’m positive you can make it happen.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what I want to do.”

Morgan was now in possession of more money than they ever thought they’d see in their life. However, once it became clear to Redwood College that they wouldn’t be returning in time for the fall semester, the school eliminated their contract. They supposed it couldn’t be helped. They were just an adjunct after all, so it’s not like there was any reason to actually keep them around. Regardless, it was probably their time to go anyway. Sure, it was the first ever job they’d had in the field they actually studied, but they did NOT know how to be an educator. The fact that the college had even hired them at all with no educational background was a miracle in and of itself. In between the terrible essays, the lectures that only half the class listened to, and having to pull teeth to facilitate class discussion--them being a professor had not been working out. But now, with earning money to survive no longer being a concern, what were they supposed to do with themselves?

The last spilled picture that they gathered was much older than the previous two, worn and crinkled slightly from age. The faded photo was of a couple standing in the middle of a town square, their arms wrapped around each other. One was a woman with long, wavy red hair, an orange sundress, and a beaming grin. The man was much shorter and rounder, with wild, stringy brown hair that went in every direction and spectacles adorning his face. Beneath the photo in the white margins, written in pen, was “Matias and Miriam Morgan -- Sunset Plaza, 1969″

“Do you know why I called you in here, Matti?”

The young child stood in the middle of the room, trying to make themselves as small as possible, their head bent forward and their hands balled at their sides. They didn’t respond. The woman, sitting across from them at the end of her bed, sighed before reaching behind her and pulling out a photo frame. The green frame was cracked, split at the side and sticking out at an odd angle. Whatever broken glass there had been was cleared out and thrown away, leaving only a faded photo underneath. She held it up to show them.

“I found this stuffed beneath the couch, instead of on the mantle where it belongs. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The child once again did not respond. She waited a terse few moments.

“Matti, you can’t keep secrets from me. Come on, out with it.”

“...I was just playing,” they finally muttered, scuffing their shoe against the carpet.

“I see. And you thought if no one found out what you did, you wouldn’t get in trouble?”

No response. Finally, the woman’s stern demeanor softened as she shook her head and sighed. “You can’t just hide your problems and expect them to go away. When these things happen, you have to come to me, okay? I promise, you won’t get in trouble, as long as you’re open and honest with me. No matter how much you try to hide it, you’ll always get caught. Do you understand?”

They nodded. “I’m sorry, Bubbe.”

The woman smiled, her eyes crinkling as she did so. “I know, dear. It’s alright.” With that, she looked down, pulling the broken frame into her lap. Carefully unlatching the back, she let the photo slide out while putting the frame to the side. Next to her, the child climbed up on the bed, going to sit on the other side of her.

“Can I fix it?” They asked

She chuckled and shook her head. “Oh no, but that’s okay. I’ll just buy a new frame.”

“Whose that?” They asked, pointing to the couple standing in the foreground of the photo.

“Why, that’s me and your Zaide.”

“That’s YOU?”

“What, you don’t recognize me?” She laughed. “I suppose I was a lot younger back then. Yep, that’s me alright, before your Mother was born. We lived in California, all the way on the other side of the country. Your Zaide was working in his office and I was working at a hair salon outside of town. Oh, but I wanted to open up my own salon in town so badly...this is where I planned on opening it,” she said, pointing to one of the buildings in the background. “The boutique that used to be there closed and they’d just put up the “For Rent” sign, when, well-- we had to move, and then Mia was born...” Her voice trailed off, fingers gingerly brushing over the photo. As the silence drew on, the child reached out and placed their tiny hand over hers, pulling her out of her trance. She looked down at them and smiled.

“But it’s all alright, because now I can be a beautician for my wonderful family. Speaking of, you could use a trim,” she said, bouncing some of their curls off her fingers. “I swear, you inherited your Zaide’s hair. Honestly, you’d just be better off wearing wigs. But come on, let’s see what we can do.“

Scooping them up in one arm and propping them against her hip, she brought them over to her vanity and placed them down before sliding the picture in the space where the mirror met the frame. As she started to gather her materials and tools, the child kicked their feet, staring at the photo with interest. The woman followed their gaze to the photo and her expression softened again, though this time there was a forlornness to it.

“You know, I really thought we were going to live there forever...” Her wistful voice trailed off as she reached out to grab the scissors. The child looked up at her in the mirror, tilting their head questioningly.

“What happened, Bubbe?”

The woman put one hand on the side of their head, tilting it back into place. “The same thing that always happens, Matti,” she said, taking the scissors to their fiery red hair and beginning to cut. “Things change.”

Morgan slid the gathered photos in with the rest in the manila folder, which they lowered to their lap. When they looked up, they realized they were facing Main Street, the end of which led to Town Hall and the main plaza. Lining the streets were countless businesses, many of which Morgan had frequented in the years they’d become acquainted with this small town. There was one though, that caught their eye.

It was an old, brick building with a large, dark window. The venue itself seemed to be completely empty, with a padlock on the door. Plastered on the glass was a large “For Rent” sign.

Morgan stared. They couldn’t...could they? They’d never finished beauty school, let alone knew the first thing about how to run a small business. Then again, they hadn’t known the first thing about being a professor either. They hadn’t known the first thing about being a drag queen, once upon a time.

They reached into their pocket and took out their phone, saving the number that was listed on the sign. Beauty school could be finished. Business management could be researched. Just like they’d learned to apply eyeliner and style wigs, they could learn the things they needed in order to fulfill their Bubbe’s dream. The dream she had abandoned in order to take care of her family. The family who one by one--including themselves--had let her down.

It was a direction in their life that they never could have predicted. Then again, their life’s journey had taken a lot of sharp turns that they didn’t expect. Every time, however, they adapted. They survived.

Things change. But this time, Morgan was ready for it.

#drabble #slur tw #abuse tw

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kvtyes · 3 years

Photo

↪ brief introduction to katye jakobson.

BASICS

full name: katye terhi jakobson. nickname(s): kat, kit-kat ( used largely by her brother to irritate her ). age: thirty-three. date of birth: 19 february 1988. zodiac sign: pisces. place of birth: tallinn, estonia. ethnicity: white. nationality: estonian. gender: cis female. sexual orientation: pansexual. romantic orientation: panromantic. religion: she was raised orthodox catholic— she had a confirmation and all but in her adulthood she’s never practiced all that much; the most she does is go to confession on occasion but even then her brother more or less has to put her in a choke hold to get her to do it. occupation: when she’s not being bogged down by royal duties she’s an architect -- her usual projects tend to be renovations to the palace in talinn or their country homes outside of the city. language(s) spoken: estonian, finnish, english; greek & turkish ( both of which she’s started learning on her own now that she’s been told she’ll be marrying selene if all goes to plan -- she’s not fluent by any means but she learns things quickly ). accent: she has a fairly thick estonian accent that can and has been mistaken as german or other slavic & finnic based accents which kat tends to roll her eyes at. she tries to enunciate fairly carefully when she’s speaking but when she’s excited or rambling about something in particular her accent can make it a bit difficult to understand her.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: evan rachel wood. hair color: blonde ( naturally ); she’s dyed it several colors over the years and at the moment it’s more red than anything. eye color: blue. height: 5′7″ ; 173 cm. weight: 120 lbs. build: slim. tattoos: kat’s debated getting tattoos several times over the years but has yet to follow through with anything -- her main consideration at the moment is a tattoo of a grey wolf, the national animal of estonia. piercings: she has traditional piercings in her lobes, an industrial piercing in her left ear and a helix piercing in her right ear. distinguishing characteristics: her accent, the way she carries herself, the fact that she’s almost always got a cigarette tucked behind her ear.

PERSONALITY

label: the black sheep. positive traits: capable, clever, compassionate, considerate, creative, curious, daring, dedicated, earnest, empathetic, generous, independent, loyal, observant, passionate, protective, reliable, selfless, warm. negative traits: competitive, irreverent, sarcastic, self-conscious. aloof, anxious, crude, haughty, hedonistic, impulsive, timid. goals/desires: to find a way to be happy, to carve out some freedom for herself even within the confines of royal life, to be the sort of person her fiancée can be proud of. fears: autophobia ( fear of being alone ), losing her brother. hobbies: teasing her brother, sketching new designs for buildings she’d like to work on, studying architecture, traveling, drinking, going out when she’s in the mood for it, spending time with people she enjoys, flirting with cute people, making a mess of most political situations she’s in, annoying her parents, learning new things, playing chess, reading, building her collection of obscure mythology books. quirks: she remembers people’s names and faces after meeting them even if she only interacted with them for a few seconds, she gives the contacts in her phone their names in estonian, she’s constantly doodling thoughts on new designs she’d like to bring to life in a small notebook that’s always with her, she tends to talk shit about people in any language other than english -- usually estonian because that comes the easiest but she’ll happily switch between any language she knows if she knows the other person won’t understand. likes: whiskey, cute girls, cute boys, sci-fi films, historical dramas, most foreign films, trivia shows, horror movies, compliments from cute people, her brother, the anonymity of living in big cities, jazz, classical piano pieces, being recognized for her talent rather than her title, sex, good booze, good food, spending time with people who appreciate her as a person, . dislikes: being taken seriously only because of her title rather than how hard she’s worked to earn respect in certain areas, dealing with most public relations things, long winded speeches, having to attend political functions in general, being talked down to, arguing with her brother.

FAMILY

father: artur kalev jakobson ; king artur II, colloquially known as the ‘bear of estonia’. mother: sofia agnesia jakobson née kask. sibling(s): kalev taevas jakobson ( fraternal twin ). pet(s): she has a european burmese cat named antoni after antoni gaudi, the architect. financial status: too rich for her own good.

HEADCANONS

katye is thirty-three & the older twin between herself and her fraternal twin brother kalev — who has, as far as she’s concerned, always been the more palatable person between the two of them. in comparison to her brother katye is, to put it lightly, something of a disaster -- she has an endlessly short temper and none of the grace her brother possesses when it comes to political engagements and discussions and has absolutely no problem expressing her general annoyance with all of the politicking that comes along with being royalty. she’s aware that she needs to “grow up” -- so to speak -- and a part of her has continued to wonder whether her marriage arrangement is her parents’ way of forcing her to settle down into a version of herself that might be slightly less ornery and difficult for the general public in estonia to grasp and perhaps, though she finds this more difficult to believe, allow her to realize that in spite of her future as queen -- she can still carve out some form of freedom and individuality within her position.

it’s always suited her to be the more negatively perceived of the two of them between herself and her brother and a part of her -- though katye’s reluctant to admit it -- is relieved that earning as much attention as she does allows her brother -- who is far more gentle and far more shy than she is, to stay out of the spotlight as he chooses. away from cameras and the press in general katye’s not spectacularly difficult to get along with -- she’s witty and charismatic and is likely the first person to toss out a self-deprecating joke or quip to relieve any tension in her day-to-day interactions. the generally surly and cantankerous impression she gives the media as a whole is more of an act than anything else and with a bit of patience and occasional, careful prodding -- it isn’t difficult to see that katye is more or less a deeply flawed but deeply loving and ultimately well-meaning woman.

she has a genius level IQ. It’s not something she discusses often ( for the most part only her family knows, because she’s already treated a certain way due to her status as a princess and honestly abhors the thought of being treated even more differently due to that ). she studied to become an architect when she was in school and was quietly on her way to working with a firm properly by the time she was being relocated. she tends to use her fairly active mind to manipulate her way in and out of situations ( she’s very, very good at talking herself out of trouble and takes full advantage of it when she can ).

she’s a fairly outgoing person underneath the sheen of frustration and general surliness she’s working with right now; she’s an incredibly loyal and kind person at her core, and though it can be difficult for people to stick around long enough to sort out those parts of her she does have a few very close friends who seem to have had no trouble digging down to the heart of her.

she has absolutely no qualms about sleeping with anyone she finds even remotely attractive. she doesn’t quite know how to have a relationship with anyone ( as she’s not sure how to broach the subject of someone actually having to deal with what a train-wreck she is for an extended period of time ) but she craves attention and affection and sex is a decent enough way for her to get that. it’s something she’s trying to avoid entirely now that she’s in the same place as her future wife and as nervous as she is about being found lacking in her fiancée’s eyes she does want to make a positive impression and build a positive, meaningful relationship.

