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miguelhugger2099 · 2 months

Note

Hello sweetie, hoping you're doing well! What about bully punk Miguel and nerd pastel girl reader at college? (Miguel with 23 and reader with 21) Like reader was ugly and will have a glow up thanks to MJ and now Miguel tries to have her attention, they have a date and sweet and fluff smut!! (reader is virgin uwu) I'll let to you the creativity

Impurities

hello sweetheart you absolute DARLING i genuinely could be better but i hope ur doing great. i want to apologize for taking so long but i want u to know when i saw this i just about melted bc punk miguel is one of my guilty pleasures i adore him so much. this ask made me want to evolve it into a series i had like several different ways to make this but ahhhh i hope it's alright

Punk!Miguel x Pastel!Reader, Fluff and Smut, Word Count: 8,875 Art by: beawoodward on artstation !

You knew you weren’t the most appealing girl out there. You weren’t about to delude yourself otherwise. You knew what people said about you, how they looked at you. Your face could’ve been worse. Maybe some bushy eyebrows? You dressed…maybe a little different than most people. While the world was covered in grays and black, you opted out by showering yourself in the cutest pastel colors. You didn’t keep up with the trends and instead followed whatever you thought looked alright. It often led to some mismatching and awkward outfits but you didn’t think so! You entered campus with a light blue and pink striped pants with a pink belt and a baby blue sweater. Two low braids tied with white ribbons at the end and your white framed glasses on the bridge of your nose. Skincare was confusing to you so all you really did was wash your face with a harsh cleanser and hoped for the best which gave you some acne instead–making you pop them and leave some scars. You tried makeup but it just looked cakey so you settled with a messy and often uneven eyeliner. Regardless of your outfit, whether in a skirt or in pants, you were always decked out in some bright pastel colors and hair done in the same two braids. You held yourself close while walking around the halls, already used to people staring and calling you names from high school. College was a little more merciful, the whispers being just as loud but at least they’d never bully you to your face. You win some, you lose some. Your self-esteem had been damaged to the point of no return anyway, so any attempts of trying to prove you’re worth something would just be a pipe dream in your eyes. That’s why you push your glasses up and cling to your shoulder bag tightly in your fist as you pass by the usual group of boys to get to the front seat of your class. Your human biology class door was opened at the back so you’d have to pass the back seats to sit at the front. As usual, the group of boys were basically monochrome except for the little specks of red or blue if they ever decided to add color. But what was most noticeable about them was the so-called leader of said group. Unofficial–official– leader Miguel O’Hara, the senior who decided to take general education classes in his last year before graduating. His usual confident and toothy grin was on display, silver spider bites that his, also pierced, tongue would often play with. His big and heavy platform boots would rest on the chair beside him while his left elbow rested on the table, his hand combing through his long brown hair–shaved at the sides, mind you. He made sure to push his fringe back so everyone could see his double eyebrow and nostril piercing. Miguel’s hands were decorated with rings, big and small and his nails were short and painted black with some of it chipping off. His usual leather jacket with pins and patches, stretched and tight from his muscular build, was accompanied by a low red tank top with a spider symbol on the front. Black skinny jeans and a spiked belt that did little to actually keep his pants in place since the black and red band of his boxers were showing.

He listened mindlessly to his group of friends as they talked with each other, his fingers switching between playing with the dangling earring on his earlobe to his industrial bar. His crimson eyes glanced up when he saw you in your uncomfortably bright and awkward fashion sense. His friend tapped his shoulder and jutted his chin out to you before whispering something in Miguel’s ear that made him shove him away with a smile. Then they both laughed as quietly as possible, chuckling at what you decided to wear today: light blue overall shorts and a pastel yellow undershirt with white knee high stockings and white sneakers, your usual white ribbons at the end of your braids.

You usually sat alone at the front, placing your earbuds in to listen to music while you waited for the professor. Despite being at the front, you could still hear some faint chuckling and words being whispered from Miguel's group.

Still, you held your head up, taking out your notebook and expensive textbook. Clicking your pen, you began some light note taking before class started.

You sighed as you entered back in your dorm, dumping your bag at the door and kicking off your shoes. You faceplated down onto your bed while your roommate MJ looked over at you sympathetically.

You turn your head, cheek squished against the mattress. “I know that beauty is subjective and I'm not supposed to earn validation from anybody else but…” You sit up and rest on your legs, hands wringing in your hands with furrowed eyebrows.

“But…I want to feel pretty.” You admit softly, ashamed since you felt like you were betraying yourself.

MJ's smile grows and she eagerly jumps from her bed to kneel at your bedside. She takes your hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.

“You are pretty,” She insists. “But if you really want help, I can.” MJ tilts your head to look at her, a soft smile on her face.

You nod. “I do. I just want to know how to look like you.”

MJ shakes her head. “No. No, you already have your own beauty.” She places a hand on her chest. “I meant that I can help enhance it. No change to your core is necessary.” She pokes at your chest playfully and you both giggle together.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You take a moment to look at her. MJ really was perfect–shiny straight red hair, clear skin that was painted with freckles and a winning white smile. You hoped she could work some magic on you.

“Okay.”

Your transformation didn't happen overnight. It took at least a few weeks for it all to come together.

MJ had dragged you to salons to get your hair properly taken care of. Gotten your eyebrows plucked, eyelashes lifted, an effective skincare routine–that you struggled to drill into your regular schedule–and a new wardrobe that still held your pastel look, just a little more flattering. She even helped you get some contact lenses so you wouldn’t need your glasses all the time! To tie it all together, you two spent nights practicing how to do your makeup that wouldn't look so wobbly and uneven. Each day, you improved yourself. Your tacky overalls changed into fitted jeans or flowy skirts. Your baggy shirts were now cute tops that hugged each curve. Tennis shoes into heels or cute sneakers and your hair came to life with a beautiful shine; your white ribbon still in your hair.

One day, you entered class like normal. Except there were very few whispers this time, almost nonexistent. Still, you don’t let it get to you and continue like normal–walking to the front of the class and sitting in your usual spot. What wasn’t normal was a figure coming up beside you and pulling out the chair next to you. Miguel slipped beside you in front of the class, tilting his head as he stared at your side profile. You tried not to react but you subconsciously glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

“Hey.” He smirked, his eyebrow raising and his lips curling.

“Hello.” You murmured back, opening your notebook to the next blank page.

“New look?” He asked, using his hand to brush your hair back off your shoulder and you stiffened. He noticed you still had the white ribbon at the back of your head. Miguel’s eyes glanced back down at your body. Nicely fitted flare baby blue jeans, a cute pastel green heart belt with a crop top white sweater.

“Looks good.” He purred. You held your blue bunny pen in your hand tightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t understand why he was speaking to you. He hadn’t before–other than laugh at you–so what gives?

“Thanks.” You say curtly. Miguel places a hand over her heart in feign hurt.

“Don’t be like that, nena. You look so cute, I didn’t expect you to be so cold.” He teased. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them to look up at you while you wrote the rest of your notes down before class started. Miguel watched as your false eyelashes fluttered, making your eyes look bigger. The subtle blush on your cheeks and the concealer that hid most of your past acne. He could still see some of the scars which makes him huff a small laugh at how cute it kinda looks. Your lips were more plump than he remembered–a soft pink to them. He lifts his arm up to rest his cheek on his fist, his eyes still on you. “How about I take you out?” Your pen slips and leaves a slash right down your notes. “What?” “A date. Does that sound good?” You don’t look up, instead focusing on your task at hand. “No. Can you please just leave me alone?” Miguel doesn’t say anything else but you hear the chair he sat on scrape across the floor as he gets up abruptly. You hear the laughter of his friends behind you and Miguel snapping at them. Your shoulders hunch over–the natural instinct to hide from embarrassment overcoming you again.

Every week, in the same class, Miguel would try again and again and again to ask you out. Each time, you would decline. It had gotten bad enough where he changed his seat to move beside you, offering his help when he saw you were confused and overall just trying to get on your good side. You wanted to be strong, truly you did, but it was becoming too much. When Miguel had asked again, you sighed loudly and faced him. “If I say yes will you leave me alone?” Miguel broke into a wide smile. Once you finally agreed to a date with him, you truly weren’t expecting anything good. So you stood by the place Miguel wanted you to meet him at: a local diner that was pleasantly pretty looking from the outside. Still, due to your past experiences of being ghosted and stood up, you watched the time on your phone. You decided that you wouldn’t wait more than fifteen minutes max.

To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait at all. You heard Miguel call your name from your left, his lips curled into a confident smile. Subconsciously, you eyed him up and down. He had baggy black cargo pants, accompanied with chains on his right side. A DIY-ed t-shirt that was sprayed painted over many many times. Of course, his iconic leather jacket was littered with various pins and patches. When he was close enough, you saw just a bit of eyeliner surrounding his eyes; and a new septum piercing. For the people passing by, it was quite a sight to see. Compared to Miguel’s dark but proud aura, you emanated a more sweet and bright vibe. MJ had helped you pick out an outfit, excited that you approached her with the dilemma of going on a date. You wore a sheer baby blue crop top cardigan with a simple white tank top underneath. A slightly darker blue pleated skirt with white thigh high stockings and ankle strap baby blue platform pumps. You held a small purse in your hands and looked up at him through your lashes. Your hair was pinned in a half up and half down hairstyle; your white ribbon at the back of your head. You thought it was a bit much, but MJ assured you that it was just enough. “Te ves muy hermosa.” Miguel speaks up, a grin on his lips. “All for me?” He teases with a tilt of his head. A piece of his fringe falling over his forehead. “Oh, please.” You look off to the side, ignoring the flutter in your chest when called beautiful. Miguel doesn’t take it to heart, instead going past you to open the door of the diner. He dramatically takes a bow, his arm ushering you inside. The theatrics make the corner of your lips quirk up and you enter inside, nodding to Miguel. You turn your head around to see the inside, wooden chairs and tables, a jukebox at the back with a shiny bar. “This way.” You stiffen when you feel Miguel’s breath by your ear. Before you could turn, he places his hand on your lower back and leads you to a booth by the window. He sits across from you, menus at the ready on the table. “You know, I used to come to this place all the time.” Miguel says, his eyes scanning the different options. “Used to be a hangout spot for me and the others in high school. College took up my time so it’s a pain in the ass not being able to visit more.” You glance up at him, shuffling in your seat. It felt a little weird to have him speak to you like this, as if he wasn’t teasing you a few months ago.

Luckily, a waitress comes up before you two with a notepad in hand. “Oh! A pretty girl! Didn’t know you were back in the dating scene.” She cackles to herself and pushes her glasses up. Miguel groans and rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t work Fridays, Lyla.” “Margo couldn’t make it, I needed extra hours–and now a bonus– I get to embarrass you. Everybody wins! Except you maybe. Waddaya want?” Lyla rests on one foot, her grin plastered on her face. Miguel’s smile was long gone, now snapping his order at his friend. You watched with an amused smile. They bantered like siblings. But what she said piqued your interest. He hadn’t gone around dating? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Miguel call your name. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft. “Do you need another minute?” He asks. You stumble over your words and feel your cheeks burn. “No-no, uhm…” You look down at your menu and pick the first thing you see. “The, uh, chicken fajitas, please?” Lyla meets you with a smile and collects your menu. “Of course, darling.” She turns to take Miguel’s menu. “Couldn’t you have taken her to a nicer place? She’s all dolled up.” Lyla sticks her tongue out at him and walks away while Miguel’s cheeks burn red. Instead of facing you, he looks down at his hands and he picks at his black nail polish.

