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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

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A Dangerous Game. Yan Childe x F Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, some cat-and-mouse vibes, not SFW implications at the end. Word count: 3k.

When Childe plopped your once hidden bag full of supplies clearly meant to aid in an escape attempt on the table during breakfast, you thought it was all ever.

That knapsack, pitiful as it was in its subpar contents, was a testimony to your hard work. It spoke to months of sneaking about at night to pilfer whatever provisions you could get your hands on. Dried meats, waterskins, flimsy matches; items that sounded theoretically solid for a trip into the Snezhnayan wilderness. There was no explaining it away.

You thought to speak up. Give an apology, maybe, or make a clumsy claim of ignorance.

He struck first, as he so often does.

“You must think so little of me,” he sighed. You thought the oatmeal you ate minutes prior might creep back up. He was upset — he had to be upset. That you would try to shatter the illusion of a happily wed couple that he’d painstakingly built, piece by piece, fragile as they were. Would this be where his patience dried up? After all, this was the worst betrayal of his trust you could make. It’s inevitable a sizable rift would form between you both in the aftermath.

That’s what you figured, until he finished his thought.

“If you believe this is sufficient enough. No, no, that’d make it insultingly easy for me. We need to get you a compass. A hunting knife, perhaps… if you’re going to do this, I want you at nothing less than your best. Got it?”

… Huh?

What you thought was the end proved itself to be a fresh beginning. A shot in the dark that, no matter how shaky your hands were on the trigger, you needed to take. At first, you thought it to be a joke made in poor taste. He excelled at those. What better way to torment you than to act like was he actually giving you a chance? Then, at the last second, he’d pull the rug from beneath you and laugh. Deride you and begin your real punishment in earnest.

That moment never happened.

He came and went a few times, humming to himself while he did so. Your knapsack was dwarfed by the assortment of items he brought. A sturdy backpack, built to endure the elements, a lighter, rope, first aid kit, knife, the works. He even went so far as to pack it himself and remind you of where to find everything.

“Why…” your voice was low and unsteady, “Why are you doing this?”

Childe laughed in a way that felt more familiar than his sudden shift in personality. Now that was a sound you knew, a sound which meant you best prepare for mockery delivered with a wolfish grin.

“Call me a hypocrite, but I understand the cabin fever you’re enduring. You want your independence back, don’t you? Your freedom? And I want the exact opposite. Now, how do we best resolve this? Compromise is apparently a staple in relationships, but I don’t think either of us would settle for that. So! How about this: a deal. The best one you’re ever going to get from me, too.”

His grin widened at your clear intrigue. “I’ll give you a fair shot at escape. Everything you see here, sweet thing? Could last you weeks in the wilderness. Plenty of time to get to civilization and be on your merry way should you play your cards right. Since I adore you, truly, I’ll give you the benefit of a day's head start. If you successfully pull this off, I won’t ever bother you again. I swear on my life—,” you narrowed your eyes and he sighed, “My family’s life.”

“A head start?” You repeated, cautious, but undeniably curious.

“Uh-huh. I’m generous, but not generous enough to not pursue my own interests. What sort of husband would I be if I didn’t try to collect my vagabond wife? After that first day passes, I’m coming to get you. And when I do… well, I better not hear any more complaining about how ‘unfair’ this situation is. You get your chance and I get mine.”

He extended his hand out to you.

“So, how about it? We have ourselves a deal?”

Back then, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. You thought you came to terms with that — your original plan did include running away with far less. This survival backpack at least ensured you had a fighting chance. Childe, oddly enough, never broke any promises he made you. Hence why he made so few. For him to swear on the well-being of his family, whom he cherished dearly, further cemented this.

So you shook his hand and almost felt like his equal for the first time in years.

Presently, that same hand is struggling to light a fire from how much it trembles.

You can see your breath materialize before your weary eyes. Squinting, you fixate on the taunting flame that refuses to spread, frustration and despair building in equal tandem. The sticks you gathered are moist from snow. You waited a few long, agonizing hours for them to dry off, to no avail. The fire didn’t catch any easier than when you tried earlier. At the most, you’d get a weak ember to start before it gave out in a pitiful puff.

Water. You want water. Freedom is what remained highest on your list of priorities for so long, that it felt strange to push it into the recesses of your mind for the time being. Your waterskin sits a few feet away, discarded, useless in its emptiness. Four days it had lasted you in total. All the nonstop physical exertion depleted your supply faster than you ever could’ve anticipated. If only you had known, you would’ve rationed it better…

The wintery landscape you’ve been traversing is abundant in water, just in the wrong form. A solid form. Childe had cautioned you against eating raw snow if it ever came down to it, explaining that he’d rather not lose you to infection. There’s no fun in that, he said, bastard that he is. Naturally, you don’t want to die from that either. Callous words or not, they stopped you from shoveling handfuls of puffy white snow into your dry mouth, not until you could heat it up.

Over a fire that refused to start.

The dank underpass you’ve situated yourself in is not helping. You’re convinced that everything about Snezhnaya screams inhabitable. From the dreary gray skies promising nonstop snowfall, trees dead caught in an everlasting winter, to the sparse wildlife. That’ll be the next problem you contend with. The dried meats, while ideal for preservation, are salty and further boost your thirst.

His words from before echo in your subconscious.

“I’ll give you a fair shot at escape.”

Rubbing your numb hands together, you think to scoff, choosing not to only because your throat can produce no such sound. The sun is slowly collapsing into the horizon. If the days are wretched, then night has to be a special divine punishment; it escapes your comprehension how anything could be so cold.

You lean against the cave’s porous wall.

What a devious deterrent Childe’s idea ended up being. On his own terms, he got to showcase how futile a hastily strung together escape attempt would be. You don’t doubt that you would’ve been dead by now had you departed with your original knapsack. A fair shot at escape. There was never such an idyllic path. Not when you were pitted against a monster in human form like Childe. So long as there was breath in his lungs, you would remain at his mercy.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, an exhausted half of your psyche reasons. The expansive home he kept you in, far removed from the more populated areas of Snezhnaya, has everything you could want and more. Food that isn’t salty and chewy. Fresh water to drink and bathe in. A comfortable mattress that adheres to your body’s shape.

You know you shouldn’t stay here much longer. In fact, you should’ve erased all evidence of your being here and departed hours ago. If Childe wasn’t hot on your trail before, he most certainly is now. You all but left breadcrumbs for him to follow one by one. Budding dehydration can work wonders on your ability to plan and follow through.

Through the grapevine, you’ve heard stories of adventurers going mad with thirst. Seeing apparitions that weren’t there. Hearing voices that their ears never truly detected. Will that be the humiliating state he finds you in? Raving like a madman as if you had a captive audience hanging on your every word when in reality, you had never been so alone?

Alone. You had been wanting extensive time to yourself. If this is how the Archons have decided to answer your prayers, they might be crueler than you thought.

“Now there’s an expression I’ve seen a thousand times.”

From the cave’s entrance, a jovial voice steals the scene.

Boasting a relaxed gait, he strides toward you, his footsteps reverberating inside the small cavern. Your initial instinct to dash is dampened by the realization your legs won’t move when you tell them too. Recalling what you were just thinking about, you lift a nearby stone in your hand and chuck it in his direction. The throw is weak, but he still dignifies it with a summon of his Hydro blade, slicing through the rock with ease. The surviving remnants clatter behind him listlessly.

Ah. So he’s real, then, you think, frowning.

The Hydro blades dissipate following their use, and subconsciously, you lick your dry lips.

“I come bearing gifts and you try to stone me to death? Phew, now that’s grounds for divorce if I’ve ever seen any. Good thing I’m the forgiving type.”

Childe’s get up is similar to yours, if not heftier. He’s wearing a thick winter coat with the hood over his head of messy ginger locks, his face dusted with pink from the cold. Unlike you, he doesn’t shiver, having no difficulty slinging his backpack over his shoulder and rummaging through the contents. He lifts out a waterskin and tosses it onto your lap. By the weight, you can tell it’s full.

You inspect it as if it contained poison.

“Are you really in a position to be picky?” he laughs, but it’s forced and airy. “Drink up. Your body’s reaching its limit. I’d rather not have to force it down your throat, if at all possible.”

The threat is delivered in such a friendly package, yet you know better than to dismiss it just because of that. He’d do it in a heartbeat should he feel it necessary. You pop open the lid and allow the life-giving substance to revitalize you. Without the slightest bit of decorum, you gulp it down fast, some dribbling from the corner of your mouth in the process.

For a moment, he fixates on the sight. Dull eyes follow the stream with intrigue before he shakes his head and returns to his previous task. He procures a lighter and sets out to work on starting a fire. You think to tell him that it’s no use — you’ve been at it for an embarrassing amount of time — but decide it’s best if he’s occupied. Anything is better than having to face him in your current weak state.

He splits the wood into smaller pieces, and layers them criss-cross on top of each other, allowing marginal space instead of crowding it together. Next, he presses the lighter’s flame against the bottom-most section of wood. With a few well-timed blows, the wood starts to burn, flames growing in intensity as the minutes progress.

“And, voila,” Childe motions to it with pride, as if you weren’t already paying rapt attention. “That is how you start a proper fire, dear. Your attempts were valiant — cute, almost. I’ll give you points for effort.”

You don’t humor him with a response. That is, until a dreadful realization comes crashing down, stealing the breath from your lungs like a punch to the gut.

He was watching you this entire time?

Much to your displeasure, he situates himself beside you. Not trusting your legs, you try to scoot away, only for an arm to wrap itself around your shoulder. Tight, but you know it’s a mere fraction of his otherworldly strength. Loath as you are to admit it, he’s warm. Pleasantly so. If he’s going to latch himself to your person like a leech, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to try and get something out of it for yourself.

“... What expression is that?” You query, your mind stuck on his initial greeting. While your brain understood the individual words, when put together, it didn’t form anything cohesive. Not to you, at least.

“Hm? Ohhh,” he prolongs the syllable in that grating voice of his, “That, yeah. When you frequent the battlefield as often as I do, you learn a lot about other people’s expressions. What it looks like when they think victory is within their grasp, or how nonchalant they try to act when when leading you into a trap…”

He winks at you. “What it looks like when they intend to surrender.”

You ball your hands into fists by your side. Your face feels warm, and for the first time today, you wish it didn’t.

“I thought that would be an excellent time to make my entry and cut our little game short. Though, if you want my opinion — and I doubt you do, but I’ll give it anyway — you gave up the second you sat down in this cave.”

An insult swirls to life on the tip of your tongue. What right did he have to think you had given up? Surrendered? You, who braved a foreign land so hostile, even seasoned adventures would not dare venture out into it? His trivialization has your head spinning. No, you weren’t going to throw in the towel from some thirst. Not after coming this far. He’s just trying to get under your skin, like he always does. Your efforts took courage, perseverance—

—Hanging your head, damnation settles in, ringing clear like a bell.

He’s right. Subjugated by dehydration, you were fantasizing about what it would be like back at his estate. Your prison. That you fought tooth and nail for a chance to crawl out of. You thought that with the right conditions, motivations, and means, you could scrape a narrow victory. Hope that is difficult to cling to is better than no hope at all. On those bleak mornings where you contemplated why you should move at all, that elusive yet oh-so tantalizing hope gave you the strength to get up. Make your little plans and scheme your little schemes.

Childe believes you gave up when you first entered this cave, but if you were to be honest with yourself, it may have been a lot sooner than that.

“How long did it take for you to find me?”

You don’t want to know, but you ask regardless.

“Well, I departed twenty-four hours after you left, just like I said I would. If that was at the crack of dawn and I found your tracks around noon, then… a few hours is my guess.”

A few hours. That was what your greatest efforts culminated to. A few, measly hours.

You throw your head back against the wall, admiring the low-hanging ceiling through lidded eyes. “I’m never getting rid of you, am I?”

No matter how hard you fight. Whatever plots you manufacture, underhanded or not, would be but a bump in the road to someone like him. A minor inconvenience at best and slight annoyance at worst. A Harbinger such as himself isn’t just on another level, he’s at the top of the food chain, looking down at the world from his pedestal.

His gloved hand rubs your arm up and down.

“You can try,” he muses. The fire crackles, illuminating his side profile in warm hues, golden and amber. “As many times as you like, in fact. There’s nothing I can do shy of having you always chained up to prevent that. And, well, I’d prefer not to do that. I’d prefer a lot of things, actually. Your happiness included.”

At this, you bristle. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

“Do we? Give it some thought, [First]. You have a Harbinger wrapped around your pretty little finger. Whatever you want, I could get. You could travel wherever, whenever. Indulge in the finest luxuries. If you asked… I would even conquer this world and crown you the new ruler. Bring the heads of your enemies to you on a silver platter.”

He’s facing you now, playing with the fabric of your coat. Looking for a zipper, you realize, your breath caught in your throat.

“I’d do anything. No act is too depraved, no request too big,” his face is flushed, but this time, you don’t think it’s from the cold. “I’ve always loved a good fight. I always will, too. Oh, but darling… if I was fighting for you… I simply wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

While you always thought the most disturbing element of Childe’s eyes was how blank they are, this is infinitely worse. There’s a flicker in the abyssal ocean staring back at you. An ember, low yet filled to the brim with malignant potential, that would combust if you willed it. He wants to go down in flames if you are the kindle.

Childe locates the zipper he’s been searching for and pulls it down, revealing your shirt, and showcasing more of your chest. He greedily takes in the sight. Modesty bids you to turn away, come up with some lame excuse so might decide not to ravish you, but you pause. Sparks from the fire ascend in a humble journey, before fading away into obscurity. You blink. Then smile, your eyes squinting in glee, muscles straining from how harsh your lips tug upward.

You take his hand and place it to your chest, in what might be the most surprising thing he’s seen you do yet.

He’s inadvertently given you the answer to the predicament.

There’s no don’t need to destroy him. He’ll destroy himself, if it means getting the slightest taste of you.

So a taste is what you will give.

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #commissons #my stuff

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onewmin · 8 months

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the perfume on the shelf. pt. 11 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, descriptions of a toxic relationship, mentions of s*icidal thoughts, profanity, descritpion of a fire, the reader loves her cat very much, another day of the reader and Chan being annoying (the latter especially), jealousy, the reader is going through major changes (good for her), another bunch of Taylor Swift references, the reader has yet another traumatic experience; typos

In the parts with the cat it's very much self-inserted. Shout out to my cat and all other kitties and doggies <3

'Dal' stands for 'moon' :)

Word count: 5411

Author’s note: welp, there's a lot to read lol. Idk why this whole work lacks happy moments so much, I'm trying my best to make it more positive, but in the end... We get this lol. Still, hope you enjoy another part! I'll try posting part 12 in a couple of weeks, but, as my summer vacation is over, I'll have a lot of work to do, so I cannot promise you an exact date. Again, thank you fro reading and supporting 'the perfume on the shelf' and enjoy the ride! (put ya seatbelts on)

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 10 | Part 12

Another day to cry in the bathroom of your therapist’s office.

Wiping your red cheeks, you took a deep breath in, trying to calm this sudden outburst of pain down. Talking about your unsuccessful attempt to go back together with Chan resurfaced in something deep, something that has affected you too much to even be able to handle it on your own. Your fear of rejection has finally become real - and instead of feeling calm after so many years of being scared of it, you found yourself utterly broken.

As long as you could remember yourself, this fear of being rejected has pressured you into staying out of the picture, of never saying what you truly feel. You were shaking at the thought of confessing to Yugyeom, when you were a teenager; your breath was hitched in your throat when you decided to join that writing club at university; the idea of asking anybody out made you sick to your stomach. And finally, all the mess with Chan was partially launched by your inability to ask direct questions, to come clean eventually. However, your initial choice was to live a lie, to let yourself have dust thrown into your eyes, to rather have smoke and mirrors than an honest relationship. What does this say about you?

“I don’t know”, you muttered, looking at the reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know”, you repeated, sniffing and exhaling once again. When you were nineteen, everything seemed so easy. When you were nineteen, you seemed to know everything.

“What would nineteen-year old you say about this whole situation?” Your therapist’s question was left unanswered, rather as introspection for the next two weeks. What would she say, really? That’s a walk in the park for her.

“Dump his ass”, the advice you used to give all of your girlfriends popped up in your head. “Find a new hobby, work more, go out more - do anything to forget him. He’s not worth your tears and time”. Easier said than done.

You sighed once again, before collecting your lip gloss back into your purse. It’s time to go home and prepare for going out; even though you try following your own advice, the thought of Chan is a lingering memory, a signature left right on your forever restless brain.

Running up the stairs on your subway station, you checked your messages to find Yugyeom and Eunjoo discussing art in the chat. Two weeks ago, after the airport incident, when Yugyeom was dropping you off at your apartment complex (the conversation with your parents about your early departure from the countryside was guided by Gyeom perfectly), Eunjoo caught the sight of the two of you while she was waiting for her best friend on the bench. For some reason she decided it would be a great idea to start going on ‘double dates’ - although, you could barely call them dates at all. She was unsure about her relationship with Minho, so she needed you to check up on him. You didn’t want to be the third wheel, so… So she invited Yugyeom. And now the four of you had a group chat. Was it a nightmare? Absolutely. You found out what nerds Gyeom and Eunjoo were; discussing everything - even rocket science, are you kidding me? - while you and Minho intervened in their intellectual conversations with memes and ridiculous videos to watch. For instance, when you sent a Tarot reading video, just for shits and giggles, just to send a follow up message, “This woman said I’m gonna have a billionaire husband in a couple of months” - only to get bashed by two absolute smartasses for your silly little hobby, as they threw in their pieces of mind on how Tarot is a scam, and it doesn’t work, and people like that woman are a fraud - et cetera, et cetera, blah-blah-blah. Minho, on the other hand, was pretty supportive (and a pain in the ass for Eunjoo and Yugyeom) when he sent in ten more videos of that same creator, chiming in with his comments about toxicity. Yeah, this chat was a shit show; however, it was bringing you too much joy to hate it.

In your apartment your cat greeted you with irritated meows and sweet purrs when you took her in your arms as if she was a baby. “Mama’s sorry, Gaeul”, you said, kissing her in between ears, “but I promise I’ll be back sooner than later. Just a couple of hours, okay?” She started gently biting your hand as you tried to scratch her tummy. “And you get to be the boss of the house. Not just for a few hours”, you kissed her nose and she put her paw on your cheek, “but forever, Gaeul”. She jumped from your arms as soon as you heard a loud stomp and a screeching curse - ugh, your neighbours were fighting again. How could a family that looks picture perfect hate each other so much? Well, you knew the answer to the question, but still, it never failed to arise every time you heard these two fight.

“You’re a piece of shit, Hajoon!” You sighed as you heard the man’s voice. “A piece of shit wife and mother!” This was the unfortunate reality-TV-turned-real-life program you had to listen to; the walls were rather thin not to hear them constantly fight over stupidest things in front of their little girls. When you saw the two of them ride their bikes and laugh, you always wondered, how they managed not to lose their innocence yet - with parents like theirs, who trapped themselves in a toxic marriage, the innocence of a child being saved was a miracle.

The drama continued as the woman cried out harsher curses, accusing her husband of cheating. Is that the life that awaits everyone in a marriage? Is that the life you’re going to have too? That’s what your parents have; constant fights, verbal abuse, toxic apologies with flowers and luxury candy, and no words uttered. No resolution of those conflicts, no rethinking of the life choices they’d made to get to this point of no return. Nothing. And this family, a family so similar to yours, was the same. Only the girls were lucky to have each other and not to be alone. However, calling the kids ‘lucky’ for lulling each other when their parents scream all types of insults, calling the children they created with ‘so much love and affection’, as the mother posted on her stories, ‘mistakes’ when they were in another room - calling them ‘lucky’ was a direct insult.

Accompanied by curses coming from a wall away from your living room, Gaeul was circling around you the whole time you were collecting your things. When you looked at the wrist watch, it was already ten minutes past the time you should have left the house. “Shit”, you mumbled, rapidly taking the bag in your hands and giving Gaeul a couple of more scratches, while she was meowing and standing in front of the door. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, sweetie”.

You were supposed to be drinking as the four of you were going for some type of party one of Minho’s friends was throwing - so taking the car wasn’t an option; you didn’t know much about Changbin, but you were willing to get out of your shell and meet new people. “Maybe you’ll finally find a boyfriend there”, your mom told you over the phone, “you’ll be thirty soon - not really soon, though - and your father and I are waiting for grandkids. Your cousin is already a mother”. Ugh, yeah, whatever. Some nonsense that your mother confidently states is out of this world sometimes.

Running up to a bus stop, you conveniently saw your bus pull up; jumping in it, you paid for the ticket and sat down on one of the many empty places, staring out of the window. As the music took you to another dimension, your thoughts flew by, pictures of your mother nagging you about the prospect of marriage, Chan putting his arm over Micha’s shoulder, Gyeom stuffing his mouth with a sandwich in one bite, Eunjoo and Minho holding hands ran in your mind with a uncontrollably rapid speed. You were thinking about Chan less each day, the images of him being replaced by your friends, new people you met and surprising revelations you made about this world and, first of all, yourself.

Every bus ride that lasted more than twenty minutes - just like this one - got you hooked on rethinking and reflecting on every little thing that had ever happened to you. Sometimes it would be sappy, rainy autumn day like memories: Chan holding your hand while driving, bringing it to his lips to leave a small kiss on your knuckles every time the car stopped at the red light; you and him lying in bed, face to face, heart to heart, having those rare sincere conversations, filled with laughs and kisses. Whereas sometimes you’d lose yourself to cheerful moments, those July bright yellow afternoon days memories, with Yugyeom watching you chase after his golden retriever Dal; with you watching some happy kids fly kites while on a picnic with Eunjoo; with you writing your earliest stories in your old diary, sitting behind the desk in you sunlit childhood bedroom. The happiest that you were, in all of those memories you couldn’t even find the ghost of Chan; as if he had never existed in the most joyful moments of your life. As if - no, no ‘if’s’ - he had only brought you pain, and tears, and gut wrenching disgust towards your own self, towards the little girl, singing along the radio songs in her parents’ car, towards the fifteen year old girl, who wrote her stories on her old laptop and squealed after getting her first likes on the web, towards the woman you’d become. The woman who made stupid mistakes one after another, noticing but not seeing the pattern she had with every lover of hers, not seeing Chan being the same guy like the rest of them in her history. The woman you’d become, the woman you’re still thriving to be - she doesn’t deserve the slander you put her through.