#( intro )#hshqintro

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inventors-fair · 3 years

Text

Three Cheese Commentary: An exercise in utility

I really shouldn’t complain about contests being popular with people.

Still, what a way for the year’s contests to start. A heckuva lot of entries for a very hard prompt makes me feel good, in an odd way. I have a hypothesis that the clarity of directions and the examples provided were enough to make it feel as though there was a low barrier to entry. It’s interesting and kind of my fault that a lot of mythic legendary creatures found their way in. Ah well. Lessons learned.

If you’re reading this, I want to give you a little hint: we love hard decisions. If your cards really are brilliant, if you do your best to improve with each and every entry, if you listen to the commentary and submit the best possible card, then our jobs as judges would be nail-bitingly hard. And I love that. I love having to sigh wistfully and move a card from “winners” to “runners-up.” I love praising cards that contest for coolness in their spaces. In short: you don’t have to listen to us specifically because, well, we’re not professionals, but if you tweak the tweaks and polish on your polish, then—well, the goal is that you grow as designers and in your understanding of the game. And that you’ll have fun along the way.

For every card, I’m going to converse with the intent, talk about where improvements can be made and what might have gone wrong, and then go through wording nitpicks (another part of what makes cards hard, heh. You gotta do design AND cost AND flavor without committee). Cards with JUDGE PICK are personal favorites that for whatever reason either didn’t meet the criteria for winners or just tickled my fancy despite being some kind of not-there-in-certain-ways. Or maybe they just got pushed out of runners-up because of space. See? Hard decisions.

Let’s talk about some cards:

@aethernalstars — Anurid Matriarch

Intent: The Matriarch feels like a casual build-around-me keyword card with some connection to the Anurids of Dominaria. There are only two frogs with reach (and none with first strike) to date but this isn’t supposed to be a tribal card, is it. Not like that, anyway. Giving keywords those ups makes sense. Token generation is pretty solidly GW, giving them flying is WU, sure. First strike to double feels distinctly white. I imagine this card as a casual build-around-me or a token generator. Five mana for a 1/1 token ain’t bad.

Improvement: I have no idea what this card really wants to be. First strike doesn’t see anything outside of white, and reach doesn’t see much inside white. Or blue, for that matter. The flying makes sense for blue but this whole card doesn’t feel cohesive in terms of colors or identity. I did my Anurid research and I don’t see any precedent for this. Frog beasts are cool but… Well, this card answers the question of “why” with “just because.” I don’t fully understand the niche it’s trying to fill or the environment in which it wants to exist. If you’re gonna make a Frog build-around-me, lean into that. If you’re gonna make a keyword tribal card, focus on just one. If you want to make it color-balanced, look at what everything could do together for a flavorful feel.

Nitpicks: Flying comes before double strike.

Amarinthe — Rashmi, Enlivened Artificer

Intent: Temur has a pseudo-foothold in Kaladesh mechanically, so I’m not surprised that Rashmi’s here doing her thing. Giving your cards Jump-start is interesting, as UR has a sort of flashback mechanic, plus the lands from the graveyard work into green quite well. What I really like is the way that the Crucible effect interacts with jump-start. That’s pretty cool design chops. I can see this in a supplemental Commander sphere or even as a Standard mythic for a three-color archetype. It doesn’t seem exceptionally broken on either front. From a purely mechanical perspective, I think you made an awesome card.

Improvement: This card perhaps feels RUG, but it 100% doesn’t feel like Rashmi or a druid. Elves can be artificers on Kaladesh, and that’s not an issue, but you call her an artificer, you type her as a druid (which yes, was her original type when she was more druidic), and you give her a primary ability that’s got basically nothing to do with artifacts or druidic principles. The lands work great with the druid part, but the flavor could be sorted out. I would take out “jump-start” as a keyword and just work in the wording “you may cast from your graveyard” etc., make a new character, and flavor them appropriately. The flavor text should complement the mechanics; as it is, I’m not certain.

Nitpicks: “jump-start” should be lowercase, but it doesn’t really matter if you do end up taking it out.

@arashisann — Yurlok’s Conflux

Intent: With Yurlok being a new commander hotness, I can see the intent of this card as a Jundian standard/supplemental addendum. The lava flow makes mountains, then the second ability...represents something predatory? And the last is Jund destruction. The R>B>G makes sense there.

Improvement: I don’t know if this card is necessary salvageable as-is; you might be better off making two or three separate cards if you want to show this character. When making a saga, you have to tell a story in a limited form, and it’s hard, absolutely! You represented the lava flow in the first ability quite well, and I do like that a lot. The creature and artifact sacrifice isn’t indicative of anything that I can follow story-wise. Reading the wiki I understand the way that you might want to represent the Thrash dying or Esper being invaded. I don’t believe this is the way to do it. With the very last sentence not doing anything when you’re sacrificing anyway, I don’t believe the best card for you is a saga at all. How could you tell this in an instant or sorcery card, perhaps? The moment that Yurlok comes over the Esper border?

Nitpicks: “non-Mountain;” the land type should be capitalized in both parts, see Quicksilver Fountain. The ability should also be one word. As I mentioned, removing the counters doesn’t do anything mechanically because it’s sacrificed after resolution. Check the MSE Discord if you want to get your text fixed, BTW. I know how frustrating that can be.

@askkrenko — Etherium Restoration

Intent: You know, even without Ed being there, I’m getting a Bruna-ish feel. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just that UW expensive returning stuff kinda has those associations. The fact that the creature is being restored with etherium though is pretty awesome, and you know what, that alone (the return plus the re-artifacting) is a great way to convey what Esper does and wants to do.

Improvement: The aura and equipment stuff doesn’t grab me, honestly. What do auras have to do with Esper? And the only equipment that I could find that fit was Mask of Riddles. So I’m going to stop here because the obvious answer is that you’re exploring new story design space for what Esper might be. I respect that. With the information we have now, it’s middle-of-the-road. My vote would be to make this (3)(B/W)(U) and make an argument for UW reanimation to artifice overall, then completely drop the aura/equipment part. Plus, gotta say, I know the flavor text is a pop culture thing but you’re messin’ with my favorite plane! Show some respect! /j

Nitpicks: If you do keep that second part, “Aura” and “Equipment” should be capitalized.

@bread-into-toast — Krofor, Corpse Hauler

Intent: It’s a nightmare insect? I’m down. Even without that particular piece of art I can see how people might be afraid of a giant bug. This is pretty evidently a Commander-geared card although I can see how casual brewers might want to throw it down in a combo match and do some graveyard hate. GW graveyard exile and black ability scavaging is pretty cool, so I can see where your intent was with that. Good catch putting “Nightmare” first, too. I almost suggested mixing it around. I like how aggressive this card can be.

Improvement: Firstly, Corpse Hauler is literally another card which already had a self-evident mechanical ability to get creatures back to the hand. Even if it’s an homage, I would distinguish it; besides, it’s not so much “hauling” corpses as it is eating them. Presumably. “All abilities” is a bit of a slippery slope, too. Activated abilities is one thing, but all abilities whatsoever? I’m uncertain if that’s design space you want to tap into, but don’t pull the trigger. My main issue is that you have the activated ability cost “X and W, B or G.” I understand what you were trying to do but that that point you might as well just have it be “1X.” There wouldn’t be anything stopping you from making that mana already. In short, rectify the name to fit flavor, change the ability cost, and be wary of weird interactions with abilities.

Nitpicks: “Lifelink” and “Vigilance” should be lowercase ‘l’ and ‘v’ respectively. The X in the rules text of the activated ability should also be spelled out and not a mana symbol. You can change this in MSE by highlighting, then going to the star next to the bold/italic toggle and turning it off.

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion — Sevala, Exiled Naturalist

Intent: I read up on what happened with Selvala after the events of the first Conspiracy set, and I see how you set off to mimic that, but then I saw the note about the Timeshifting, and yeah, I guess that works.. The green landfall, the red flashback and the white Path come across well. I suppose this is more of an eternal-themed card, although I could be wrong.

Improvement: Yeah, technically there’s nothing stopping you from having a noncreature card as a partnerable card. I’m trying to be diplomatic about the implications, though. Okay. So Selvala’s white aspect was introduced in the first Conspiracy set as she was heavily connected to the citizens of Paliano and worked as a community diplomat against the establishment. She forged a stronger connection to nature and thus became more green in her overhaul of the city. Path to Exile is not in her wheelhouse. She does not exile; she parlays, communes with creatures, seeks out new futures. What exiling magic does she have? What judgement? It doesn’t exist in her character, nor does the redness. Frankly landfall doesn’t really fit her character as well. The point is that even if a character could have a partner that’s a concept (which is antithetical to the mechanic as a whole), the spell you have chosen contrasts with Selvala instead of complementing her. And what does she have to do with flashback anyway? To improve this card, completely restart the conceptual process.

Nitpicks: The character’s name is misspelled.

@deafeningsandwichpeach — Ilharg, the Craze-Boar

Intent: Ha, I get it. I’m going to go out on a huge limb here, because I mean as much as I like all of this I get the feeling that either the name or art came before the full concept. Nothing wrong with that, because ultimately the card is good. SO. Either this is designed for a Timeshifted set where something really awful happens to our poor Boar God, or, well, something really bad DID happen to him somehow. I’m not sure what the land return represents flavorfully but it’s fine mechanically. The creature return as well is BR and I’m down for that, strong as it is. This card evokes the colors in a way that makes it slightly different than Jund; maybe it’s the art but I’m getting Innistrad vibes from him, the madness returning, the pain going on inside his head. It’s neat. Again, massive stretch though, let’s be real.

Improvement: And with that in mind, I wouldn’t have made him Ilharg. Honestly, this should’ve been a new character, and I would have been a lot more generous. I don’t really get what Ilharg as a whole even in an alternate timeline has to do with lands returning considering that he’s a big ol’ nasty city destroyer. Mechanically, this card needs to cost like EIGHT mana. The card you return from your graveyard to the battlefield stays there, and with a big enough graveyard you don’t have to worry about getting things from your hand anymore. Turns 1-4 dump all your creatures, turn five get the best of them if not earlier? Pretty busted in any format. For eight mana I wouldn’t complain.

Nitpicks: “up to two land cards,” not “lands.” Question: why isn’t he a God?