For once, Miguel had stayed silent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he looked a little ashamed? Embarrassed? You could see him moving his spider bites nervously as he stares at anything besides you, his cheeks still tinged red. You pat your skirt awkwardly and clear your throat. “The…I like the diner. It’s got one of those retro vibes to it. It’s cool.” You give a small encouraging smile. For some strange reason, you thought his quietness didn’t suit him. Miguel’s eyes dart to yours and then at the window. “You think?” His hand reaches up to play with his dangling earring. It was almost cute. Just a bit. You chuckle softly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s like being in one of those time machines.” Miguel smiles. “Time machines? I think a time machine would look cooler than this dump.” You playfully smack his hand across the table. “Didn’t you say you used to come here years ago? Don’t call it a dump.” You fold your arms on your chest. You didn’t know this, but Miguel in that moment felt the tension he didn’t realize he had fell off his shoulders. “Eh, it’s a little bit of a dump.” He leans back and stretches his arm on the backseat. “But it’s like you said: a little retro.” Lyla returns with two glasses of water. “One for the cutie,” she places one on your side, giving you a wink. “And then Miguel.” She unenthusiastically hands Miguel the cup.

Miguel frowns at Lyla, a familiar bubble of jealousy brewing in his chest. “Lyla.” He warns. “What?” She stretches out the word. “Just being a good hostess.” She huffs with a pout and walks away. You giggle to yourself and Miguel notices. He’s quick to speak. “Ignore her. She’s always trying to be annoying.” He didn’t like the way Lyla was buttering you up, even if it was just a joke. He wanted you to smile at him like that. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d see you looking so bothered. How do you know her?” You smile and take a sip from your water. Miguel scratches the back of his head. “Middle school. We were in the robotics club.” You blink. “Robotics club? Really?” “Why’re you so surprised? What? A guy like me can’t be into things like that?” He smirks, placing his arms on the table and his pins rattle as he moves. “Well…kind of?” You smile weakly and laugh when Miguel pretends to be hit. “No, but seriously, robotics isn’t what I expected from you.” “Well, it was middle school. I’ve grown up into a man. This time I’ve taken an interest in being a geneticist.” He rests his head on his hand. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, nena.” He teases but you pause. That phrase is a little ironic for him to say, you thought to yourself. Shaking off that feeling, you continued to chat with Miguel. Talking about your interests, past, future and current studies. All while Miguel would try to sneak little touches, whether it be his boot tapping your heel or his hand brushing against yours when handing you a bottle of ketchup. After spending enough time at the diner, the sun was beginning to set. Before you left, Lyla convinced you to convince Miguel to give her a big tip and told you she hopes to see you again in different circumstances. Miguel holds the door open for you again and the bell dings your departure from the diner. His fingertips gently brush against yours, catching your attention.

“There’s…there’s this other place I wanna show you.” He bites his lip, peeling off the skin. His index finger loosely wraps around your pinky. “Sure…” You say hesitantly. He notices your hesitance. “It’s nearby. Just for a little bit and I’ll take you home.” The wind breezes through, giving you a glimpse of the cool air that will befall once nighttime arrives. You shiver and tuck into yourself to hide from the wind. Miguel takes off his jacket and slips it around you. Feeling the heavy material on your shoulders, you look up at him and feel the warmth go around your torso. Miguel’s eyes are focused on making sure it’s snug as it can be. It’s so large that it ends around your midthigh. He takes your little purse and pops the collar of his jacket up. “Put your arms through the sleeves so it doesn’t fall.” You blink and do as he says with a flustered expression. While shuffling your arms through the holes, you try not to glance over at him. His t-shirt was cut at the sleeves that showed off his toned arms. Despite the cold approaching, he seemed to be relaxed as he watched you, making sure you stayed warm. “Good?” He asked. Your fingers barely poked out, his jacket covering most of your outfit. And it was warm. It smelled like him.

With a satisfied smile, he slyly takes your hand in his and leads you away. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand engulfs yours. After following Miguel in twists and turns, you eventually walk up a hill and at the very top stood a single bench with a view of the entirety of Nueva York. Your eyes widened and you let go of his hand to approach near the ledge, placing your hands on the railing. The lights of the city illuminated the night sky and acted as stars. You saw them twinkle along with hover cars that zoomed past you. “This is…” “Where I planned to take you another day. But Lyla pissed me off and I wanted to prove that I could take you somewhere nice.” He comes behind you and slings an arm around your waist. You look up at him with an amused smile. “Did you really take that to heart?” Miguel pouts his lips, his eyes looking off to the side. “I couldn’t let her make me look stupid in front of you.” You laugh, using the sleeves of his jacket to cover your smile. Miguel sees and he has a faint smile of his own on his face. He leads you back to the bench where you two sit in quiet comfortable silence after an afternoon of learning about one another. As you look over at the city with him, you couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling in your chest. This was a date. A date that only happened because you changed yourself. A date with the person who laughed at you.

“Hey, Miguel?” You speak up quietly. He hums and looks over at you. “I…I don’t want you to be nice to me just because I got a little…prettier.” Miguel looks down at you with a frown. He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he looks back at the skyline. He says your name softly to grab your attention. “I’m not being nice just because you’re pretty.” You scrunch your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure all those times you laughed at me was just you being a charmer.” “Laugh at you?” He raises his eyebrows and you look away. “Nena, I wasn’t laughing at you.” “Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I’m used to it. No use in sparing my feelings.” You sigh. “But I wasn’t,” He insists. He wants to reach for your hand, to touch you but he stops himself. “Really, I was…admiring you.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re really being a jerk. There was nothing to admire when I looked…stupid and ugly.” “You did not.” He turned you to face him by turning your chin softly. “So you’re saying the way I looked before wasn’t stupid?” You glare at him but Miguel can’t find it in him to take it badly. “You were cute. The way you dressed and looked, it was awkward–sure–but it was adorable.” He chuckles but your frown deepens, feeling the tears bubble up in your eyes as you turn away from him. Miguel calls your name again. “I’m the last person to judge anyone for how they dress. Look at me.” Miguel flicks his multiple ear piercings, pulls on his snake bites, stretches his tattered and ruined t-shirt and slams his dirty platform boots to the ground. “A freak. You were just a cuter version.” “Then why did you talk to me now?” You murmur.

“Because you suddenly changed. I wanted to know what was up.” “And…the sudden date?” “Your transformation gave me the courage to speak to you. It was my chance–an excuse to talk to you.” Miguel says softly. “Though you did reject me twelve times. I was starting to lose hope.” “It was not twelve times.” “It felt like twelve times.” “...You have to admit that I’m…much more appealing now than I was before.” Miguel sighs. “Nena, the only thing different about you is clear skin and some clothes. Everything else is still you. You were pretty underneath, you just enhanced it. At your core, you’re still you. Bright and colorful.” He bumps your shoulder. You smile shyly and look in your lap. “MJ said something similar.” “MJ?” “My roommate. She helped me with, y’know, everything.” It was still hard to believe. Over two decades of being told otherwise was not going to go away by a single conversation but it still warmed your heart to hear something positive about you for once. You don’t say anything else and Miguel takes his chance to wrap his arm around you, bringing you to his chest. With flushed cheeks, you look out into the open where the skyline is feeling at peace and just a little pretty.

You two had arrived at your dorm and you faced Miguel shyly. Your eyes looked at the ground as you felt your cheeks heat up. “This is my place.” You state and Miguel chuckles, the sound of it sending your heart pumping. “I see that.” He says, taking a step toward you which makes you take a step back. “I had fun.” You whisper softly, your eyes landing on his chest. You see Miguel’s hand lift up to your chin and make you look into his eyes. Your cheeks burn since he keeps his hand on your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away. “Me too.” He murmured, his red eyes looking like they turned a darker shade when he glanced at your lips. He takes another step towards you and you take another step back. You feel your head hit the door and realize you’re now trapped between it and him.

You hold your breath and can only feel the pounding of your heart in your chest and Miguel’s calloused fingers holding you still. Miguel then uses his other hand to hold your hip, his thumb trying to slide under your tank top. Your hands raise up to hold onto his biceps, shivering when your skin meets his. He was warm. “I…kind of don’t want this to end.” You admit softly. Miguel’s grin grows wider, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek which makes you weak in the knees. “Then it doesn’t have to, muñequita.” His hand leaves your chin to cup your cheek. He glances up above your head. “Your roommate home?” He asks. Your eyes never leave his face, your pupils dilating and a weird feeling starting to brew in your stomach. “No,” You squeak out and he looks back down at you. “She’s–She’s, um, out with her boyfriend.” Miguel hums, another glance to your lips. “Then…will you invite me inside?” He asks, leaning down so his lips just barely graze yours. Not quite a kiss yet. Your breath hitches and you nod a few times before speaking. “Mhm, okay.” You reach your hand behind you to grab the doorknob and twist it open. You stumble backwards but Miguel quickly wraps his arm that was on your hip around your waist. He then makes you walk backwards while he could shut the door behind him. You had your arms around his neck and looked up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat. Miguel huffs out a chuckle. “You okay?” “Mhm!” You squeak. He squints down at you in playful suspicion but brushes it off. He bends down to where his lips brush yours again and finally dips low enough to kiss you. Your first shared kiss. You stumble with how to kiss, especially when the other person has piercings, but with someone like Miguel, you quickly learn and get the hang of it. Soft kissing noises sound between the small space of you two and he gradually moves from your lips to your cheek and down your neck. His arms around your waist tug you closer, bending you back and he moves you further back to where your calves hit the mattress of your bed. One hand rises up to pull his leather jacket off your shoulder, gently nibbling across your skin before reverting back to your throat. With his lips on your neck, Miguel could feel your pulse going wild, heartbeat going crazy each second. He decides to check in. “You okay?” he murmurs with a smile, his lips finding yours again for quick kisses. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve just–” kiss “Just–” kiss “Y’know, never–” kiss, kiss “Done this before.” He pauses, stiffening before he pulls back. “Wait. Are you saying this would be your first time…having sex?” Your heart sinks. That was bad wasn’t it? “No, it’s not bad.” Miguel shakes his head. You didn’t realize you voiced your concerns. “I’m just surprised, is all. Usually people have done it already.” You look away from him, visibly uncomfortable that he’s lowkey making fun of you. Miguel realizes the damage and quickly tries to fix it. “But there’s nothing wrong with it, nena! I didn’t mean–” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around your dorm room. Your side is filled with cute things like plushies and fluffy blankets–a strawberry duvet all in the same hue of pastels.

“Look. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t…want to make it seem like I’m only here for that.” He shrugs his leather jacket back on your shoulder. “Because I do like you, nena. I’m willing to wait or if you never want it then it’s whatever. I just would really like a second date at least. Maybe at a nicer place like what Lyla said. Maybe I could clean myself up.” He gives you a weary smile. You stare at his hands that hold onto the zipper part of his leather jacket. For a while, you don’t say anything. “What if I don’t want to wait.” You mumble. You look up with some determination on your face. “I…I want to. With you.” Miguel takes his hands off you. “Wh–Are…are you sure?” You slip his jacket off you and let it fall to the side, stripping off the first piece of clothing from yourself. Your mouth is tight, heart hammering in your chest and cheeks feeling that familiar prick of heat up your neck but you’re sure of yourself. You want this. Miguel rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand before him. “Alright.” He breathes out, undeniably attracted to you at this moment. “But this will all be at your pace, okay? I’ll make you feel good.” He purrs resting his hands at your hips and your facade crumbles slowly and you get shy again. He sits you down on your bed and he kneels before you, his hands on your thighs. He takes your right foot in his hands and carefully unbuckles the ankle strap of your pumps and slides it off. You cover your mouth, heart pounding at the intimate yet innocent act of him taking off your heels. He does the same with your other heel and sets it to the side.