There might have been happiness during him - his jokes, warm hugs, car rides to his parents’ country house, him playing with Gaeul, his voice, his soft curls, his late love confessions. But there would certainly be more happiness after him, after this whole mess you yourself created. No acid rains burning your cheeks anymore, no scratching yourself so much you start bleeding anymore, no gray colors during the brightest sunny summer mornings. Is this what the phase of acceptance looks like? Is this where you stop blaming Chan for the pain he caused you? Nah, you’re not there yet. But close. Definitely close.

Receiving another text in the group chat, your thoughts suddenly led you to the anxious search for your ID in the handbag of yours. “Shit, shit, shit”, you muttered under your breath, when you realized it was nowhere to be found. Did you lose it on your way to the bus stop? Or did you lose it here? Oh no. You rolled your eyes at the clear memory of seeing it on the kitchen counter before you rushed out of the apartment. How could you be so irresponsible? You’d never forgotten your ID, ever in your life, even taking it to the convenience store at 7AM to get a snack on your day off. And now, when you clearly needed it to get in the club, you’d left it at home? Super responsible, girl, just awesome.

Having jumped off the bus at the nearest stop, you caught yourself feeling absolutely shameless about the fact of being late. After you moved almost to the outskirts of the city, not being on time has become your signature mark. Now you were texting your friends, explaining the whole situation, while getting in an Uber - just to shorten the forty minutes you’d already spent on the bus to twenty-five. And as the car started off, your friends couldn’t leave you alone.

“Gyeom, I’m sorry”. The first words you said to him after picking up, annoyance recognizable in your voice. Yeah, you were the one being late, but Mr. Punctuality didn’t have to remind you about it as well.

“I’m actually late too”, he let out a breathy chuckle. What? Kim Yugyeom coming late?

“What happened?”

“Nothing”, he sighed, “I just spent too much time on the phone with my dad”. You hummed in response. “I can pick you up, by the way”, Yugyeom added.

“You don’t have to”.

“Ah, it’s not like I’m goin’ to be on time anyway”. The yippy notes in his voice made you reflect the smile he was probably wearing on his face. “So it’s not a problem, really”.

“Thanks, Gyeom”.

“I’ll be at your place in, uh, around ten minutes”. As you ended the conversation, you heard the siren sounds in the distance. It wasn’t an unordinary occasion: the song of the sirens was playing almost an unstoppable tune every minute of the day, as the ambulances were rushing through the busy streets, or the firemen were driving to stop the fires. It was not unusual for a city like Seoul; however, the closer you were getting to your apartment complex, the more the clump of fear inside your chest grew.

The first thing you saw when the car turned to your building was the blinding light of the fire truck. Then it was the group of firemen. After it was the crowd, surrounding the fire engine. The last thing was the smoke coming out of the apartment on the fifth floor. From the apartment right next to yours.

Jumping off the car, you rushed through the crowd, forcibly pushing apart the nosy neighbors and bystanders, only to be stopped by a firefighter. You couldn’t think of anything else, of other people, of the party you were late to, of the things in your apartment - the only image in your head was of Gaeul. How scared she must be, how she’s probably sitting in the corner of your room, far away from the strange and dangerous smell. The clouded vision of yours, the tears in your eyes were invisible to you. The only thing you needed was to get your baby out of there.

“Miss, you cannot go in there”, the voice of the firemen echoed in your ears.

“My cat’s in there”, you mumbled, but he heard you, “I need to get her out. It’s an apartment right next to that that’s burning”.

“We’ll get her out, no need to worry”. The calm notes in his voice had awoken some primal rage in you - how could he even say that? You couldn’t not worry, for fuck’s sake!

You quickly disappeared in the crowd so that the firefighter wouldn't recognise you if something was about to happen. There was an emergency exit, but they were probably evacuating people through it, right? What should you do to get in?

As the thoughts were rapidly running through your head, you saw smoke coming from another window. Your window now. Your heart sank; everything around started spinning slowly and you grabbed your chest in order to calm yourself down - at least, a little bit, at least, before you took Gaeul in your arms.

Fuck it. You hastened your steps through the crowd, away from the main entrance, in hopes to get lost amidst those being evacuated, in hopes to get through the emergency exit without being caught. In the inner yard of your building your restless, teary eyes noticed one fireman guarding the entrance; and over there, on the bench was your neighbour from the fourth floor, a fourteen year old, holding her brown dog close to her heart.

“Hello?” She picked up her phone, the shaky voice of hers bringing more blood to your already jolting heart. How smart it was to exchange numbers with her all those months ago.

“Could you distract that firefighter for me, please?” You uttered, while looking at her. She turned her head and found your eyes. “My cat’s still in there. I can’t… I can’t wait till they save her. Please”. The girl nodded and quickly rose up to her feet, probably coming up with an idea of taking the fireman’s attention.

She ran up to the man, still holding the dog in her arms, and started rambling something loudly, the hysteric condition of hers being the direct result of this horrible evening. “What was she up to?” You thought to yourself as you moved from a tree to a tree as fast as you could. “Was she walking her dog when the fire started? Was she at home?”

How convenient it was to have a bunch of trees to grow in the inner yard of the apartment building. “I should thank the managing lady after it”, you watched as the firefighter turned his back to the entrance - now. The adrenaline in your stomach felt like a fuel to the fire of anxiety and fear; as you leapt up the stairs, two, three steps missed, your heart was pumping somewhere in your throat, bringing the inevitable, horrible thoughts to your brain. You brushed them off before you reached your floor, running in the corridor, which was filled with smoke, with an empty head. The door to your apartment was being broken down as you ran up to it, right on time - maybe, the first time you were not late in the last couple of years. The firefighters weren’t pleased a resident was out in the dangerous area, but you quickly opened the door - having promised you’d let them in without getting inside yourself - breaking the recently made promise immediately when the lock was open, dropping the keys to the ground. If the building management had fixed the electronic locks on time, maybe the whole building wouldn’t have to use keys; maybe, the fire issue would have been resolved earlier, had the firemen had an easier access to the apartments.

Gray. Choking color gray - that's what your apartment was. You could get suffocated in here just for breathing in the smoke, but was it even a priority? You would die but get Gaeul out of this place.

“Gaeul!” Your voice came out quaking, eyes getting watery with every step you took. “Gaeul, baby!” Almost flying into your bedroom, you noticed her scratching the window in hopeless attempts to get out. “Baby, you’re safe”, you whispered, swooping her in your arms. She let out a weak meow as you covered her chubby face with a palm of your hand. The firefighter was quick to escort you from the apartment, having thrown a blanket from the couch over your shoulders. You wrapped Gaeul in it when you got to the hall; she was meowing as you ran down the stairs, telling you how scared she was. “I know, honey, I know”, you kept on repeating, “you’re safe now”.

The fresh air hit both of your faces abruptly, making you gasp and cough. Holding Gaeul as close to your heart as it was possible - perhaps, if you squeezed her tighter, she would be inserted in your heart directly - you sat down on the grass next to the girl with a dog sleeping on her lap.

“Is she okay?” You nodded, leaving a kiss between Gaeul’s brown ears. She started purring, exuding that velvety purring of hers that signaled of her finally feeling safe. After finding her in a pouring rain, as her dirty little paws left marks on your white hoodie and her squeaky voice notified you she wasn’t pleased with being carried by some stranger, after washing her up and taking her to the vet, after making sure she felt comfortable in every corner of any of the places where you lived, after teaching her to use the litter box, after buying her the most expensive and delicious food she liked, after having her sleep in between your legs every night since the first one she spent with you, after building up your whole life around her when you needed someone to give your unconditional love to, after having no suicidal thoughts the moment she took a step in your apartment, after having her as the only living creature who loved you unlimitedly - how could you sit and wait till they save her? How could you leave her little figure in the hands of fate?

“Mr. Choi set his apartment on fire”, the girl said while petting her dog. “That’s entirely his fault”.

“Tell me about it”, you mumbled.

“Why didn't the police do anything when they were called on them last week?” She questioned. “He literally threatened to burn the house down”. You shrugged your shoulders. No one really did anything when he threatened to jump off the window, no one took his threats seriously when he promised to burn the apartment if his wife got on his nerves again. Yeah, like it’s a reasonable excuse for a possible homicide. What a scumbag.

“He ran away though”. She sighed. “But they’ll find him in no time, I guess. Mrs. Choi said he broke his wrist trying to hit her, so he won’t be far away”. You nodded absentmindedly, eyes still focused on Gaeul. She already seemed peaceful, only her yellowish eyes still being completely overtaken by the dilated pupils. She was lying on your legs, covered by that blanket. “Isn’t it your phone buzzing?”

Oh, that was the annoying feeling in the pocket of your jeans. “Hello”. You responded in a monotonous voice.

“Where are you?” Yugyeom sounded panicked. “I’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes! Are you okay? Where are you?” He repeated. After muttering a few words you hung up, putting the phone on the grass. The autumn nights started to get chilly; but you were willing to stay seated on the cold ground as long as it took for Gaeul to fully calm down.

In mere seconds Yugyeom appeared in the inner yard, dashing to you. “Are you okay?” He observed you carefully, and then the gaze of his fell to Gaeul, curled up on your lap. “Are you okay, sweetling?”

“She ran into the building to save her cat”, your neighbor proudly proclaimed. Yugyeom gave a look - not the ‘Are you crazy?’ or ‘You’re insane’ one, but the look, striking as… Worry? Pain? Hurt? Love?

“I think the two of you need some warming up”. His soft voice impinged upon your indifference to everything but Gaeul; it seemed as if the part of you that was scared started to heal as soon as he helped you get on your feet. For the first time in the last half an hour you shivered under the cool wind, and Yugyeom took his zipper hoodie off to put it on your shoulders.

“You’re wearing a T-shirt”. You stated, looking at him. He gave you a small smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“I like the cold. I’m like Johnny Storm, y’know that”. You let out a breathy laugh - the first one after pulling up to the building. Your cat was already napping in your arms - the safest place for her, as it turned out - so you and Yugyeom slowly moved to his car.

The windows of your neighbors had ruined the whole front of the building - now the gaze of any person would fall on black frames around them. “I wonder if my landlady is here”. You said, when getting on the passenger seat.

“D’you want me to find her?”

“Gyeom, no”, you answered in a soft voice, ‘you’ve already done enough”. His brows knitted as he looked at you with utter confusion written all over his face.

“I didn’t do anything except for panicking and calling Minho and Eunjoo”, he noted, “and not like it’s hard to help you. Especially now”.

You gave in rather quickly. “Alright”.

“Give me her number, so I-”

“Just take my phone”, you shoved the device in his hands, “she doesn’t pick up if she doesn’t know the number”. He nodded before getting out of the car.

And as you were petting your sleepy cat, you felt the tears being finally let go from your eyes. Gaeul woke up when the salty drops fell on her side and, after staring at you for a couple seconds, started to licking herself up. You laughed through the choking tears and caressed her head and back, thinking how much your life had changed since the moment she magically appeared in it. It became… Brighter, funnier, sweeter. Even when she would wake you up at three AM ‘cause she was hungry; or when she would try to eat the yarn whenever you crocheted; or when she would sit on the kitchen counter while you were cooking. The thought of losing her made your heart hurt even more than it already was.

“We’ll be fine, right, baby?” You murmured when she started snoring quietly; you turned your head to look out of the window and noticed Gyeom in the distance, still talking with someone over the phone. A strange feeling of being absolutely safe around him had arisen in your chest the moment you saw his worried face tonight; maybe you shouldn’t push him away too hard - he’s one of the few people you can trust, after all.

Gyeom was right; he cannot certainly save you like he used to when you were kids. You can come up with a rescue plan yourself, like today, when you couldn’t wait for anyone else to save the most loved part of you. Anyone but you. Gyeom cannot save you; but he can give you the sense of comfort after you help yourself get back to life.

“Gaeul”, you muttered, “how long it’s been since we called him ‘Gyeom’?” A short version of his name, and he hated being called that. But when it came to you, his first love? He blushed whenever you said ‘Gyeom’. And why did you start calling him that again? Maybe that’s a sign, you thought to yourself, leaning your head back, maybe I do need him around.

“So you mean to tell me”, Jisung was talking with his mouth full, “that you and Micha are not together? What’s the point of bringing her here then?”

Chan let out a deep sigh. It was only a matter of time when Han found out. “We are together. But we just don’t like labeling it as a ‘relationship’ Just give us some more time”.

“ Are you kiddin’ me? It’s been two weeks, Chan!” He gnashed his teeth. “Every media outlet is calling me to confirm whether the two of you are together. What am I supposed to tell them?”

“That it’s none of their business”.

“It doesn't work anymore. Is she your girlfriend or not?”

“She is, technically”, Chris leaned in his chair, “we’re in an open relationship”. Jisung set his palms down flat on the table, the heavy breathing of his sending shivers down Chan’s spine. He loved riling his friend up, but sometimes he seemed to forget Han was also his manager. A scary one at times.

“I swear to God”, Jisung hissed, “I’m gonna kill you and replace you with another dude. No one will see a difference”. Chris chuckled and went back to his dinner, leaving Han’s question unanswered.

Him and Micha had a lot of history; but when he showed up at her door, drunk to the bone, she was more than shocked. He kept on complaining, crying about you, cursing you, proclaiming his love for you. Micha was impressed only by him being that emotional - nothing like that ever happened when they were together. A couple of days later one thing led to another and… Some time after that she was already packing her bags to go to Melbourne with him. Was it a smart, calculated decision? Absolutely not. But Chan, for whatever reason, promised to support her financially before she’d find a job there; alright, to be honest? He wanted to hurt you. To hurt you the same way your reconciliation with Yugyeom made him feel. Chan wanted to see you suffer as much as he did, to see you try to beg for him to come back to you. Spoiler alert: you never did.

Except for the airport incident. He almost caught the slightest glimpse of you, almost canceled his entire flight, almost called off all the business he had in Australia. If only he could delve into your features one more time, he would’ve put everyone aside. ‘Cause if you were there and he saw you, he wouldn’t need anything else. But he didn’t see you, so it was all settled as it was supposed to be.

Han was grumbling something under his breath while Chan was scrolling down the latest news; some of his friends had a comeback coming up, the other was starring in a new drama, the third proposed to his girlfriend… Everyone seemed to have their life put together but him. When he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Micha’s head resting on his arm, Chan would only think about a life he gave away. He could’ve been lying in his bed now, with his head snuggled into your neck, inhaling that sweet scent of yours right into his system. He could’ve been waking up to your leg lapped across his. He could’ve been with the woman he’s in love with, not the one he pretends to love. Micha doesn’t deserve this; but something tells him that she knows - just pretends not to notice.

‘Hey, doesn’t this house seem familiar to you?” Han shoved his phone right into Chan’s face; when his eyes could finally focus, he recognised the building immediately. “They report it’s been a fire, they’re still locating it”, Jisung continued, “and the guy who started it wanted to kill his family. What a piece of shit”.

The only thing Chan could see was smoke coming out from the apartment scarily close to yours. He was unable to forget the window of yours, the window he would always look up to just to see your smiley face. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Jisung swallowed his food, looking confused. “What for?”

“I need to call her”. Han rolled his eyes but obliged, lending the phone to his friend. Chan practically jumped from his seat, running from the second floor of the restaurant they were in to the street. Chan was aware of you blocking him everywhere; so he hoped you’d pick up if Han called. What was that logic? Why would you even pick up?

If the fire was still being located, how big is it? Were you home when it started? Were you not? Is Gaeul okay?

Long beeps only fueled his anxiety. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Please.

“Hello?” The voice on the other side of the phone wasn’t the silky one Chan was hoping to hear.

Chan asked for your name. Was it a cop? A firefighter? A doctor? “She’s okay, she wasn’t home when the fire broke out”.

“Who am I talkin’ to?”

“Kim Yugyeom. I’m a friend. You?”

Another tingling in his chest, every little blood cell of his running to his head, fueling his rage and pain, mixing them altogether. So, Yugyeom is there? After all of your claims he meant nothing to you?

“Hello?” Yugyeom asked once again. “Say your name at least, so that she’d know whom to call back”.

“Don’t you see the name on the screen?” Chan’s words came out harsher than he planned. “Sorry, whatever. Don’t tell her anything”. Chris hung up the phone and let out an exasperated sigh. Rubbing his face with his hands, Chan couldn’t even comprehend what he was feeling. Why was the mere thought of you and Yugyeom in the same space bringing him the worst pain of it all? It was jealousy. It was all the love he couldn’t properly give you resulting in that horrendous feeling of envy. The feeling that Yugyeom might give this love to you. The love that you deserve.

How long will he continue pining over you? Maybe he should just start paying more attention to his actual girlfriend rather than the dream woman of his?

Taglist:

@heylookwhoitis @amaranth-writing @itstorimf @tenshimara @whyyougottadothatbro

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 34

Man these parts are getting harder and harder to churn out. A lot of plot points converging and real life ramping up. Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it. Also, Please let me know your thoughts. Your comments fuel me.

(Master Post)

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade surveyed the classroom. Her former classmates now her masked servants. It was fitting how they were all silent. Before, they listened to her because she told them exactly the things they wanted to hear, now they listened because she had power over them. It was kind of poetic in a way.

She looked across the classroom, she realized that there seemed to be more people missing than she initially realized.

“We are missing someone. Aside from Marinette, who is missing?”

The controlled classmates looked amongst themselves. Trying to figure out who was the one that was not in the class.

“Is it Chloé?” Miracular inquired, trying to answer her master’s request.

The akuma looked around.

“Huh… Oh yea, she isn’t here. Well she isn’t important. I was thinking someone else.” Masquerade answered. She looked to her most recently made akuma servant.

The Bubbler, the akumatized version of Nino stood motionless. As if he was not registering what was going on.

“Bubbler? Do you know who is missing?”

The multicolored akuma said nothing. Not even looking in the direction of the mask maiden.

“Bubbler! I order you to answer me!” She commanded with fiery rage.

The akuma turned to face his master, now responding.

“Adrien is missing.” The bubbler answered, his voice robotic and as emotive as a speak and spell.

“So, Adrien isn’t in the room. What a shame. I was planning on turning him into my handsome little knight.”

Masquerade thought for a moment.

Has Adrien been akumatized? Lila wasn’t sure she had ever seen or heard about him getting akumatized. She knew that the class had pretty much gotten hit at least once or twice at some point from what she had heard and read from the ladyblog. But if that goody-goody Marinette hadn’t been akumatized, Adrien likely hadn’t been akumatized either.

“Alright my servants! We have a new mission. I want you to lock this school down! No one is allowed in or out. Anyone you find, bring them to me. If they can be akumatized, then they are joining our cause.”

“Time breaker. Guard the perimeter outside of the school. Anyone outside of Ladybug and Chat noir trying to get in. Tag them, but only if they are suspicious of what’s going on. Stay hidden otherwise.”

“Timebreaker nodded and began skating out of the room in a rush.

“Horrificator, once Timebreaker is outside, seal all the exits in the main building.”

The masked monstress nodded and sped out of the room.

“Dark Cupid, Stoneheart, Princess Fragrance, Miracular and Reflekta. I want you to split up check all of the rooms and bring me potential akumas.”

The five akuma nodded and made their way out the door.

“Gamer and Robostus. I want you to hack into the airwaves. I want access to every Electric device in Paris when I give you the signal. But make sure to be subtle. I don’t want anyone to know about us until I tell you.”

The two nod and start working to get that ready for her.

She focuses her attention to the bubble making akuma that was giving her problems earlier.

Considering how hard it was to break him down, it was understandable. She had saved him for last for a reason. Because he was the hardest one to crack.

He was a relatively calm individual, able to keep a level head. But even he had his weakness. His confidence. Once that was shaken, seeing his entire class taken, knowing his girlfriend was under her control, he couldn't resist another moment. In a way, it was the most satisfying charm on her bracelet.

“Now Bubbler, you are going to go and locate Marinette and Adrien for me. Put them in a bubble and bring them to me. Help that girlfriend of yours.”

The bubbler nodded yes despite severe shaking. Seems even now he is trying to resist the control of the mask.

“Troublesome, but it is only temporary. He will break soon enough.” Masquerade mused to herself.

She looked at the near empty room with contempt. This was hardly a place where she could exact her vengeance. It was so… lame. Though a thought occurs as she realized who she had left standing at attention without orders.

“Evillustrator, I have a special request for you.”

________________________________________________________

“What is this?” Chloé screeched. “My daddy bought me the best phone plan in the city. How can I not have service right now?!”

The nurse felt a chill run down her spine. Could the akuma block out phone signals? Is that why there is no attention being given to the school? How could they call for help? How would anyone know of the akuma attack? Would Ladybug and Chat noir be able to help them?

The nurse started to feel herself going pale, she was just supposed to be a school nurse. Worst thing she needed to deal with was a scraped knee or give a kid an ice pack. Now she has a woman that collapsed on the bed and an akuma that is somewhere in the school. She had just moved to Paris a few months ago. It was her dream to live in the city of love, get her career going, find a nice guy, and just live the good life. But no one told her that supervillain attacks would be so personally connected to her situation? She had heard about this crap in New York and in America. But Paris? It was too much. What if Ladybug and Chat noir didn’t fix everything? What if this was where her story ended. What if…

“Hey!”

The nurse turned to her attention to the voice. It was the brash blonde teen that was complaining.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Just a heads up, I am not taking care of you.” Chloé commented.

Angela felt her face heat up with annoyance.

“Listen you brat. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude. I have a woman that is out cold from exhaustion in a building with a hostile akuma.”

“Good, at least you aren’t going to faint. I don’t need any more whinny women fainting on me”

The nurse paused, did the girl say that just to help her not succumb to the grim situation?

Chloé started making her way to the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“You already got your hands full with the annoying assistant. I need to make a call to daddy. So, I am going to head out the building and try there. Try not to get ripped apart by an akuma, I still need more ice when I get back.”

Angela blinked. This girl wasn’t scared of the akuma. She was actually going out to do something reasonable. If she could call for help, it would mean that this whole thing blows over.

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Be safe.”

“Yea whatever.”

Chloé headed out the door.

Angela felt a ghost of a smile grace her face.

‘Maybe that girl isn’t a complete brat after all.’

__________________________________________________

The shapeshifting sentimonster growled as it smacked the locker. It lost both primary targets. And worst of all, Ladybug appeared to make this even harder. Masquerade needed to hear about this.

“Master, Marinette and Adrien have escaped my sight.”

The sentimonster heard a sigh of disappointment from the other end.