@deg99 — Radiant Return (JUDGE PICK)

Intent: Black reanimation, white attachment, red hastiness. All the colors are definitely there! There’s something Mardu-not-Mardu about this RWB card, and I think I like it. I could see it as a standard card, definitely, or as a commander staple for a really interesting commander. I’m honestly not sure exactly what kind of deck would really appreciate this card right now! Keskit/Akiri? The Auras part is a little more interesting. Ardenn/Vial...Smasher? The fact that it defies current archetypes but still makes sense is very cool to me. I also wonder what a standard expansion in which RWB auraquipment is an archetype would look like now.

Improvement: A little flavor text could make this work one degree better. It’s really on me that you went into the future with this card, isn’t it. There’s no major improvement to be made besides that. Consider contextualizing for future contests, perhaps? When necessary, anyway.

Nitpicks: “Return target...to the battlefield, then attach any number of Auras and/or Equipment you control to it...etc.” Don’t need the trigger.

@demimonde-semigoddess — Seaglide Whaler

Intent: A pirate’s life for me! So we got an aggressive tempo-y pirate person with a decent couple of sharpshooter abilities. Blue sirens are certainly reasonable, as are Grixis pirates. I like the notion that it has to attack to “survey” and then take whatever shots it makes. I don’t think Ixalan could have had this card but honestly the future is a place where anything could happen.

Improvement: The problem with these colors is that in practical terms, the second mode is strictly black and yet can be played in an Izzet deck. Hybrid is a weird mistress. As much as these abilities might neatly tie into the three colors, hybrid makes deck construction nearly impossible. You can have a pinger in UB or a Fatal Blow in UR, both of which are either severe bends or breaks. Making this a straight UBR 3/1 flier could have been okay, perhaps, or having on-color activations, but as it is now, hybrid makes things hard. Consider looking at a Venn diagram between UB and UR to consider more appropriate abilities?

Nitpicks: Kathari Bomber implies the second mode to be “...damage this turn and sacrifice Seaglide Whaler.”

@dimestoretajic — The Dark Tendril

Intent: Sultai skulk-lord could be a fun card to open and build around in limited, and a BUG defender-y deck could have some fun application. I like how you’ve made the new character and sort of done another take on treefolk.

Improvement: For this contest, I don’t feel a strong color balance in this card. Skulk was a weird black/blue centered mechanic, sure, and green assigns the toughness, but… This feels like it’s trying to make skulk look cool rather than address the issue that skulk was just plain not a good mechanic. I get where the color weight is supposed to be but the whole thing is shadowed by that underlying desire. If this card had just been “Creatures you control can’t be blocked by creatures with greater power” and the other stuff, on a name/type that was more resonant, then I think it could have been a stronger contender. I don’t understand the world in which “The Dark Tendril” lives. I don’t understand why it’s a treefolk. I would get rid of naming skulk, make the type more apparent, and give the character some character.

Nitpicks: Three-colored cards really should have a gold border, not a hybrid one. Also, promo frames tend not to have flavor text (with exceptions for cards with no rules text like Memnite).

@driftingthruthecosmos — Ulti, Sudden Conjurer

Intent: I like that triggered ability because it’s got some smooth flow over it. GU has its flash aspect, but black also likes destructive instants, and then the Disentomb-effect fits nicely into a payoff that feels black for sure. I also like how you’re using the three colors to push the card into a really neat 3/3 aggressive creature. Flash and deathtouch literally only show up together in these three colors but not together—and here you are changing that on a powerful legend!

Improvement: But the fact that she can only return creatures with flash is kind of a bummer. Sure there are plenty of cards that could work with her, and having some Ambush Viper casual tribal wouldn’t be too bad, but it’s still limiting. I would have implied that she works with flash, or let players work with flash, without being so specific about it, and I feel that the card would be improved with implied flash tribal over explicit in this case. Additionally, what on earth is that last ability doing? Each end step, you have to sacrifice a creature or lose one of your potential targets for her trigger? I have the feeling that you may have been too cautious to push power levels here. If you want to limit her, have it be “Whenever you cast your first spell during each opponent’s turn…” or something, and axe that last part.

Nitpicks: “unless you sacrifice a nontoken creature.” Full stop, you can never sacrifice creatures you don’t control so adding “you control” is redundant.

@dumbellsndragons — Gorvax, Lich of the Horde

Intent: It’s a Mardu zombie orc wizard. At this point, you’re already doing something right for the Timmies out there. The first ability has Tainted Remedy plus some crazy draw after that, and oh man, it’s begging to be punishing. “I’m gonna Heliod’s Intervention you. Deck yourself. Runeflare Trap. Molten Psyche.” But also, that second ability? You can Bolt during an opponent’s turn and turn it into a one-red-mana Ancient Craving. For mythic, to build around? I honestly think that that’s perfectly fine. And insanely powerful.

Improvement: There’s weird stuff going on, but the hard part is that I don’t know if there’s things to improve. Giving your spells lifelink has Jeskai precedent, but it’s not NOT black. Doing a little digging, I can see that there are indeed zombies and even liches on Tarkir, but only in Sultai… But there’s no reason that the Mardu wouldn’t have them, right? Hm, maybe “Victory or Death” gets muddled here. Wizard, though, that’s a sticking point. And frankly, the whole “Lich” thing. I don’t see the lichiness in the abilities or the wizardry in the Mardu. You know what would be dumb fun? Ditching the Mardu aspect and making this WUBR. Wouldn’t fit the contest but what a friggin’ commander.

Nitpicks: None!

@emmypupcake — Knight of Summer’s Vigor

Intent: I was surprised to see that there are actually quite a few green Knights. It makes sense, of course, considering both Eldraine and Bant and Selesnya. So yeah, an elf knight who makes more knights? This is a powerful card with some crazy abilities if it gets out of control at all, but the color restrictions and the lack of substantial evasion ensure that it’s not busted out of the gate. The name’s pretty good, too! Oh, Knight of New Alara...

Improvement: For this contest, I don’t feel color blending as much. Tokens with GW and knights with R(W) are fine, yeah, but aside from that, the colors of the tokens and the general feeling of the card isn’t enough to really excite me. I do want to see a set in which this card could exist, perhaps, with multicolored knights and elves and whatnot. I don’t have any real improvements for this card; I just don’t think it stands out against some of the weirdness. Keep it around and add some flavor text. Consider: what would you like for this set to be? In what world would these knights exist? Why is summer important?

Nitpicks: “Whenever,” not “when.” See Pollenbright Wings

@evscfa1 — Estrid, the Unmasker

Intent: The Commander sets with shard Planeswalkers did give us a lot to work with but not a lot of extra stuff, so it makes sense that people might pick up on them for the contest. White auras, exile, and taxing all make sense mechanically. I feel that this is more standard than supplemental, a little weirdness for the way that the specific tokens and all would want to work. I don’t mind that part, honestly. Bringing Estrid back would be fine by me, even as monocolored.

Improvement: Because, well, this is a mono-white card. The +1 creates white Auras (that don’t do anything, so that’s an issue), the -2 is close to Generous Gift, and the -8 is an enchantment-oriented Hum of the Radix, like a twist between Sphere of Safety and Aura of Silence. None of these abilities feel anything but white. The emblem is arguably UW, but not by much. With Auras that don’t do anything and a color identity that doesn’t mechanically contribute to the card, I feel that you can either keep her and buff some of the abilities or try to make her feel more in line with the contest, which you don’t really have to do at this point. I’m also worried about the name and the ability tie-ins. Estrid doesn’t “unmask” at all, does she? She’s a mask user, not a revealer of truth or any of the things “unmasking” would imply. Why would she make a False Mask? Is this some alternate storyline? If so, I don’t really understand what changed, or why.

Nitpicks: “*Its controller” in the -2, “*get an emblem” in the -8.

@fractured-infinity — Rhythm of Death (rare)

Intent: Red (/black) gains first strike, black (/green) has deathtouch, green (/red kind of) has lure. Everything’s coming together in a kind of keyword soup, so that’s all well and good! In limited someone who opens this will be very, very happy to make people cry. In casual Commander, it’s sure to help make negotiations.

Improvement: In terms of this contest, yeah, this isn’t really buttering my radishes. It’s there, it’s pretty standard, and it makes sense. There are two cards that have first strike and deathtouch and four more that can gain it naturally and all but one are in those colors. And that wouldn’t be a problem if this card was presented differently. I’m ignoring the art for now because it’s actually distracting here. What is the “rhythm?” Is something being given the rhythm? What’s repeating, cycled, constant? What about a rhythm gives the creature these abilities? Change the name, flavor it up, get some text in there, and use blank art.

Nitpicks: “Enchant creature (lowercase) >> Enchanted creature has first strike and deathtouch, and must be blocked if able.” Take that with a grain of salt, though. Protective Bubble might have it say “Enchanted creature must be blocked if able and has first strike and deathtouch.” Or you can cut the middleman and make it two lines: “Enchanted creature has first strike and deathtouch. // Enchanted creature must be blocked if able.”

@gollumni — Exotic Wings

Intent: It’s interesting that we have two back-to-back “must be blocked” cards (hm, no shorthand?) in a row, both Auras no less, but very different. I like your flavor use with the wings being a status symbol, bright and glittery, and therefore turning the creature into irresistible prey of sorts. Aura colors are good, and the solid green effect is in there as well. The mechanics fit a pretty standard-ly powerful draft uncommon that can be used for beating down when necessary.

Improvement: I’m 90% sure that right now GW doesn’t get flying by itself anymore, or at least very rarely. Pollenbright Wings and Shield of the Oversoul exist, so I’m on the fence. Maybe I’m biased with recent printings, but for two mana I’m not sure it’s what GW would need. That said, I’m sure there’s dissent and arguments to be made, and yes, I know its full color identity includes blue; this is pragmatic. I think this could have been solidly WUG with another buff, perhaps, but that just would have made it favorable for this contest and honestly it’s up to playtesting to see if those colors need a cheap flying aura. But the wings. The flavor. I… So these wings belong to birds, naturally? Who is summing this enchantment for mating? This is some kind of buff or boon that most any creature could have so in what world is some enchant-o-mancer giving “do me” wings to Mx. Passerby?? But, this may be just a quirk of the game, yeh?

Nitpicks: None!

@hiygamer — Etherium Replicator (JUDGE PICK)

Intent: Major kudos for making my look up Prototype Portal and seeing that my gut was wrong and that you DID use the right wording! This is a super-Esper card, more than any of the imprinted cards and honestly a great use of the art. Thopter Foundry is a great card but this one isn’t a bad use and would kind of make sense. Now, I’m not going to put this in improvements, because I want to ask a question: could this card be just plain UW? Possibly, but also consider: this card could be just a straight-up artifact as well, and it feels better how it is now. Why? Because the black invokes a different feeling. It invokes consumption, recycling, progress, larceny, calculation. It’s a very blue side of black. And it also feels, well, Esper! Its an established use of theme!... Honestly it’s probably more that. But I like it anyway. I’d say my bias was showing but none of the winners necessarily invoked Alara straight-up so thpt.

Improvement: There are mostly just wording errors. To be honest, if you’re getting something big, could this card be three mana? That’s probably pushing it, but worth testing. Multicolor custom cube time.

Nitpicks: “enterS the battlefield” (tense), “artifact or creature” (instead of the other way around), and most importantly: “Create a token that’s a copy of A CARD exiled with Etherium Replicator” etc. Because you can copy the ETB trigger and/or use shenanigans to exile other cards.