Miguel then looks up at you from his lashes, his confident ones meeting your bashful ones. Taking your right leg again, he slips your thigh high stocking off you and does the same for your other leg. He places his hands on your knees and slowly spreads your legs apart to give you time to stop him. You don’t. “Come closer, mami.” He murmurs, sliding his hands up to grip the flesh of your thighs. You let out a weak mewl and scoot closer to the edge of your bed. Miguel bunches your skirt up, groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his pants when his eyes land on your pastel pink panties, a sweet little bow in the middle like you were a present for him. “Tan bella,” He murmurs, unable to hide the utter desire he has for you. You cover your face in embarrassment as he spreads your legs wider. His lips graze over your thighs, pressing kisses as he makes his way up. You feel your heart skip a beat everytime you feel his warm breath. Your hands clutch your strawberry sheets and he notices.

“You can hold onto me, mami.” He purrs and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wha…how do I..?” You feel stupid, your hands raising up and unsure of where exactly to put them. Miguel takes your hands and places him in his hair. His fingers curl around yours so you could grip onto his strands.

Feeling your face burn, the sight of you holding onto him while his eyes bore into yours. You instinctively clench your fists, his hair being tugged on in the process which makes him groan and close in his eyes. He likes a bit of pain, it seems

Miguel's hands return to your thighs, wrapping his arms underneath to tug you closer to his awaiting mouth and to keep your legs apart. “Hips up, mama.” He purrs and you do as he says, making him slip your panties off.

He discards them off to the side and delves between your thighs. His nose nudges your nub and you gasp, pursing your lips and gripping tighter on his hair.

“Miguel!” You whimper and he hums in response. You feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing curl inside you–it was strangely pleasurable. You didn’t expect it to feel so good. You rest on one hand behind you, the other still planted in his hair as you bucked forward on his tongue. Miguel the munch that he is, grins against your folds and licks a long stripe up before spitting and devouring your sweet nectar again. You felt the sudden slimy wetness hit your nerves and you yelped in surprise. Just as quick, you fall into submission when his skilled tongue swirled in little number eights. Your eyes were closed shut, your hand pulling Miguel closer to which he obliged. He then surprises you by sticking one of his thick fingers inside you. “Oh my…god.” You moan, your body growing hot and sweaty underneath all your clothing. “Miguel…” Miguel’s mouth moves in rhythm, his lips kissing your pussy as he drinks whatever your sweet cunt offers him. He could stay like this forever, cleaning your mess up and licking you for all eternity. His rings nudge your folds, the metal a stark contrast from his rough fingers. He pumps a second finger inside and it’s a bit of a stretch that feels good enough for you to thrust harder. “Mmm, yes…oh, I’m so close…” You mumble to yourself, chest heaving as you come closer and closer to climax. Unexpectedly, Miguel pulls away from between your legs. The pleasure being ripped from you and you struggle to lift your head as he pulls off you. The look in his eyes is different. More lustful, more hungry.

“If you’re gonna cum, I want you cumming around my cock.” He groans and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Miguel stands up and gets into bed with you, shoving his platform shoes and pants off. While he gets on top, you rest back into your bed and your eyes become big and wide–darting between his face and between his legs. “Is it–will it hurt?” You bring your hands to your chest, clutching the fabric of your tank top. Miguel lifts your chin up to him. His eyes are kind and soft. “It’s not supposed to. I’ll make sure it won’t.” He grabs the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your legs, throwing it with the other forgotten clothes. His hands make his way up your body, helping you remove the sheer cardigan and sliding your tank top up and over your head. Miguel chuckles at the heart patterned bra you wore. He leans over to kiss your neck and you sigh. The feeling of his lips sucking and tongue licking you was surprisingly pleasurable. Instinctively, your reach around his shoulders to hold onto him, your back arching to be chest to chest with him. Miguel’s hands go under your back, holding you up while he quickly unclasps the bra. Feeling the loss of your support, you whine but Miguel kisses you before you become louder. He places you back down on your back and finally removes the last piece of clothing. Miguel admires you from above, his hands at your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as he feels your curves. “Perfecta. Eres mucha mujer.” He whispers while trailing his lips along your collarbone. You whimper, feeling your cheeks burn and grow hot to the touch. His breath ghosts over your breasts and he stares up at you maintaining eye contact. Miguel notices something in your hair; your white ribbon, still tied in your messy hair. His heart swells and smiles, reaching up to brush your hair away.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and around your nipple. He glances up at you every so often to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of discomfort. He can feel your heart pounding underneath his palm. Miguel wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks softly. You gasp and hold your breath for a moment while his cold tongue piercing swirled around your nipple, his spider bites and nose piercing pressed against the softness of your tits. You stare up at the ceiling as the warmth in your body flooded down to your core. “Oh! M..Miguel…” You whined, your hands curling in his hair where you felt most comfortable. Miguel flicks his finger around your other nipple, pulling and bullying it until it becomes erect and perky. Even then, he twists it and gropes your tit in time with his sucking and biting. Your hips buck up, feeling your pussy throbbing uncomfortably. When you hit his bulge, Miguel moaned and grinded himself to your soaked pussy in soft circles. Your juices left a stain on his boxers in your desperate attempts at relief. He lets go of your tits–leaving a small bite mark– and continues to kiss down your body. “Gracias a Dios por mandarme esta belleza.” He murmurs, digging his hands into the plush of your hips when he raises your thighs up. Suddenly, he stops and lets go of you. “Shit, shit, fuck–hold on.” He mumbles and gets off you. You feel cold and watch as he gets off the bed and picks up his pants from the floor and searches through his pockets. “Did I…do something?” You ask, worried you might’ve done something that made Miguel regret touching you. He shakes his head. “No, no–just–ah, there it is…” He chuckles to himself after finding his wallet and pulling out a small square packet. He pushes his fringe back with one hand as he gets back into bed. Miguel shuffles down his boxers after putting the packet between his teeth. “I’ll get you pregnant some other time.” “What?” “What?” You close your mouth and hear ringing in your ears. You were sure that steam would be coming out of your head at this point–your mind felt like mush with how easily flustered he made you. Miguel looks down at you and huffs a small laugh, letting you know he was joking. Maybe. Hopefully.

His cock springs free once his boxers are off and he groans when it slaps his stomach, leaving a bead of his precum on his tip. Your eyes shamelessly stare at him. You were by no means an expert when it came to sex but you grew both worried and aroused at how massive he was. “There is…no way it’s gonna fit.” Miguel rips the plastic with his teeth and rolls the condom on his dick to the base. For a moment, you’re disappointed that he added protection. Just for a moment, though. He breathes out and gives soft strokes to his shaft while looking at you from beneath him. He feels his cock pulse and throb, growing harder by the second just by the sight of your perfectly sculpted naked body. He thought you were divine. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leans down to kiss you as if trying to ease your worries. “It’ll fit, I promise. It’ll feel so good, too.” He whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll go slow.” He takes one hand to lift your thigh up just enough to give him space to rub his cock between your wet folds. “Miguel…!” You gasp while you feel just how hard he was. He shushes you. “I know, nena. Look what you do to me. Feel what you did to me.” He buries himself in your neck, nipping at your skin and you tilt your head back. More of your arousal soaks his cock, creating wet sounds while you grind on each other and Miguel shudders. He bites into your shoulder and fights against his instinct to shove his cock inside and fuck you into your own mattress. Miguel kisses the spot he bit, his breathing labored and heavy. “Tell me if it hurts, mama, okay?” You nod, your eyes screwed shut. “Uh-huh…” Slowly, Miguel looks down and makes sure his tip splits your folds apart as he enters inside you. Your breath hitches and you tighten your arms around his neck. “Miguel!” You whine while he penetrates you. He kisses your temple and stops when only his tip is inside you.

“You’re doing great, nena. No te preocupes, lo estás haciendo bien.” He reassures you with a shaky voice. It’s clear he’s holding back. You whimper apologies and Miguel kisses across your cheeks to try and return your focus on him instead of the new stretch you’re feeling. He praises you in a mix of Spanish and English–ones you can barely hear. He moves his hand down between your legs and gently rubs your clit with your thumb in hopes of loosening you up. With the added stimulation, you moan and hide in his neck with your eyes shut. You weakly thrust up, feeling a bit of relief and allowing Miguel to push further in. “Good, good,” He purrs. “Just like that, mama. Just let me in.” He groans and hisses when you clench around him. Miguel’s thumb switches between a fast and slow pace, sliding in his cock easily until you cry out and dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent shapes. “Stop, stop–” You whimper. “I’ll pull out–It’s okay–” “No!” You keep him close to you. “No, I just–I need a minute.” You sniffle, your body slowly adjusting around his girth. Miguel nods and pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. At your pace, remember?” He rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to see his cheeks flushed, a bit of sweat running down his temple and he shakes with every breath. Despite his current state of desire, he’s putting you first–he’s putting your comfort first. “Thank you.” You whine softly. Miguel huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eyes. “Don’t thank me for that, nena. Never.” Miguel continues to pamper you with kisses, murmuring about how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how he can’t get enough of you. He nuzzles into your neck, rolling lazily over your clit and does gentle thrusts of whatever you were able to handle. After a few moments, you grab his attention by running your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching over his shaved parts. “Okay…more, please.” He lifts himself up and holds your hips with both his hands. His thumbs caress your hip bones as he pushes himself deeper. You moan and tilt your head back, biting your lip as the combination of pain and pleasure hits your stomach and through every nerve in your body. It felt like forever until he reached the hilt, the light smack of his balls hitting your pussy. Miguel smiles. “Good girl,” he licks his lips. “Mirame.” Your head tilts back down to see both of you finally connected. “Holy shit…” You whisper, the sight making you clench. Miguel moans and grips your hips tighter, his head falling forward as he takes a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t tighten around me like that.” “Sorry!” You squeak and he chuckles. He raises his head back up, hair falling in front of his face and a lazy smile on his face that shows his fangs–his piercings glinting in the dim moonlight. “Don’t be. It’s just, you feel so fucking good–you’ll make me cum.”

You cover your face and resist the urge to scream. The heat emanating from your face made you sweaty. Miguel takes your wrists and pins them to the side of your head. He cocks a pierced eyebrow up with a smirk. It softens when he sees just how flushed your expression is. “‘m gonna move, okay?” You gulp and give him the green light. Miguel looks down and slowly pulls out, watching your slick drench his condom covered cock. “Jesus…” He groans under his breath. He looks back up to see if there’s any sign of discomfort on your end but he’s met with your eyes glued between your legs as well. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape with shallow breaths while you watch him slowly ease out of you. Miguel’s eyes darken with lust and he pushes back in once his tip was kissing your heat. He watches as you roll your head back, your eyes rolling behind your skull when you felt his cock filling you up again. “Oh my God…” You moan. “Miguel…” Miguel’s heart jumps and his hands tighten around your wrists. Still, he’s careful. For a few minutes, Miguel continues his slow thrusting. He pulls out sweet moans and whimpers from you, getting you used to his massive size and stretching your cunt out to the shape of him. His tip nudges against your cervix and you jump which makes him grin. After those few minutes, you began writhing underneath him. The pain had subsided and now this soft stroking was sweet but it wasn’t doing anything for you anymore. Your hands clenched and unclenched into fists.