“It is fine Simularé, They wont be able to escape the school anyway. They will be found soon enough. If anything, this is a blessing in disguise. Having them be the last targets will have them bare witness to how devasting it will all be.” Masquerade answered. “Any news on Ladybug and Chat noir?”

“That’s the other bad news. Ladybug arrived, I am assuming that’s how Marinette managed to escape, and ladybug also took Adrien away as well. No sign of chat noir. But if you know one is here, the other is likely soon to follow.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as masquerade mulled over the information she had received.

“Actually, that works out well for us. Meet up at my location, I have the other students out looking for them, I need your power for something more important.”

“Yes master.”

Simularé shifted back into its phantom form, moving quickly down the hallway to obey her master’s request.

Just as it left, Ladybug popped out of a nearby locker. Relieved it didn’t notice.

“That’s not good, Masquerade likely got everyone in the classroom.” The red heroine said aloud.

She activated her communicator and tried to contact chat noir. But there was no sound.

“Damn it. No signal. Lila likely cut the communication as soon as she realized it.?”

“No worries Buggaboo, I happen to be on site.” A voice called out.

Chat noir jumped out of another locker to reveal he was there.

Ladybug felt a bit of relief at her partner’s appearance. She could tell he felt the same. Better a situation with two heroes.

“Been here the whole time?” The spotted heroine asked her cat crimefighting comrade.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago, I figured something was up, so I decided to take a quick peek. Cat curiosity and all that.”

“And you assumed it was with Collège Françoise Dupont?”

“It seemed like a solid guess.”

“Considering the track record, that is reasonable.” Ladybug conceded.

“Ever wonder why it is always this school and never any of the other schools? Paris is a big city. You would think Hawkmoth would decide to branch out to the other schools in the city.” Chat noir inquired as they started walking down the hall.

“I assumed its just a coincidence.”

“Shot in the dark, maybe he has a kid that goes here. He is pretty old” Chat noir dissed.

“I can’t imagine anyone that would want to date Hawkmoth.” Ladybug joked.

“What about the blue lady? She seemed crazy enough.”

“And now that image is burned in my mind. Thanks kitty.” Ladybug sarcastically commented. “Despite the mental scarring, I am glad you got here. Seems a repeat offender got herself an upgrade in the akuma powers department.”

“Lila.”

“How did you know?”

“I was reading the ladyblog, Alya did great work on that article.” Chat noir praised. He mentally applauded his quick thinking.

“Right, kind of the reason I felt the need to keep an eye on this place. But sadly, I was too slow.” Ladybug responded a tad gloomy.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. We will finish this akuma before lunch.”

Ladybug heard a footstep from the end of the hallway.

“Get down!”

Ladybug tackled the cat hero down. Just narrowly avoiding a neon pause symbol, which now suck on the wall.

“Looks like Lila has been busy.” Chat noir noted as he turned his face to the direction of the attacker.

Ladybug looked at the akuma. The white mask covering her friend’s face. Lady Wifi was back.

“Alya…”

The two heroes got into a fighting stance and prepared to take down this controlled akuma.

________________________________________________

The halls were empty and lifeless as the two visiting teens made their way cautiously down the halls.

“Oddly quiet in here.” The fencer commented. “What do you think Luka?”

“Well last time we entered a place with an akuma in it, it was brimming with armored minions. Maybe this akuma has more stealth?” The Musician commented. “So, I don’t think you will be fighting as directly as you are use to Kagami.”

Kagami nodded at that, not exactly happy or sad regarding that remark. Her plan was to see if she could help her friends get out of the building, grab her textbook, and get out. She wasn’t really that interested in fighting a superpowered foe at this moment in time.

The two ceased speaking when they heard approaching footsteps.

“Someone’s coming.” Luka noted.

The two duck into the nearest room.

The two stayed close to the door as they listened to the sound of the approaching figure.

Kagami dropped to the floor silently as to check and see if she could get a visual.

She could only see what appeared to be costume boots of a larger figure. Which made the expert fencer believe it was not friendly.

The figure stopped, looking at the door. The two teens felt their neck hairs stand on edge as they did their best not to make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure passed the door without checking. Once the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, they let out a sigh of relief.

“That was way too close for comfort.”

“Agreed. I would prefer a direct confrontation next time, much less nerve-racking. “

The two carefully open the door and exit the room.

“Seems we found the akuma.” Luka commented. “Now we just need to avoid it and.”

“You mean akumas.” Kagami corrected.

“Akumas?”

Kagami tilted the boys head to look in the same direction she was looking, and sure enough she saw a rather large rock like creature walking the halls.

“Oh… well that is bad.”

Kagami pushed him back into the room and closed the door. Locking it before the rock giant could notice them.

“I’m surprised.”

“By the fact there is an 8-foot-tall rock beast outside?”

“No, by the fact you didn’t try to fight it.”

“I don’t have a weapon.” Kagami replied flatly.

Luka raised a brow at the comment, unsure if the fencer was serious or not about fighting that thing if she had a foil.

“Is something wrong?” A third voice came from behind them.

The two teens turned around, preparing for the worst. Though they were relieved to see it was just an old janitor… in a Hawaiian shirt. Despite his odd dress, he did give off a kind aura. One of a trusting old grandpa.

They noticed that the room seemed to be a sort of teacher’s lounge, with a small counter with a sink and cabinets. As well as a fridge to keep food cold and stored. A place in the school where teachers would come to get a quick coffee or store their lunch.

“Oh good, you aren’t an akuma.” Luka sighed with relief.

“An akuma?” The old man asked.

“Yes, it is very dangerous out there right now. There are multiple villains outside. I would recommend staying put while we go out there and help handle things.” Kagami explained.

“Quite bold of you to go out there against those monsters.” The man responded.

“Don’t worry, we will be careful. We just need to make sure we can get as many people out as we can so Ladybug and Chat noir won’t need to worry.”

“Ah, how selfless of you. You both seem quite capable for ones so young.”

“You’re very kind, but we are just doing what we can. Our friends are out there and they need our help.”

Kagami goes to the door. Checking to ensure the coast is clear again.

The old man pats the musician’s shoulder.

“I am sure you two will figure a way to help your friends.”

“There are too many outside this room.” Kagami grumbled. If only I had a way to fight them.”

The mysterious janitor smiled.

“Say… I did happen to see Ladybug earlier.”

The two teens turned their attention to the old man.

“You did?” they asked in unison.

“Yes, she happened to drop something while rushing. Would you two be so kind as to return them to her when you see her.”

The two of them glance at each other and shrug. The old janitor might be senile.

“Sure… We can give it to her.” Luka assured the old man, trying to remain polite.

The old man moves to a closet, where out of view of the two teens, an elaborate chest with the symbol of the guardian’s decorates the top. He quickly gets two smaller boxes and closes the closet.

“Ah! Here they are.”

He hands the two a small box each. Their eyes go wide.

“They seemed important, so I didn’t want to just leave them on the floor. But I have a feeling you two will take good care of them.”

The two teens were engrossed by the boxes in their hands. They recognized them immediately. These were the boxes Ladybug used when handing out miraculous.

“Where did you find…?” Kagami tried to question, but noticed the old man was no longer there.

“He’s gone…”

“Actually, I am over here.”

The teens look in the opposite direction they were looking in order to see him at the end of the room getting a snack from the fridge.

The duo decided that maybe this old guy wasn’t all there after all and figured it would be best to go somewhere and utilize the ‘gift’ they were just given.

“Stay in the lounge where it’s safe okay?” Luka asked politely.

“Of course. I am not paid if I am not working.”

The two teens checked the door again, and once the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room.

After he knew they were out of sight, the old man chuckled.

“The senile routine works every time.”

“Master, you really cut it close with that one.” A small turtle creature exclaimed as he popped out from the closet.

“The universe works in mysterious ways Wayzz. What are the odds that there would be an attack on the school the very day I decide to hide out as a janitor?”

“Considering the frequency of akuma attacks, very likely.”

“True, but how about running into two individuals that Marinette had picked to be heroes.” Fu followed up.

“That is quite a coincidence.”

The guardian pulled out his phone and noticed he didn’t have a signal.

“It seems I can’t get a signal to notify her of the reinforcements I sent her way. Likely it would be the same on her end. So, it is a good thing I acted in advance.”

Fu moved to the closet where he kept the miraculous.

“I can’t help but shake the feeling Ladybug and Chat noir will need all of the help they can get.

“Don’t worry master, I am sure Ladybug and Chat noir will be successful.

“Let us keep an eye on things. They might need another ally to turn the tide.

________________________________________________________

“I am guessing you are also familiar with what’s inside here?” Kagami inquired as the two stealthily moved in the hall.

“I may be familiar with it.” Luka commented.

Kagami contemplated the statement. She figured out the truth.

“Seems we both have used a miraculous then?”

“It appears we have. Though I am not sure Ladybug will be thrilled that someone knows I have helped her.”

“I understand the sentiment. Though lets simply agree to keep it between us.” Kagami answered. “Friends do keep secrets like that if I’m correct.”

Luka smiled at the comment.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Luka assured.

“As is yours.”

The two found the locker room and quickly moved inside.

“Coast is clear.”

The two opened the boxes and as they did two magical creatures appeared in front of them.

A floating creature with multiple spikes appeared in front of the fencer, while another floating creature that resembled a cobra stood in front of luka.

“It is a pleasure to see you again Mistress Kagami.”

“It’s been too long, Longg.” Kagami smiled. Happy to see her kwami friend.

“Hello Luka, itssss been a while.” The snake kwami greeted.

“Happy to see you too Sass.” Luka fist bumped his kwami.

The kwamis stop and turn to see the other kwami there.

“Does Ladybug know about this?” They both ask in unison.

“We will inform her after. Right now, there is a lot of danger.” Kagami exclaimed. “Ladybug needs our help.”

The two kwami nod and prepare to fight.

“Consssider us accomplissses.” Sass answered.

The two teens put on the miraculous.

“Sass! Scales Slither.”

“Longg! Bring the storm”

The two teens transform into their heroic alter egos.

Kagami shifting into the dragon miraculous hero Ryuuko, and Luka changing into the Snake hero Viperion.

The two stop to glance at the other.

“So, what should I call you.” The snake hero asked curiously.

“Call me Ryuuko. And what about you mister snake?”

“Viperion is what I am going with.”

“Fitting.”

“As is yours.”

The two give a nod of comradery before making their way out of the locker room. They had to go help Ladybug.

__________________________________________________

Ladybug dashed across the hallway, avoiding pause symbols being flung at her by the conniving akuma.

She slid underneath one of the symbols and preformed a daring slide kick to knock Lady Wifi off balance.

While she was unstable, Chat noir charged and used his baton to make contact with her white mask. Believing it was the obvious weak point.

“Got it!” Chat noir exclaimed triumphantly. The strike of the staff knocking Ladywifi a good several meters. Before lying flat on her back.

“Wow, that is a tough mask. I thought for sure that was the weak point.” Chat noir commented.

Lady Wifi stood up robotically.

“There must be a way to snap her out of it. Unless Hawkmoth is learning from his mistakes.” Ladybug hypothesized as she got up from the ground.

“Well I got nothing.” Chat noir shrugged.

Another set of footsteps approaching caught the hero’s attention. The recognized the multicolored bubble maker the moment they saw him.

“Nino… You too?” Chat noir said under his breath.

The Bubble maker used his bubble wand to summon two large bubbles to capture the heroes. Bringing back flashbacks of their first encounter with the bubble akuma.

Chat noir and Ladybug expertly slide between the gaps of the attack, resulting in Lady Wifi getting hit with the large bubbles and being sent flying into the wall via bubble prison.

Chat noir lunged at the Bubbler, his quick pounce pinning him down before he could attack.

“Maybe I can destroy his mask with…”

“Wait Chat noir!” Ladybug called out.

Chat noir paused.

“What if your cataclysm doesn’t free him?”

“And then I am left without the power before a recharge.”

“Exactly. We need to hold off on using our powers right now.”

Chat noir wanted to save his friend. But he knew his partner was right. They needed to conserve their powers before facing Lila.

The Bubbler managed to get the cat hero off of him with a burst of strength. Knocking Chat noir to the ground.

Lady Wifi had gotten free from the bubble attack and was now blocking the other entrance.

Ladybug and Chat noir moved back to back, Ladybug facing the ladyblogger turned mindless akuma slave and Chat noir facing the akumatized DJ.

“Any ideas, Buggaboo?”

“Seems they can’t adapt. They are pretty much mindless slaves. Which makes sense since Lila wouldn’t want them to think for themselves.”

“So you’re saying their movements are simple.”

“Which means they are exploitable.”

Chat noir felt relief watch over him. He knew Ladybug had a plan.

_____________________________________________________

“EWWWW!” Chloé screeched in disgust. The front entrance to the school had been covered in a pink slime.

She wiped her hand on the cleanest section of wall she could find. This was not her day.

“What is with this nasty gross akuma? First, I can’t call Daddy to come and pick me up. I can’t even post about it! How will Ladybug know to save me? Or better yet, get me the bee miraculous so I can help her save the day?”

Chloé decided to try another exit, since she had no plans of sticking around without knowing if she was going to be given a miraculous or not. Plus, she did say she would call for help, and doing that would make her look good in potential hero points.

As she was walking, she bumps into something in the middle of the hall. Which was bizzare since the hall was clear.

“Ouch, right on my bruise. What the hell is…”

Chloé felt her anger shift to fear when she watched as the empty hall now contained a familiar akuma.

“Sabrina?”

The akuma turned to her, her face covered with a white face mask.

“Eww. Your akuma form looks even tacker than before.”

“Take potential akuma to master.” The akumatized Sabrina stated in an emotionless tone. Repeating the order, she had been given.

“Oh no you don’t! Sabrina, I order you to listen to me!”

The akuma ignored the blonde’s command and slowly walked towards her.

“Sabrina… I am warning you. I am going to yell at you over this later if you don’t stop right now.”

Chloé started slowly backing away. She wasn’t sure of what to do.

“Listen… if you stop right now… I’ll uh… let you take a pick of one of my old sweaters.” Chloé bargained, not intending to let her pick one of the ones she actually liked.

Chloé felt her hand touch the sealed door, and knew she was at the end of the hall. She was boxed in.

“This is so unacceptable.” Chloé stated, preparing to get captured. But a flash of Red and Black came out of nowhere and kicked the akuma hard to the wall.

“Ladybug! I knew you would like save me!” Chloé jumped and hugged her savior.

“Im not ladybug.” The heroine spoke.”

Chloé released the hug as she examined who her savior was.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chloé had never bothered to learn the names of any of the other miraculous heroes. She sometimes forgets chat noir’s name.

“Ryuuko.” The dragon heroine stated calmly, almost regretting saving Chloé.

“Did Ladybug send you? Cause it would have been better if she got me to help.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore Chloé’s comment.

“Now we need to leave before she… Where did she go?” Looking at the dented locker that no longer had an akuma lying on the ground.

Suddenly the akuma popped out of nowhere about to strike from above with her tonfa and steal Ryuuko’s powers, but was stopped when a small harp smacked her face.

“She appears to have invisibility.” A voice called out.

The two turn to see the snake hero as he caught his harp on the rebound.

Chloé took a moment to look over the snake hero. She had to admit, he was pretty cute. Not Adrien cute, maybe she would start learning the names of the other heroes.

“Quick thinking Viperion.” Ryuuko thanked the snake teen.

“Just following your lead.” Viperion responded. The two giving eachother a respectful smile. They both seemed to have gotten used to working together.

The akuma got up. Its white face mask making the akuma’s expression unreadable. But its body language exuded rage.

“Seems we aren’t going anywhere until she is taken care of.” Ryuuko said as she stared down the akuma.

Viperion turned to chloé.

“You need to go and get to safety.”

“Okay!” Chloé says as she runs off.

“How come she didn’t give you any sass?”

“Because I already have him.”

Kagami had to admit that was a clever response.

“Not what I meant, but Chat noir would love that joke.”

“I will be sure to tell him it later.”

“Stick to playing guitar. You’re a better musician than comedian.”

Before they could get off anymore banter. The akuma went for another attack.

________________________________________________________

Simularé entered Ms.Bustier’s classroom.

“I am here.” The ghostly sentimonster announced.

“Excellent.”

The sentimonster looked up to see that the classroom it was expeciting to see had been altered into what appeared to be a rather glamourous throne room. The windows covered by white curtains with the design of an akuma in black. The platforms and stairs had been altered to be marble. And at the top, where Lila’s desk once was was now a golden throne akin to something one would see in a castle. Though despite the impressive change in the classroom it was still being designed. The akuma known as the evillustrator was still creating more furnishings for the room.

“Simulare, I have an order for you.” Masquerade stated as she sat on the new throne. Clearly confident in her position.

The sentimonster approached her master. Stopping only a few feet away.

“I want you to create a mirage over the school. Since Ladybug is already in the school. It would be best if you made sure no one notices whats happening here. I don’t need any additional heroes popping in yet. Let’s handle her before making things public.”

Simularé nodded.

“Understood. But what should we do if she…”

“I have everything under control. Just follow my orders.”

Simularé ceased her questioning.

“As you wish master.”

The sentimonster shifted into her Volpina form and headed out of the classroom.

“She is getting arrogant in her power. If things do go south, I will need to step in.” Simularé said to herself. But for now, she knew she had a role to play.

_____________________________________________________________

And that ends part 34.

Seems things are REALLY heating up. Will Viperion and Ryuuko be able to help Ladybug and Chat noir?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to get through to their brainwashed friends?

Will Masquerade's gambit be enough for her to get her vengeance?

Whats Simularé's deal?

Find out by staying tuned and sharing. Remember Reblogs help content creators and if you do enjoy my content, the support really does help

593 notes · View notes

amesstm · 3 years

Text

sick s/o

Characters: Miya Twins, Suna, Sakusa, Tendo

Notes: timeskip!, fluffy,

A/N: Ahh, my 1-year anniversary is tomorrow so I’m going to post this today instead of next week. I’m hoping I’ll be inspired to write even more from tomorrow :)

✨Atsumu✨ noticed something was wrong as soon as he came home from practice. You weren’t there to rush up and hug him immediately as he stepped through the doorway. He’s all pouty and whiny as he marches to find you. Soon, he spots you napping on the couch. He took a second to admire how peaceful you looked… at this moment. Yes, he loves you, but he also needs kisses. Like a needy cat, he nudges you awake, complaining, “Kiss me!” As you’re shook into consciousness, you grumble, “No, don’t kiss me!” Groggy and congested, you struggle to push your strong boyfriend away from your face. “Why?! Don’t you love me?” You falter a bit because you did his smelly laundry for a reason?? “Yes, but-“ Taking this opening, he pressed his lips against yours... A couple days later and he’s play-blaming you for his current state. “Angel, how could ya do this to me?”

✨Osamu✨ absolutely takes some shifts off to take care of you. At work, he’s created a system that’s still efficient when he’s absent; he tells you as such so you don’t feel guilty for him staying home to take care of you. “Ya take care of me everyday, let me just do this fer ya, okay?” Now that he’s with you and not his restaurant, his attention is absolutely focused on you. It’s actually really nice, but you don’t want to grow too comfortable with it since he’d go back to working from opening to closing soon. But in the time that you have, Osamu is brilliant at taking care of things without asking. The water is always full, the medicine is prepared at its exact time, and you always feel loved. “Can I have miso soup please?” “Of course,” he’d smile before proceeding to ask you which paste you wanted. He may be out of the restaurant, but his need to cater was still there. Occasionally, you’d contemplate getting sick more because you loved having time with Osamu.

✨Suna✨ would probably do the bare minimum (sorry). As expected, he gets the essentials: medicine, water and food, and probably some herbs that he was told to take from his mom (very Asian). “Babe, I-I don’t think these work.” He’d sigh, “My mom said to take them.” The rest are things you’d need to ask for. If you wanted to watch something on the tv but were too tired to get up, you’d have to whine for Suna to get the remote. In a scratchy voice, you called, “Babeeee, where’d you put the remote?” He returns with a muffled response. You’d pout, “Can you get it for me?” If you needed another blanket to cuddle into - because god forbid you keep using the one you’ve been coughing to -, you’d need to ask for one. And you’d need to remind him to do the laundry. One day, you’d just wake up to him staring down at you. “Babe? What are you doing?” “I’m trying to scare the sickness away.”

✨Sakusa✨ remembered his wedding vows “in sickness and in health” and would keep repeating them to remind himself. There was no denying that he loved you unconditionally, but he also valued his hygiene. As soon as he discovered that you fell ill, he’d put in the money for a quality hazmat suit. “Really, babe, really?” “Don’t speak, I haven’t zipped it up yet.” Then, he’d isolate you to the guest room so you wouldn’t infect the rest of the house. Finally, the whole house would be sanitized. No, items wouldn’t be burned this time. Sure, you were under house arrest but at least the person in charge was caring and cute. “If I weren’t sick, this would be really nice role play.” He’d grimace, “You’re sick even without the illness.” Otherwise, he would absolutely give you anything you need and more. This also meant you took advantage of the situation to ask for more plushies. However, if he’s busy, he might allow one of his teammates to care for you… but only Meian and no one else. As a side note, he would absolutely hate you being sick because he can’t kiss you.

✨Tendo✨ knows how miserable your illnesses are, so he always tries to brighten your day whenever he can. Being a chocolatier, he’d give you chocolate if your stomach can handle it. Of course, he’d give you your favorite flavor… in the most expensive form possible. Only the best for his paradise. Anyways, Tendo would probably situate you on the couch and create a pillow fort just for you. “Baby, I don’t think I need this many plushies and snacks…” you said with two pillows propping up your head and five plushies resting on your stomach, as you watched him tower more and more around you. “Nonsense! You must be pampered!” Yes, he will run to the store at who-knows-when to get whatever you need. Unfortunately, that all ends because Tendo would accidentally forget you were kiss and kisses you. So, you two are now sick together.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu #osamu #osamu headcanons #osamu fluff #osamu x you #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #haikyuu tendou #tendou hcs #tendou x reader #satori tendo x reader

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Note

oh my god! your writing is amazingggg. may i please have a creepy! shiggy, dabi or hawks whichever one is easier for you where they really like the reader so they do yk normal creepy stuff like stealing her underwear and humping her bed and one day they get caught and they thought she’d be disgusted but she’s lowkey into it and she’s just super sweet and praising and a HUGE SERVICE TOP. I think they just need some good pussy 😔 if you decide to do this then THANK YOUUUU

｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ you’re too nice nonnie & tysm. i’m glad you’re here!

warnings: general degeneracy, masterbation, handjobs, SMUT, panty sniffin’

You make a point to leave your room unlocked.