@hypexion — Ferrari, Sharp Scrapper

Intent: Well if my eyes don’t deceive me, it’s another Esper card! And an artifact-y card? Hm, artifact-enchant-y card. It’s easy to see the designation between colors, with self-mill and the lifegain going into black but leaning towards all three colors, the second ability being straight Disenchant, and the last one being an interesting UB pseudo-reanimation on the cheap, which is super interesting and aggressive. I can see this card intended as either a standard staple or being used as a supplemental planeswalker face card. There’d be a heavy amount of artifacts and enchantments for sure, probably artifact creatures.

Improvement: Did I miss something? When did WUB start caring about enchantments as a multicolor wedge identity? Alela and Zur have their thing, sure, but are those the baseline now? I’m more head-scratching and 0% mad, honestly. As a flavorful card, though, I’m not sure what you’re conveying exactly. So they get rid of stuff and they’re happy when they find garbage, but sometimes they want to scrap things they don’t like, but then they can recreate some of your garbage? Let’s back up and say that this card isn’t a Scrapper and that they’re an artifact/enchantment person. In the most general sense, I don’t really feel a harmony of ideas. The card feels one-note, like there’s very little to do besides abuse the -2 ability and maybe the -1 to get rid of some big thing on the table. The +1 exists to serve the -2, and the -1 feels like it’s trying to be protective for protection’s sake. I don’t know why this character does the things they do through the card. As utility planeswalkers become more abundant, the things they do have to be more resonant; imagine a fully-built world and put your card in the middle. No card is a metaphorical island.

Nitpicks: I think (maybe) that the +1 could be: “Mill up to three cards, then you gain 3 life for each artifact and/or enchantment card milled this way.”

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Corpse Spell

Intent: I think you made this very apparent. As a counterspell, it does the job well, and then it lets you get an idea for free! The choice of casting a noncreature spell is particularly interesting, as it plays into this weird and not-really-that-common theme of transfiguration. Obviously polymorphing appears in blue and red but it feels black because of the flavor you’ve chosen to convey. That’s a great job.

Improvement: The big mechanical thing is that I would 100% make this let you case an instant, sorcery or creature instead of just a “noncreature spell.” These colors don’t really feel like they could transmute a creature into something that’s not an idea or, well, a corpse, and it really seems as though that’s the idea you’re going for. The big flavor thing, though, is the name. I really and truly don’t know what you’re trying to convey. Now, I’m aware that English isn’t your first language, and that’s a barrier that I’m not sure how to cross for this kind of criticism. “Corpse Spell” seems like a playtest name. As a concept, this card is great. As a submission, I’m still having to extrapolate a lot; most importantly, it doesn’t tell me how the caster is using the magic to turn a creature into something else. Work on telling that story, and when possible, use native speakers to help get ideas across.

Nitpicks: I think the wording would be: “Counter target creature spell. You may cast target noncreature card with converted mana cost less than or equal to that spell’s converted mana cost from your graveyard without paying its mana cost, and if that card would be put into your graveyard this turn, exile it instead.” Because if you exile it as it resolves and it’s, like, an artifact or planeswalker, what’s the point? Hence my note about instants/sorceries and maybe other creatures.

@ignorantturtlegaming — Draxys, Scourge Eternal

Intent: This card absolutely fits the elemental shell. It feels to me like a standard or CMR-style bomb mythic that hits the table and kinda goes nuts. I mean, it wouldn’t be your commander probably, but in Conspiracy-style? Man. Multiplayer draft, that’s what I mean. It gets cards, it gets counters, it deals damage, then Blitz Hellion-s away. It does indeed feel like a blend of all the crazy things that come in these colors, and you did that much very well. It’s not broken, but it’s powerful, and it’s repeatedly monstrous (not the mechanic, lol) with the fear that it’ll return (until someone Doom Blades it, but that’s the game for ya). Great feeling of a massive beautiful monster.

Improvement: Really, the one thing I would do to improve it would be to consolidate the second and third triggers into “When Draxys enters the battlefield, draw four cards, put four +1/+1 counters on it, then it deals 4 damage divided as you choose among any number of creatures and/or planeswalkers.” No, wait—why not make it an 8/8 and just have it draw cards and deal damage? Because of its massive cost, you’re not gonna play it and then activate Wheel of Fortune in the same turn unless you’re playing some crazy massive game, and then it just shuffles away anyway! So, my suggestion would be to make this one massive bomb when it hits and really get the Timmy out of it.

Nitpicks: None!

@jsands84 — Quarrel, Tariff Enforcer

Intent: The colors are obvious enough, right? A sphinx (blue) based on taxing and punishing (white) to make your opponents lose life (black). Couldn’t be simpler. The color weight is reminiscent of standard cards like Ultimatum cycles but heck, we’ve seen weirder commander cards in the past. I like the fact that even though the color weight is really heavy, the keywords support that kind of aggression without being too overbearing like we’ve seen in other chase rares and mythics.

Improvement: That said, I don’t think it needs that weight at all. 3WUB would have done the exact same and it wouldn’t have looked awkward. Why would it need that weight in the first place? Well, perhaps if it entered the battlefield with an amazing immediate effect. And this card, well, it doesn’t. You have a great eye for flavor and the fact that a legendary (read:uniquely adept) sphinx is enforcing the tax laws of the universe? 10/10. But it doesn’t need that kind of punishment, especially considering, like, the effect really doesn’t come up outside of vintage. So yeah, reduce the weight.

Nitpicks: In the flavor text, “their” referring to the universe is kind of an odd pronoun. With most cases IIRC the concept is objectified instead of personalized, see Aether Adept. (Also there aren’t many cards with ‘universe’ in the flavor text, surprisingly.)

@justincase-1012 — Startling Wisp

Intent: Illusions are almost entirely blue (and one of only two illusions with zero blue in its box is Esper-centric, funnily enough) so that’s all interesting, but this is definitely breaking from the artifact theme and going for color flavor. The fact that it is the one doing the startling is somewhat black, but the discard definitely is. Because of the narrowness of this ability, I feel that it’s intended to be a draft/standard oriented card as opposed to eternal breadth. A 1/1 flying indestructible spirit in these colors is honestly pretty fair and ghostly!

Improvement: This card is too narrow to be common but definitely too specific to be rare, and that narrowness really is...weird. It doesn’t just require noncombat damage, but it requires noncombat damage from creatures. Why? “The next time a source would deal noncombat damage to you or another creature you control this turn” would be perfectly reasonable. Also, why the next phase? Just have it say “Then, if ~ is on the battlefield, return it to its owner’s hand.” The timing doesn’t feel necessary. And honestly, I don’t find this card “startling” much. It’s alluring, certainly, but not startling. Consider renaming and tightening the focus. Too narrow and things just get ugly.

Nitpicks: So you do need “this turn” as I said above, and then looking at other printed oracle text: “that damage is dealt to ~ instead” etc. etc.

@kytheon4-4 — Surrak of New Atarka

Intent: Surrak was a three-color monster the last time we saw him, and he’s back in action now and reclaiming his colors. This is definitely meant to be a commander of sorts, hyper-aggressive with some awesome combat to boot. The first ability’s Gleam of Battle is really aggressively costed here but it makes sense in a timeline when he’s reclaimed some kind of new unity. And of course, the callbacks to both Tarkir timelines is there and well and good. Color-wise, your choice to then go ahead and make a future new timeline is really interesting and I can feel that sort of “new ‘Naya’” blood pumping in Surrak’s veins.

Improvement: The first damage trigger is great, if pretty pushed for Naya colors. The second clause is… Well, call it a “winmore” if you want, but it really is a winmore. Big creatures are big and that’s okay, but if they’re that big and dealing damage, then an indestructible counter is kind of adding insult to injury. And frankly, why not combine these all into one trigger, so that the Gleam ability is just a little less pushed? Whenever the creature deals damage, THEN it gets a counter, and IF it’s four or greater THEN you draw a card, and THEN if it’s eight or greater, something weird happens.

Nitpicks: None!

@mardu-lesbian — Contentious Pair

Intent: A white Soldier, a red Goblin, and a deathtouch counter, and yep, the gang’s all here. Token-making in red and white is pretty standard, a little less for BR and more heavily in the white part of WB, but all the same there’s nothing wrong with that appearing in the three-color combo. It’s interesting you went for a post-Conflux kind of deal with Alara...wedges? Really unique. This is most definitely designed to be a common card for a standard expansion, meant to be drafted and whatnot. It implies a lot about the potential future!

Improvement: I’m unsure how you came up with these colors and creature types. Bant, the shard of soldiers, and Jund, of Goblins, do have one shared color: green. But then this card would have been what, white-green-red? And that’s problematic in another way, and I get that. As it stands, though, this feels heavily weighted towards BR and less towards white, and honestly, this feels definitely uncommon. You get two bodies at instant speed, one of which will most likely destroy an attacking creature. Instant deathtouch isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and it’s been in standard for a bit. The bodies and potential permanent deathtouch when you have an empty board is what raises the complexity. My flavor question: why are they contentious? Makes me feel like we’re seeing the start of the story more than a split-second moment; this card might feel better as an uncommon sorcery.

(Also, I’m just imagining them coming over a mountain at instant-speed during combat, and the soldier and the goblin are just talking about their differences and the goblin is showing off their poison dagger when a beast just WHAMS into them and they both instantly die as the soldier looks on in shock and horror. I do love it when cards tell weird stories.)

Nitpicks: None, I don’t think.

@misterstingyjack — Galtiber, Segovian Titan

Intent: Ah, the memes. Well, still, 1/1 tribal is an interesting take on the whole build-around-me dealio. I can honestly say I’m unsure where this card would fit, but that’s not a bad thing. It feels build-around me, but could it work in a limited environment? You’d need a higher as-fan of 1/1s or tokens, and that’s not a bad thing. Honestly, this card doesn’t feel too bad. He’s a protector and he makes them all work together. It’s a neat little design that captures the diligence, unity and edification of these citizens.

Improvement: I really can’t think of a place where this card would see play, though, and the issue is? There’s no real way to improve that past putting this in a pretty bonkers set where it can either go nuts or be mediocre. There are a lot of cool things you can do with this card, but where does he fit? Segovia is a weird plane and designing for it is hard. I love this card and would love to build with it but the fact is that it’s just going to be weird. I’ll put this in nitpicks, but there’s wording issues. Additionally, talking about the character by name in the flavor text is a little off-putting to me. I’m sure it’s happened before but the story feels like a moment being described more than a character.

Nitpicks: “Creatures you control with base power and toughness 1/1” is the correct way to word these things, Iiii think.

@morbidlyqueerious — Ricantha, Ribbon-Dancer (mythic) (JUDGE PICK)

Intent: As much as this technically could be someone’s general, I like this card as a standard-legal mythic, like Kethis or Yarok. It’s surprisingly easy to understand while being quite powerful in its own way. I wouldn’t call it a Voltron card so much as I would call it a control bomb, certainly for limited. The white-blue deals with the tapping, more the blue with the freezing, and the alluring aspect and keywords fill in the green. It brings a lot of the multicolored feel even with a monocolor activated ability.