“Miguel, Mig–more,” You begged. “Faster.” “You sure?” He slows to a stop and you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance which he doesn’t notice. He’s about to ask again after your lack of response when you lock your ankles around his waist, shoving him back inside you. You and Miguel moan in unison, Miguel nearly falling on top of you if he didn’t catch himself by resting on his elbows by your head. His breath fanned your face and he looked down into your eyes with a heavy blush. “More.” You moan and Miguel quickly goes to work. He leans on one elbow and places his other hand down to your hip to start picking up his pace. Miguel attaches his lips to your chest, biting the plump flesh of your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth once again. Your hands go around his back, your nails raking down his spine that leave red streaks. He pushes himself further against you, folding you in half while he increases his speed, abusing your pussy by slamming his cock in and out of you. Your squealing and moaning becomes music to Miguel’s ears. He groans and licks his tongue around your nipple, lapping it back in his mouth to suck on it. His nails dig into your waist while the sound of skin slapping signaling just how desperate he is to fill you with his cock. “Atta girl,” He moans after moving up to your neck with wet open mouthed kisses. “Knew you could take all of me. Knew you would sound so pretty crying all over my cock.” He smirks, looking up to see your eyes rolled back, tears brimming your eyes in ecstasy instead of pain this time. Your pussy spasms around him as you whimper.

“Mig–Mig–” You babble mindlessly. The only thing on your mind is Miguel, Miguel and Miguel. “So–so good…” You slur, vision going hazy while the lust clouded your mind. Miguel’s ego inflates, his dick twitching inside you. Even with a condom he could still feel your pussy contract around him, your warm walls sucking him in deeper. Your hips wiggle and buck weakly to match his thrusts but ultimately Miguel does all the work, sending your mind spinning while he practically fucks all your thoughts, fears, and insecurities from your brain—turning you into a dumb cock-drunk mess. Through the haze, you can hear your juices sloppily smacking between you and Miguel–an erotic sound of wet plaps, his balls becoming slick and sticky with your arousal. “God, you feel so good,” He moans, hips stuttering. “It’s like your cunt is just begging for my cum. You want it? Huh? This tight little pussy gonna milk me dry?” He quickened his pace, humping against you in fast short thrusts. You scratch his back, multiple lines of red marking his skin while your toes curl. “Yes, please, please, please–I wanna,” You babble through gasps. “It’s so good–I wanna cum–Don’t stop…!” Your voice becomes high pitched, your hips lifting to grind yourself on him. The both of you fucking one another exactly like horny college kids. Miguel growls, nipping at your neck to add more hickeys to your body. “Never. Holy shit–you’re so fucking sexy,” He cuts himself off with a groan, his sweaty forehead falling to your shoulder while he humps you. “Never letting you go. This pussy is mine.” His thumb finds your clit again, his fingers slowly being drenched with your messy juices that had spread all around your labia, smearing around your pussy with the help of Miguel’s unstable thrusting. His cold rings bumped against your hot skin, the difference in temperature becoming another factor in your raw lust. Your screams of pleasure bounced off the walls. “C’mon pretty girl. Cum for me. I know you’re close.” He pants in your ear.

“Mig–gy!” You choke out, eyes squinted in ecstasy as Miguel helps you reach your climax. It wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. White hot numbing pleasure waving through your body as you spasmed. Your orgasm shook your entire body and you clutched onto him tightly, your legs keeping him near, nails finding purchase in his back and arching your breasts up to his chest, nipples sensitive to the touch. Miguel followed right after: rubbing your clit faster and his balls ached with a tightness before releasing his seed into the condom, his cock twitching as it spurts out his cum. He moans loudly, his body shivering and shaking along with you but he still helps you come down from the high, pumping weakly as he empties himself. Your body falls limp, head lolled back while Miguel breaths heavily. He pulls out as gently as you can but your virgin cunt wasn’t used to such stimulation, each inch back caressed your sensitive nerves up until he finally left with a pop. Miguel’s hands shook as he took off the condom, body now covered in cold sweat now that the heat of the momentum was gone. He stumbled off your bed and tied the condom shut then dumped it in the small bin in your dorm room. He slipped back in your bed beside you, smiling to himself when you took deep breaths with your eyes closed. “Hey, you alright?” He asks with a soft wheeze. “Huh?” You barely heard him over the heartbeat pounding in your head. The blood flow goes through your body normally once again. “Hm? Oh. Mhm. Yeah.” Miguel chuckles, resting on one elbow with his cheek in his palm and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. “Yeah? You were amazing.”

“Really?” You try to look up at him through the exhaustion in your eyes. Who knew sex could take all your energy? Miguel grabs your folded fuzzy blanket and unravels it to drape it on top of you two. “Really. I’m honored to be your first.” You blush at the reminder that you hadn’t had sex before and the reminder that you were no longer a virgin. You stare at his face while his hands caress your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck right under your jawline. “Do you really like me?” You find yourself asking him. Miguel’s hand stops moving and he looks surprised. “Yeah,” He confirms gently. “I wouldn’t fuck you if I didn’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone.” He pulls your cheek. You frown and pout at him. “I'm serious!” Miguel chuckles. “I know, I know.” He tilts your chin up with his index finger and leans down to kiss you sweetly for a quick peck. He knows what’s really on your mind. “My pretty girl.” He hums as he stares down at you to admire the afterglow of your orgasm. “All mine. My pretty girl.” He dunks his head down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in his embrace and snuggles you.

Your heart flutters. Pretty. It hits you then that Miguel really does think you’re pretty. You feel his ear piercings against your chest and the rings on his fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. His fingers find your white ribbon, crumpled under you and he twirls it around his ring finger. You struggle to hold back your smile as you hug him back, nuzzling your nose in his hair and falling asleep with the comfort of knowing someone genuinely finds you beautiful, inside and out.

a/n: im sorry i wasnt normal i just love a good trope and punk miguel i cant help but make him cute

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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cw// cancer mentioned, no character death

Eddie's moving to Chicago with his boyfriend and their best friend.

Eddie's moving to Chicago and it feels like everything is finally coming together.

Eddie's moving to Chicago, Steve Harrington is his boyfriend, and his life is starting.

Eddie's moving to Chicago, but then Wayne gets sick.

He tells Steve that he can't leave, not yet, needs to take care of his uncle.

And Steve, his Steve, perfect Steve, says with no hesitation, "I'll stay. Eddie, I'll stay with you. We'll go in six months. Together, that's the plan."

But Eddie can't let Steve do that; Steve who is everything bright and good and right in the world. Steve needs to get out, even if Eddie can't.

He insists Steve go, insists so hard that Steve can only agree, though Eddie can tell it's killing him.

Before they leave, Steve and Eddie cling to each other.

"Six months, baby. Just six months and then I'll be with you."

"I'll stay, Eds. Let me stay for you?"

"Not in a million years. What's six months in a lifetime together?"

"You mean that?" Steve whispers, the words tickling against Eddie's neck.

"Of course, sweetheart. Never meant anything more in my life."

They cling harder, crying against each other, despite it being goodbye for now and not forever.

They haven't said "I love you" yet, and the words hang on his tongue as the embrace ends, but he can't say it now; not when six months of time and 200-plus miles will separate them.

Except Wayne isn't better in six months. He's not worse, but the cancer's still there, he's still sick. And Eddie can't leave.

Eddie figured something like this would happen. Knew in the back of his mind that Steve and Robin and Chicago were never anything but a pipe dream.

When he calls Steve, he thinks he's ready.

"Okay, so Hopper's letting us borrow his truck, but he needs to know our timeline. You think next Saturday--"

"Steve." He says. His stomach clenches.

"What's wrong?" Because Steve knows, like he always does.

"Wayne's not better."

Steve is silent for a beat. "Okay...that's okay. I'll come back. Right now. Tonight. We'll do this tog--"

"You know I can't let you do that."

"Eddie--"

"No, Steve, don't. Okay? Let's just. It's time, you know?"

"It's not. Eddie, it isn't. Don't do this. Please, please," Steve cries.

"It's for the best. I know you can't see it now, but it is. You need to live your life, Stevie. Get that degree. Be someone."

"Eddie," Steve sobs. "Please. You have to know that I lo--"

"Don't," Eddie snarls. Doesn't mean to but can't hear those words, the three that will break him in two. "This is for the best, Steve. A clean break, yeah?"

"No." And Eddie hears Steve shuffling on the other end, like he's getting up. "I'm not letting you do this. I'm coming back, and we're doing this together. A lifetime, remember?"

Eddie's crying now, can't help it. "Please, don't. Steve, just--it's over, okay? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't do this anymore."

He hangs up the phone before Steve can argue, cries himself to sleep.

5 Years Later

Eddie never gets over Steve Harrington. His golden boy, the brave, perfect, kind, bratty man who has his whole heart.

Wayne is okay. Will never not have cancer, but he's doing good. And Eddie runs a record store in the town over. Visits some bars in Indy when he feels a certain kind of lonely. He's settled, finally, is the thing. He's settled and happy enough, so of course, that's when it happens.

He's at the grocery store, stopped in produce. There's a little girl, maybe 3 or 4--bright pink shirt, chestnut hair, little overalls--sitting in a cart by the tomatoes.

The sight of her sparks something in Eddie's chest, but he doesn't understand what or why, and then she's pointing at him, smiling and wiggling. "Daddy!" She shrieks.

That's when Steve Harrington swoops around the corner, reaching for the girl, his daughter, and Eddie takes a step away, ready to run from this.

The girls says, "That's the boy in all your pictures." She giggles and points at Eddie more. Steve blushes, and Eddie's assaulted by so many things all at once he thinks he may pass out.

"Stevie," he hears himself saying.

Steve freezes, looks at Eddie, so much knowing in those hazel eyes it makes him a little sick. But it still surprises him when Steve pulls him into a hug. Being in those arms again, It's like everything keeping him together falls apart. He sinks into the hold, breathes in deep, feels like home.

It shouldn't, though. Steve's got a kid. Probably a wife. Can't have his ex-boyfriend falling apart in his arms in the grocery store. Eddie disengages, steps back a little. Steve blinks, eyelashes fluttering, and Eddie is still so in love with him it hurts.

"I should--I should go," he mumbles, gripping at the back of his neck like it's a lifeline. The little girl giggles more, bouncing in her seat, and he's overcome with fondness. Can't help but give her an exaggerated bow as he goes.

He makes himself walk to the end of the aisle, but once he's left Steve behind, he runs.

That night, when a knock comes at his door, nothing prepares him for a sheepish Steve Harrington standing on the other side.

"Sorry to drop by unannounced," Steve says, manners still impeccable. "Wayne gave me your address. I'm glad--I'm glad he's doing okay, Eddie."

Eddie's too astonished to respond, nods for a few seconds before, "Th-thanks. Uhh, you wanna come in?"

Steve does and then they're in Eddie's little living room together and what the fuck is he supposed to do?

"Where's the kid?" he asks. He gestures Steve to the couch.

Steve smiles, a soft thing that's a knife to Eddie's heart. "Oh, I left her with Robin. They'll be fine for a few hours. Her name's Ellie, by the way. Ellie Jane Harrington."

"She knows who I am?" Eddie asks.

"Course. I told her about everyone. Showed her pictures. I hoped she could meet you one day."

"Yeah?" Eddie can't stand the thing that unfurls in his chest, blooming with love, so much care it aches in his teeth. "I swear next time I won't run away."