Oh, you’ll switch it up, every so often, just so he has something to work for, but you prefer to pressure him with a time crunch instead of a locked door. It’s always so much fun. You make a show of dashing up the steps, feet thudding heavily on the warped wood. Then, right when you’re on the threshold, gosh, how could you be so daft, so thoughtless! You’d left your supplies downstairs, again! You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders. Silly, silly, silly.

The display does what you need it to, namely, giving him the chance to slink away. He’s always whisper quiet when he creeps into your space, it’s a miracle you’d caught him. But, even super-villains find themselves on the back foot sometimes, and boy, was he clumsy about this.

It wasn’t like him. That was the slip up. No, his one, original, mistake was a simple one.

He’d left evidence of his arousal, of his lewd, heated, heart thudding, want. It was tacky, sticky, absolutely dripping with the milky residue of him. He’d tried to bury it deep, pressing it down into the bowels of your hamper, likely praying that it would remain hidden and you wouldn’t question it further when you did stumble upon it, hopefully weeks later.

You didn’t like to leave your hamper open and you certainly never, ever, left it beside your bed. It had been another long day and, at first, you’d only given it a swift glance, replaying the events of the night before. Maybe you’d lugged it over, too tired to pace the small distance? You had been in a rush. It was plausible.

Kicking your boots to the floor, you raise a hand to lower the lid of your plastic hamper when you spot the cascade of clothing. Again, it’s a tiny, tiny, fragment, but he should know better. It’s your job to notice the small, the obscure. Retcon is your bread and butter and this is too much, too tempting to ignore.

Fingers follow the hollowed space his arm has left behind and you hit the panties, seconds later. They’re warm, wet, and you clutch them into your palm and pull.

Fuck.

The lace is soaking. Fresh lines of cum run in thick rivulets, falling down your upturned hand and along your wrist, dribbling onto your bare feet. For a moment, you can’t seem to process the image that’s before you, your mind whirring through the possibilities, the faces. Who...no...which one of them did this?

The next morning, you’re quiet. It’s not unnatural. After all, it’s freaking 7 am, no one at the bar is talking. As you sip on your chilled, canned, coffee, your eyes carefully size up the men who are lounged around you.

Shigaraki is perusing a newspaper, the pallid hand of father obscuring his face, but you can still catch sight of the red glint of his eyes. He looks bored. He hadn’t even looked up when you walked in, his back bowed and head down, engrossed in his search.

Dabi is perched on one of the dilapidated couches, his long legs curled under him, flicking a bashed lighter, open and closed, open and closed. Like Shigaraki, he hadn’t lifted his gaze to you at first. He had, however, answered a question. Just the one, when you’d asked him if he had found any newbies, any potential recruits. He’d snarked his reply, his cerulean irises latching onto you with a cruel sharpness. No was his answer and you hadn’t pressed for any further elaboration.

Compress was shuffling a deck of cards. Spinner was ticking through his phone. Twice was chittering with Toga. Nothing was out of the ordinary. You finish your breakfast and tell them that you’re heading out.

No one replies.

******

Unsurprisingly, it happened again.

It’s a different pair of panties but the glisten of the cum is the same. So is the lowered placement, the bevel of the clothes, and the position of the hamper. However, it’s a little more calculated this time around. The lid is closed and there are no traces of his entry, no cuts or nicks on the door handle or key hole, no scattering of your things, no dip on your bed. There’s nothing.

Alright. Two can play at this game.

The hamper is moved, strategically maneuvered into the bathroom that your room holds. You’re careful to leave the lid propped. It looks haphazard, but it takes a precise click of the plastic to lock it into that position. You’ll be able to tell if it’s been moved.

You tug your panties out of your dresser and count them, noting the colors, patterns, the imperfections in the lace. If you’re going to do this, you need to know what you’re working with. The inventory must be precise, each variant recognized and tallied.

Every day, it’s a rinse and repeat process. Yank the flutter of fabrics out, spread them across your sheets and count. It’s tedious, bordering on annoying, but you wanna know. It’s like an itch. It sits right where you can’t reach and it tickles at the back of your mind. Besides, you’ve always liked a good puzzle. Although, this isn’t quite what you had in mind, you’ll take it and you’ll solve it, if it’s the last thing you do.

Two days after you start this mind-numbing task, four pairs go missing.

******

It’s late when you stumble back into the hideout, padding past the darkened bar and up the steps. The mission, despite its lower ranking, and pay, you think bitterly, had taken almost three days. Thankfully, the information you’d gleaned was worth it, but you’re exhausted. You’re wiping a sleepy hand across your face when you notice your door.

It’s ajar.

Instinctually, you fall to your haunches, tip toeing toward the crack, eyes narrowed, fingers curled into fists. The room is pitch black but there’s something, no, someone, in there. You can make out their outline. It’s a jagged cut that sits upon your bed and you can hear the tiny hitches and groans that they’re gasping out.

As your eyes adjust, you can see more. Your knees fall to the floor, digging into the wood and you steady yourself against the wall, eyes wide. He’s propped along your pillows and his hand is working over himself, using the friction of another pair of your panties to rub himself to completion. You can’t make out the exact shape of his cock but from the rapid fire tugs of his fist you can tell it’s long. It must be thick too, since he needs to adjust his pulls toward the tip.

He’s quiet, but you can still hear the catches and moans he’s making. Your name slips out too and the utterance makes your mouth go dry. So that’s who it is. Well, wonders never cease.

In the months that you’d known him, he hasn’t paid you much mind. Even through the haze of this strange obsession, he hasn’t altered his day to day routine, hasn’t broken character, hasn’t spoken to you unless the situation absolutely called for it.

Damn. It’s too much, it’s way, way...no. No. It’s not that it’s too much, you think, mesmerized by the sight that’s splayed across your sheets. It’s nowhere near enough.

You want to march in there, yank your soiled panties off his dick and hear what kind of noises he would make for you then. Would he shove you off, or would he welcome your notice? Either way, he’s too close now.

His hips have started to rut upwards, unable to resist the rhythm he’s created. The moans have drifted into hisses and his back arches when he cums, those familiar ropes of white splashing across the pastel of your lace. He’s careful to catch the drops, pinching the end of his cock and shuddering at the overstimulation. As he sits up, you cautiously rise, unsteady on your wobbling legs.

You’re halfway down the stairs when your door shuts. His footsteps recede down the hallway and you can hear him as he thuds into his own space, the click of his lock reverberating in your ears.

******

Thus, the game of cat and mouse continues.

Outwardly, neither of you reveal your hand, keeping your cards close to the chest, out of each others line of sight. Your door locks, unlocks, and you keep losing more panties. You’ve marked the one that will make the difference. It’s your new, favorite, pair. You haven’t worn them yet, but they’re a lush item, expensive, luxuriant, an excess that you don’t usually allow yourself. You’d purchased them the day after you’d finally caught sight of him. You couldn’t help it.

Most people, you reason, would be horrified by this situation, but not you. Oh no, you’re so turned on you can barely sleep. You start to masterbate in the early evening, when you know the others are moving around, your fingers trailing past your dampened curls, a careful fingernail pricking along your clit. You’ve even left your door open, cracked, welcoming the attention of anyone passing by. Once, you could have sworn you’d heard him. The whisper of that gasp, imagined or not, had bowled you over, your thighs clamping around your wrist, your cunt pulsing around nothing, hungry, slathering, desperate for more.

You want to just toss those panties on your bed and provoke the interaction. Goddamnit, how much longer is he gonna make you wait?

******

Not even 24 hours later, they’re gone.

He’s getting reckless, too. Your hamper is knocked over, the dresser drawer that holds your underwear is a crumpled mess, and he’s deliberately left a vacant hole where the panties used to lay. It’s screaming for your attention and you can feel your heartbeat thrumming against your breast.

Finally.

The next mission you’re assigned is easy, too easy. It’s mid-afternoon and there’s no reason for you to be back this early. Well, that’s an oversimplification. There is a perfectly excellent reason for you to be back, you’re just hoping the sliver of intel that was dropped for you will pay off.

Apparently, while the rest of you were out pounding the pavement, he’s elected to stay behind. He had something he needed to take care of.

“It sounded important,” Toga informed you, her voice lilting, rising with that sharp toothed smile of hers.

“Why are you telling me this,” you’d asked her, biting your lip and crossing your legs, soothing the throb that’s pricking in your core.

“He just told me to tell you, didn’t ask him anything more. You know how he is. He can be, prickly,” Toga winks, popping her head to the side, bouncing her golden locks.

“Alright,” you reply, adding a mask of disdain and disinterest to your performance. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Lies, lies.

So many fucking lies, but he must know that you realize, that you know. Why else enlist Toga? He hated having to lay things out. No, he must know, he has to.

The bar is empty and the upper floors are deathly still.

Your door is sensibly shut but you can make out his jerks, his gasps, and those choked whimpers that echo past the flimsy wood. Your hand catches against the knob and you take one, last, steadying breath.

Here we go.

When you swing the door open he startles upward, his white hair curtaining the flush of his cheeks. Those vermillion irises land on you and he vaults away, nearly tumbling off the side of your bed. His pants are still bunched around his thighs, so that hinders him from making a true getaway. As he’s fumbling with the dark material, you don’t miss the shake of his hands and the spread of that lovely blush.

Oh, this is too perfect.

Before he can finish tucking himself back in his pants, you’re dashing across the top of your bed, ignoring the discarded panties, ignoring the dark glare that he gives you, ignoring everything but that heated bulge that’s giving him so much trouble.

Impatient, your fingers curl around his wrists and you use the millisecond of surprise that your swift action has gifted you. With a low gasp, he falls forward, his knees sinking into the softness of your mattress. One hand lowers to brace himself, but he’s careful to keep a finger arched away, preserving the permanence of your bed. Before he can get his bearings, you’re pressing him onto his back, straddling his lean hips and lowering those dark pants back down.

His cock, badly concealed by the upper line of his boxers, springs out, curving proudly toward his muscled stomach. For his part, Shigaraki squirms under you, his scarred lip set in a forbidding scowl. His deadly hands lower to yours, but you ignore his unspoken threat, knocking his trembling digits away. Your fingers lace around his cock, squeezing at the heft of him, stroking up the spidery veins and grooves until he’s dropping his defiant head back against your sheets.

“Wh-what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls, his raspy voice halting over the question.

“Who? Me?” you laugh, tugging a few more gasps from his shaking lips. There’s a pale strand of precum that’s leaking from his tip and you brush your thumb over it, gathering it against the pad and using it to ease your motions. His hips buck up and he shoves himself into your fist, a long string of curses slipping through his clenched teeth.

“I don’t think you get to ask that, dear leader,” you tease, leaning over his prone form. You’re glad he’s forgone wearing that creepy hand. It hadn’t even come into your calculations of how all of this would go. “No, not with the way you’ve been behaving.”

“I-I didn’t...fuck–”

“What? Didn’t think I’d find out?”

“You’re not supposed to be here. I sent you on that– ah– that mission for a reason,” Shigaraki bites out, shifting away from your close inspection. You smile at his discomfort and cup your free hand around his chin, yanking him back to you, forcing him to look up.

“That’s too bad, cus’ I finished early. Looks like I’m just that good, huh?”

He’s seething up at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of your room, but he’s not making any attempts to leave. He may want to, but it seems his body has other plans. His cock is swelling as you pick up your tempo, your fingers clenching and releasing as you go, edging him along.

“You ever fucked a girl?” you ask, leaning back to admire the tense enjoyment of the man under you. The muscles of his stomach, coil and writhe, flexing each time you hit his tip and relaxing as you make the swift pass back down.

“N-no,” he moans, jerking his hips up, silently demanding that you pick up the pace.

“Did you want to?” you whisper, lowering to his face again, letting your soft lips trace along his temple. His skin is rough, but you like the contrast. Shigaraki seems to enjoy it too, his eyes slipping behind his eyelids as he turns toward you. When he doesn’t answer, you slow the hand that’s passing over the strain of his length. Shigaraki hisses at the shift and his eyes pop open again. They burn as they blaze up at you, clearly echoing his displeasure.

“Asked you a question,” you scold. He’s quiet for a long breath, but, after a few tense seconds, he lowers his eyes and nods, his jaw tight. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Shigaraki grumbles, flashing a quick glare your way. “Was that clear enough for you?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, one delicate eyebrow arching at his disgruntled expression.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he huffs, grimacing as you lift your hand from him, freeing yourself to yank your shirt off.

“What do you want me to call you?” you ask, unbuttoning your jeans and easing them down the curve of your hips.

“My fucking name.”

“Shigaraki?”

“No. Tomura,” he replies, his voice falling into that deep rasp again. He’s watching you closely and you grin down at his frank assessment.

“Alright, Tomura,” you begin, testing out the unfamiliar acknowledgement. “Let’s make this good for you, hmm? What are you wanting to try first?”

He’s silent and you can hear the grinding of his teeth. “What’s better for you?”

Oh. Well, that’s not a question you were expecting. “For me? Uh, I guess I prefer to be on top. Let’s me control things and–”

“So do that,” he shrugs, finally peeling those dark pants off his long legs. He leaves his shirt on, but it doesn’t matter, if you’re riding him it’s not like you can’t tuck your hands under the tattered fabric.

“After acting like such a creep, you’re being pretty nonchalant about all of this,” your fingers wander along his sides and he shudders again, his neck bowing off the bedding.

“You’re one to fucking talk. Think I didn’t know what you were doing?”

“Ha! Well, well. No wonder you took my bait so easily. When did you figure me out?”

“That night you sat outside your door and watched me,” his hands raise to your hips and he urges you to hurry up, grunting when your dripping cunt traces over his tip. “Then you left your fucking door open. Not just once, either, no, you did it for days. It was a whole fucking week of that shit. Didn’t even need to steal a pair of your slutty little panties to smell you then. You reeked. I could smell you from my room.”

You laugh, helping him to press up and he glides into you, stretching you, radiating a satisfying ache along the slippery heat of your walls. His legs lift and his hands fall from your hips. Once you’re fully seated, your pelvis flush with his, you give him a few gulping breaths.

“Ahh, fuck, oh– fucking damn it. Ohh, this feels nice. God, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbles, his voice falling into a hysterical edge. You bite your lip and raise up on your knees, making sure you grip him tightly as you go. Another mantra of obscenities drop from his lips and his feet brace against the bed, his hips rutting blindly as you begin that slow lift and lower.

“How’s that?” you query, moaning when he returns those broad hands to your hips. His reply is a sharp thrust and you’re tipped forward, forced to sprawl over him, fingers digging for purchase in his dark shirt. He grunts at the weight of you but he keeps his pace up, using the bed as leverage.

You’re so close to him and you can’t help but reach for his face, suddenly desperate to feel his lips against yours. He doesn’t fight your hold, but he does let out a long groan when you tentatively kiss him. It’s slow at first and you’re very conscious of those dangerous hands of his. They’re still braced against your hips, but the four digits are starting to dig into your skin, sinking into the vulnerable dips until you’re whining.

He’s unsure, so you help him along.

You suck and nip at him, teasing him until he’s raising his head for more. Finally, one of those powerful hands detaches from your waist and he snatches at the back of your neck, insisting that you let him explore you further. After a time, you need air more than you need his lips, so you shake yourself free, pulling away and grinding your hips down as he ruts into you again.

“Not bad,” you tell him, grinning when he swipes his tongue over his swollen lips, his eyes lifting to peer up at you curiously. “Want me to take it up a notch?”

“No,” he replies sharply. “I like this.”

You snort at his blunt response and give him what he’s asked for. You keep the drags of your lifts slow, enjoying how he throbs and swells inside you. Each time you rise, you roll your hips and he sighs at every minor clench that your pussy does. After a time, you can’t ignore the pulsations of your impatient clit, so your fingers trail downward, delicately rolling and grinding against the bud.

Tomura tilts his head at this and his hazy vermillion snags your attention. “Does...does that feel good?”

For a second, you’re unsure what he means, but when his hand ghosts over yours, you realize. “Mmhm,” you gasp, giving yourself a quicker tweak, delighting in the widening of his eyes when your cunt flushes another wave of arousal around him. It slicks between your thighs and pools around his pelvis, gleaming against the dark curls that rest there.

“Lemme try,” he demands, batting your hand away and replacing your fingers with his own. He’s clumsy and he’s not expecting it to be that slippery, but he’s a quick study and he watches your face expectantly each time he tries something different.

“Y-you’re doing so good, Tomura,” you praise, lingering on his name, pleased that he reacts so positively to it. “Just a little bit...oh fuck...yeah, right there is perfect.”

You’re not being facetious either, he’s honestly killing you with those earnest looks and careful prods. Each time you gasp, he presses just a fraction more, testing out his new skills and expanding on them. As a reward, you keep the positive reinforcement coming, calling out his name as you fuck him into you, loving how he keeps pulsating and groaning each time you sink down.

A thin misting of sweat is beading over both of you, but you ignore the heat, too close to care that you’re starting to falter a bit in your rhythm. Tomura is panting also, losing some of that focus as he races toward his own release.

“Harder, ride me fucking harder, (Y/N),” he commands. The sight of him gasping and groaning out your name gives you an idea. You acquiesce to his demand but as you start those quick pumps your fingers reach behind you, searching for something that you think he’ll like even more.

Ah-ha!

It’s an older pair, not as frilly as the one’s you’d saved for him, but you’ve been wearing them all day, so that scent he was complaining about should be nice and ripe. His eyes have winced shut, so the flop of your lace panties startles him. He tenses for a second, but once he notices what you’ve given him a wicked smirk curls his lips. Instantly, his hand leaves your clit and he presses the fabric to his face, huffing heavily against the crotch.

“You fucking tease,” he groans, his tongue tracing along the seams, lapping at the thin residue that you’ve undoubtedly left behind. “Ahhh, yes. I think I would have rather had you sit on my face, but this will work, for now.”

The threat in his voice makes you shiver and you rock forward as you lower, snagging the sharp edge of his pelvis against your clit. Tomura takes in another deep breath at the sensation, his hand still holding your saliva filled panties to his lips. Just a little bit more. Your fingers tweak and pull, rolling the way you need. The heavy sting of Tomura’s cock is helping too and your pussy greedily begins to tighten around him, earning you a sputtered groan from the man beneath you.

“D-do that again,” he sighs, shifting your panties down his face so he can watch you. Obediently, you flick at your clit again and that stimulation, plus the heady knowledge that Tomura is watching, memorizing every move you make, hurtles you over the edge and you can’t help but slump forward as your orgasm crashes over you. Tomura lets out a guttural moan, flinging your panties away and yanking you to his parted lips. His kiss is frantic, nonsensical, more bites and slurps than any kind of caress, but you fall into his arms, overwrought and too turned on to think.

Once he’s had his fill of your lips, he resumes that steady pounding, his powerful hips canting into you, peppering you with jagged thrusts that leave you gasping.

“What’s the matter?” he taunts, his voice a wild rasp in your ear. “Can’t take anymore? Am I too much for you?”

You don’t trust yourself to reply, already seconds away from another shuddering release. All it takes is the feeling of him swelling and the heat of his cum to reduce you to a gasping mess again. This time, a thin line of drool escapes your lips. Delighted, Tomura snags his hand in your hair, tugging until you’re hovering over him. Gluttonously, he laps at your lips, sucking until you’re not sure who’s making the bigger slob of themselves.

When he’s finished, he rolls you off of him, splaying you out on the bed. As the world falls back into focus, you catch sight of him, leering over you, his white hair cascading around the two of you.

“I don’t think I’m done yet,” he grins, one hand cupping under your jaw. “Besides, you could have given me this weeks ago. I think you owe me a few back payments. Don’t cha’ think?”

notes: ahaha. this is basically a full fledged fic. whoops.

did i have anyone wondering if i was gonna pick Tomura or Dabi?

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on why she can't write small #it's not hard #except when it is #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #bnha smut #drabble #kinda?#i refuse to do a word count

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sincerelychifuyu · 3 years

Text

cat! (a whisker away au)

kazutora x gn!reader

– 1681 words

– hurt/comfort

– not proofread

note: i didn't exactly follow the whole plot and scenes of the movie and the ending was rushed

story belows the cut! hope you enjoy!

“you like him, right?”

“huh?” you stopped walking and turned you head only to meet a cat who was sitting upright, you titlted your head as you pointed your index finger towards the cat and asked, “where y-you talking to me...?”

to simply answer your question, the cat nods, “mhm! you like him, kazutora, right? and you know he likes–no, loves cats, am i right?”

you didn't wanna question any further so you wouldn't complicate the situation more and simply said, “yeah! he has told me multiple stories about the cats he's taking care of... yeah...” your voice slowly getting lower at the end of your sentence, you didn't even know why you were telling a literal cat about your liking towards kazutora. but it wouldn't hurt, right?

“well, [name], would you kindly accept my offer–you give me your mask and i'll grant you the power to be able to transform into a cat anytime you want?” the cat grins, showing its sharp teeth, its eyes held a mysterious glint for a short amount of time and you would've missed it if you blinked.

you were willing to accept the cat's offer because you already have a plan in mind with what you were going to do first in your ˝cat form˝, but you were confused about one thing, “m... mask? what kind of mask exactly?”

the cat was well aware of your tone, it knows you were willing to accept the offer but still cautious, “i'd say it's similar to a human body,”

“h-ha–?!” you shrieked loudly which resulted in accidentally cutting off the cat's answer, “vessel for vessel, get it? if i offer a cat vessel, you offer me your human vessel. it's only a fair trade, do you not agree?”

“you have a point there...” you scratch your head and the cat explains more thoroughly, “simply shake my paw and that'll mean you accept my offer, if you need more time to think–”

“i need a week! give me a week to think!” you intertwine your hands together while show a pleading look towards the cat and it sighs, “...fine, just repeat the word ˝milk˝ three times and i will appear once your mind is made up,”

the cat was already preparing to leave before it stops and tells you, “if you do agree, you have five months before your human vessel is completely stripped away from you, there's no turning back and you'll be a cat for the rest of your life.”

you shivered at the thought of not being able to be a human again, “i see... i'll go now! bye...?”

“yam, you can call me yam. looking forward to our meeting again, [name]” the cat grins once again and dissapears out of thin air, as if it wasn't there in the beginning.

you continued your way back home and immediately laid down on your bed. you looked at your window to see the sun was setting down, you sighed and closed your eyes thinking about kazutora for the nth time that day.