Improvement: You know, the flavor almost outshines the color aspect. Looking back I do see the intent, but I’m also mostly seeing an interesting take on the dancing and the enchanting aspect. They’re vigilant, they ‘tie down’ the creatures, and they make other creatures follow them. Honestly, this is a case of “right card wrong contest,” where you made a great card to convey the specific act of ribbon-dancing and a dance leader so much that it overtakes the intent of color. The jokingly biting way of saying this is that you didn’t pander to me as a judge enough (/s). I don’t know about reach; first strike, maybe, to show their agility?

Nitpicks: The combat trigger should be one sentence, see the oracle on Kamigawa snakes.

@mtg-ds — Majak, Revival Instigator (JUDGE PICK)

Intent: Now I wouldn’t call this a gimmick card but I would say that there’s a lot going on here, again, with the flavor. Sacrificing each other creature actually feels white in a Cataclysmic way but with a black edge of making all the zombies. Hasty zombies fills in the red and plays into the instigative aspect, and man, getting everyone out onto the dance floor? I’ll admit that this card is kind of silly with the art, but there’s something unusually cathartic about it. He enters, turns them all into zombies, makes them dance, then whenever someone else dies they join the dance, and when he leaves the music stops. Like, it’s kind of brilliant, how the zombies can’t dance without him. As a flavorful card for a supplemental set I think that you did a fantastic job.

Improvement: My first small note is that the art is again really distracting, and like, I understand that that might’ve been the purpose but “zombie dance party” out of context feels a little unusual, and the name “Revival Instigator” is a touch on the nose. But those are small concerns next to the fact that this card really could have been black/red and wouldn’t have made that much of a difference. Could’ve even kept the Cleric typing. Again, I need to also say that this card is downright fantastic mechanically, but just not quite white there for the purposes of this contest. Keep this card as-is, maybe make him a Human IMO. I don’t have any significant improvements.

Nitpicks: None!

@naban-dean-of-irritation — Tamakoma, Spectral Shiver (JUDGE PICK)

Intent: Clever clogs, I looked up that name and it is indeed fitting! Very clever you are, just as clever as giving the UB flash ninja ETB feeling that strikes fear into the heart of those who don’t know she’s coming. White’s got the spirit flash and indestructible, black’s got deathtouch, flash, AND indestructible, and blue’s got the ninja feeling. Something tells me this would totally be a supplemental card unless Kamigawa goes three-colors, but to be honest I get a MH1 vibe more, and that’s okay too. Major kudos for making me double-check cards like Ambuscade Shaman for this weird wording.

Improvement: I can see how this card would be white flavorfully; I think its just precedent working against you. Because of the way that black has been encroaching upon indestructible in the past couple years, this card could just be blue-black and fit into the ninja feeling just as well. I personally like the white spirit aspect. It’s just not as present here as I would have liked for this contest. Great card, no mechanical improvements.

Nitpicks: I don’t know if “the hollows of the night” are, like, a thing? I don’t know, just as a writer it reads weird to me. One day I’ll be accredited and that won’t seem like such a jackass comment too.

@nine-effing-hells — Llanlaia Rywh, the Inmost Eye

Intent: I like your take on elves here, using the focus and mood to turn the ordinarily green elves into some warrior monastery funky stuff. I’m getting the sense of a cave world, or some kind of twisted plane where expectations are thwarted and the different races of Magic have to find their own kind of way around. Definitely a face card for the tribe in whatever set it’s based in.

Improvement: There’s no blue and black here, or at least I’m not feeling it mechanically, and for this contest that’s the most important thing. Giving a Runed Halo effect on a pump is really darn powerful, and to have this dismiss any damage or removal at instant speed is definitely powerful and definitely white. The concept of looking within for meditation is a bit blue, sure, but I don’t see that expressed on this card as much. I do have some major presentation issues. The name is almost completely unpronounceable, so consider shortening it and cleaning it significantly. The flavor text is also in need of shortening and edits. “Look within to look around.” With a hint that the elves are blind, boom, you’re golden. So: name change, flavor paring, and consider that this card feels overall white. That said, for flavor and balance reasons for this card, keeping those colors is fine. Also consider that this is a really damn powerful beater.

Nitpicks: None that I can tell.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff — Everlasting Forefather

Intent: Here’s the thing: I’ll get to stuff in the ‘improvements’ section but mechanically, this card is really interesting for a number of flavorful reasons. Three-mana 4/3 with mentor is perfectly powerful in these colors, that’s great, flavorfully fine as a forefather. Creating two spirits upon death, awesome, those are the embodiments of his students and ideals, and most importantly, play into the embalm, where his zombie can teach the spirits after death and makes for great flying beaters, AND that Zombie token will make more spirits in remembrance. The use of flavorful mechanics gives it an interesting edge even if all these individual mechanics could be in mono-white.

Improvement: One, I would personally make this a warrior, but that’s super minor. Two… I can’t think of any reason outside a custom set where you’d have three non-evergreen mechanics from three different sets and two different planes on the same card. It feels like a custom card, not in the sense that it’s at all thoughtless or amateurish, because it’s not, but because there’s no way of making these pieces come together in a meaningful way; it feels like you’re removing the restrictions on what can go together for the sake of it. MH1 did have some mechanical mashups and we’ve explored that before. This feels like a bit too much for what we’re looking for. Honestly, for a custom multicolor cube or w/e, keep this card. But you might also want to consider MSE or having someone render for you, because with the VERY necessary rules text, this one takes up a lot of text; no room for flavor, and no need, ‘cause you do it all naturally anyway.

Nitpicks: Mm, none, I don’t think!

@reaperfromtheabyss — Glorified Minddrinker (JUDGE PICK)

Intent: This is definitely asking to be in a standard/draftable set as a tribal beater. You give it evasion, you use other vampires/warlocks to mess stuff up, you get in, and you drink. BW vampire lifegain meets the milling, and there you have it. What I really like is the fact that it’s “any card,” like Bloodchief Ascension, but that feels blue, because they’re drinking from the mind and not just the body, and I dunno, I REALLY like that kind of neat flavor niche. I also love how this makes a really roundabout already-exploited infinite combo with Sanguine Bond and Mindcrank, both of which are halves of other better combos.

Improvement: Mechanically, there’s nothing to improve here, except you might want to consider some kind of evasion. I think there’s just the nitpick of having “Glorified” in there without any understanding of what makes this creature glorified or why. A snippet of flavor could have helped with that, and with only two abilities. I don’t know, this one just didn’t pop to me for some reason. It’s a perfectly fine submission, and it just needs a little more pop.

Nitpicks: None! Nice and clear.

@shootingstarhunter — Storm Key

Intent: I find it interesting that the mana made from sacrificing is red but the abilities have a central Riku-like fascination. This feels like a supplemental card for sure, although I’m sure there are standard shenanigans. It would require a set in which RUG/Temur has an artifact theme and in which giving things storm is on the table. I have the feeling that in a genuinely competitive Maelstrom Wanderer deck that this card could turn a possible win into a guaranteed win. It’s there to help big things be bigger, but without a win-more feel, and I like that.

Improvement: In terms of this contest, it lacks elegance in its cohesion. The flavors don’t necessarily blend as well as they could. There’s a lot of rules text that emphasizes the separation rather than blending it together. My suggestions: Make it just cost RUG, no generic, reword the first ability to be: “When ~ is put into a graveyard from the battlefield, add R for each spell you’ve cast this turn,” and the second ability to “5, T, Sacrifice ~: When you cast your next instant, sorcery or creature spell this turn, copy it for each spell you’ve cast before it this turn.” And then add reminder text about targets and permanents. A tiny bit more flexible and less text, and you can add in some flavor. Personally I don’t really get the “Key” aspect. It feels more like a big machine of sorts.

Nitpicks: Remember to capitalize “Sacrifice” in the ability costs. Second reminder text should be “You don’t choose new targets for the copies.” I think, there’s not much precedent. Check the MSE Discord for tech help in getting your name/type text straightened out if you’d like.

@snugz — Erratic Polymorph (JUDGE PICK)

Intent: This does feel very wild, more of the Temur frontier or even the Ketria triome. Either one of those sets getting a return could have this, or a supplemental draft set on that world, or a commander product aimed at those timelines. This card’s pretty flexible in that sense! The red lack of control over twisty magic is definitely evident, with the green bear and the blue otters as representative of those sides of the wild. I like how you took blue’s natural sense and made it river/forest oriented. Big boys and little boys do different kinds of cool damage. I can dig it! (Although I’m more inclined to bears than otters myself…)

Improvement: I wouldn’t call this “elegant” as a primary adjective for its color balance, even though it’s very neat still overall. The obviousness of green being bears and blue being otters doesn’t take away from the fact that both of them make sense. The long and short is that I don’t have card improvements, and this card’s just for a different contest.

Nitpicks: None-zo

@starch255 — Dopplicant

Intent: Very clever, I see. You used white’s enchantment base for the card type even though it’s a strictly red and blue ability. Copying any spells is on the table now with Lithoform Engine so that makes sense. This could be in just about any set with these colors, and you know what, that’s perfectly fine. Jeskai, Raugrin (ugh), or otherwise, there’s cool stuff happening.

Improvement: With a vague name and flavor, it’s easy to have this card be a thumbs-up mechanically, but what...exactly is it? It’s name makes me think of the creature Duplicant, which is fine, makes sense, although it’s not a creature here like any of the other “-cant” cards. I just can’t place it, which is obviously a presentation thing over a mechanical issue. For the Fair, presentation is somewhat important, and also contextualizes your cards. It might just be a “me” thing to keep in mind for when I’m judging, so don’t take it personally at all. I think the idea is sound and all we need is polish.

Nitpicks: None~

@stormtide-leviathan — Jeskai Confluence

Intent: Like the confluences of C15, this is a charm-like modal spell with three pretty standard modes for the colors: blue draw, red damage, white erase. I can see this being part of either a standard return to that other timeline or as part of a “clan clash” supplemental set for sure.

Improvement: In the main post, there were examples like Shattergang Brothers that were posted as technically fine but not elegant. Totally separating your colors and abilities was part of that, breaking the cohesion. Unfortunately, charm effects were most definitely part of that area. I know that Magic design space isn’t eternally open, and I hate to say this, but because this card uses 2/3 abilities already found on the printed confluences and only minorly changes the damage, this feels somewhat derivative. I would go back to the drawing board and look at overlap rather than individualization, what the colors could have done together to make a card that creates something unique.

Nitpicks: There should be a period after “once” instead of an emdash.

@thedirtside — Twisted Design

Intent: I think that with Tezzeret being who he is and with the cool trend of colored artifacts, this card could absolutely find play in a variety of places. It feels almost like a story card, someone’s terrible (well, twisted) creation. That much is absolutely apparent. The counter/exile is definitely blue and black-ish but I like how the theft kind of ends up being red as well and the artifact typing helps with that. Flavor text is pretty okay too. Short, simple.

Improvement: That...second ability. Are you choose a card as part of a cost? I’m no rules guru but I’m almost certain that you can’t do that. And it doesn’t specify the speed, so you can basically pay the (very fair) cost to exile the spell, but then very unfairly get it back anytime you want. Why random, too? What if that spell has other random restrictions or no legal targets? There’s a lot to unpack from that with no printed precedent because, to put it bluntly, it doesn’t work within the rules. I really like the idea of having a card where you can somehow steal, twist, or morph their spells into new nightmares or futures. Work with that idea to make something URBy that, well, works rules-wise.