Steve laughs, hazel eyes fond in a way that Eddie can't look at for too long. "You didn't run away, Eds. It was a weird--reunion."

Eddie chuckles, pulls hair over his face. "A little bit. Not every day you run into your ex and his daughter scoping out tomatoes."

"I was hoping to give you a call, ask you out to dinner, or something. Not my kid recognizing you at Bradley's Big Buy."

"You wanna take me out to dinner, Stevie?" He asks before he can think better of it. Steve blushes red, and god Eddie missed him.

"Thought it might be nice, yeah. Get to know each other again."

It's Eddie turn to blush. "Why are you here?" He asks, good of a segue as any.

"Here, like, in your apartment, or here in Hawkins?"

"Both."

"I'm--uh--the new counselor at Hawkins High. Might coach the basketball team."

"But--Chicago," is all Eddie can say.

Steve laughs. "It was fun for a while, but--I don't know, man, it got hard with a kid. Joyce told me about the job opening and I decided to try."

"And Ellie's mom?" Eddie doesn't want to ask, can't stand not knowing.

Steve's eyes fall. "Ah," his hands squeeze into fists. "She's not in the picture. Never really was. After--" he takes a deep breath. "After we broke up, I sort of. Lost myself for awhile. Slept around. One night, I got this call saying that a baby had been surrendered at a fire station, my name listed as the father."

"Oh, sweetheart. I bet you didn't hesitate."

Steve stares at his hands, smiles. "Not for a second. I cried when I saw her, Eds. Just fucking sobbed. She was so beautiful. Then I had to figure out how to raise a kid and finish school."

"But you did it." Eddie can't hide that he's crying anymore.

Steve nods, is crying too.

"I'm really proud of you, sweetheart," Eddie whispers.

They look at each other, tear stained and sad but somehow so happy, and Steve leans forward, presses his mouth to Eddie's. He freezes, shocked to stillness, overwhelmed with the thing he never thought he'd have again.

Steve pulls back, face red and eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I got it in my head--" he stands, fumbling for his keys. "I should have never--you told me we were done and I know you meant it. But I saw you in the grocery store and I thought, you know, I'm never getting over him. I'm so stup--"

"Steve, wait" Eddie snaps out of it all at once, hurrying to where the man he's never stopped loving is shoving his feet inexpertly into his shoes.

"Don't leave," he says, almost whispering. "Please don't leave. Steve, I'm so, so sorry for how I ended things. I was so young and stupid, and--I didn't want you to lose your dreams for me."

Steve turns then, tears trickling down his cheeks. "You were my dream, Eds. You still are. I should have come back, made you let me stay. But I thought--maybe your feelings had changed. That you didn't--that you weren't--"

Eddie can't help it, pulls Steve into his arms. "I was. I am. You're all I've ever wanted." He presses his face to Steve's hair, breathes in deep. "I loved you then. I love you now. I've loved you every day in between."

"I love you," Steve sobs. "I love you so much."

They kiss, lips slotting together like they never stopped. It's salty with tears, but it's perfect. It's them.

Their mouths part, but they stay in each other's orbit; need the proximity after years apart.

"I have a kid now, Eddie," Steve says into the silence between them.

"Yeah," Eddie nods. "She's beautiful. Looks like her dad."

Steve smiles, flushes again. "She needs stability in her life, you know? She's my priority. Always will be. And if I--if this--"

Eddie knows. Understands his boy just as well now as he did back then. "We'll take it as slow as you need, baby. I want to be there for both of you. When you're ready. And until then, I'll be wherever you need me."

More tears escape Steve's eyes, but Eddie brushes them away. "We have a lifetime to figure it out."

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irisintheafterglow · 6 months

Note

rn im so obsessed with dabi and gojo, so may i request a fic where reader, in the middle of the night, clings onto dabi/gojo while they sleep. like, they subconsciously cuddle them

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE (finally writing for dabi) TURN IT UP !! also apparently i have the same birthday as him???? so like basically we're soulmates-

you don't know what else to say when you hear him slide open your window.

"ew."

"a pleasure to see you too, doll," he mutters in amusement, slipping off his shoes and leaving them on the ledge. "and here i was hoping you'd miss me."

"not in your wildest dreams." like clockwork, he makes to climb under the covers with you but you stop him with a sleepy but firm shake of your head. he gives you a look like you'd just told him to jump off a building.

"you serious?"

"shower first, then you can come in here."

"c'mon, sweetheart. i'm exhausted," he drawls and you nearly break, trying your hardest to glare at those stupidly bright eyes and infuriatingly soft smile. "let a man rest a little, yeah?"

"nope." you flip over to your other side as he scoffs at your back. when he believes you're asleep again, quiet footsteps creep toward the space beside you and the mattress sinks with the weight of his leg carefully positioning itself by yours. "shower or i'll freeze your balls off," you growl half-heartedly, very much still awake. he's not deterred in the slightest.

"you wouldn't dare." an arm drapes possessively over your lower torso and you fight the instinct to melt into him.

"wanna find out, hothead?" he clicks his tongue and lightly squeezes your hip. he was trying all his tricks tonight, but you'd learned how to pretend to be immune. "touya."

"mmm?"

"shower, please."

"the things i do for you," he murmurs in defeat, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before sulking off to the bathroom. you drift in and out of sleep during the time he's gone, vaguely registering the sound of the pipes creaking and the smell of his body wash. before you know it, the noise of the hair dryer ceases and your bedroom door creaks open again. this time, when he slips into the blankets with you, you don't protest as he pulls you flush against his body, your back against his chest. his chin finds the junction of your shoulder and his hair tickles the back of your neck. his warm breath exhales deeply against your skin. "you smell like me."

"ran out of shampoo," you lie and you can feel his mouth curl into an arrogant smirk. "and there's no way in hell i'm using twice's."

"it's okay to just admit that you miss me, baby," he teases and you roll your eyes. "say that you were sad and be done with it."

"go to hell," you grunt and you feel his chuckle over your body. after you finally drift off again, you turn to bury your face in his neck. his arms secure themselves around your body and you barely need the blanket anymore from how warm he naturally runs. he hums in contentment, bathing in the way that you didn't see him as the monster the rest of society did. he'd rather die than be a danger to you, to have you fear him in a way where he couldn't hold you closer when you needed him. he loved your biting tongue and your razor-sharp wit, but he also loved how you trusted him to protect you while you rested. he was safe for you.

and, even if he never admitted it aloud, you were safety for him, too.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #ask iris!

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sansxfuckyou · 3 months

Text

new setting (new ideals)

Summary: Wherein John Dory accidentally sneaks into the home universe of Sans after a very small margin of victory in the latest multiversal tourney; things escalate in unprecedented ways after the local scientist sizes him up to scale.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, god i am so sorry for this

Authors Note: @ohposhers @bulliestrolls someone needs to put you two in the fucking slammer for drawing sansdory, and then they need to put me in the slammer for writing sansdory. for the sake of enjoying this fic please picture JD as a lot more creature than in canon.

John Dory was small enough to fit inside of Sans' coat pocket.

Sans discovers this the hard way when the ex leader of brozone falls out of his pocket after his return to Snowdin.

"Ain't snow fucking way." Was what Sans managed as he stared at the unmoving body in the snow, far too small to be considered the average monster for the underground. The Troll would be eaten without a second thought, mistaken for the bugs Muffet doesn't provide protection for.

He plucks the tufted tail and holds up John Dory like he's a dead rat. Of course he snaps awake as soon as Sans is holding him at eye height, and with a screech he's flung aside as the skeleton lurches back.

Sans pauses to catch his breath, "Okay, so you're not dead. That's good."

"Where am I?!" Was John Dory's instant question as he shook the snow from his hair and brushed himself down.

"Pipe down pipsqueak, I won't let you get squished," Sans said as he took a seat on the snow. He held out a hand, "We should probably get you situated with Alphys, size you up a bit."

John reluctantly stepped onto a gloved hand and took a seat on the palm, it was cold and unpleasant. His tail thwipped loudly despite his size, "Anything else in mind to get me back home?" The words are agitated.

"Want me to leave you here?"

Silence.

"Thought so, I'll give you a hand in figuring it out, but you're playing by my rules bud."

"How were you the reigning champ for years on end?"

"The girlies liked me for my dry humor, MILF hunting attitude, and undetermined backstory- and my infinite fuckability of course."

"Must suck not having a dick."

Sans just gives a hum before giving John a gently toss, only a few inches but he still yelps and clings desperately to phalanges when he lands back in Sans' hand. It garners a chuckle from the skeleton, "Pal, I got extremities you couldn't even dream of, and no, that isn't an invitation to start listing 'em off."

John Dory shuts his mouth.

"Don't be shocked if Alphys tries to fill you up with needles and probes."

"With what-"

"She's a curious gal."

-/-/-/-

Thankfully the resizing process involves a lot less probing than Sans said it would, which John is eternally grateful for. He'd like to avoid having a cold piece of metal shoved up his ass if possible. The process just required a small blood sample and some weighing before he was resized with one little ray.

And then he was the exact same height as Sans, give or take a few inches.

"Proportionately, I can see why you won," Sans said, hands stuffed in his pockets and expression same as always. It's far too hard for John Dory to read, he can't tell if it's sarcastic or genuine.

"Thanks." He shrugs off the compliment because he doesn't know how to take it.

"Is it easier to see why I was the reigning champ?" Sans asked.

"You're the furthest thing from 'sexyman' out there," John Dory said before he could actually think about the words exiting his mouth.

Sans laughed, "Tell it to The Onceler, if you can convince him to take me off the bracket then I'll stop trying my best."

"You don't try at all."

"The girlies like me for that."

"What is it with you and the girlies?"

"What makes you think that the guys were voting for me?" Sans shot back, "Think you can walk and talk? I know a shortcut."

"Good point," John Dory said, "I can walk and talk."

"Cool." Sans holds out a hand.

"What?"

"Gotta hold my hand to take the shortcut."

John places his paw atop Sans hand and the grip the motion is received with is far too intense to be considered normal. But a shortcut is a shortcut, and he'll just have to take help to get around this universe until he can get home.

-/-/-/-

"Ketchup?"

"Yeah man, ketchup." Sans tossed a bottle to John Dory as he spoke, the Troll catching it with ease.

"You expect me to drink ketchup? I've had worse, but what about alcohol?" John asked.

"Bud," Sans began, "The bartender is a living flame, you really think he wants to be handling highly flammable stuff?"

"Fair point, but can you actually get drunk offa ketchup?" John asked, and he gave this slanted smirk as he spoke, partially leaning an elbow on the bar. He's gotten more comfortable after a week in Sans' hometown, he lives in the room under the sink in the skelebros household and made it his own until later notice.

Sans gives a hum, "Wanna find out?"

John grins before popping off the cap, "Try me."

-/-/-/-

"What do they put in this shit, Sans?" The words are spoken with a giggle and despite the ache in his head John Dory goes back for more.

"Tomatoes," Sans answered with, still slowly downing his first serving of ketchup.

"It's gotta be more than that, bonedaddy," John Dory purred, leaning a little bit more on the bar and resting his chin in his hands.

A distinct azure rises to Sans' face, "I think you've had too much ketchup."

"You meant it."

"What?"

"When we were in the lab, when you said I looked hot. You meant it, you like me," John deduced rather skillfully despite his inept state.

"And if I do?" Sans asked.

John pauses, "It'd be hot, Sans and John Dory double teaming the tourney."

"Alright, we should get home," Sans said, sliding off his bar stool and holding out a gloved hand.