‘would kazutora pay attention to me more if i was a cat?’ you didn't tell yam earlier that you had countlessly thought about turning into a cat just to get noticed by kazutora, but yam could have possibly knew about it hence why the feline offered you a cat vessel.

‘will it be worth it?’ you asked no one in particular and slept.

you woke up in a messy state. realizing you were late for the second time that week, you rushed with no second thoughts. quickly getting on your bike to get faster to school.

you saw your friends by the school gate and approached them full of sweat because of the exercise you recieved from your bike. you greeted them nonetheless and pretended you didn't hear them scolding you for being late.

you opened the door to your first class and saw kazutora sitting while doodling something. you went to your assigned seat which was next to his and asked, “oh! you're drawing a cat? as expected from you, kazutora.” you smile at him and your classmates cheer for you.

“thank you, [name].” he smiled back at you and you felt butterflies in your stomach. you were gonna do everything for kazutora even if it meant you had to give up your human vessel.

your week went smoothly. you thought about yam's offer for a few more days, five days to be exact. finally making up your mind, you repeated the word ˝milk˝ three times.

“oh? you finally made up your mind? it's not even a week yet.” the cat asks you, eager to hear your answer.

“yeah... i didn't think it'd take me just four days to make up my mind, too,” you looked away from yam.

“mhm, continue, don't keep me waiting for too long!”

“fine, fine! um, i'll accept your offer but...!” the cat extends its paw and grins.

you groaned and just told yam, “ok, i'm really, a hundred percent, completely sure that i will accept your offer!” you shook his paw and the next thing you new was that you passed out.

you woke up the next day, to eat breakfast and saw yuzuha at your table. “yuzuha? what are you doing here?” you neared the table and sat down. “i just wanted to visit you and since your door wasn't locked i went in!” she replied with a mouthful of cereal.

“hm, yeah but swallow before talking!” you giggled at her behavior and continued talking, “also, what day is it?”

“don't worry, today is saturday, i would have woke you up if we had school today.” you were thankful for yuzuha, you truly are.

you almost forgot about the agreement you and yam had yesterday and excused yourself, “wait! i'll go outside real quick i just need to do something!” yuzuha just nodded.

yam didn't tell you how to turn into a cat and you mentally cursed yourself for not asking.

you closed your eyes and pictured yourself as a cat, opening your eyes, you realized your vision look funny, you looked down and saw your paw.

you celebrated in your mind and ran to kazutora's house, he has invited you numerous times already. you went to the second floor, it was a little tricky but you were now face to face with kazutora's room window. you slid it open and was met with him drawing something once again.

you meowed so he could notice you, it looked like it worked because now kazutora was playing with you. you had lots of fun but you didn't forget you told yuzuha you'd be out ‘real quick’, you looked at kazutora's clock and went for a run to your house.

you opened the door and saw yuzuha watching a show, “i'm back!” you shout with the largest grin on your face.

“why do you look so giddy? where did you go to?” yuzuha raises a brow suspiciously and you just waved her off, “hmmm, nowhere in particular! by the way, you can leave anytime, just tell me! i'm going to my room.”

you went upstairs and squealed, you haven't even confessed to kazutora and yet you're already acting like he accepted your feelings.

it went on for months, you visited kazutora in your cat form and always spent time with him, cherishing the moments you spent with him even if you're just a cat.

you'll never forget the smile he sends your way, the sweet words that left his mouth, the way he takes care of you–you wonder if he'd do this if you were in your human form, you hope he would then you wouldn't have to visit him and rely on your cat form.

it didn't go unnoticed by you when you realized it was getting harder to transform back to your human form.

you didn't even realize that the five months you had before your human vessel was taken away from you was already over.

your friends put up missing person posters, you saw that they were grieving over you. you thought in that moment that you were so selfish, you didn't even think about the people around you and just accepted yam's offer just to get noticed by a person.

you didn't know what to do now and just weeped in the middle of a street. kazutora heard a cat meowing and walked towards it. it was raining that night but kazutora dropped everything just to cradle you in his arms.

kazutora's always like this, caring and kind, he may look like he doesn't care about anything at all but he's the opposite. that's what made you fall for him.

tears continued to fall at your eyes,

more,

and more.

you were now crying over kazutora, you were such a hopeless romantic, you were so stupid, so reckless, so careless.

“[name]...?” kazutora questioned.

your sobbing stopped and you slowly understood the situation you were in.

you have turned back into your human form–but how?

you could see from your peripheral vision the cat that offered you your cat form. you could see its grin but before you could ask something to the cat, you felt kazutora's hold on you go tighter than before.

heat went up to your face upon the realization that kazutora hanemiya, the person who you have the biggest crush on, is hugging you like there's no tomorrow.

“i thought i lost you.” kazutora whispered.

“i'm... sorry, kazutora. i shouldn't have done that.” you said as you hugged him back just as tight.

“it's alright, [name]. you don't have to apologize for anything.” kazutora suddenly backed away after he said that but both of your hands are still entwined, he continued, “well, now that's settled, do you wanna go anywhere?” kazutora grins and tilted his head, his earring jingling at the action.

“are you... asking me out?” you teased him and laughed. “you could say that.” kazutora replies and you froze.

“how could i say no when you're the one asking me that?”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers kazutora #tokyo revengers x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya #tokyorev fic #tokyorev x reader #gender neutral reader

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xenteaart · 4 years

Text

You’re a Cat, Hargreeves

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Request 1: Hello, so Five has been through a LOT in just two weeks, so can I request something where the reader and him have a bit of intimacy but are not together yet. Then something happens that is just the last drop to him and he shows up to the reader with red and glossy eyes and collapses in her arms? She just holds him (because boy, he needs it) and after a while he manages to talk about things letting his feelings for her slip in the process. Then she can just calm him down and make him feel loved.

Request 2: Could I request a fanfic where Five has a terrible day at the Commission or in the Apocalypse and at bedtime the Reader comforts him, and he suddenly becomes the little spoon for the first time? Idk I think it would be cute to see him shy and secretly liking

!!! Note: Since these two requests have a common theme of Five being stressed as fuck and having a breakdown I’ve decided to combine them. Personally I imagine this scenario in my Commission AU, HOWEVER, I intentionally didn’t make it very specific in terms of the circumstances so you can headcanon whatever u like <3 also sorry its not the exact scenario from your requests but i hope you don’t mind me taking some creative liberty.

also both Five and Reader are in their 20s here coz otherwise i’m very uncomfortable

massive thanks to @wonders-of-the-multiverse for helping me out with wording the physicality of certain things <33333

GIF: @maxiemayfield

You’ve seen Five in many different states.

You’ve seen him anxious and spiraling, you’ve seen him furious and borderline insane; depressed and distant, lost and confused. At this point, you genuinely thought you’d seen it all but, apparently, you were wrong.

“I am just so tired.” Five whispered almost inaudibly with a sigh so desperate that it made your stomach turn.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice small as you weren’t quite sure how to act yet.

He glanced at you, and you couldn’t help but notice his eyes glistening with salty wetness that was about to spill out and smear his frustration all over his cheeks.

You always loved Five’s eyes - his huge, almost puppy dog eyes that made you absolutely lose yourself in their depth. Whenever you looked into them, you saw wisdom, maturity, exhaustion and patience, dedication and passion, all at the same time. There was a whole other universe behind his blue orbs, and you admired it endlessly. Looking into his eyes right now, however, was nowhere near as exciting and pleasant. Instead, it felt like some strange and violent ache was gripping you at the very heart and squeezing it without mercy, and you winced at the sensation as worry and concern were uncontrollably blossoming inside your ribcage.

Five didn’t grant you with an answer, too busy trying to hold back his tears and clenching his teeth proudly as if there was any point at all.

You got up on your feet and approached Five slowly, careful not to freak him out as you were giving him the time to get used to your presence in his personal space. Normally, he wouldn’t mind yet you couldn’t tell if the same rules applied to scenarios like the one taking place.

“I’m here, yeah? It’s okay, you’re okay,” you kept repeating like a mantra as you pulled Five into your embrace.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you instantly felt your skin getting damp. In just a few seconds Five’s entire body relaxed into yours and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, finally letting go and allowing himself to have a proper cry. He hadn’t had one in years, and, by all means, he was entitled to this breakdown.

Most of the time, Five was the one protecting you - looking out for you and leading the both of you out of dangerous and potentially lethal situations. Not that it was a completely one-sided dynamic but it was true that you tended to rely on him quite a lot in times of crisis. Five was good in crisis, exceptional actually. He made decisions quickly and didn’t hesitate to do absolutely anything it took to achieve his goals, which, unfortunately, meant that he was often forced to make choices where humanity and ethics were no longer a top priority.

Despite all that, Five always seemed in control, and even when he wasn’t, you knew he’d get it back eventually. You had placed your trust in him at all times, and only now were you starting to realize that it must have felt like a huge weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Granted, he was objectively smarter and more capable due to his superpowers but he was still human.

Hearing Five’s hopeless and feverish sobbing was unnerving, and you could only imagine what was going on in his cluttered and clearly overloaded mind as he was bawling his eyes out with such raw and genuine fury. From the lack of a better idea you simply waited for Five to cry himself out, patiently holding him in your arms and whispering words of reassurance into the air, not so much out of hope he’d hear them and listen but more as a means of letting him feel you were still there.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Five finally uttered but his words rather quickly got drowned in his weeping. You still got the message, though.

“You deserve to rest, Five,” you replied, feeling your legs start to shake from the weight of Five’s entire body leaning on your form. As much as you wanted to stay like this for as long as he needed, you couldn’t exactly go against your evident physical disadvantage. Five was a heavy gentleman, after all.

“Hey, let’s move to the bed, yeah?” it was more of a statement than a question, so you stepped towards the bed suggestively, expecting him to follow you. To your relief, he didn’t resist and followed your lead right away, seemingly too exhausted to even think, let alone disobey.

Five’s body was limp from the absence of energy, all of which had presumably gone into crying, and he could barely manage to walk on his own, so you grabbed at his shoulders to steady him.

It felt like his physical self was now merely a vehicle with no pilot to steer it, and his mind was long lost someplace else.

As you sat Five down, you caressed his cheek with your thumb, wiping away the trails of his tears whilst also trying to gently break him out of the prison of his troubled and restless brain. To your disappointment, it failed to spark any sort of response.

Right in this moment, he looked almost defenseless. Sure, he wasn’t an incapable baby all of a sudden but he was relying on you, reversing your roles and putting all of his worries and pain on your shoulders, basically asking you to carry them for him because he simply couldn’t anymore.

“Fives. Fives? Look at me, please?” you called, trying to shift his attention to something on the outside because you knew it was the looking inside that pushed him to crumble.

“Focus on my voice, alright?” you tried to keep your tone as steady and stern as you possibly could because right now you were his only bridge back to reality.

You pressed your palms against Five’s shoulders and slowly climbed onto his lap, resting your weight atop of him completely and hoping the pressure of it would manage to snap him out of his almost delirious daze.

As your hand reached for Five’s, you placed it on your chest right where your heart was beating and said:

“Can you feel it? It means I’m alive, Fives. I’m a human and a consciousness just like you. And I'm never leaving your side, no matter the circumstances. You’re never going to be alone, I promise you.”

You took Five by his chin with your other hand and softly guided his gaze upwards to meet your own, noticing his red glossy eyes finally regaining some clarity. The very peak of Five’s episode had already passed, and, as he was coming down from it, he encircled your waist with his arm and let his head sink to your shoulder with his eyes closed shut.

Still sitting straddled across his lap, you brushed your fingers through his soft silky hair and began to massage his scalp in a calming manner, trying to release some of the tension and lull him further into peacefulness. As your fingers moved a little lower, you knew you’d hit the sweet spot because Five literally purred into your skin as soon as he felt your nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck.

“How many times did I say you’re a cat, Hargreeves,” you rolled your eyes at his reaction and couldn’t resist a wide smile as you buried your nose in his hair. Five hummed quietly, and it was the only response you were going to get from him, which, to be fair, was already a big improvement so you couldn't really complain.

“How about we get you into some comfier clothes, wash your face and then you can tell me all about what’s been on your mind, hm?” you proposed confidently, still holding Five close and practically enveloping him in your warmth.

Your every movement was saturated with such understanding and care that not for a split second did Five feel like his vulnerability was making him weak or unworthy. It was quite the opposite, and with each passing moment he was beginning to feel like you were only making him stronger.

He nodded at your suggestion approvingly but didn’t move an inch, and you took it as a hint that he needed a few more minutes of sitting in silence; the bridge of his nose pressed to your collarbone as he was still finding his way back into the present.

You didn’t mind at all.

#five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five x you #tua fic #The Umbrella Academy #my fic #my writing #five hargreeves #number five

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Forgetting

Two in a row, I appear to be on a roll ... this is not for those under 17 and nsfw :)

Sometimes, you need to forget for a little while ...

@today-in-fic

************

It was a stupid retirement gathering at the end of the day, the best way *insert sarcasm here* to end Friday, in Mulder’s opinion. It became especially fun when the assistant director who was doing the retired pointed the pair out, commenting on the Amber Lynn LaPierre case, which he called the crowning achievement in his long and lauded career with the Bureau. Thanking them for their contribution to his legacy, both nodded, smiled, said their polite thank yous while inside, wishing they were literally anywhere but there.

Then came the inevitable discussion about the case, Scully plowing ahead, dealing with most of the comments until Mulder leaned into her, mouth to ear, “I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, she continued with her end of the present conversation, then two others before she realized he still wasn’t back. Excusing herself, she slipped quietly out the door. Wondering for a moment if he’d fled the building completely or just the room, she thought, then, for some unknown reason, decided to try the stairwell before heading to the basement. Opening the oft-used door at the end of the hall, a beautiful sunset greeted her as well as a lone Mulder sitting on the first step down, quietly contemplating the world while bathed in pink and purple hues.

Sitting carefully beside him, skirt causing minor issues, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

Taking an impossibly deep breath before bumping shoulders with her, “do you think, maybe, this could be one of those nights where we get drunk and forget we work together?”

She’d asked him that exact question for the first and only time roughly four months earlier and with a moment’s hesitation to calculate where the nearest liquor store was, she returned the answered he’d been hoping for, “I think it needs to be one of those nights and you’ve got that liquor store on the corner so I vote your place.”

Bumping her a second time, he stood up, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs, “I think we’ve worked long enough today.”

She stood with just a little help from his hand, tugging her skirt straight, “agreed.”

&&&&&&&&&

She picked up the Long Island, the big pre-mix bottle, third shelf, second aisle, they shopped here a little too often, then headed to Mulder’s. Beating him there by ten minutes, she had time to clear the couch and coffee table of littered papers and hamburger wrappers, empty glasses and several pairs of socks. Smiling at the socks, she then filled the table with bottles of water, the Long Island (opened, aerator insert removed for ease of swilling) and a roll of paper towel because she knew he’d be stopping for Subway and they never sent him home with napkins.

Scully then had time to contemplate the first time they’d mentioned their question out loud. She honestly didn’t want to think about the string of events that led to her request but that night had been Rum and Coke and sitting on his couch, not sure how to start anything until Mulder said something so quiet she had to turn to hear him repeat his statement.

She ran into his mouth and from there, they’d spent a chaste 87 minutes alternating between drinking, making out, water interludes sporadic, straight rum by the end, coke chaser when they remembered until the week’s worth of tension left her shoulders, muscles warm and relaxed, lips swollen, hands never traveling below her neck except to turn her at the waist for a better angle.

Heads thoroughly spinning by the time the pair pulled apart in a mutually silent agreement that it was time, Scully went in for another kiss before looking at him blurrily, enjoying their warm, humid silence which Mulder only broke to ask, “couch or bed? I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Smiling at him, she stretched, much like a cat, limbs shaking, back curving, “couch is fine.”

Logistics figured a few minutes later, both were crashed in their respective beds, soundly asleep through the remainder of the night.

Mulder made it home a minute later, returning Scully to present day, and she took the bags of food from him, carrying them to the kitchen while he shed shoes, jacket, button down, leaving him in a crew-neck white t-shirt and mismatched socks. Following her into the kitchen, he grabbed the open bottle from the coffee table as he passed. Swigging deep, he handed it to her, “premix. I appreciate you more and more every day.”

“Why take the time to make it yourself when the Captain has done it for you already?” Seeing the forlorn expression still clear on his face, she turned to look at the counter, measuring up the height before glancing back at him, “help me up here, will you? I’d like to hug you face to face for once.”

Not about to question that request, he popped her up, allowing her time to adjust her skirt before handing her the bottle, “madam.”

Two gulps later, she angled the bottle in his direction, “for the win,” then waved her fingers at him, “come here.”

Obeying, he was in her arms, as close as possibly given counter and thigh restriction from skirt. Holding her had an instant effect on his blood pressure, his psyche, his heart rate and brain function, calm washing over him the longer he touched her. Not enough for him at the moment, however, he scooted her closer to the edge of the counter, skirt hiking up further, her thighs pressing his sides. About to do something about this, Scully did it for him, mouth on his neck, lips against pulse, tongue running lightly over skin. Kissing her way up his neck, across his jaw, she found his mouth, neck twisting for best access and without thought, legs locking around him, ankle hook completing the loop.

He would not be arguing.

Staying there another minute, he decided, given the course of the evening, to take creative license and wrapping arms around her waist, picked her up, moving her to the couch without breaking contact. She snagged the bottle as he moved them past it and knowing he had to set her down because sitting down with her like this would break her ankles and nobody needed that tonight, Scully grinned as she slid to the floor, her skirt staying stuck to her upper thighs. Another three deep swallows from the bottle, she handed it to Mulder, watching his perfectly sculpted throat down five, “next time we come up for air, water break.”

“Agreed.” Sitting right down on the couch, he expected her to drop beside him but instead, she wiggled the skirt a little higher and climbed onto his lap, “last time, I had a crick in my neck. I’m not dealing with that again.”

Hands firmly on her waist, he smiled, “I like your thinking.”

Mouth immediately back on his, he managed to keep his hands to himself until the liquor began buzzing his brain, separating thought from consequence but keeping intact decorum at its most rudimentary, his hands hesitantly shifting four inches above her waist, still above her shirt until Scully pulled back, whispering into his mouth, “I don’t mind.”

He didn’t take full advantage of the situation but the simple feeling of running his hands up and down her back made him feel like he’d just won the lottery, over silk blouse, ridge of bra back, imaginary outline of existing tattoo. Another few minutes and Scully moved away, lips red, cheeks pink, eyes bright as she reached behind her, breasts jutting into Mulder’s face, looking for water. Drinking down half a bottle, she handed the rest to Mulder, “it’s getting warm in here.”

Managing to keep his eyes mostly on hers, “that okay?”

Tossing the empty water bottle behind her, she then took up the Long Island, another two deep pulls before offering it to her partner, “very good.” After he drank, she deposited it back on the table and returned like a magnet to his mouth, her hands now in and through his hair, cradling his ears, thumbs running over temples, hips sliding forward until a minute later, she stood up, “I still have most of my faculties and I’m making a request.” She wavered once as the room tilted ever so slightly, “this skirt is irritating the hell out of me. Would you mind if I take it off?”

With a grin, he fell in love withher all over again, “no, that’s fine.”

“Thanks.” Skirt hitting the floor a moment later, her blouse hung low enough not to reveal anything of interesting importance and settling back on his lap, she nodded at him, “much better.”

“I’m glad.”

This time, when she re-settled, she re-settled closer to him, his obvious arousal at the whole situation not bothering her in the slightest, unknowingly grinding once against him before commencing with their previous activities.

Liquor working its magic, Mulder decided that given she was now in her underwear on his lap, that afforded him hands on ass, which elicited a tandem ‘hhmmmm’ from both and another inch hip-slide forward. Deciding what the hell, he then moved his hands up under her shirt, finding warm skin and bumping backbone, hands callous-rough as they danced over rib and ridge. Feeling her smile, he felt her leave his lips, moving down his chin to his Adam’s Apple, mouthing it several times before following down to his shirt collar, then sitting back, putting welcome pressure on particular parts, “it is only fair that since I have no skirt, you need no shirt.”

He loved that she lost her contractions when she drank. Apostrophes went out the window for some reason, all words spoken precisely and slurry but never contracted. Sitting up immediately, he pulled the offending garment off and dropped it to the couch beside them, “sounds fair indeed.”

Another two mouthfuls of Long Island for both, her hands ran immediately over his chest, her deep breath and stuttered sigh telling him more than words ever could, fingers playing over his nipples, tongue tracing his collarbone. It was when she gripped his sides and smashed herself down on him, favorite parts aligning, that he finally let out a moaning groan, “Scully.”

Whispering in his ear, “was that good?”

“If you’re trying to kill me, yes.”

Sitting back again, she wiggled a few more times, lighter yet oddly, more intense. Quick glance at the clock across the dimly lit room, she looked down at him, his gaze filled with unmistakable adoration, “it has been over an hour, need a break?”

“I will never need a break from you.”

Reaching back, she snagged another water, drinking half again and waiting until Mulder finished it to toss it the way of the first empty. Next, more liquor went down, bottle half gone at this point before, “would you mind if I took the blouse off? This thing holds heat like you would not believe.”

Words gone, head nodded, her shirt landed on the table, sweat glistening above and below white cotton bra but before he could process more than half a reverent look, he had her face pulled back to his, hands sliding down her slowly cooling back and right past the top of her underwear, bare hands on bare ass in under a second.

She did not complain, rocking a rhythm on him that was making him see stars.

Everything was logical to them up to this point. The logic of six years and half a bottle of Long Island Ice Tea but whatever and Mulder’s next suggestion followed their logical pursuit. It took a few minutes to form the idea, then the sentence, but pulling away from her mouth, whimpering either internally or for the world to hear, he had to share it with her, “um, so as much as I am loving this, there are parts of me that are dying because they are trapped, wonderfully so but still friction-ly, and are … shit, Scully, the zipper of my pants is about to cause some damage.”

“Hell. Okay.” She stood immediately and hips still moving in some sort of fluid motion which could very well hold Mulder’s attention until the end of time, he took advantage and lifting his butt, soon was sitting there in boxers, happy for relief and unembarrassed by his obvious reaction to her.

She admired for a moment, then settled right back on him, body pressed firmly against all available Mulder.

His hands moved to her hips, moving her against him, the rhythm of his mouth getting erratic as all attention moved elsewhere. Scully was having her own amount of trouble holding focus and when his hands moved to unclasp her bra, she could have sang the Halleluiah chorus had she thought to leave his lips.