Nitpicks: It took me a bit to find your source photo with your source link (X), and I don’t even think that blog’s using proper permission. Here’s the gist: if you can’t find the original photographer, either go stock or don’t use art, OR find a source that’s more easily traceable. Pretend that you’re someone who has to find the source working backwards.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path — Ziziphus, the Lotus Eater

Intent: I could never be like him, I could never talk like that. Also, thank you for making this explicitly commander-based, heh. Food tokens are interesting, and I can see the token art already as well as the kind of person you might imagine Ziziphus to be. Oddly enough, they feel Therosian, considering the “lotus eaters” in the Odyssey, and that’s not a bad thing I suppose. Food’s sort of in the green area, with blue-white profiteering, and the general combat lull sort of encapsulating the whole GWU-ish control feeling. Turbo-fog ahoy.

Improvement: Competitive commander gets shut down pretty easily and casual commander becomes almost instantly unfun. It’s an instant-speed everyone-gets-it nigh-uncounterable Pacifism array that’s flavorfully understandable but puts a target on you as the one person to kill if anyone wants this game to ever end. I understand the top-down design but it’s impractical and I don’t see a game where this being your commander would make the gameplay better. So like Gwafa Hazid, consider your design: what would entice people to take the food? What’s the payoff? How often do you want this to happen to improve gameplay without causing staleness? Is food where you want to go, using lifegain to then further prolong the game?... Oh. Oh, someone can also just lorus-ify Ziziphus itself and then nothing happens in this version. That’s something to consider.

Nitpicks: The name’s really similar to “Sisyphus” in pronunciation. I was distracted.

@whuh-oh — Tainted Lightninghorn

Intent: Some day, I think we’re gonna get a five-color Lightning Blankemental kind of card, and I can’t wait for it. So yeah, it’s an aggressive predatory insect elemental with nasty sauce, and I feel this in a supplemental set for sure.

Improvement: So as an uncommon, it’s already pretty pushed, too much so. Ball Lightning set a precedent, and it’s a rare for a reason, honestly. That much power even for four mana with the abilities you’ve given it is a but much. For this card, most importantly, I need to be as clear as I can: The interaction between deathtouch and trample is an unintuitive quirk of the game. They do not belong on the same card with zero restrictions, especially not on an uncommon. Sometimes it’s okay to just make a cool card because it’s cool. I like my weird cards, I like my weird interactions. Forcing them feels like choosing indulgence over good design. I’m not feeling the uniqueness of the colors, I’m not feeling the flavor (why does lightning leave decay?), and I’m not feeling the gameplay. Where do we go from here? I think this general concept is fine for a personal set or a supplemental concept. Contextualize it for that area, look at environmental answers, and then see if you want to play with what the colors do.

Nitpicks: I’m 90% sure it’d go “Deathtouch, haste, menace, trample.” Also, I’m sure someone pointed out the whole flying-without-flying thing for the art, that’s very mildly distracting.

@wolkemesser — Murmurs of the Bosk

Intent: Yeah, this is very much a Lorwyn-inspired card, and I’m happy for that. Both the treefolk flavor and the permanent return are green, returning to the battlefield is white and black, and the white enchantment plus toughness matters (also in green) gives this card a magnificent flow of feeling, the trees returning. I can see this in any set, but especially a standard return to Lorwyn, and yet it could have a home in several cool recursion decks! It’s a nice little addition for both lovers of slow return and for treefolk fans.

Improvement: This card was going to be a runner-up or even a judge pick, but the severity of nitpicks grew until I realized that there were just too many problems to give it full commendation. I’ll put the revised wording in the ‘nitpicks’ bar and get to the big ones: the name, and the flavor text. The name is obviously an homage to Murmuring Bosk, right? That’s understandable, but the name is literally so close that I can’t think of anything else. The difference between being honoring and being derivative is enigmatic at times. This particular case is more evident. And the flavor text is almost completely ripped off from Doran’s card itself. Literally, it keeps the order and adds four words that don’t add sense or depth to the character. For future submissions, keep that in mind. As a mechanical suggestion, you could just have it be the greatest toughness without targeting, and it does need to target the card in the graveyard.

Nitpicks: “At the beginning of your upkeep, you may return target permanent card with converted mana cost X or less from your graveyard to the battlefield, where X is the greatest toughness among creatures you control.”

Join us tomorrow, for a new contest, and a brush...with DEATH.

- @abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #commentary #three cheese blend #inventor's fair #long post

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Late nights, Date nights

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word count: 4.1 K words

Warning: There is fluff and humour in the beginning and smut towards the end. If you are not comfortable reading it, I have distinguished is with asterisks (*)

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

Songs: Eyes off you by Prettymuch and Unbelievable by Why Don't We

Forgive me if there are any mistakes.

Ethan was pacing around in his office, marching so hard, that it left tracks in the carpet of his office.

C'mon Ethan, Leah is your fucking girlfriend. You can eat her out but, can't ask her out on a simple fucking date??!!

It was their six month anniversary, after months and months of pining over each other. When he thought about it now, he wondered why was he so against the concept? He thought that he was doing the right thing by not giving in, but in the end, he just ended up hurting himself and his Leah.

Leah... His sunshine.

The concept of nicknames never really appeased him. It was such a ‘teenager’ thing to do. When he was with Harper, the word 'babe' made him cringe so hard that it made him want to throw himself off the railing of the mezzanine floor of the hospital.

But with Leah, it was different. She breathed back life into the parts of his soul, which he thought were long dead. She constantly challenged him, pushed him to be a better doctor, a better friend and a better partner. She brought light, to the valleys of abyss and grief. Just like nothing can escape light, Ethan could not escape Leah's affection.

And he didn't want to run anymore..

He had never felt these intense emotions in a very long time. His mother leaving him at a tender age of eleven, made him grow up way to soon. It fucked him up. It made him close up and build walls to protect his heart from such earth shattering pain. It made him distant and cold.

But now he laughed more. Smiled more. And he knew that Leah was the one who saved him.

His salvation. His saving grace. His sunshine.

He decided enough was enough. He spoke to HR and Naveen and they gave them the green light. Leah had already made a great reputation in the hospital for her work ethic, her passion and her compassion. So why waste anymore time?

Ethan was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Leah come in. "Woah woah Ethan. Are you trying to wear the carpet thin? You just got this office?!" Ethan looked up and saw Leah leaning against the door, with a smile. She was wearing a green blouse with a black pencil skirt. Ethan approved mentally.

"Hey sunshine."

"Hey yourself." She said as she closed the door and stepped into Ethan's embrace. He buried his face into her hair, and inhaled the lavender scent, which immediately soothed him. To him, she smelled like spring. She was perfect.

God, could you be any more sappier Ethan? Be a man.

But he knew, that if Leah even looked his way, he would be down on his knees.

"How was your day?" Ethan asked as he kissed her crown.

"It was so productive. I saved a nine year old girl today. Seeing her parents happy... It was beautiful."

"Well, I never doubted you once." He said with a tender smile, cupping her cheeks. "Also, do you have plans for tonight?"

"Yeahhhh, today is just an ordinary day, with no anniversary whatsoever. I was planning on going home and binging on greys-"

"Sunshine, don't talk shit."

"Hey, but you still love me."

"That I do... Anyways I have made a reservation in 'Osteria' tonight to celebrate our anniversary."

"E, you know that I wouldn't mind staying in bed and drinking cheap wine right?"

"I know, but I want to spoil my baby!! Be ready, I will pick you up by seven."

"I will be ready."

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Ethan rolled up to Leah's penthouse and send her a message. He had donned his black tux but had skipped the tie. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his crisp white shirt. He was going to call her again, when he heard a tap on the window. He looked up and the phone almost fell out of his hands.

Leah stood in front of him, wearing a black evening gown. It was an off shoulder, which showed her collarbones. She was also wearing the ruby stone necklace, her birthstone, which Ethan had gifted her on her birthday. Her jet black hair had been tied up to a messy side bun, a few rebellious strands blowing in the night wind. He steeped out to open the door for her when he almost tripped at the sight.

The dress had a slit which almost went up to her thighs, putting those glorious bronze legs on display.

God, she was gonna be the death of me.

"Wow. You look gorgeous Dr. Garcia."

She blushed red. "You don't look so bad yourself Dr. Ramsey." He pecked her on her lips.

"Shall we?" He opened the door for Leah, like a true gentleman.

"Yes, we shall." Leah giggled and stepped in. Ethan walked around and sat in the driver's seat, and they pulled out of the curb.

The entire ride was filled with jokes, heated gazes and silent promises. Ethan had placed his hand on her bare thigh, slowly caressing it. Leah knew that it was risky to wear such a gown, but she took the chance anyway. And now here she was, slowly going crazy with Ethan's hand on her thigh.

She wanted to devour him. He looked delectable and so very handsome in a tux. The open buttons, gave her a peak of his collarbones and she literally salivated. Collarbones have always been her weakness.

Soon, they showed up at the restaurant. After handing of the keys to the valet, and borderline threatening him that if there was even one scratch, he would have a nice chat with the manager, they headed towards the restaurant.

"God Ethan, you are such a Karen." Leah giggled.

"I maybe old, but I got that reference!! And no, I am not. I am particular."

"Whatever floats your boat babe." She linked her hands in his and they headed towards the hostess.

"Welcome sir and ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" The hostess asked.

"Yeah... Please check under the name Ramsey."

The hostess checked the log book for a long time. Ethan started sweating. What was taking her so long?

"I am afraid but, there is no reservation under that name sir." The hostess replied timidly, after Ethan's cool eyes landed on her.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Hundred percent sir."

"But it does not make sense...I called two months before to get a reservation... Do you have any empty tables?" Ethan said, pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly getting frustrated.

"Sorry sir but... All the tables are occupied."

Goddammit Ethan!! You had one fucking job.

He led Leah back to the valet and ran a hand through his hair. "I am so sorry sunshine. I just wanted this evening to go perfect and I had to go fu-"

Leah put a finger on his lips. "No. You haven't fucked anything up. It's the gestures that counts. Also, the night is young."

"But you heard the hostess-"

"Well, I have some ideas on how we can spend our anniversary." Ethan just gave her a quizzical look. She took the car keys from the valet and turned towards Ethan and winked. "Get in the car Ramsey. Get ready for the best night of your life."

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"So your 'best night' includes shopping at Target??" Ethan asked amusement sparkling in his ocean blue eyes.

"Shut up. Where we are going, we need a little more casual clothing."

"But I like your gown. It helps me slip my hand-"

"Shh Ethan!! We are in public. Keep it PG 13 for now." Leah said, as she blushed red. Ethan just laughed, enjoying teasing her.

Leah proceeded to pay for the clothes and pushed Ethan into the changing room with his set of clothes. Ethan simply obliged because by the look of the determined glint in her eyes, he didn't want to be trampled by a woman on a mission.

The dark jeans fit him perfectly and the grey V-neck fit him snugly. He was wearing his slip ons when Leah came out of the dressing room, smoothening her outfit.

She was wearing a black tank top which she tucked into a baby pink skater skirt. On top of the tank top, she had slipped on a denim jacket. "How do I look babe?" She asked as she observed herself in the mirror.