John Dory took it and slid off his own stool, his tail wagged about lazily. His face is burning up and he looks oddly lovesick, a realization that Sans makes the choice to ignore until he can contemplate it late at night. Alone. In bed. By himself.

The Troll slinks an arm under Sans' shoulders, face resting atop the fluff of his hoodie and nuzzled into the collar of his turtleneck, he still clutches a hand tightly. He gives a contented hum, "Your jacket's soft."

"I know."

"You're soft."

"That's an odd thing to say considering I'm all bones."

"I'll show you bones."

"We really gotta get you home."

"And then?"

"And then you're going to sleep, no goodnight kiss."

-/-/-/-

Another week passes and Papyrus suddenly has to deal with the fact that Sans and John Dory are being overtly romantic.

"Your teeth are cold." John Dory would always say whenever he tried to kiss Sans.

"The girlies like it." Sans would always answer.

And sometimes John Dory would try again to get the usually snapped shut jaw open, or he'd say, "I guess I'm one of the girlies."

They'd laugh and after a small beat of silence continue on with their day.

Maybe it's selfish that Sans is keeping John Dory from a way back to his own universe, but he's pretty sure the Troll doesn't mind. He's stopped asking when he'll get to go back home at least, and Sans is benefiting from having someone around.

It makes the resets more tolerable if nothing else, and Sans just doesn't tell John about them. About the times he's watched everyone die and everyone live, he never speaks a word of it. And unless Frisk brings it up, he won't have to know of the amnesia or the violence.

And they can keep living their happily ever after.

#sansdory #trolls fanfic #undertale fanfiction #sans undertale #john dory trolls #john dory #sans #undertale #trolls #yes i sprinkled in some fanon sans at the very end. for funsies.#writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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ssinboo · 10 months

Text

We're no Good Alone

summary: Seungkwan finds himself in a month long slump and you're recruited by his manager to help him get back on his feet.

He finds your presence a lot more comforting than he'd be willing to admit.

You visit Seungkwan in Seoul and spent the weekend like you don't hate each other.

Part 2 of As it Was

pairing: Middle School Teacher! Reader x Entertainer!Seungkwan

word count: 5.9k (24~ min read)

warnings: mentions of drug use and scandals, unprotected sex, making out, DIlf Mingyu (He's a warning in itself), angst

A/N: sorry for the delay! this has actually been finished for over a month I'm just a perpetual procrastinator OTL I'll be tagging everyone that asked for a sequel on this work, so let me know if you'd like to be tagged on the 3rd installment!

You didn’t visit Seoul as often as your teenage self dreamed of. It was hard enough having free time and the hours-long trip wasn’t something easy to squeeze in your schedule.

But when Seungkwan’s manager called, you found the time.

He’d gotten into a cannabis related scandal a month or so ago and the public didn’t take it well. Soon, he was replaced as the host of ‘Bad Clue’ by none other than his declared arch-nemesis, Kim Mingyu. And his health has been on the decline since.

You didn’t blame him, it was a lot to process. But it had been months and his manager was worried sick.

The concierge recognised you and let you go upstairs without a hitch, you already knew his passcode – His dog’s birthday, so getting into the expensive penthouse wasn’t an issue.

Immediately hit with the strong scent of booze and stale food, you gag, complaining loud and clear so he will hear your disgust.

Kicking your shoes and putting aside the grocery bags, you march down the hall toward his bedroom. His house is completely engulfed in darkness.

“Goddammit, Seungkwan, did you fucking die in here?” You hiss at the musty smell of a room that hasn’t seen Sunlight in weeks.

He’s bundled up in the bed, unruly hair peeking out from under the duvet.

“Kwannie,” You call out to no avail. With a sigh, you walk toward the bed, pulling at the covers to reveal the apathetic man.

He’s got deep-set eye bags that cling to his pretty eyes and an uneven stubble along his jaw. It’s unsightly in a way that tears apart at your heartstrings, watching this unbreakable image of Seungkwan’s self esteem slip away.

“Come on,” Your voice is a lot softer now as you lean forward, running your hands over his messy hair. “It’s 6 in the afternoon, have you eaten anything?”

He doesn’t reply, even as you sit down, hands running along his arms. Seungkwan’s eyes are unfocused, glazed over, staring away from you.

With a sigh, you lean forward, kissing his forehead.

“You look like shit,” You whisper, running your fingers through his tangled locks “I’m making a light soup that’s easy on the stomach, why don’t you go wash up, mhm?”

No answer.

Making your way to the kitchen, you make sure to pick up scattered clothing from the floor and toss it in the same corner so you can do the laundry later. As expected, the fridge holds nothing but canned beer and convenience store snacks.

It wasn’t the first slump Seungkwan ever had. When he first came to Seoul, there was a similar scenario, but this one seems to be worse. Given how he looks and how long it’s lasted, you can only imagine how fucked his head is right now.

The scandal had not only resulted in unending hatred from the media but the loss of his spot as the host of Bad Clue, a show he had written and planned.

The scent of fresh homemade food seems to wake up his stomach, and though he has no energy to get up and eat in the kitchen, your threats are quite energising.

You busy yourself with cleaning while he slumps over the countertop, sipping at the piping hot broth. When you shove everything into the washing machine and let it run, wiping your softener-covered hands over your jeans as you come back to the kitchen, you’re suddenly threatened with thoughts of domesticity.

It’s a brief, fleeting and imaginary scenario of calm mornings – You’d wake up to sunlit kisses, make breakfast before work and enjoy each other’s company without the looming pain of ‘no strings attached’.

But it’s gone as soon as it comes and you shake your head, making work of opening windows and pulling curtains away to let sunlight in.

When he’s done with the food, he sits there, eyes burning holes on the back of your head.

Though you feel his intense, questioning stare, you choose to ignore any thoughts he might have.

“Was it tasty?” You ask, scrubbing at the dishes.

Seungkwan shrugs, remembering you can’t see him from the sink so he just hums.

That’s enough for you.

“Why are you here?”

Here we go.

You stop scrubbing the porcelain bowl, “Because Sunggyu is worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine. Leave.”

With a sigh, you resume your activities. “Why don’t you go wash up?” You ask.

Seungkwan doesn’t move. “You cooked, I ate. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ll leave after you’ve showered and shaved.”

It gets him moving and stomping toward the bathroom.

Once you’re done with the dishes, you set them aside and make your way to the bathroom. You knock and he doesn’t protest, so you come in.

He’s run himself a bath, steam engulfing the room with the scent of overpriced bath bombs and shower gel.

You’re happy he’s got enough energy to bathe.

After going through his cabinet and picking up the items you needed, you sit on the edge of his large tub, shaking the shaving foam can.

Seungkwan doesn’t fight you, even as you smear the foam over his upper lip and chin, which says something about his current mental state.

You pull the cap off the disposable razor and turn to face him.

“Stay still I don’t wanna hurt you,” You whisper, holding his jaw taught.

You’re so careful, holding his face in your soft hands with such tenderness he hasn’t felt in decades. And your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, long lashes fluttering along your pretty eyes.

And Seungkwan finds himself torn between wanting to push you away and tell you to leave at once and to lean into your touch, to hold you closer and strip you bare – and he finds that it is intimacy he craves and that is the scariest thought of all.

As the razor glides along his chin, it makes a muffled scraping sound.

You’ve got your lips parted in concentration, in the same silly way he teased you in university when you made him hold up a compact mirror all so you could touch up your mascara.

“I need to do your moustache now,” You say, cleaning the razor off on the towel laid by your thigh before rinsing it off in the bath water.

Seungkwan doesn’t say anything, but obeys, pressing his lips together so his upper lip is tight enough to prevent injury. You’re doing it so carefully and yet, still manage to nick a tiny scratch on his skin.

He hisses and you immediately panic.

Picking up the towel you wipe off remaining foam to inspect the damage, there’s a bright red droplet of blood gushing down. You coo, muttering a soft sorry.

“God, I’m so sorry–”

Your fingers are caressing his cheeks, and your eyebrows are furrowed in worry, pretty lips pursued in a pout and he hates it. Hates that your touch makes any brief pain from the cut immediately disappear, hates that you look the prettiest you’ve ever looked despite your clear lack of makeup or any attempt at looking presentable.

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” He hisses, slapping your hand away.

You hit him back, muttering curses. “I should just shave off your fucking eyebrows.”

“You know I could pull it off.”

“Wanna see?” You smile, reaching for the razor and he immediately grabs your arm, stopping you from going any further because he knows you are just that crazy.

You finish off the last remaining bit and throw away the razor, moving onto shampoo. His expensive hair treatment smells like a fruity cocktail and you hum in envy.

Seungkwan closes his eyes, leaning into your fingers as you massage his scalp, worried about it well. Once it’s clean and conditioned, your job is done. While he soaks in the bath, you busy yourself with tidying up his vanity.

“What is this?” You ask, opening a bottle to smell its contents; it's a fresh scent, a little citrus-y. “Mhmm, smells good,”

“It’s a face toner…” He explains, not bothering to open his eyes, “It was a collaboration with a skincare brand.”

“Ooh, fancy,” You sing-song, putting it aside. “Where are your clean clothes? Do you even have any?”

“I don’t wear clothes at home.”

“You’re such a freak,” You laugh, tidying up the last bottle in its place on the dark marble counter. “I’m gonna throw the laundry in the washer, can you finish up by yourself?”

He hums.

So you leave the bathroom and gather the piles of forgotten items, squeezing everything into the washing machine without a care for his designer items; If he wants them to be carefully washed, he can wash them himself.

When you return to his room, he’s out of the bath and wearing a robe, it’s clearly fancy with its navy velvet and embroidered initials.

Seungkwan throws himself onto the bed without ceremony, finding some energy after the bath to finally plug his dead phone into the power.

“I’m gonna use your shower,” You announce, not waiting for his reply.

His phone blows up as soon as it turns on; hundreds of missed calls and messages from his manager, as expected. There are also messages from family; his sisters and mother still send in daily updates of their lives despite his lack of replies.

There are notifications from his social media accounts which he ignores. Nothing good will come from it.

Seokmin sent him a picture of his invitation for Sohee’s wedding, he looks at her name written in pretty cursive alongside her future husband’s for longer than he wished to admit.

There’s a bitter taste of defeat that lays heavy on his tongue,

Sohee was living proof of his weak, young self, whom he believed to be unlovable – getting his revenge on her meant avenging young Seungkwan with the awkward bangs and the rosy chubby cheeks.

The little boy from Jeju who would take mean-spirited comments without a fuss, who did everything to fit in, he’s the one that needs to be protected, right?

So why does he feel so fucking vulnerable, right now?

When you leave the shower, he hasn’t moved an inch; laying in bed, mindlessly scrolling through his timeline. You sigh, closing the bathroom door with a thud to call for attention.

You sit on the bed, laying down his expensive skincare bottles, the loud ‘pop’ from the lotion bottle finally gets his attention.

“What are you doing?”

“Skincare,” You say as a matter of factly.

He watches you smear the lotion over your bare face, happily humming at the citrus-y scent. With every swipe you make a comment on how good it is.

And then, you put some more on your hand and reach for his face, dotting the lotion along his cheeks and nose.

“Don’t put your disgusting hands on my face,” He groans, but makes no effort to push you away.

“I just showered, they’re clean!”

You straddle his waist, depositing the product all over to make sure of even coverage. Once you’re satisfied with your placement, you start rubbing it in.

His skin, usually silky smooth and without a blemish in sight, feels so rough you barely recognise it. You’re careful not to poke him with your nails– God knows he would never let you live it down; How dare you harm his beautiful face.