Needing a final pull of liquor before anything else, she sat back on his thighs, three mouthful going down her throat first, then Mulder took four, capping the bottle and dropping it to the floor before his mouth moved not to hers again but to her breasts, taking in his dreamt of mouthful, other hand filled with other breast as Scully shut her eyes, shifting and sliding against him, parts finally making solid contact and she stood suddenly, swaying as she shed her last piece of clothing, then demanded Mulder’s boxers with a silent outstretched hand and begging eyes. Obliging, she was back on him, wetter than wet, rubbing hard head against aching clit, then, she slid back and forth against him, Mulder’s mouth latched back to her breast and his hands carrying her forward and back. Letting go of her, he told her, alcohol slur evident, “I am so close to that spot, Scully. Another inch and we could … just … we could.”

Leaning forward, she slipped her teeth around his earlobe, tugging lightly before sucking for a moment, then whispering, “there cannot be liquor involved when that happens. Sorry.”

There was absolutely no reason for her to apologize and he told her as such, “but can something else happen because unless you stop moving, it’s going to anyways and I’d rather have permission to do so.”

His strained voice made her grin and sitting back once again, she ran one hand down her belly and bracing with the other against his knee, she began rubbing her clit, “oh, I am good with everything else.”

Needing to ask one last time, “do you need any more Tea?”

“I have not got time for that now.” And she rubbed a little faster.

Wrapping his hand around himself, their knuckles kept bumping until they found a matched rhythm and as her muscles clenched and her head dropped back, he came as well, all over himself and her, not caring about anything in the moment but his Scully.

Then their combined mess along with the sweat generated by the last hour and a half suddenly got the better of his ass’s grip on the couch. She moved slightly, he shot forward, feet unable to catch him, and both, for a fleeting moment, wondered if there was an earthquake as they slid to the ground, Scully’s back sliding against the coffee table edge, Mulder’s bare butt landing on a crackling water bottle.

He managed to get an arm around her though, so she didn’t hit the floor at the worst angle ever and ‘sluggish but still there’ reflexes on her part had her move enough not to break his dick, softening but still hard enough to cause some trouble had it been bent sideways under her drunken weight.

Both then sat there in silence, until, of course, the giggles set in.

It took a good five minutes to get things under control and not set the other off with a simple look. Scully, now wrapped in one of Mulder’s many blankets, looked from the ¾ empty Long Island bottle to the water in her hand, “can I stay here tonight?”

Also in a blanket, and equally worried about the amount they’d consumed, he opened two more bottles of water for them, the world beginning to tilt again, “like I’d let you drive anywhere after that much Captain.”

Looking over at him, grin wide as she missed her mouth with the water bottle on the first try but making it the second, she swallowed half before speaking, “for a minute there, I actually did forget we worked together.”

“Me, too.”

Shifting up to give him a kiss on the cheek, she swayed into him, forgetting how to sit back upright momentarily, “now, if you would be so kind as to find me a pillow and another blanket, I am going to go clean up, then come back here and go to bed because if I do not lay down very soon, I am going to tip over even more than I am now.”

Contractions still gone, he knew she wasn’t kidding about the tipping thing, the alcohol coursing through her veins would have her asleep in seconds and sporting one hell of a headache tomorrow. Carefully standing, he got her up and to the bathroom, blanket firmly in place and then, collecting some pajama pants and a t-shirt for her, he handed them through the partially open door, ignoring the sounds of her peeing, then the water running.

Seriously, how many times could he fall in love in one evening?

Soon, she was back, curled on the couch, Oscar the Grouch shirt in place, blankets piled high, head deep in down pillow. Beckoning him to her level with her finger, he had to kneel, knowing if he leaned, he’d fall, “what’s up?”

“I love you, Mulder. You are my best friend and I love you.”

Kissing her forehead, he struggled to stand back up, “I love you and you are my best friend, too.” Pointing to the table, “I left you an empty pot so if you puke, do it in that, please, all right?”

“Do not forget one for yourself.”

Holding up his own, “got it. G’night.”

She was already asleep.

He would dream well tonight.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Since the curtains and blinds were closed, the light didn’t wake either of them until late afternoon. Scully was up before Mulder and after downing several glasses of water and what felt like a handful of aspirin, she opened her forgotten Subway, settling with it on the couch, remote in hand.

Mulde wandered out a few minutes later and stared at her for a moment, then retrieved his sandwich as well, grabbing the bottle of aspirin before sitting down beside her, tugging half her blanket over his knees, “hi.”

“Hi.”

“What are we watching?”

“The Flintstones.”

Giving her wild hair and dark hickey on her neck a good, long look, he aimed a grin at her, “mind if I join you?”

Taking in a matching bruise on Mulder’s neck and his dancing eyes, “your couch.”

Settling in a little better, he unwrapped his roast beef on white, “so, honest answer, please. Should we be embarrassed or anything about last night?”

Scully thought while she chewed, then smiling crookedly, “the only thing I’m embarrassed about is having ended up on the floor.” Looking at him critically, “what about you? Honest answer.”

“Mostly I’m unnerved by how much my ass was sweating, in all seriousness.” Taking his first bite, he felt calmer than he had in forever, “want to stay over again tonight?”

“Sure. I hadn’t planned on leaving this couch until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Mexican for dinner?”

“As long as they deliver.”

“They do.”

Mid-chew, she leaned over and kissed his t-shirted shoulder, “yay.”

#msr #nc-17 #a wee bit of smut #actually more than that #but whatever #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #MulderNScully #My writing

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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What I Thought About "Eda's Requiem" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

...

...HOW IS SEASON TWO SO GOOD?! WE'VE HAD SEVEN EPISODES SO FAR, AND EACH ONE OF THEM WAS A HIT!

Take "Eda's Requiem," for example. It's yet another episode where I have NOTHING bad to say about it! That's two weeks in a row where that happened! HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?!

HOW!

...But anyways, "Eda's Requiem." It's another fantastic episode, and I'm about to dive into explaining how and why. Just keep in mind, it's gonna require spoilers to do so, so be wary of that as you keep reading.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Eda’s Checklist and Grom Photo: Within the first second, "Eda's Requiem" perfectly sets up Eda's central conflict in the episode. Despite spending years being on her own and looking after herself, she now has two kids that she's constantly caring over. Eda can try all she wants to say that she doesn't care, and I bet she has in the past. But given the hard work she's putting into getting King and Luz what they need and having a grom photo of the three of them together pinned in her mirror, it's pretty clear that those two knuckleheads wormed their way into her heart and are never getting out.

Eda’s Worried About King and Luz Leaving: And thus, that's precisely why something like this bothers her so much. Eda inadvertently adopted two rambunctious rapscallions (Yeah, I know. I'll get to it), so the idea of them not being around her anymore is going to be terrifying. That is a situation most parents, especially mothers, can identify with. It’s called empty nest syndrome and it proves just how much Eda loves Luz and King that she can't stand the thought of her babies leaving the nest. It's yet another well-made, wholesome, found-family moment that this series continues to excel at each week, making me extra excited for more like it to come...while also readying myself for heartbreak when one of them eventually does leave Eda.

Eda and Raine’s Music: Ok, I don't know the exact instruments that were played during this episode, but I also don't care because it was all (for lack of a better term) music to my ears. Every time Eda and Raine played resulted in melodies that are so beautiful and filled with so much emotion and feeling that I'm honestly tempted to listen to them again, multiple times, on repeat. Shows rarely do that for me, as background music doesn't always draw me in as much as lyrical songs do. Usually, it takes something so extraordinarily composed to give me the desire to listen again, and that's the case here. So huge congrats to Brad Breek for doing so. Seriously, the man's been killing it this season.

Eda’s Bard Magic Causing Things to Turn to Ash: This was assuredly a surprise side-effect of the curse. The fact that Eda can sort of do magic at all was its own shock. To then reveal that a specific type can do dangerous things to people and environments is...Well, it definitely brings up its own fair share of questions. Like, how can she do this? Will she do it again, one day? And are there other types of spells that can be negatively affected by Eda's curse? We don't get answers for any of these questions, and odds are, we never will. But that's alright with me. Because if a show makes me consider these many possibilities after a brief amount of time, it is a show that has to be doing something right. Even if I don't get the answers I want, the fact that it caused such a reaction makes me less willing to care.

Raine Whispers: Hey, would you look at that. Another fun, interesting, and compelling character added to the list of this shows' other fun, interesting, and compelling characters...how is this series so good at this!?

Joking aside, Raine's pretty good. I like Raine. They could have been this super serious leader who lost all their fun after years apart from Eda, but I'm glad that they're not. There are moments when Raine takes their job as leader of the BATs seriously, as one would, but I still prefer the fact that they kept a jovial nature despite how grim their situation is. It's an admirable trait to have, and it avoids the trope of making leader characters boring just because they're the ones who have to take things seriously.

Oh, and also, Raine's Disney's first non-binary character who has a stake in the plot. This is a tremendous deal, as you don't usually see that many non-binary characters in children's animation, let alone ones that hold importance to the story. So it's pretty cool for the writers to feature Raine, as it helps several kids feel as though they're finally seen and respected. And the fact that Disney of all companies gave the thumbs up is even more impressive. I hear people say that Dana Terrace should have pitched The Owl House to more progressive networks to avoid pushback, and while I absolutely see your point, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Disney is the largest entertainment industry of all time, so if you want to make LGBTQA+ representation normalized, you gotta stop making splashes and start making waves. Because if the same company that made three racist cats in the span of a few years manages to say that being gay is a-ok, then you know there's something wrong with you. Yes, Disney ended up screwing over the show anyway. But for that one moment, when kids felt pride after seeing a character like Raine, then, in the end, it's kind of worth it.

Also, if you're still having issues with more representation like this popping up in kids' shows, then allow me to redirect you to the complaint department.

...I made that post earlier today for this bit. YOU HAVE BETTER APPRECIATED IT!

Day of Unity is meant to be a Secret: At least, that's what I got when Raine stumbled over their own words. So if it's true, then I wonder why? Why does Belos want to keep the most critical change in the Boiling Isles a secret? Does he want to make it a surprise for his grateful subjects, or does he not want to spread worry and fear amongst the wild witches? It has to be something big if he doesn't want his followers to even say the words "Day of Unity." Whatever reason he has, we most likely won't know until the future. A future that I grow more and more afraid of each week.

Hooty Eating Echo Mouse: My heart sank in that brief moment when I thought that Hooty intensely screwed Luz over in getting back home. But looking back...it is pretty funny.

Just the suddenness of Hooty eating the poor creature that Luz desperately tried to earn its trust is priceless in how shocking it was. And also, Luz's expression.

That was the look of a young girl who immediately shoved her hand down an owl demon's throat the second the scene cut away. The Owl House may not always be a hit in the comedy department, but scenes like this prove that when it's funny, it is hilarious.

Luz and King Entering the Grand Prix: Not much to discuss here. It's just a cute subplot that adds frivolity to the intensity of what's going on through Eda and Raine's story. But I will say that I love how both stories occasionally interconnect with each other through the many moments of Eda being worried about King wanting to leave to find his father and avoiding any conversation about it. It helps both plotlines feel like they belong together, without being something like "Through the Looking Glass Ruins," whereas both stories could have been in their own episode. Which is neat.

How Bard Magic Works: I really love how this season is diving into how the other magic types work. More specifically, the ones that seem a little vague. I mean, stuff like healing, potions, and plants are easy to figure out, but what does it mean when a witch's talents are construction, beast keeping, and bard magic? We've been getting a lot of clearing up lately, with bard magic looking like a witch can control their environments and enemies through the power of music. Which is fair. Music is pretty powerful in the metaphorical sense, and I actually love that it's powerful in the literal sense when in the Boiling Isles.

The BATs: Not much to comment on these three either. The BATs have the potential to have an entertaining dynamic, but they do very little in this episode that I can't say much other than I hope they make a return in the future. But I will make this claim: Amber is my favorite. I'm sorry, but her screaming "You're not our mom!" to then go, "Bye, mommy Eda" is just too precious for me not to love.

I'm a simple man who falls for cute s**t. Leave me alone.

Raeda (RainexEda): Well, EdaxCamila, you were a fun crack ship while it lasted, but I'm afraid that this is now goodbye. The current canon has provided an incredibly adorable and believable relationship that I would be a monster not to support with my whole bi-heart. It's been real.

Ok, back in serious mode: I love these two together. Eda and Raine are grown-ups, and they still act all flustered near each other as if they were still Luz and Amity's age. It's definitive proof that you're never too old to get flustered near a crush, and seeing them interact adds a sense of wholesomeness when seeing them together as well as heartbreak when they're forced apart. Plus, we get confirmation that Eda's LGBTQA+! Whether she's bi, pan, or whatever, now that we know Eda can catch feelings for someone like Raine, it's yet another case that The Owl House is the most important series to the community. Because having the main character be queer is fantastic in its own right. But having the same apply to the motherly mentor figure? That's is an extra bit of normalization that anybody would be willing to appreciate.

Unique Guard Designs: Not many fans are going to appreciate this, primarily compared to everything else this episode does perfectly. For me, I actually like that you see a few Coven Guards looking differently from the others, as it helps make them less like clones and makes it seem like anybody of any body type could be a part of the coven.

Gus Looking Uninterested when Presenting Grand Prix with his Dad: I am positive that you didn't notice this (I didn't even notice it until someone else pointed it out), but there's something to dissect here. It hints that perhaps Gus isn't as interested in his father's field of work as one might think. If he did, he would look a lot less bored and much more excited to be helping Perry Porter present the race. It could just be the race itself, but judging from Gus' expression, it really seems like the kid would prefer to be anywhere but there. And why would he have that reaction to a race that his best friend is competing in? To me, this seems like an inkling of what Gus' relationship with Perry could be, which may not actually get time to shine, what with how little wiggle room the series has now (Thanks Disney). Regardless, it is interesting to notice, and it will certainly have fans thinking for a while.

Bump Being Smug of Luz Being in the Lead: That's it. Principal Bump looking smug as his human student is beating the students of his rivals is yet another moment that proves why Bump is easily the best cartoon principal.

Darius: First of all, this guy is f**king fabulous, and I love him. *Snaps*

Second, he is definitive proof that you do NOT want to f**k around with Coven Leaders. Lilith may have had her intimidating moments, but none of them compare to the guy who can turn himself into an abomination monster where only magic that hasn't existed before can take him down. It's genuinely scary to see Darius lose control, and I fear for the day when Luz inevitably ends up in his crosshairs.

With that said, Darius' still a ton of fun! He may be threatening, but he's just a flamboyant guy that hates the idea of getting his outfit the tiniest bit dirty. And I love that. I love that these Coven Heads have actual personalities instead of being generically evil. I consider it preferable to make villains entertaining rather than blatantly scary as I'll remember the personalities first and the villainous acts last.

Eberwolf: But this one's my favorite. I told you: I'm a simple man who gets easily swayed by cute s**t. And Eber? I mean, just look at her:

She's just a cute widdle rascal! I just want to pinch her cheeks, give her a belly rub, and--

...Eberwolf is not a cute widdle rascal. She is a strong, independent woman, and I will respect her as such from this moment forward...lest I feel her wrath.

That is all. Let's move on.

Eda and Raine Attempting a Final Performance: This was the best scene of the episode. It looked gorgeous, it shows the dedication Eda and Raine have for stopping Belos, and it says so much through so little. Go back and look at how Eda and Raine regard one another when performing Eda's requiem. Through their expressions and a few short words, you know they understand that if they complete the song/spell, they probably won't make it in the end. And yet, they don't care. They both know bad stuff will happen if Belos wins, so Eda and Raine put everything to the side, both their feelings for one another and the people they leave behind if it means putting an end to a tyrant. That level of dedication...Words can't fully describe how powerful that is.

Raine Sacrificing Themselves Instead: But in the end, Raine can't do it. Not when they know the life that Eda has and the people she'll be leaving behind. It's an extra bit of nobleness to the character seeing that Raine refuses to take away a woman from two kids who need her the most. A tad bit selfish, sure, knowing what Belos has planned. But when it comes to love, the romantic, familial, or platonic, the best decisions aren't always the logical ones.

Eda Crying: Luz crying tears me up, but seeing Eda cry is a whole different level of heartbreak. Like Lilith, Eda has her emotions locked up tight, with the closest she came to weeping were those two tears in "Young Blood, Old Souls." In "Eda's Requiem," she cries but almost quickly stops herself. As if she knows that doing so isn't going to save Raine. That is...even worse than seeing Luz break down after losing Eda. The fact that Eda refuses to give herself time to mourn losing someone she loved is tragic because crying is the most natural way of showing grief. Turning that off isn't healthy, and seeing her do it with little resistance is sad to me. It's sad to see a character I love can easily shut off all emotions despite how badly she may want to embrace them. It's one of those moments that, again, by doing so little, it shows so much.

“No one watches Crystal Balls anymore. It’s all about streaming.”: Oof. Even I felt that burn towards cable.

King’s Message: King's message was the pick-me-up I needed after the heart-wrenching sadness this episode put me through a few minutes ago. Seeing King say who he is and listing all the things he loves is nothing short of adorable. On top of that, I adore that Eda willingly recorded the whole thing. She may not want King to leave, but that doesn't mean she'll sabotage the one thing he wants. Especially not after Raine gave up everything so Eda could be with her kids. The opening scene may prove how much Eda cares about a rascal like King, but this heartwarmingly sweet moment reveals just how far she'll go to make him happy.

King’s Dad Reveal: ...ok, I'll be honest, I did not think we'd get that reveal this soon. Dumb of me to say, considering the number of times I've said that these writers don't waste time getting to the s**t, I know. But still, it's pretty cool knowing that King's dad is alive and well, added with the fact that we've got a fair idea of what he looks like. At this point, it's only a matter of time before we see him figure out where the Clawthorne residence is and witness the tear-jerking moments that will follow.

King Changing his Name to King Clawthorne: Not the official adoption I was expecting Eda to make...but DANG IT, is it still diabetes-inducing levels of sweetness!

Personally, I feel like the main reason why Eda breaks down this time is not only because she shouldn't be worried about King leaving her life, but also because Raine's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Her kids really do need Eda because no matter how far apart they'll be, she will always be a part of their life...dang it, I'm going to cry too!

What those Coven patches really do: Well...that was horrifying to see.

...Writers, if you kill off the best non-binary character in animation (it's a short list, I know), we are going to have PROBLEMS!

IN CONCLUSION

"Eda's Requiem" is--surprise surprise--another A+. The emotions hit hard, the representation hits harder, Raine is a fantastic addition to the cast, and it was all surprisingly cute at times. Season Two is currently on a hot streak, constantly winning with every episode that's come out so far. When a bad episode does eventually show up (IT'S GONNA HAPPEN!), I'll be sure to sing my requiem then. For now, I'm just gonna enjoy the ride.

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #the owl house reviews #eda clawthorne #raine whispers #raeda #king of demons #toh darius #toh eberwolf #what i thought about

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catzula · 3 years

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How to cure a broken heart

Synopsis: love might come in in various shapes. With Kuroo it came with a snowball.

Honorable mentions: tw cursing, it's 2.4k words, genre is fluff, hope you guys like it!!

Its a short lil fluffy Kuroo blurb since its snowing very heavy here and I kinda broke your hearts with that last angst lol

You never thought you were the type to partake in something so cliche, something as falling in love with your next-door neighbor. It was overused at this point, it wasn't even your favorite trope to read anymore, and you would've died laughing if someone told you you would meet the guy you fell in love with like this.

But overused as it is, it still came in as a surprise, and that was Kuroo Tetsurou for you, managing to make even the most monotonous thing surprising.

It was the morning after a night of heavy snow, hearing the rustle of walking on fresh, unpressed snow beneath your feet making you bite back a smile. It had been a while since it snowed this much where you lived, so you didn't refuse when your mother offered you to take a walk.

I'm sure you'll feel better if you take a breath of fresh air, she told you, taking note of your foul mood.

She was right, it smells like winter, and the familiar smell didn't fail to make you take a breath of relief, as if you were suffocating the past few days.

It had been a while since you even left your house, you realized, even before the quarantine started, you weren't the type to go out and socialize around the block. You usually met with your friends at a cafe around your school or an arcade or something, but it was rare for you to hang out in your neighborhood area, thus ended with you not knowing any of your neighbors.

You had never intended to get to know them either, but it wasn't your choice to make anymore when you noticed a perfect sphere of snowball flying towards you, you dodged it the last second with reflexes you didn't even know you had (you didn't. it was pure luck).

As you turned to where the snowball came from, your eyes locked on a smug, sneaky grin, obviously amused by the shocked expression on your face. It was a boy about your age, leaning proudly on a snowman that was almost as tall as him, his smile more noticeable even than his odd, inky black ruffle of hair or the piercing golden eyes that had something of a clever glint to them.

His grin felt infectious, and you could feel a smile tugging on the corners of your lips, and it was the smile that would never fail to make you smile back, except for that particular day.

It hadn't made you smile, nor had it disputed the mean frown on your lips as you quirked a brow at him, only making his grin spread wider on his lips. "Sorry," he muttered, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic, nor had he stopped smiling teasingly. "Didn't mean to throw it at you."

You took the apology with a soft nod, turning your back to him, and started walking, sighing when you felt a hand tap your arm gently.

"Hey, me again." He grinned, and you mustered a smile. "Hi." You answered back, pressing your lips together awkwardly.

"I'm Kuroo Tetsurou," he informed you. "Your next door neighbor, I think."

"Y/N, L/N." You answered, "nice to meet you, Kuroo-san."

"Nice to meet you, too." He then tilted his head, eyes grazing on you for another while, and he looked like he wanted to talk even more even though the conversation was very obviously over. "That was pretty impressive, you know?" Another smile formed on his lips as he scratched the back of his neck and averted his eyes away from you, and you could feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Thanks. Your snowman is pretty impressive, too." It was. The guy was almost 2 meters, and it made no sense for the snowman to be as tall as him, too, but it still was pretty impressive.

Not expecting him to throw his head back and start laughing loudly at your comment, you couldn't help but watch him like you were witnessing some miracle. You couldn't look away as he bent forward, holding his stomach all the while his body shook. It was infectious, you realized, since you also found yourself chuckling not half a minute later.

He took a deep breath as his laughter died, still chuckling now and then, he turned to you. "It is impressive, isn't it? Had nothing better to do in quarantine, you know?" He shrugged, trying to look modest, but he beamed with pride.