"You know that even if you wore a potato sack, you would still be the prettiest woman I have ever laid my eyes on, right?" Ethan said earnestly.

She gave a soft smile and kissed his bearded cheek. She plopped down next to him and slipped on her white converse hightops.

"Seriously sunshine? Converse again? You literally have so many at home."

"Well I don't have this style. And you know what they say, 'once a converse girls, always a converse girl'." She said as she brushed him off.

"Sunshine.... literally no one says that."

"It's all in the details, E. C'mon let's go."

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After a half an hour drive, Leah pulled into the make shift parking lot near the docks. They got out and Ethan let out an appreciative whistle. "Wow."

Leah had brought them to the annual fair, where there were tonnes of food stalls and gaming places. The entire place had been decorated with LED lights that were illuminating the Boston night sky. The Ferris wheel stood tall and proud, moving at a gentle pace. The place was littered with a number of game stalls like 'shoot the bottle' and 'ring toss' where people competed to get a prize. Fairy lights hung from the trees around there and a number of people were sitting under them, laughing, eating and drinking cheap beer.

On the other end there were a number of food stalls open, which were being catered by the numerous food joints in the city. The crowd near the ice cream vendors and the cotton candy vendors were unreal.

"Oh. My. God. Ethan they have go karting as well!!" Leah exclaimed grabbing Ethan's arm and pointing towards the make shift track. The karts had designs in various neon colors and the entire track had been painted with glow in the dark paint.

Leah continued to point at the different places and stalls, talking excitedly, but Ethan's eyes stayed glued to Leah's face with a small smile. The child like wonder in her brown eyes made Ethan melt. Her voluminous dark hair blew with the wind, caressing Ethan's face. The way the neon lights reflected on her caramel skin, the way there was an pearly smile on her face and the way she clutched Ethan's arm made his heart do somersaults.

"Are you even paying attention?" Leah asked, breaking Ethan from his reverie.

"Sorry, I didn't get the last part. Was blow away by how beautiful the view is."

Leah rolled her eyes and smacked Ethan's arm. But there was a small smile on her face.

"Let's go to the go karting place."

"Oh yes. Can't wait to see you behind in the dust." Ethan said with a teasing smile.

"Oh honey. I can't wait to see your face after I defeat you. If you think I am going to go easy on you just because I love you, you are very very wrong." Leah said with a coy smile.

"Oh you are so on. Winner can ask the loser anything and buys snacks."

"Let's do this." Leah said as she cracked her knuckles.

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"So...what do I ask you?" Leah questioned herself, with her fingers tapping against her chin. She had won hands down. She got a tacky medal which she decided to wear for the rest of the evening. She just continued to wear a smug smile on her face, so that she could annoy Ethan.

"Please, just get it over with." Ethan groaned as he munched on the caramel popcorn.

"Hmmm.... Which is your favourite place to kiss me?"

"Hmmm..that's a tough question.. see, my favourite place is your pussy but I think your neck would be my favourite place to kiss." Ethan mused.

"Why?" Leah asked as she took a bite of bite of the cotton candy, letting it dissolve on her tongue.

"There are three reasons- One, the moment I kiss your neck, you have that wanton and 'fuck me' expression which drives me crazy. Secondly, the moans you let out are....oh Lord. Just thinking about them gives me a bad case of blue balls. And lastly, you become so wet and ready for me... It makes the experience much more memorable." He said nonchalantly as he continued to munch on the popcorn, seeing Leah's reaction from the corner of his eyes.

Leah was blushing wildly. Ethan may come across as a gentleman but his dirty talk made her knees weak like jello. He could speak things that would make a priest blush. "That's not true." Leah weakly objected as she stuffed her face with cotton candy.

"Oh really? So if I do this.." Ethan reached to place a hot, wet kiss on the spot below her ear. Leah's mouth opened slightly at the intense feeling. Her body flushed wildly. Her toes curled as Ethan continued to lick and suck. She felt herself getting wetter and wetter when his teeth sank into the tender spot on her neck. After what seemed like eternity, he pecked it and moved back to admire his handiwork. "....it won't do anything?" He asked in a husky voice.

Leah didn't dare to look at him because she knew that if she would, her face would betray everything. Also she didn't want to see the shit eating grin on his face.

"Shut up." Leah grumbled as she tore and ate her cotton candy more aggressively.

"But I didn't say anything!"

"I know what you are thinking so shush."

Ethan laughed a deep laugh, his dimples on display as he wrapped his hand around her waist. "It's okay sunshine. You can tie me up and have your way later." He said as he kissed her crown.

"Oh look, there is a shooting booth." Leah said, changing the topic before her mind could go into full fantasy mood of Ethan being below her, moaning her name as she rode him six ways to Sunday.

They reached the stall which was decorated in a western country style. "Howdy! Wanna shoot somethings?"

"I'm a healer but.." Leah picked up the shotgun and loaded it while Ethan rolled his eyes. He will never understand her obsession with anime.

"Shoot all the balloons on that board and then you can choose what prize you want." The guy with the handlebar moustache said.

With quick precision, she shot all the balloons in a matter of seconds. She then twirled the gun around her finger and blew the smoke away. "And that's, how you do it in the wild wild west." She said in a smoldering voice.

Ethan and the gamekeeper had their jaws on the floor.

Could she get any more attractive? Ethan asked himself.

"Damn girl.." the old guy with the funny moustache spoke.

Leah gave out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, can I get those rose tinted glasses?" She pointed to a pair of cat eye sunglasses.

"Sure girlie."

After wearing them she grabbed Ethan and walked hand in hand towards the next booth. "Sunshine, what is the point of these glasses if they can't even cover your eyes?"

"These are stylish and I can wear them when I am going out."

"I don't think I can ever understand your sense of fashion."

"Uh duh!! You guys can't even distinguish between 'peacock blue' and 'turquoise' colour."

"Is there even a difference between them?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"A fine example right here."

Ethan lightly shoved her but Leah just held onto their intertwined fingers. She pulled him to her, went on the tip of her toes and kissed him. Ethan cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly and tenderly. The sounds of people talking, the mainstream pop music playing through speakers, everything disappeared as they kissed each other under the neon lights.

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

"Oh god...I am so full!" Leah groaned she leaned back on her hands. They were sitting under a secluded tree, with golden fairy lights hanging off them.

"Sunshine, I think you will have to roll me out of here." Ethan groaned as his hands caressed her bare thighs, which she had thrown over his lap. He picked up their popsicle sticks, and threw them in a perfect arc, into the nearby dustbin.

"I can't roll out a 6 feet something skyscraper on my own. I would die."

"Sucks to be short." Ethan stuck his tongue out.

"Hey your tongue is blue!!" Leah exclaimed.

"And your is red from the strawberry flavour." He observed.

"Wanna make purple?" Leah asked slyly, waggling her eyebrows.

Ethan guffawed at the expression and soon she also joined in his laughter. She clutched her stomach. "Oww....shouldn't try to laugh too much. Gosh, I shouldn't have taken that second helping of Quesadillas."

"C'mon let's take you home." Ethan stood up and grabbed Leah's hand so that he could pull her up to stand. She dusted her skirt and then intertwined their fingers. She leaned against him, as they headed towards the exit.

"Sunshine?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you."

"You can thank me in different ways later." Leah said, as her brown eyes darked with desire.

Ethan just smirked and squeezed her to his side.

"That's a promise baby."

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

The moment they entered Ethan's penthouse, Ethan pressed Leah against the door. Leah's let out a sharp breath and she looked up at the stormy blue eyes. She could see the desire and the lust swimming in those blues of his and she could also feel the desire in her, ignite like a slow fire.

Ethan cupped her cheek and pulled her in for a heated kiss. She went on her tiptoes to meet him half way. With their lips locked in a passionate embrace, she still felt that he was too far away. So, she hooked her fingers on the belt loops and tugged him closer to her.

Getting the memo, he moved closer until they was no space between them except their clothes. Ethan reached to take her jacket off, which he threw across the room. The need to get her naked, writhing and moaning under him, was becoming overwhelming.

She took out Ethan's shirt and moaned when she felt his warm skin on hers. She wrapped her arm around his neck while she laid her other hand on his bare chest. Her dainty fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. They caressed his chest, his back, his abs and were about to go lower, to his happy trail when he growled and caught them.

He grabbed her thighs and lifted her so that her legs were around his waist. He took her hands and pinned them against the door. The kiss was a fight for dominance, where nobody seemed to be a clear winner. Leah slipped her tongue into his mouth and he groaned appreciatively.

He tastes like ambrosia, sweet nectar and all the good things in life. Leah knew that she could never ever get over the way he tasted.

Ethan lifted her with ease and led her to the first surface he found, the dining table. He moved his hands under her tank top and groaned when he found out she wasn't wearing a bra.

"God Leah, you know how much control it takes to be around you? That when you pull such stunts on me, I just want to bend you over and fuck you on the first surface I find?"

"So what's stopping you?" Leah asked. She pulled him in for another searing kiss.

"After I am done with you...you won't be able to walk for a week." He spoke in a husky voice, filled with need. He took of her tank top and growled appreciatively at the sight of her breasts.

Leah smiled coyly. "Don't make promises you can't keep Ramsey." Ethan just narrowed his eyes and kissed her with so much force, that it made her gasp. His hands reached for her ass and squeezed it.

He then descended on her neck kissing and licking the small droplets of sweat accumulated on her neck. He slowly grinding against her heat, making her aware of how badly he needed her. His hands went from her ass to her breasts. He massaged it before pinching the nipples. Leah yelped. Ethan did not once show her mercy, as he stimulated each sensitive spot on her body. Leah felt as if her nerves were on fire.

He slowly made his way down south, leaving fiery hot kisses on her body. Not having any patience left, he just lifted her skirt up and quickly slid her panties out. Seeing her exposed pussy just made his jeans tighter around his growing erection. He blew air on her wet cunt, leaving goosebumps on their wake. "What are you doing?" Leah asked breathlessly. She was finding it hard to keep her eyes open due to the desire coursing through her veins.

"What we do on a table Sunshine.... Eat." His dark blue eyes met her brown ones and he licked her dripping slit, slowly. Leah thought she was going to loose it at that very instant.

He gripped her thighs and threw them over his broad shoulders and proceeded to eat her out, properly . He swirled his tongue on the sensitive bud of nerves and then went on to stick his tongue into her wet pussy.

He let out a moan, which resonated deep in her core.

He never once slowed his pace. He continued to lap up all the moisture. He alternated between her clit and her cunt. As he pushed his fingers in her, and fucked her, Leah climbed higher and higher. Her stomach started to tighten, with the need to release.

"Oh god...I am gonna come..."

Ethan stopped his hand movements and rose to his full height. Leah's eyes snapped open and she glared at him.

"Fuck you Ethan!! Who the hell gave you the fucking righ- ohhhh."

He shoved his dick slowly into her, enjoying the way her walls clenched around him. They fit each other perfectly. Like two jigsaw puzzles. You couldn't differentiate, where he ended and where she started.

This..this was heaven.

He slowly moved, in and out. But Leah wasn't having it.

"Ethan, I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure you can handle it sunshine?"

"I ain't no weak bit-" Leah couldn't complete her sentence because at that moment he snapped his hips and started fuking her. He held her hips with one hand for leverage and his other hand gently squeezed her throat, feeling her rapid pulse under his hand.