Seungkwan lets go of his phone, unconsciously reaching to settle his hands on your body – anywhere, they just feel so cold and empty away from you.

“Need to schedule a facial,” You whisper, running your fingers along his defined cheekbones, studying every one of his gorgeous features you’ve engraved into your brain.

He hums, fingers rubbing circles along your thighs. “Still look better than you.”

You laugh, surprised by the unexpected jab. It’s good to see him making jokes again. Done with his lotion, you lean forward, chest flush with his and faces only inches apart.

“In your dreams, Kwannie,”

And he wants to kiss you so bad.

Wants to wrap his arms around you tight so you’ll be there by the time he wakes up.

But you’re busy squishing his cheeks together so his lips will pucker up.

He shoves you into the mattress, robe slipping off partially. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt found by his closet door, it smells strongly of his cologne and you’re sure the scent will stick to your skin by the time you wake up. And part of you, a foolish part of your stupid brain wants to never wash off the traces of him.

Seungkwan is pulling at the shirt, finding you’ve foregone underwear – not with any agenda in mind, you just didn’t want to wear your used panties to bed.

“Kwan– Wait,” You smile, swiping at his torso.

But it feels different.

This sort of rushedness is usually welcomed with excited butterflies in your stomach but he doesn’t meet your eyes, he doesn’t bite at his lips, doesn’t squeeze your waist with a teasing smirk.

He barely acknowledges you.

“Seungkwan, wait–” You pull away, shrinking into the headboard and he finally stops.

He looks… Angry?

That’s not quite it, but you can’t wrap your finger around it.

“We– We don’t have to do this…” You say, studying his expression.

“Do what? Fuck?”

You almost jump at the word. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to–”

“That’s all we always do isn’t it?” His eyes finally meet yours and you feel hideous– It’s as if he’s looking at an inconvenient stranger. You’ve known him half of your life, you’ve laughed and cried together and this is it? You’re some quick fuck in an uneventful night. “We meet, we fuck and then we leave. Let’s get this over with so you can fucking leave already.”

“We can talk when you little temper tantrum is over. I’ll be in the guest bedroom,” You stomp away, closing the door with a ‘Bang’ loud enough to maybe set his wits straight.

It’s a sleepless night for you, tossing and turning around the expensive bedding. Sometime around 2 am, you hear nervous shuffling by the door. It's a good ten minutes or so before he finally opens the door to peek inside.

“Just come in,” You say, his agitation getting to you.

Seungkwan jumps at the sound of your voice, not expecting you to be awake.

“You’re up?”

You hum, kicking off blankets to sit up. “C’mere.”

He approaches the bed, sitting by the end, far away from where you are but you tap the empty side with enough force to make him immediately scurry to lay by your side.

“Thanks,” He whispers, voice hoarse with sleepless anxiety.

Humming in response, you adjust yourself on your pillow, bringing his head onto your chest so you can run your fingers through his damp hair. “For what?”

“For not giving up on me,” Seungkwan snuggles against your ribcage, beating heart already lulling him to sleep.

You smile, digits tangling in his hair.

“I don’t know what I’ll do now…” He whispers, “The press had a field day with me.”

“We’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, we just will…” You shrug, “…It always works out in the end.”

Seungkwan scoffs, although your words are soothing.

“I didn’t know that girl would share those pics,” He sighs.

It wasn’t uncommon for celebrities to meet up and make use of certain substances, but there was an unwritten rule of no pictures or media – for obvious reasons. A model had posted a video on her Instagram Story and Seungkwan was amongst other celebrities recognised almost instantly.

He was immediately put on a hiatus by his company and substituted by Kim Mingyu for future episodes of Bad Clue.

“Honestly… What the fuck was that bitch thinking?!” You exclaim, angrier than expected.

“Rookies these days have no social media etiquette,” He says.

You giggle, “Oh, back in your day, they did? You sound so old.”

Seungkwan laughs at your comment

“I mean it,” he elaborates, “when I started out, Instagram wasn’t that important… Nowadays, agencies check your followers.”

“Sounds exhausting,” You hum and he agrees.

“I have more followers than Mingyu, though.”

And you let out a sincere laugh, chest shaking with giggles under his head. Seungkwan can’t help the sweet smile that finds his lips.

Before you, is TV sensation Kim Mingyu in the flesh, you still wondered how the hell did you pull this off. There were so many phone calls, you were certain somewhere in the middle the person would just hang up.

But alas, it all worked out and now you’re face to face with the man.

“I have something to offer you… I’ve heard you’ve been trying to get your babies into a good kindergarten… I could help you.”

Mingyu had twins – Not that the media knew about it. A young, handsome guy like him needed to play into fans’ fantasies a little. So, the agency hid his family life, against his wishes.

Mingyu is suddenly very interested, “What do you need from me?

“Get Seungkwan back on Bad clue.” He isn’t surprised at all by your request, but remains quiet. “If… If you were both MCs, you could play into the whole rival thing… You could do a pilot test… I know for certain if you talk to the company, they will allow it. If you can get back on air, I’ll get your girls into that school.” You’re this close to pleading, Mingyu was your only chance of fixing this situation.

“I would do that regardless… I do feel pretty bad for him,” He sighs, “not to say that the help wouldn’t come in handy– I am going crazy trying to get that spot.”

You smile, “It is a rather competitive school.”

“I know!” Mingyu whines, “They’re just babies, why is it so hard?! And I’ve got twins, it’s twice as hard!” You laugh at his complaint.

“Have you tried taking turns with them? They are identical, no one will know.”

“That’s what I said!” Mingyu exclaims, completely serious, “My wife almost did my head in.”

You laugh at the thought.

“I’ll talk to the company today.”

It’s as if a weight has been lifted from your chest.

“Thank you, Mingyu, really–”

“Don’t mention it… I was worried about taking his spot,” He explains, “Your idea is pretty good, I’ll relay it to the higher-ups… They might wait a little to scope out the public opinion, but I don’t think they will oppose… Seungkwan is just that good.”

With a smile, you clap your hands together, “Oh, that’s great to hear, thank you so much,” Mingyu waves off your gratitude. “I have a colleague that works on the school board… Just make sure your girls can pass the admission test and she can get them in.”

“Ah, you have no idea how helpful that is!” He exclaims, clearly burdened with worry about his babies’ futures.

And now, it was a waiting game. Hopefully, Mingyu’s charms would melt the director and Seungkwan should be returning to Bad Clue.

The conversation with Mingyu was a mood lifter, enough to make you buy ingredients for a rather special dinner. A good steak that was on sale, plenty of side dishes, and wine – Not anything special, you were working with a teacher’s salary, after all.

But it was enough to have the apartment smelling of herbs and spices as Seungkwan emerged from the front door. – He had finally gathered courage to talk to his manager about the future.

You’re happily humming, wearing the same shirt you wore to bed with your damp hair haphazardly pinned up with a pencil. His kitchen is currently upside down, with pans and pots strewn everywhere and ingredients awaiting to be cooked.

And it’s a new feeling; coming home to someone cooking you a warm meal, ready to welcome you home.

It was a pleasant surprise, almost enough to make him forget about the news that had overtaken the agency that day. A paparazzo had spotted Mingyu talking to you of all people in a lovely lunch setting.

The internet, unaware of Mingyu’s marital status, (Despite his lack of efforts to hide it), theorised you must be his girlfriend. This wasn’t about you and him, Seungkwan reminded himself. This was about morals.

After all, you were friends, were you not?

Friends didn’t go on lunch dates with their friend’s married rival.

There’s a song coming from your phone and you’re singing along terribly. And Seungkwan may or may not have used the opportunity to give you the jumpscare of your life.

The moment his hands pushed on your back, you jumped with a loud screech, accidentally nicking your finger with the knife. – Maybe that wasn’t the best idea Seungkwan ever had.

He is immediately remorseful, however, holding your bleeding finger and inspecting the damage. It didn’t help that you had pepper juices all over your hands and the cut stung like a bitch.

“I– Fucking hate you,” You hiss as he brings your finger under the tap.

“I know,” He says softly, reaching for a dishcloth to wrap your hand.

“Do you have anything in your first aid kit?” You ask, predicting his answer.

Seungkwan shakes his head.

His mother had made him a first aid kit when he first moved into this penthouse and he had used up all ointments, pomades and bandaids she’d carefully packed into that tiny white box.

You sigh, “My bag is on the sofa.” He brings you your bag and you urge him to rummage through your things to find plasters and antiseptic spray. He finally finds a small white pouch with the red cross embroidered.

Properly cleaned and disinfected, you picked out a Hello Kitty bandaid for your brand new wound.

“Why do you only have character band-aids?”

“I’m a teacher, dumbass. I’m constantly playing nurse to those suicidal babies. ” And Hello Kitty does scientifically, help heal all wounds, don’t fact check it.

“It’s weird,” He shrugs.

“What?” You put away everything, throwing the plaster packaging into the trash bin.

“You’re, like… A grown woman…”

“Wow, did you just find that out?”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean… It’s like… Just yesterday we were in school… And now you’re the teacher.”

“I know what you mean… Sometimes the school does feel pretty nostalgic.”

Seungkwan nods. “What are you making?”

“Ah!” You’re suddenly reminded of your forgotten dinner plans. “Steak and stir-fried vegetables.” “Mhm,” He hums, “That sounds amazing, I’m starving.”

“Can you cut up the vegetables for me?”

He gets to work, only slightly butchering the potatoes. You busy yourself on the stove where your band-aid is safe and away from direct contact with the food.

Slowly, you pry off the news from today. His manager was very worried but relieved to hear from him, they spoke about damage control and made plans for appearances and community work to appease the netizens.

You could only hope Mingyu would get through the directors and everything would return to normal.

Foregoing sitting down for a formal dinner, you had your plates by the counter, standing in the middle of the kitchen and chowing down on your masterpiece.

Midbite, you remember the wine sitting on top of the fridge and pop it open. Seungkwan makes a show of complaining over your cheap wine, but drinks it regardless.

“This is nice,” You say, genuinely.

Seungkwan stares at his plate. “Wasn’t your lunch with Mingyu nicer?”

You almost choke on your food. “What?!”

“You were talking to him…” Seungkwan crosses his arms, triceps flexing under the dim kitchen light.

“Mhm, yes, we met at that restaurant downtown,” You say as a matter of fact.

“Why?”

His voice is about an octave lower than usual, sending goosebumps up your spine. That was a tone you were used to hearing… in bed, and not in the middle of his kitchen.

“I had some things to discuss,” You explain, carefully watching his expression.

“And you needed to meet in such a romantic place?”

Oh, god, he was jealous.

“Kwannie–” Finally putting your half-finished plate down, you give him your full attention. “He’s married.”

“What about it?”

“He’s a married man with a beautiful wife and two beautiful kids.”

“That never stopped anyone. Men are trash.”

You can only laugh in disbelief.

“I’m not interested in Kim Mingyu,” You reach for his hands, grabbing his plate and putting it aside, “And I can assure you he is not interested in me either.”

Seungkwan humphs quietly.

“You’re cute,” Chewing on your lower lip, you study how taut his defined jaw is.

“What?!”

“I said you’re so fucking adorable I could eat you up,” You whisper against his lips and Seungkwan feels the blood drain from his body and rush toward his groin.

His hands hold your neck in place, free hand pulling out the pencil that held your hair off so his fingers could tangle into your locks. “Watch your tongue.”

You bite your lips, nodding at his words.