He weaved his hand through the raven locks of hair that fell on his face, making you wonder if they were as soft as they looked. You quickly discarded the idea.

"Well, I won't bother you any longer." He grinned, "but I'll see you around!"

You watched him as he turned his back to you, giving you just a second to admire how tall and broad he was before he flashed you one last smile and a wave.

You found yourself still smiling as you entered your house, tapping your feet on the wood to rustle off the snow off your shoes.

"Wow, maybe I should take a walk, too." Your mother teased when she took note of your smile and relaxed posture. "Did you have fun?"

"I met our next-door neighbor today." You told her after nodding your head. "The poor boy, approaching you at your moodiest. I hope he's still in one piece." She teased, brows quirking when you laughed along instead of protesting.

"Have you met him already?"

"Yeah, we crossed paths once or twice, cute boy. I think he studied in Nekoma Highschool?" She shrugged when she couldn't remember clearly. "Still, it's nice to see he was able to make you smile."

He was nice, you had to admit. Maybe you would pay him a visit to apologize for your -slightly- rude behavior today? Nah, you'd rather wait till the next time you crossed paths, you decided.

As you averted your eyes to the wall both the houses shared, you thought if you'd cross paths soon.

You did. The next day, if you wanted to be exact.

You were startled by the sounds coming from the bushes separating your garden from your neighbors, rasing from your chair, you gazed from the window to see what it was, only to see a head of messy black hair poking through the leaves.

It was impossible not to smile as you watched him lean towards something you couldn't quite see, reaching his hand to your garden and making kissing noises with a desperate expression on his face. "Mika," you heard him call out, "come here boy, that's not our garden."

It was a cat, you realized. (Either that, or he was a pervert.) Taking a breath of relief when you saw the furry tail of the animal, you thought it was time to show yourself (and tease him about it if you could)

"Kuroo-san?" You exited out to the garden, watching the boy as his eyes widened with shock, his body immediately pulling himself back, only to stay stuck between the branches of the bush. You stifled your laughter as he forcefully pulled his way out of it, cursing at the branches scratching him, his face flushing either because of the challenge he gave trying to free himself or of embarrassment.

"H-hi." He muttered as he finally regained his composure, tall enough to have a comfortable conversation with you over the bushes. (He could even lean in to kiss you over them without any problem, something you discovered sometime in the future)

"Are you okay?" You asked softly, still laughing as you watched him pull a small branch out of his hair.

"Yeah, I'm okay. More than okay, I was just- my cat ran into your garden, and I was trying to pull him back." He stammered as he noticed your chuckles. "Cat?" You repeated innocently.

"Yeah, my cat, he's right here- Mika?"

You couldn't hold your laughs back when you saw the baffled look on his handsome face when he noticed the cat wasn't there or anywhere to be seen.

"I swear he was right here!" He exclaimed, panicking. "I wasn't trying to peek in your garden, my cat- he- he-" He stopped his panicked explanation when he finally noticed how hard you were laughing. "You already knew, didn't you?"

"Yup, saw the whole thing." You answered between your occasional chuckles. "Wow, how mean!" He frowned, but you could tell he also found the situation amusing.

"You know, you didn't have to push through the bushes." You snickered. "you could just come in from the door like a normal person." A slight shade of red tinted his cheeks with your words, averting his eyes in embarrassment and scratching the back of his neck with a chuckle. "Yeah, that's probably a better idea."

It had turned into a routine quickly after that. Kuroo would knock on your window, a grin plastered on his face and waving at you from the other side of the glass.

At first, he always had some excuse, sometimes showing up with a plate of freshly baked cookies, telling you his grandma had cooked a little too much. "I'm sure you could smell them baking, and I didn't want you to miss out on the best cookies ever." He would beam. You didn't miss out on the smile that adorned his lips when you told him you could make coffee for the both of you and you could eat it together.

Talking with Kuroo was relaxing, at the very least.

He was a good listener, and his presence enough was soothing. He could calm you when you felt stressed, oddly good at it, too, laughing when you told him that one day. "I have a friend like this." He had shrugged. "A childhood friend, we used to live pretty close, too. I got used to it after a while, I guess."

He would watch you with thoughtful eyes as you spoke as if you were saying the most important thing, even if you were telling him about your day.

Kuroo was also one of the funniest people you knew. He had so many stories from when he was the captain of his volleyball team in high school, the things he told you always making you have a stomach ache from laughing so hard.

A friendship developing so quickly, it would usually end with you getting scared and pushing people who were getting so dear to you away from you, afraid of trusting them, even more than you did.

But not with him, you couldn't, wouldn't. Trusting Tetsurou didn't feel terrifying like it did with everyone else, instead, it felt good. It felt so safe, so cherishing to finally be able able to trust someone with everything you had, and you had never felt this protected and secure being so vulnerable with anyone.

It was the next winter you showed up in his garden, picking up snow from the ground and working on it for a few minutes to make sure you had two perfect spheres you felt all warm inside despite the cold weather.

Throwing the first snowball on his window, you grinned to yourself as you waited for the boy to come out, waiting for the chance to catch him off guard and hopefully manage to hit him square in the face.

Your eyes narrowed when he didn't come out after a few minutes, grabbing more snow from the ground and throwing another snowball on the window. This one you had sent a bit harder, and he must've heard it if he was at home.

When he didn't come out after that either, you frowned, standing up. Just then, you noticed a snowball flying towards you, dodging it the last second before turning that way with wide eyes.

"No-" You managed to choke out before the grinning boy wrapped his arms around you, caging your body against his, and threw himself on the snow, pulling you with him to be buried in the snow together.

"Tetsu!" You whined, even though you were laughing so hard that you were gasping for air. "That wasn't fair!"

"And yours was?" He laughed, his body still over yours, making it hard to breathe for you. "Get off me, I can't breathe." You managed to choke out between your laughter, your eyes lingering on his smiling lips that were a few inches away from yours.

"Because I'm so handsome?" He teased.

"No, because you're heavy." You answered, laughing even more when he faked a gasp.

"So mean, always breaking your boyfriend's heart." He shook his head side to side, not moving an inch that would allow you to squirm out from under his body.

"Come on," you whined, emphasizing the last word. "Lemme breathe!"

"Nope! You broke my heart, so painful that I can't breathe, either! It's only fair, chibi-chan." He grinned, making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, okay." You sighed. "What do you want?" You already knew what he wanted since ever since he had crushed you beneath his, his eyes had never left your lips.

"Let me think. How can you cure a broken heart?"

He had his answer when you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his smiling, soft ones.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo x you #kuroo scenarios #kuroo fluff

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rataltouille · 4 years

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BONFIRE, BONFIRE!: A COLLECTION OF FLASH FICTION + POETRY

so i’ve decided to compile all twenty [these will be split into two so that the post isn’t super long] of the writing pieces i’ve done for my random celebration into one post so that it’s easier to read / access share!! you can also find it here, all put into one work, on wattpad, because i feel nostalgic about that website and decided to just post it!!

NOTE: i know that this shouldn't need to be said, but these 20 pieces belong to me so please don’t copy/repurpose it for your writing!! i plan on using these somewhere in my own writing and either way they’re stuff i’ve written so don’t use them!!

1. cooking + destructive + purple from @andiwriteunderthemoon [also i kind of cheated with this prompt and asked my sis @dreamscanbenightmarestoo for ideas and so the base idea’s from her!!]

I didn’t mean to set my house on fire, alright?

Let me set the scene: I’m sitting in my room, watching the infomercials that blur together, and suddenly there’s a bright purple flash on the glitching screen: /grapes/. They’re shiny, plump, and oh? A recipe for fine wine? Don’t mind if I do. So I pop into my kitchen and cut the grapes, dice them up, finally using the knife after years of not cooking— /mother, are you proud of me now?/— and stick the soft, luminescent fluid into a glass bottle. Following each step of the recipe.

The recipe didn’t mention an explosion.

Destruction rained around my house like a meteor shower. The bubbles from the fluid, frisking up at contact with metal, swam across my shoes and into the living room. It touched the TV, which still flashed the recipe, which I was still cursing at. And then, you know, it burnt up. The couch scorched first, I think. So that was fun. I later realised that I’d used my reserve of petroleum, which I’d put in my kitchen cabinet, instead of vinegar. I think I’ve got to move back in with my mother again.

2. running + quiet + sky blue from @kryskakikomi [i have no idea what this is i drafted this in a fever dream state]

Summer crawled up his skin like a worm. He was seated at his dining table, crosswording his way through the sticky morning, when it struck him that the humidity was new. He’d been caught in summer before, of course, but this year was different. His parents had whisked away to their hometown, and he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to go. He loved their home— he could have been running on beach sand and waves could have cruised over his feet, and his face would reflect sky blue under palm trees. Instead he sat doodling and scratching at cement walls in a quiet that nagged at his ears, grappling his flesh like a fishing hook, reeling him in. Boredom, him sister told him, before she also left for someone’s home. What would you know? he whispered once the door latched from the outside. Maybe /she’d/ like to sit on the same wooden chair, all the pink paint worn out, and scratch out squares of empty text until the pen poked through the other hand. He scoffed. At least he knew the number of scars on the wood; he could hold that over her when his parents returned.

3. hallucinate + hazy + violet from @chloeswords [i wanted to write something dreamy and ethereal but everytime i look at your url i’m reminded of church mud and indirectly my religious trauma so here we are 🤡]

We hold the book in our arms and chant for God. We don’t know what he looks like. They say that he’s sharp, never pixelating or blurring or showing through, like a hazy image would. No, children, our family says, he will come clothed in gold and velvet— the colour a deep and rich crimson, or chartreuse. And of course, he weaves a violet into his hair. Because he is just that humble. Just that gentle. Loving.

We’ve almost understood now. Pray, clasp our palms together into a transient equinox, and pray. Maybe he will shine down on us. Maybe we will speak so loud and chant so long that our lips will chap. Maybe we’ll simply hallucinate him to salve our bones. Our family says, he will bless you. And so he will.

4. halcyon + pluviophile + beige from anon [i was yearning for cats i am a cat person i love cats]

I remember my life before I moved to London,

Those halcyon days that I spent scooping up cat litter and brushing warm fur,

Being a mother to beige and white and black little felines.

They keep better company than humans.

Now I’m a self-proclaimed businesswoman, artist, influencer, pluviophile,

Even when I’ve barely stepped foot outside during the rain,

[But it needs to be said that when it rains in London, it pours].

I think I’d like to open a cat cafe;

I’m rich enough to pull it off.

5. sing + vulnerable + olive green from @occiidens [this was actually super fun to write because it’s a break from the typically unhinged stories i gravitate towards]

You watch from the highest hill of your town, hand wrapped around the serrated wood of a red oak tree. The bark pokes into your flesh, drawing blood that shouldn’t have been taken from you. You scowl. Just another thing that lives to cause you pain.

Three storeys down is a young man, short and smiling and lovely. He has dark skin and darker hair, walking with the stride of a deer, and he’s smiling; the joy reflects onto your face, even though you can’t hear him. He wears a cotton shirt, the olive green stark against the fire-blue sky. You call out, sing his name, three times in a row.

When he finally looks up, squinting as you silhouette under the sun, the smile widens. A wave. You’re suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Your palm digs into the bark until the wound is freshly dug again, the skin supple and vulnerable. You want to wave, but your hands would look so awkward, and the blood wouldn't help. So you turn on your heel and run— why are you so awkward?— and the grass around you is brighter. This is now a tomorrow issue, you conclude. You’re still smiling.

6. dislocate + ostentatious + blood red from @oasis-of-you [this got really unhinged really fast. TW: body horror]

If you take a turn at Finn Avenue,

Rogue your way down a blood red river,

[It’s not actual blood, do not worry. The colour’s a pigment and it’s saturated enough to give you the texture, the touch, the taste of blood, but I repeat, it isn’t true blood. You might think that it’s ostentatious of us to make you cross a river like that, but you’ll understand why.]

And if can stick your fingers inside the fluid,

You’ll find a bone.

Don’t pull it out fully! Only observe.

[This is a real bone, most likely animal. We may be ominous, but we don’t hurt humans. Not yet.]

So what do you do now? You want passage into a better world.

You came here because you saw the brochure, the flyer,

Radiant Idyll, home for love, but you also saw the jutting anatomy that leads to the city. The pictures were rather clear.

Why do you look so surprised? We’ve put this on the brochure— don’t you ever read the fine print?— to avoid this exact situation. That you would cross a body, a skeleton, pooled over in a fluid that we don’t name, but it’s probably alive.

It’s watching you right now.

So what do you do now?

Hurry up, unhinge your arm, dislocate the elbow, drop it into the blood, forgive me, false blood, and pay for your passage.

Oh! Excellent; that’s record time. We do hope you enjoy your stay!

1. @noteaboy [i’ve interpreted your url as ”note, a boy”]

There’s an orange tree. It’s spring, and there’s an orange tree, and it brims with fruit and citrus perfume. Point your lens flare downwards, and note, a boy. A young man, perhaps, because he combs his hair, uptight and firm, and he wears a tie. A long suit. He doesn’t look up, because his hand holds a book. /He/ holds the book, not the hands— tenderness doesn’t translate through anatomy, I’ve taught you this before. He’s waiting for someone. There’s only the rustle of leaves. He drops the book onto the lap of the tree, crushing the apple that had fallen down. Orange, not apple. Take note better. You only have one chance to get this right.

2. @eatingjupiter [your url is so beautiful omg]

The goddess had said this before she died: you need to watch over him. He needs your sentry to survive. The goddess’ words weren’t heeded. Little baby Jupiter tottered on lava as him parents small-talked with their kingdom. Well, it must have been small talk, because nothing seemed to happen afterwards other than his mother’s face collapsing in agony, anger, annoyance. He knew not to touch them then. He’d fly off into the sun one day, but if his hands were but and charred, he wouldn’t survive even a third of the journey.

The prophecy was simple: the firstborn to the kingdom will metamorph into a celestial, purify themselves so that only stardust remains. Live in the sky forever. The astrologers were baffled; you don’t just become a star. They should have heeded the goddess.

Jupiter was sixteen when he expanded and collapsed all at once. He still lives, they say, and the astrologers /were/ right, in a way: people just don’t become stars. They become almost empty space. Nobody knows if his hands were burnt when they left earth’s orbit forever.

3. @laughtracksonata [your name gave me slight horror vibes idk why!!]

Hahaha. The Horror Movie (don’t ask me for a name, I’m not good with those), with its cymbal crashing and plastic sounds, it’s so loud and scary that it hurts, father. Please turn it off.

Father doesn't listen. I shiver on the couch. The screen flickers like radio static and reflects off our wide eyes. What kind of a home is this anyway? I don’t want to fucking listen to a laugh track or a horror VHS tape or watch the bass crescendo as the serial killer jumpscares the watcher. I don’t think that having hour pupils glued to the same blood-splattered movie, with the same recording looping in his eardrums will help him. He laughs along, sometimes. It’s scary. Father needs a new hobby.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

anyway this got REALLY long so i’m posting the third prompt group, the one based on songs, as a second part in some time. i hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE do boost!! i spent a lot of time writing these pieces and am pretty proud of them :’)

general taglist: @lovingyou-is @guulabjamuns @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @melonmilk @silentlylostwriter @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @eowynandfaramir @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @summersguilt @illimani-gibberish @sarahkelsiwrites @writing-in-delirium @shaelinwrites @sienna-writes @chewingthescenery @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @freedelusionbanana @beetleblue88 @mistercaleb @iwannawritepls @hanwatchingmovies @mortallynuttyqueen @idratherliveinnarnia @maisulli @thegreyboywrites @ahowlinwolf @ravens-and-rivers @oasis-of-you @yanittawrites @chazza-writes-sometimes @skyfirewrites @lovebenders @treybriggsthewriter @themidnxghtwriter @ash-karter @queen-devasena @a-procrastination-addict @gaymityblight @beyondthebracken @madmaxst26 @adielwrites @moonpixxel @hollow-knight-dnd @keep-looking-here @overlap @ashleygarciawrites @ryns-ramblings @wordsbynathan @novaemlynlewis @sophiewritingstuff @howdy-writes @occiidens @nsanelyawkward @viawrites-andacts

#writeblr #am writing #flash fiction #poetry #wtwcommunity #ofcolourtracking #crabappletracking #anyway part two probably in a couple days #i still have to start writing them 🤡✌️#bonfire bonfire

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lyeekha · 3 years

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In the mirror he could see Ernest stood behind him, tie tucked safely into his vest, sleeves rolled up and a towel slung over one shoulder. He had ushered Lemony to a seat with a headrest, politely remaining in eyeline and not making any surreptitious-looking movements. He had removed his suit jacket and pointed out that, really, you needed to be topless for this, and Lemony had said oh yes, of course, as if this had slipped his mind instead of caused him to hesitate, and taken off his shirt, and nobody had made a fuss about it, and he had actually relaxed, and now Ernest was rubbing something into his neck that smelt... incredible. It smelt of summer.

The manager was obviously skilled, that hadn't been a lie. His palms worked the oil across his flesh with just the right firmness and friction to make his skin tingle. His fingertips pressed confidently into the exact hollows that made him hum with appreciation. He wanted more than anything to drift off and allow himself to be looked after, but Lemony was still playing the game. He had to be. As casually as possible, he watched Ernest's reflection. The man seemed totally absorbed in his work. In fact, Ernest looked more peaceful than he had ever seen him before. The enigmatic smile didn't seem as forced, though still impenetrable. A slight, strange frown of concentration was on his brow. Something ancient stirred in the back of Lemony's mind. He could believe that this was a genuine pleasure for Ernest, no matter what other motives were in play. The attraction of a simple, intimate, uncomplicated, repetitive task. Lemony cleared his throat and summoned a more jovial tone.

Thank you!!! (Pick a passage or comic chapter of mine for commentary)

this ones from Double Edged so, spoilers for that. sorry if its too much and maybe incomprehensible i just wrote everything i thought in a stream

The idea of rival spies in a truce having an unspoken etiquette about making sure the other person can see what they’re doing clearly at all times really amused me and also seemed like a natural progression for people who just, Live Like This all the time. Kind of like the body language animals develop to deliberately signal trust and lack of threat? Like when cats do the long blink or prey animals make a big show of laying down near you. Of course then you have it as a reassuring gesture, and that gesture being false, and I’ve set myself up for the whole rest of the thing to be about successfully and realistically (enough) distracting Lemony without him noticing.

Humans are the animals that do this too, of course. it is the same thing as normal body language just made more pointed. I have Ernest as having complete control over his body language and complete observation of everyone elses, in a Derren Brown type reading/manipulation style.

I like slipping dialogue into the narration here because it cuts out a lot of stuff that’s boring to read and skips a bit of time by having Lemony reflect on things that have just happened. the whole thing is in past tense but this is like, a few minutes further past tense than everything else. Means I can just put the pertinent things. Also it was very important for this bit to happen very fast so that you get his POV sense of being swept along with ‘naturally unfolding’ events. It buries the fact that Ernest now has possession of Lemony’s jacket by making the second half of that sentence much more engaging and interesting looking and easy to move on to - which is exactly what Ernest is doing by saying something distracting as he performs the natural gesture. It’s all about giving the reader the same experience as Lemony, that’s the goal for this one.

Lem is a bit nervous about taking clothes off - which is reasonable, actually - but also he’s a bit precious about it in general because of a lifetime habit of showing skin equalling danger (tattoo) and being vulnerable (without disguise or situation-appropriate clothing). I’m thinking of socks and the symbolic importance of clothes in atwq, the reliance on the disguise kit forever, the scene-appropriate netflix outfits to blend in all the time. That’s whats canon anyway - this all also contributes to my headcanon of trans Lemony, and I made sure to imply top surgery scars in the illustration. Again, vital to remember that its Lem’s POV (even though it’s not in first person), so ‘nobody made a fuss about it’ both tells you his relief that no comment about his body (whether salacious or surprise or mockery) was made and cements that he was nervous in the first place.

Of course Ernest wouldnt say anything, or even visibly react at all. He is a practiced expert of the service industry.

This is also in contrast with Jacques, who has complete confidence in showing skin. Lem feigning absent-mindedness to disguise hesitation feeds into the overall ongoing thing of Lemony trying to be smooth, and I reckon hes’s coping by pulling directly from how he’s seen Jacques act. This whole seductive wiles angle isn’t really Lemony’s scene and his awkward phrasing and justifications in his own thoughts about it reflects this. Pretending to be going along with stuff he can do, but the playful flirty aspect is different and throws him a bit. So its pretty much all from what he knows of J’s playbook. Of course Ernest isn’t fooled by the faux casualness, and Lemony knows he isnt, but its the polite etiquette to go along with face value that makes everyone more comfortable. Lot of that in this fic.

‘and he had actually relaxed’ the word ‘actually’ implying his surprise as he’d been intending to only pretend to relax - same with ‘that hadn’t been a lie’, as in, well *that* at least was true. Lem is double checking literally everything Ernest says. The fact that he is actually a practiced masseuse sells the idea to Lemony that this is not just a ruse to get his top off or whatever. And at the same time reassures the reader that Lem is not actually being a complete idiot - he is constantly suspicious of everything as always, and remains so throughout

It smelt of summer.... I wanted a feeling more than a specific scent. Its how it makes him feel. He can’t pinpoint it exactly because its too evocative. To me, smelling of summer evokes warm spice and mango. Also, the sudden switch from a factual barrage to slow and conceptual is a strong feeling.

The fast pacing and then the sudden slow at the end of the paragraph like a sigh. Like the feeling of being swept along and then being a bit bewildered, bit ‘i can’t beleive this is actually happening’, bit ‘how did i get here’, bit proper relaxing.

Then slow and meandering pacing, to match Ernest’s hands. Palm oil. Flesh Firmness Friction.

Ernest said pointedly earlier that the mirror was for Lemony to watch him, to feel safe. So he is well aware - and is in fact encouraging - that Lemony study his reflection at this point. However, I hope I managed to get a good genuine vibe in here. Ernest enjoys this, and is finding it relaxing. Probably the actual genuine feeling from him is a huge advantage to calming Lemony down, Lem can probably pick up on fakeness very well subconsciously, so the verisimilitude is Ernest’s best weapon. Also, he wants for selfish reasons. He doesn’t get physical contact because of his position, and when he does its not someone that understands why. And Lemony understands him. And he understands Lemony. Better than most on their respective sides do. Lem even acknowledges in his own narration - 'genuine pleasure... no matter what other motives were in play’ - that the truth and the trick are not mutually exclusive. he gets it.