He did not let go of the punishing rhythm he had set. He moved his hips in such a way that he hit her on that spot which made Leah see stars. It was quite a view for Ethan. The moonlight streaming through the glass facade and illuminating her sheen skin. Her eyes half closed, her breasts moving with every stroke and her legs wound around his hips.

"Please, please, please let me come." Leah choked.

Ethan also felt a tingle in his lower back and his abs constructing. He was close too. His strokes became faster and shorter.

"Okay sunshine. Come."

Just that one word and Leah obeyed. She felt a burst of pleasure rush through her body, setting every part of her alight. She saw fireworks behind her eyelids. She hadn't even come down when, Ethan's release caused her to have another mini orgasm.

It was too much. Way too much. Aftershocks racked her body and tears streamed down her face as she soared through cloud nine.

Without pulling himself out, he gathered Leah in his arms and took her to the bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed and pulled out and headed to the bathroom to get a washcloth. Leah winced and felt empty like a crater.

Ooooh boy, gonna feel that tomorrow.

Her eyes were closed as she tried to catch her breath and get her head straight. Ethan slowly wiped her neck, her stomach and her sore centre, instantly cooling her body down. He threw the washcloth into the laundry basket and slid into his bed. He wrapped his strong arms around Leah and pulled her close to him. He bent down to kiss her lips tenderly.

"I love you sunshine."

"Happy six months, babe. I love you." She gave a tired smile and they both slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Wow that was the longest I have written. *wipes brow*

Like, reblog and let me know how you liked it :))

#choices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #pixelberry #playchoices #open heart #open heart mc #ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey #Ethan jonah ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart fanfiction #oh Ethan #ohsy #open heart 2 #oh mc #ns*w

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seokiloquy · 4 years

Text

Mind Boggling Pt 1 - Miya Atsumu

Soulmate AU: At particular times (Once a year/ certain age/ hours/ or randomly) soulmates swap bodies for some time. (Specifics vary from story to story but I love this au wholeheartedly)

Requested

Word Count: 2k

Pt 1 | Pt 2

The rules were set for soulmates, whether they happen to have a tattoo, be colourblind, or even have wings or tails sprouting out of their bodies, rules were set. So why the hell were you so terrified? Though your soulmate quirk was a little hard to distinguish at a young age because of its nature, it was easily identified once you got a little older.

Body swap, where after a person turns 17 their mind is transferred to their soulmates for some time at any time. Though the combinations can vary from person to person, swapping only ever happens after a person turns 17. Should a soulmate happen to be below the age of 17 while the other is of age or above, the older will not have full control of the other’s actions and the younger will not be aware of the older’s presence, this only lasts momentarily before they are returned to their own body. In some cases, nothing happens until the youngest is of age as well.

Now, why were you scared? Well, when your birthday happens to be at the end of the year, the possibility of your soulmate seeing you do things you didn’t want them to, becomes increasingly high. All your friends were having fun drawing on their arms to communicate, or fiddling with their assigned jewellery (because they didn’t have a physical manifestation). You, on the other hand, sat at the side of the classroom, staring out the window to the falling snow outside trying to prevent yourself from doing anything embarrassing until the time came for you to turn 17.

Hitomi, one of your friends, sat on the desk behind your seat and played with your hair. In your mind, she got a lucky match in comparison to most. On her inner wrist was the full name of her soulmate. Whenever you complained about your quirk she would smack your shoulder saying something about she wished could live in someone else’s body for a day.

“So, are you going to decorate your room?” Hitomi asked as her nails picked at a pesky knot at the ends of your hair.

You laughed, “Ya right. I may be worried about the swap thing, but changing how my room looks isn’t going to be worth the effort.”

Finally clearing the tangled mess, Hitomi leaned back with a sigh.

“Are you at least going to write something? So they can know a bit about you?”

You fiddled with the pencil in your hand, spinning it between your fingers. You shook your head. The chances of things going the way you wanted were so low that eventually, you gave up trying to make them go your way. One of your fingers flicked too fast, shooting the pencil across the room.

“Even if I wanted to, I just lost my pencil.”

“Karma.”

“How the hell is that karma?”

“I don’t know, ask Karma.”

You sighed, letting your head fall into your hands that began to massage the skin along your hairline. These next few days were going to be rough.

You had always conjured up a story of how your first swap would go. Something like waking up in their bed one morning on a Sunday with all of their things being laid out in a way that made it easy for you to learn about them. Maybe, they’d have a letter on their desk or taped to a mirror for you to read.

Nope. Why would life take it easy on you of all people?

You fell asleep in class, which admittedly was your fault for going to bed so late. Even though the teacher wasn’t engaging enough to keep your attention on her for more than a few seconds at a time. But by the end of the period, your classmates would wake you up for lunch, no problem. At least that’s what you had thought when you closed your eyes.

That’s what you expected, but when you opened your eyes to loud cheering and high pitched squeaking you were more than a little confused.

First of all, it was extremely bright. Too bright. You thought your eyes were closed before. But now, as they squinted to adjust to the light, they were so tightly glued together that it hurt your nose. Next, it was loud. Much louder than your second-year beginner English class where the teacher insisted that no one spoke, and acted upon that rule. Lastly, you were standing in front of an open mesh wall with two glaring eyes drilling into your forehead.

You staggered back, pulling your hands up to your chest. It was then you noticed how tall you were standing, and how your centre of gravity was way off. Your body also felt bulkier, like your normal skin had expanded to a place it hasn’t been before. A hand landed on your shoulder.

“Nice set, Tsumu.”

“Huh?” behind you was a boy, standing eye level with you with hair that had been bleached to a mousey brown, almost silver colour. His eyes were open but tired, making the rich brown colour seem dull. You felt attached to him immediately. Even with his somewhat silent demeanour, the boy seemed welcoming. He was panting and sweating. Realizing this, you could feel the sweat roll down the side of your face.

The boy tilted his head, “You’re a little out of touch, did those freaks scare you?”

You looked to where the boy pointed, the copper top and his black-haired friend were still glaring at you.

“Why? Why are they glaring at me?” you fiddled with your now noticeably larger hands, now staring at their size and red blotchy colour.

“You okay, Atsumu?”

Another boy walked up to your side. His hair was parted in the center, framing his face that held an expression of general disinterest and exhaustion. He had an air of confidence surrounding him, even if it didn’t show through his slouched back, and his dark eyes seemed too analytical for any lazy person.

“Who?”

“Osamu, get the coach.”

The first boy nodded, waving over to the side where two men sat, watching. The addressed man called the ref, who stood atop a sort of podium next to the large net. The man blew his whistle and you were quickly ushered off in the coaches’ direction. As the head coach continued to watch the game progress the assistant coach with choppy black hair guided you to sit down.

Your knees pushed together tightly. Rather uncomfortably really, you let your legs relax when you noticed this. Your hands continued to fidget, picking under the nails as you watched the sport continue before you. Volleyball, you concluded, how you didn’t notice earlier was beyond you but it was likely the gravity of the situation you were in distracting you.

“You okay Atsumu?” the man asked, taking the seat next to you.

Your brow furrowed and your head tilted.

“Ya, here’s the thing, who’s Atsumu?”

Just as the man was about to speak, the scenery changed. Everything melted into new shapes, never really looking like something that didn’t exist but never being a fully-fledged object until everything froze back into place. Hitomi glared down at you.

“What an asshole,” she scoffed.

“Well, thanks I guess?”

Hitomi scoffed and glared in your direction before starting to pace around. You looked around the classroom. It was empty, lunch probably started a few minutes ago. Hitomi spoke, brushing a hand through her hair, but didn’t stop walking.

“Your soulmate’s an ass.”

You tilted your head with a nod, “Did you at least give him my name?”

The girl stopped walking and looked away from you.

“It didn’t come up. Not that he seemed all that interested anyway.”

“Not surprised,” you said, pressing your finger into your wrist. Your pulse was up. “He was in the middle of a volleyball match.”

“Please tell me he’s at least muscular.”

You sighed and slouched in your chair. Turning a bit to look outside at the gently falling snow again. You paused.

“Ya, he is.”

This happened a few more times, always at the most inconvenient, and you both overtime got to learn about each other through your pears. You found out that the first person you had met was Atsumu’s twin, although their personalities were different according to their teammates. Atsumu managed to open your phone and find a few of your photos and put in his number. These swaps happened often. Often enough that your friends could tell who was who before either of you spoke.

Whenever you happened to show up during practice, Atsumu’s teammates would help you learn the sport. It came relatively easy to you thanks to Atsumu’s muscle memory and build, but from the team’s perspective, it was more of a humorous game as they watched their talented teammate stumble around and make mistakes that he normally wouldn’t.

It was like this for a while. Until you found out your team was participating in the Hyogo Interhigh Preliminaries. You signed your and Hitomi’s names up to support your team at the tournament.

“Shouldn’t you be cheering for your boyfriend’s team?” Hitomi teased, elbowing you in the ribs.

“I will when they have a game going on.”

Despite having never talked in person over the past couple of months, the two of you did talk regularly after Atsumu put his number on your phone. You had a plan for how the day would go. First, you would watch and cheer on your school’s team. Then, once you got the chance, you’d sneak off to see the Inarizaki boys play. By the end of the game, that they hopefully win, you would run down onto the pitch and hug him.

You were delusional and you knew it.

Inarizaki’s supporting band was intense and manipulative. You had gotten to the game a little late, running from your school’s game that just wrapped up. You walked down the steps of the stands to stand next to two girls that leaned against the bannister. Despite not knowing the school’s cheerleading practices, you did your best to follow along. Up until Atsumu was up to serve.

His eyes were the same as Osamu’s, staring intently at the team across from him that shook from leg fatigue. Sweat had managed to get into his hair, making it look a bit greasy. And blood had rushed into his arms, making his veins more prominent, even from a distance.

You cheered with the girls next to you just as the band went silent. Atsumu glared up in your direction. You froze watching as he turned his attention back towards the net and served, leading to their point and win. As the band around you cheered you grumbled, crossing your arms.

“Jeez, you are an asshole, huh?” you mumbled, turning to walk back up the stairs to find Hitomi.

You had hoped to leave the tournament that day without interacting with your soulmate.

“Here again? Seriously?” in front of you was Osamu who chuckled at the sound of his brother whining.

“Hey, (Y/N). We won,” he said, raising his hands in the air slightly.

You crossed your arms, “I know. I’m here.”

Pointing up at the stands where your body was now spinning around to see where they were. You continued to talk with an annoyed tone.

“And right about now Atsumu is going to realize that he gave me a death glare not a moment ago.”

Osamu started to laugh louder, watching his brother, in your body, begin to grip your hair and squat in panic as if he wasn’t wearing a skirt.

“He’s an idiot sometimes, please be patient.”

You nodded, “I know. I’m just waiting for him to make eye contact.”

He did, and he winced, sending a meek wave in your direction. You pinched your lips together in a sarcastic smile and raised your brows. Lifting your hand, you sent a single wave in his direction.

“You’re going to punch yourself aren’t you?” Osamu asked as you both started to walk off the gym and out of view of Atsumu’s frightened stare.

You cracked the knuckles of Atsumu’s hand.

“You bet.”

There’s a part two. -Bacon

Posted: 02/07/2020

#haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

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