Very intentional focus on enigmatic smile and brow in quick succession, which happens repeated through the story - yes we are invoking Ellington this fic, more quietly at first and then stronger later. A stirring of something ancient, you might say.

And yes, the mind naturally wanders to other simple, intimate, uncomplicated, repetitive tasks and he has to shut that line of thought down immediately, something Lemony gets increasingly worse at doing as the fic goes on. Shoving words like ‘pleasure’ and ‘stirring’ and that technically accurate description together heavily implies Lem’s growing arousal. Just to really spell that out. Just in case. If it’s missed it would be there subliminally enough im sure.

Thanks for asking and a great choice of section, I havent read this commentary back so here it is have it immediately before i remember what i forgot and edit forever

#tangentiallly #my fic #asoue #lemony snicket #ernest denouement #lemzest

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jmnjmnjmn · 4 years

Text

Eternal beings | Chapter 1

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Key words: supernatural, vampire.

Word count: less than 3,000

Warnings: swearing, sadness, jealousy, mentions of murder

Inspo board

Masterlist

In the spirit of Halloween I decided to write a whole series about Vampire!Jungkook. I know should’ve been posting it throughout October and not on Halloween... Bare with me okay? There’s more to come.

Walking through the city at two in the morning isn’t as cute and mysterious as it may seem. The streets are empty and dark despite the street lights being on and every noise sounds like a forecast for something dangerous, especially when you're a girl walking home from work by yourself. You recently took up night shifts at the convenience store you were working at part time. Your boss was more than happy when you announced to her that you can work nights for half of the week. It was always hard to find people for those hours. With all of your classes at college being online this semester you had more time to work and earn money for rent and other things. You actually liked working at night, because there weren’t many customers then if any at all, so you had freedom to spend most of your time at work reading magazines, studying or sitting on your laptop. The only drawback of working at that time though was the walk home.

You pulled the steel grating over the door and locked it slowly in the faint light of the neon sign above the door. Before walking away you pulled on the padlock to make sure it’s definitely locked right. When you didn’t feel it budge under your fingers you turned on your heel and started speed walking home. Your apartment wasn’t further than twenty five minutes away from the shop and though it felt like a short stroll during the day at night it almost always seemed like a pilgrimage. “Fortunately for me-” You thought. “-the summer is in full swing and the nights aren’t so cold anymore.” You shivered at the thought of walking home in winter time. On the other hand the increase in temperature caused all sorts of shady people to come from their homes and clubs out onto the streets. For example you already walked past more than a dozen of drug deals and were cat called by drunk men leaving the bars so many times you couldn’t count anymore. And that’s only this summer season.

Despite all those unpleasantries you kept working and getting the money you desperately needed to pay the rent for your small flat and lead a decent life in the city. And because of those same unpleasantries you came up with a special system of walking home from work that made you a tad bit more comfortable and it went like this. First: leave the shop with earbuds in your ears, but no music playing, walk with big strides and your head up to notice any potential danger and stay alert no matter how tired you are. Second: walk only the bigger streets with street lamps and businesses on them, preferably ones that are open at night so there’s always someone to run to for help. That part wasn’t too hard since you worked right in the center of the city and lived close by. You smiled to yourself, thinking of the deal you cut on your current apartment. You were subletting from one of your college friends who left to study abroad for a year. He didn’t want to break the lease on his place and not have something to come back to when he finishes his studies, especially since his apartment was in such a perfect location for a young student. That led him to looking around for someone to sublet to and… Tadah! You got a beautifully furnished, one bedroom apartment right in the city for a price that was unheard of in that area. Only downside was that you had to vacate the place in less than ten months.

A loud sudden sound pulled you out of your thoughts, but what followed made your heart skip a beat. A sound so faint it was barely hearable, but clear enough to make you stop in your tracks.

“Please, n-no.” The voice definitely belonged to a male. It sounded as if its owner was struggling to breath out the words. You heard him inhale sharply and ask again. “P-lease, stop.” His begging words sent a shiver down your spine. Something really bad was happening around that corner. “N-no.” You felt your shoulders tense up. You didn’t want to get involved with something dangerous, but you couldn’t just walk by a possible assault or maybe something worse. You tightened your grip on your bag and started to walk back quietly. Your instincts started to kick in slowly as you made the difficult choice between the two possible options. Fight or flight. “Flight.” You thought to yourself. “From a safe place I will call the police. I promise.” You sweared in your head to the man around the corner.

“Stop.” Said a second voice also belonging to a man by the pitch of it.

“Please.” The first man said. “Please.” He repeated now with more strength in his voice. Within a second you heard shuffling indicating a fight broke out between the pleading man and his attacker. You started pressing in the police number on your phone and started moving faster as the noises started getting louder and closer to the alleyways exit. The very same exit from which you were trying to back away from.

“I told you to stop.” The second man repeated himself. Right when you were just about to turn the corner and start running to safety with the police on the phone two men fell to the ground in front of the alleyways exit. Both of them in disheveled suits. The older one, which you assumed was the previously heard beggar, was clearly losing to the other man. You made your last step back and tried to turn to the side to start running when you heard the losing man speak.

“Help me.” He croaked looking in your direction and blowing your already weak cover. Standing in the shadowy street you thought he wouldn’t be able to see you backing away, but he did and his attacker now saw you as well. “H-elp.” He tried to repeat his statement, but the other man pushed him to the ground getting rid of the bits of air in his lungs. “What should I do?” You asked yourself. The nerve connections in your brain made a snap judgment for you. The scene you had before you looked just as frightening as comical. What even was this situation? Two well dressed men, who you would think are well behaved and well above resulting in physical fights if you saw them in the shop you were working at, were playing some murderous tug of war right in front of you in the middle of the night. As you realised the oddity of the situation it stopped being so scary all of a sudden. “They’re just drunk office rats fighting in an alley.” You thought to yourself but didn’t put your phone back down in case things escalated to something more dangerous. You continued to back away when the standing man spoke.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself?” He asked in an authoritative tone, but you weren’t going to listen. You turned around and made a step to your left wanting to reach the main road again and get away from this bull. “Stop.” He said tiredly. You turned the corner and started to run before he could say or do anything more to you. You pressed the green button on your phone screen calling the police.

“112.” Said a female operator on the other side of the phone after just a short moment. “Hello. There’s a fight going on near my house. Two men. It looked pretty bad.” You said nervously.

You woke up the next morning around noon. Having already forgotten the events of last night you got ready for work. You were covering a shift in the afternoon at the shop for your co-worker Jimin. He worked there a couple of months longer than you, showed you the ropes on your first day and since you got along pretty well you became work friends. You decided not to eat breakfast at home and just grab something at the shop. Just like that within twenty minutes of you waking up you were out the door.

The mid day was warm but you had your jacket in the bag ready to be put on in the late hours of the night when you’ll be walking home. You turned the corner to get to the main street and have a stroll to work in the sun when you were met with a hoard of policemen blocking the sidewalk. You crossed the road and took a different route than usual, not bothering to think twice about the reason the police were where they were right now.

As you entered the shop you noticed Jimin watching television on the small screen hanging over the cigarette shelf. The bell over the door rang when you closed it and Jimin instantly turned his head towards you, greeting you with a warm smile as you walked towards him.

“Great to finally see you.” He said, taking off his name tag.

“You’re only happy to see me today, because I’m relieving you of your shift.” You joked and he laughed quietly.

“Only today.” He said smiling and let you behind the counter. “I have to run. Yoongi’s probably already waiting for me.” He waved you goodbye, grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“Go. Have fun.” You called after him smiling.

You turned the volume down on the TV and cranked it up on the ancient radio on the counter. Jimin always watches TV at work while you prefer listening to music and shuffling through magazines or newspapers. You pinned your name tag on and started looking for a good read as a bell rang signaling an arrival of a customer. You picked a fitness magazine and leaned on the shelves behind you and started reading about “the benefits of doing squats”. After a couple of minutes the customer who earlier entered the shop came to the counter with his pickings. You scanned the last item when he asked you to turn on the volume on the TV. You pushed the “+” button on the remote and was about to tell the man the amount he has to pay for the items when you heard the speaker's voice on TV describe something horrible.

“... A gruesome murder. Victim: a man in his thirties, possibly a nearby office worker. His exact identity is still being confirmed by the police.”

“Horrible.” Said the customer. “And so close by. Who would do such a thing?” He asked, sounding truly concerned.

“Twelve thirty, sir.” You said politely. That’s exactly why you didn’t like watching TV at work. This particular television set was about twenty years old and had an antenna so crooked it played only three channels, two of them being news. There was no day there wouldn’t be bad news. A natural distaster, an economic crash, a new riot or war somewhere in the world or, like today, a murder. The man scanned his card and left with his things. As the door was closing behind him you reached for the remote to mute the TV again.

“Estimated time of the murder is thirty minutes after two in the morning.” Said the speaker and you quickly put two and two together. Glancing at the screen you reached your shaky hand for your phone and started searching the internet for more information on the event. A cold shiver went down your whole body when you read an article header stating the place where the “gruesom murder” took place. It was that alleway near your building. You dialed your friend Taehyung’s number still looking at the screen, waiting for more details to be described by the news anchors.

“The number you are calling is unavailable.” You heard an automated message and hung up the phone. “What the hell do I do now?” You whispered to yourself. “I called the police last night and described the situation as well as I could.” You thought. “It’s not my fault they didn’t intervene… Or did so too late.” You explained to yourself. “Still, shouldn’t they have my number saved somehow? And shouldn’t they be calling me up right now for questioning? I was there after all.” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that you could have seen a murderer last night. “Maybe it wasn’t them.” You started wandering. “Maybe they left right after they saw me and someone else did… That.” Another announcement by the news anchors pulled you out of this train of thought. “Police just confirmed the identity of the victim. Thirty five year old (Victim’s name), an office manager at (Company’s name) was brutally murdered last night on Third.” You covered your mouth with your free hand when the picture of the victim popped up on the screen. It was the man from last night, the one that lost the fight. “His body was found by a passerby over four hours after the murder took place.”

“Impossible.” You breathed out. “I called the police right around two. How is it that they didn’t send anyone to check on the situation?” You thought and dialled Taehyung’s number again.

“The number you are calling is unavailable.”

“Shit.” You hissed. You really wanted to talk to a friend right now and figure out what to do. Taehyung was your closest friend right now, you knew each other from highschool and hung out all through your first years of college to this day. You dialed the police number once again in the last twelve hours.

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arch-venus25 · 3 years

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The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

“Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

“Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

“So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

“Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

“And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

“Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

“I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

“Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

“Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

“Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

“Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

“If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

“But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

“You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

For better or worse, they were sisters.

Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

“Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

“Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

“John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

“Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

“Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

“Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

“So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

“Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

“Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

“How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

“Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

“Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

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maddiethebull · 4 years

Text

Satan (Obey Me!) - Prompt #9 - “I could quote a thousand poems, but none can describe what I feel.”

I’m BACK Y’ALL After some InTrOSpeCtioN and HeaLiNG and LoTS of CRyINg ;)

Sorry for my absence. I hope you like it and thank you for making a request! Requested by @l3v1sblog

Here’s a song to listen to while reading if you’d like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_R0Ix90hFu8

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You were cleaning around the lounge of The House of Lamentation, it was your chore for the day to help dust and reorganize whatever silverware or centerpieces that may be out of place. You always thought it was such a bore, you never found anything cool to talk about with the brothers while you cleaned there, unlike the many times you’d found an interesting book to talk about with Satan whilst you cleaned the library. Or the times that you found household items with huge bites taken out of them and asking Beel if he did it and him so innocently denying it… You were about to put some silverware away when something caught your eye, though, it was a red, leather bound book. There wasn't any writing on the cover, piquing your interest, so you opened it and the first thing you saw was a poem titled Suns and Seraphim dedicated to…… WAIT THAT’S YOUR NAME???. It read,

“Could seraphim descend to earthly ground,

For chance to brush thine lips with hues of rose;

Discard their grace and heav’nly guise, cast down,

They would; just as the sun is always bound.

The moon will rise upon the sun’s repose

With gifts to thee inside night skies of opal tone

Of diamonds who’s shine dare not oppose

That which resides in precious eyes, thine own.

Si j'avais été dans le royaume des cieux

Pour vous donner ces soleils souriants

Et regarder votre beauté,

Mon cœur volage me tenterait d'arracher

Mes ailes angéliques et descendre;

Je quitterais ce paradis creux pour être en Eden

Avec mon amant, Mon ange de la terre, vous.

(written by Madeline Melcher (me lol) I dont know french so I used a translator btw)

Your jaw dropped, who could have written this?? It popped up in your head that it was most likely either Lucifer or Satan, it definitely wasn’t Mammon, Levi, or Beel. The maybes were Belphie and Asmo, but the chances they wrote that were rather slim.

Curiosity killed the cat and you couldn’t restrain your fingers from flipping through the many filled pages of the notebook. Another page had read,

“I could quote a thousand poems, but none can describe what I feel when I’m with you. You are a glimpse of a Heaven lost to betrayal, a sun that, for so long, I’ve been missing. I promise, someday I’ll show you these and then I’ll take you on a picnic (maybe in the human world?).”

Involuntarily, a smile made its way to your lips and a blush to your cheeks until you heard a knock on your door, it was Lucifer,

“MC, Why aren't you cleaning?”

Your heart sped up, what if it was Lucifer who wrote this? You began stuttering, you liked him, sure, but not in the way these poems talk about. Oh god… what if you had to turn down the second most powerful demon ever? Oh lawd.

“MC, we enjoy having you here but if you don’t finish your chores and put down whatever book you're reading-”

A HUGE sigh of relief escaped you,

“So you don’t know this book?” You asked, still slightly on edge.

He answered, “How could I know what you’re reading? There's not even a title on it.” He sighed and stepped closer, he eyed the book and, “Is that Satan’s Journal? Oh dear, MC, I believe you’ve made a rather stupid mistake.”

Your eyes were open wide as you sat completely still and quiet staring at the book in your hands. Lucifer spoke up, seeing that you looked quite shocked and perhaps a bit scared,

“If you would like, I can put it back where it was. Though I will be giving you extra chores because it seems that you also know what you did was an invasion of my annoying brother’s privacy.”

You thought a moment then spoke,

“No, I don’t feel good about that… I think I should give it back to him. I don’t wanna lie to him.”

“If that’s what you would like to do then I am nobody to stop you, just be careful and if something happens then don’t refrain from calling me for help.”

“Thank you Lu-”

In a seemingly dejected and scoffing tone Lucifer said, “And do your chores.”

With that he left you all alone to contemplate a plan to give Satan his journal back. Your mind was clouded with a million thoughts, the most prominent one being ‘he really thinks of me like that?’ A brush of pink crept onto your cheeks, thinking of him writing these poems. Thinking of him thinking of you. You wished so much that you could just revel in these thoughts, but the issue at hand was that, like Lucifer had said, you invaded Satan’s privacy. ‘What if he doesn’t feel that way anymore...’ Excitement and fear mixed inside your mind making you feel overwhelmed. How would you go about this?

‘Maybe I can just leave it in front of his door with a note on it. But, no, what if someone else picks it up?’

‘I could just burn it and forget about everything…….. No, MC, that’s NOT what’s gonna happen.’

You thought and thought and came to the realization that the easiest and most moral way to take care of the situation was just to knock on his door and hand it to him. You would tell him what you did and apologize and it would go very super incredibly smooth… yeah. You picked up the book ad headed towards Satan’s room with conviction, ‘you can do this MC!’ you thought. But when you got to his room, you froze like Mammon’s credit cards.

You’d never felt more anxious in your life. You liked Satan a great deal, he was handsome and charming, he had a soft side that he showed you often, he was wonderful. Even though these poems were made out to you, you felt as if it couldn't possibly be real. And moreover, this was the Avatar of Wrath’s personal journal that you had gone through... You breathed heavily to calm your nerves and gave yourself a mini pep talk. Then, finally, you meekly knocked on the door. Satan opened the door and saw you standing there, a smile crossed his face,

His blonde locks messily hung around his bright green eyes with a beautiful happy go lucky look in them,

“Hello, MC, find something interesting today? I certainly did and would very much like to give it to you.” A sweet chuckle ran off his words as he began to show you in but he froze and his expression changed drastically.

With his eyes open wide he asked while pointing to the book,

“What’s that?”

Stuttering and mumbling, fumbling your words you managed to get out a small “I’m sorry”

Silence. Silence that was louder than the rumble of a volcano.

He cleared his throat,

“Did- did you read it?” his eyes fixated on the book you held, he looked incredibly worried. You weren't looking at him so you could only assume that his visage was pure rage, something you, a mere human, were terrified of.

“I-I-I-I-”

You were cut off by a chuckle, although this time it wasn’t sweet, per say, more nervous. But through your ever amazing perception skills, you again thought he was angry with you and as he said,

“MC, I-”

You blurted out, “I’m sorry!” and ran away.

Your heart beat a million miles per hour as you hastily made your way to your room, locking the door and looking down to see that your dumbass TOOK THE BOOK. You were silent on the outside, but screaming like Hell on the inside.

Just then, a voice wriggled it’s way through the wooden door, it was Asmo.

“MC, do you think I could borrow your hair straightener? Mine broke and I can’t go anywhere looking like this!”

Shakily, you replied, “Sure, it’s just on my bathroom counter.”

He waltzed in all happy and pretty but the look on your face made him stop in his tracks,

“What’s wrong?” With those two words, you nearly burst into tears.

“Oh hun…” he said as he put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his arm. “Why don’t we go to my room and talk about it? I’ll even give you a makeover, that’d be nice, yeah?”

You wiped the tears from your cheeks, “Yeah.”

You told him all about it as he did your makeup, making you feel slightly better, though, it wasn’t really the makeup, it was more seeing how much the brothers cared about you in times like this. He began to finish his own makeup as you sat down on the bed and your restless thoughts ran out of your mouth as if it were a marathon.

“And he got angry at me, I can’t stand seeing him angry, and and-”

“MC, honey, calm down,” he said as he finished doing his eye makeup, focusing on his reflection in the vanity mirror.

“How can I? These poems, they’re beautiful but I just read his journal without asking and I feel so horrible about it. And I’m really scared of him when he gets angry… I just don’t know if I can face him right now.” You flopped from sitting up to splaying out on the pale pink bedspread.

“You said the exact same thing just five minutes ago! You won’t get anywhere from repeating that.”

“UGH but it's all I can think about right now… What if he hates me because of this…”

Asmo let out a light chuckle, “He doesn’t hate you sweetie, I don’t think he can.”

You frowned, “You don’t know that.”

After a moment’s pause, looking at how distraught you were with the current situation, Asmo spoke again,

“MC, let me tell you a secret, I’ve been watching this whole thing unravel, I could sense rom com vibes since the day you waltzed in! You should’ve heard the way he talked about you, it was constant ‘MC this and MC that’ ‘Oh I made MC laugh today,’ ‘MC let me borrow her pen’ ‘MC asked me to get coffee,’” Asmo said while doing a ridiculous impression of Satan, “But you can’t tell him I told you this or he’ll probably string me up by the ankles.”

You chuckled and when your smile faded, Asmo looked you in the eye and said in a sincere voice,

“He likes you girlie, I would even say he loves you. I’ve never seen him care about someone so much. When I said I don’t think he can hate you, I meant it. So go back there and tell him what you feel, this is the climax of your love story! And believe me when I say a good climax can fix anything!”

“Asmo ew.”

“Hehe, too much?”

You looked at the red book cover, “He really said that?”

Asmo rolled his eyes with a smile,

“Yes! So what’re you waiting for?? I can feel the stress seeping out of you and it's not good for my skin.”

Meanwhile in his room Satan was pacing like a worried cat, mumbling to himself. ‘I knew MC didn’t feel that way…’ ‘How could I be so reckless? I left my journal in the dining room of all places!’ With a frustrated grunt, he brought his hands to his face, lowkey slapping himself in the face. He sat down on his bed and tousled with his hair, as he did so, his focus was taken by a single blooming Mirage Flower on his desk. He winced and flopped onto his bed face down. The sigh he let out after that held an almost tangible emotion of frustration. He was frustrated with himself, but also with you. He didn’t plan on you finding out like this and it made him feel, well, kind of lame. He imagined telling you many times, none were as embarrassing as you reading his journal. He wanted to sweep you off of your feet like a prince in one of Levi’s animes, with the flowers mysteriously blooming and all of that. He turned to the side, restless and angry with himself and again was there the flower he had secretly picked from Diavolo’s garden, only to give to you. His lips turned to a frown and he sat up again, taking the flower from it’s vase and like a child, he plucked each petal saying “MC loves me.” “MC loves me not.” As the flower diminished to just the stem he finished with “MC loves me.” ‘Hmph, I look like I’m losing it, don’t I?’ he thought. Still, this powerful demon’s heart felt aflutter from something as silly as the words “MC loves me” as he plucked the final petal from the pistal. Those petals that would soon dry out and crumble to dust reflected in his aquamarine eyes like lilies floating in a pond. His brow furrowed and he decided it best to lay down looking the other way.

You got off of Asmo’s bed, dropping the journal with the spine facing the ground, making it open to the last page that had only one sentence on it. Your heart beat sped up as you read the short entry and what you read was enough to make you happy for entire lifetimes.

“I've loved you every day before today and I will love you every day after.”

You didn’t know why, but it was enough to bring the hint of tears to your eyes. He really thought of you like that? Did you think of him like that? As intensely in love as these poems and pages had shown?

Now holding the book in your hands, looking at the same red leather cover but seeing something different. You smiled, and said “Yeah. I think I do.”

Asmo turned around with a confused look on his face, “You do what?”

A blush rose to your cheeks much like a rose in bloom,

“I love him.”

You left the room determined, set firmly on a path to Satan’s bedroom.

All alone in his room, Asmo chuckled,

“Have fun dearie.”

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This was a long one, I wrote this over a long period of time and I changed it up a lot. I was feeling sad when I wrote a lot of this, so it’s a bit really sad and I decided to end it like this because it kind of felt right? Like instead of explaining the whole thing from beginning to end, it would be a better read and be a better experience for the readers to be able to imagine whatever ending they would like when confronting the character Satan. I’m open to writing an ending that includes MC finally confronting him, though, just say the word and I’ll finish the story in a different way :) Thanks for reading! <3

also as a BONUS:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9raS7-NisU this song is basically what Satan was thinking the entire time lmao

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