There’s a look in your eyes that he’s extremely familiar with, the dark glaze of lust that covers your beautiful gaze. You’re leaning against his body, rubbing your thighs together and he can’t help but love the situation you’re in.

Seungkwan brings your mouth to his and you mewl, fully melting into his touch. He walks forward until your back hits the counter and he’s pushing you onto cold marble, hands finding your bare thighs.

“Don’t meet him again,” He nips at your shoulder, trails of saliva dressing your skin in a lustful sheen.

You don’t respond, too busy arching your chest into his lips. Thoughts fogged up under his undivided attention.

“Answer me.”

“I won’t…”

Seungkwan settles between your legs like he belongs there, grabbing handfuls of skin with boundless desperation, consuming your body whole.

The sharp tracing of your fingers along his nape makes Seungkwan groan by your ears. Though it’s still not enough to pry off his attention from that sensitive spot just below your jaw which always seemed to be covered in purple spots after your rendezvous.

His hands–, his gorgeous, beautiful hands, tug at the shirt you wear, bunching up the fabric around your hips so he can finally tug your underwear off. Much to his surprise and delight, you’ve once again gone commando.

“Fuck,” Seungkwan bites his lips at the realisation you were completely naked under that oversized shirt all along. Nothing between your delicious pussy all along. “You’re driving me crazy, y’know that?” He whispers against your sensitive lips.

Slender fingers scissor you open; You gasp, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and just about anything you can reach. You’re dripping against his palm, filling the kitchen with nothing but lewd squelching sounds.

“Need you–” You hiss, contorting against cold marble, fingers tangling along his hair.

Seungkwan stills his movement, lifting his head from your cleavage to meet your eyes.

“Beg.”

The dark look that has taken over his usually sparkling eyes sends a shiver down your spine. There’s a sadistic undertone that drips from his hoarse voice you have yet to meet; And it excites you more than you’d expect.

You clench around his unmoving fingers.

Seungkwan smirks.

Before he can tease you any further, you give in.

“Please–” You plead, leaning forward until your lips are mere inches apart, “Please, I need you, Kwan– Need your big cock– Need you to fuck me ‘til I can’t walk.”

You watch him visibly gulp at your words, the volume poking at your leg getting more evident by the second.

And there’s a mischievous smile that finds your lips while he scrambles to undo his belt.

Because he wasn’t the only one with a sadistic little streak.

Though it’s all forgotten once he sinks fully into your entrance, groaning against your shoulder, grazing teeth hiding his silent grunts, of whispering how well you fit around him.

He smiles proudly against your skin, diving into your warmth to suck and nibble on the body he owns– just for the night, he reminds himself. Once morning comes you will leave and seek company of another.

A gentleman who will buy you flowers and never argue against your wishes because he will do anything to please you. A man who will never hesitate to hold you in public because he isn’t afraid to show the world you’re his.

A man who deserves you.

But for tonight, he will lie in your intoxicating smiles and pray sweet nothings until you forget every single one of his flaws– Forget he is unworthy of your attention.

With every thrust, you let out a breathy moan, but it’s not enough.

He wants his name to pour out of your lips, saccharine sweet and sultry; a siren’s beckoning. A call so tempting he can only dig further into your skin, bury himself into your heat, make a home in your veins.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You–” You gulp, “You– You!”

“Say my name,”

“Seungkwan!”

He smiles, kissing your swollen lips and fastens his hips, pistoning into you. “That’s right, baby, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You nod, glassy eyes looking up to meet his with such unadulterated adoration. There’s nothing in your mind in this striking moment other than the way he pries you open, rubbing against your gummy walls, hitting your favourite spot every single time.

There are tears welling along your lash line, holding nothing but pleasure. You’re fucking crying because of how good he fucks you.

“Kwannie– I’m close,” You hiccup.

And Seungkwan kisses away your tears, crashing your lips into his, letting you fully melt into his kisses, drinking your every moan and whine as if he could consume you, little by little.

He lets your body relax into his arms, lets you scratch his skin open while you’re hiccuping into his lips, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You come, stilling in his arms with a high-pitched, strained cry of his name; He kisses every syllable off your lips with a satisfied smirk.

He keeps thrusting into your hips, riding out your body-shattering orgasm while finding his own; so, so close. Especially with the way you’re clenching around him, a ring of your slick collecting on the base of his cock.

“Are you–?” You have half a mind to ask, still coming down from your high.

“Yeah–” He replies, “Fuck– You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Nodding, you don’t suppress the muffled whines that escape your throat when he speeds up.

Yet, he still finds in him to hold a hand on the top of your head, preventing you from hitting the cupboard with such strenuous movement.

But you don’t notice. Running your lips against his neck, feeling your pleasure border on overstimulation, tears threatening to fall.

Seungkwan finally comes, hand tight on your hip, pressing onto your flesh as he slows down his pace, riding out his orgasm, coming undone into you with thick hot spurts.

You nearly collapse on top of him, and he chuckles, grabbing your arms to wrap around his shoulders for a more secure hold.

“Fuck…” He breathes out, a content smile on his swollen lips. “You were amazing,”

Seungkwan kisses your hair, a soothing hand running up and down across your back. You can only hum back, fingers lazily playing with the tag on his collar.

“Stay.” He speaks. “One more night.”

“Kwan– I can’t, I already bought the–”

“I’ll pay for everything. I’ll get you new ones, better ones. Stay, please.”

And you can’t bring yourself to ever say no.

The morning comes in lazy yawns and sleepy stretches. You’re tightly snuggled against his bare chest, tangled limbs strewn across his adored silk bedding.

Seungkwan leans to his side, bringing you closer to his chest. You let out a sleepy whine that tells him to quit moving and let you sleep.

He chuckles.

“Are we gonna stay in bed all day?”

His voice is hoarse with sleep and so irritatingly domestic and loving, you hate how it makes your stomach tingle with annoying butterflies.

“Maybe.”

With no protests toward your reply, he lays back and closes his eyes, fully intent on getting more sleep. But you’re fully awake and the awkward wetness between your legs doesn’t stem just from the remnants of last night’s activities.

You groan out, accepting just how fucking turned on Boo Seungkwan made you with a single phrase.

Kicking the duvet off, you slot yourself on top of his bare legs.

Seungkwan stares back at you with his stupidly adorable wide eyes. “What are you doin–”

That is, until you start moving back and forth, gliding your slick along his soft cock.

He lets out a strained moan, contorting under you.

It’s not long before he’s hard, and you guide him in.

His eyes are still drowsy and half-lidded, his pretty lips are parted in a permanent ‘o’ – and you can see the reddened skin you’ve bit. You’re fucking yourself on his cock, tits bouncing up and down with how vigorous you’ve started moving.

And the view is straight out a wet dream.

“Slow down–” He groans out.

“Can’t– Feels too good–” You whine out, leaning forward to capture his lips.

“I’m gonna cum too fast.” Seungkwan whines with an adorable pout and you smile against his lips.

“I don’t care– Give me your cum. Fill me up–”

Hips matching your own, Seungkwan makes true on his previous warning, coming undone in a strained moan. His fingers dig into your hips, enough to leave marks but still, careful enough to prevent injury.

Yet you keep your pace, milking his cock dry with a hand splayed across his bare chest as you chase your own high.

His eyes, half-lidded and laced with post-orgasmic haze, can’t believe the fantastic view he gets this early. Your slightly sleep-swollen face, furrowed brows, parted lips – which are marked with his kisses.

Once you come, you crash into his comfort. You dive into the warmth his body provides, letting it envelope your own and lull you into a sense of security.

His arms immediately wrap around your heaving body, nuzzling against your hair.

And he hates how much he loves this. The domesticity of waking up next to each other, lazy morning fucks and languid makeouts followed by sleepy brunches and doing nothing all day.

Fucking hell.

You’re awakened a couple hours later by the muffled sounds of Seungkwan readying himself for a day out.

“Where you goin’?” You groan out, still struggling to keep your eyes open.

Seungkwan looks at you with such a warm smile, walking toward the bed with excited steps.

“They called me this morning… I think this might be good,” He giggles excitedly and leans forward to kiss your cheek, “I’m leaving now, there’s leftover bagels on the counter.”

“Mhm– Bye. I love you.��

Seungkwan freezes.

Your words crashing onto his body like ice shards, shattering upon impact and creating ripples of cold goosebumps that travel down his spine.

Your stomach drops.

The realisation washes away any remaining sleep from your tired body. You lie still, eyes glued to his face; waiting, begging, for a reaction, anything.

A beat passes.

Then another.

And there’s nothing.

So you jump out of bed, scrambling for your scattered clothes and bag, heart pounding against your chest with a suffocating throb that crushes your lungs with every passing second.

He calls out your name, finally awaking from his trance.

You don’t reply.

You will not acknowledge these feelings.

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phoenixcatch7 · 5 months

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Welcome to the environmental lore photo collection that took me three weeks to do! We shall see if we can fit all the photos in!

Okay! For purposes of this compilation I'll not be talking about either seasonal areas or the war! Because those are whole separate topics, and well...

We know enough. Also, I had to lighten several photos, so they might look slightly off to experienced players. It's so you can see!

So, the very first area -

Forgive the quality, this is their second compression lmao. As you can see, we start off with pretty standard Sky Kingdom architecture - blue stone with pale blue paint, topped with gold almost-spikes. There's a landing area from valley (middle left) but it's almost entirely flooded with cloud so good luck landing on it now lol. An overhead walkway (bottom left) that only appears elsewhere in the valley citadel and skate race. Unsurprising, given the proximity.

The interesting things are the campfire, the lanterns, and the broken bridge (top left, right, and bottom right respectively).

The huge campfire and the rows of lanterns speak of low light levels and temperatures. The nature of the wasteland is pollution and corruption, so it's easy to think the thick, dark cloud layer blocking out the sun is a result of that, and thus came about later in the timeline. But it seems to be early enough that ancestors made their own countermeasures to the darkness.

The broken bridge, of course, led down. It's sizable. I wonder what it looked like, before the hurricane? Perhaps they used shuttle boats like the village of dreams? Unlikely - there's no boat debris anywhere on either side, but it's an interesting thought. Either way, it tells us the hurricane wasn't always there...

^ Enter the wasteland proper, and you're met with this. Everything is half buried in sand, the water is toxic, and there's not a candle to be seen (except of course on cake days, as you will see later XD) - this will remain true for the whole realm. Under the hooked arch in the bottom pic is the sapling (clinging on for dear life, surely) and the dock leading to Enchantment.

What purpose the listing building in the centre pic does, I don't know, but if you squint under the left arch in the bottom picture, you'll see there's another one (with nothing inside). Given its placement, it could be assumed one had to pass through it to reach the main entrance. It's highly unlikely they were homes.

Similarly, all those giant broken arches could have enclosed a vast area the size of a small town (figuratively, if we consider the dream village and the aviary) - they're all pointing at each other (as best they can). Valley has proven the smaller version of these are to be walked on, so perhaps guards or manta riders could patrol on them? You do crashland enter under the only standing arch, after all.

The paths, centre right, also seem to be doing badly. Their solidity and thickness means they're not simple flagstones or paving like other areas in sky - they're heavy duty, lined with I believe to be more of that golden metal that bent instead of crumbled. They were built over unsteady ground. Whether that be the sand and toxic water they sit in now or just normal water remains to be seen.

If you look left, you'll see a distant... Factory of some kind. Middle left picture. Pipes leading in or out of it. Whatever it is, production, water purification, waste disposal, it probably doesn't work anymore. If you've played Journey (sky's predecessor), it's strongly reminiscent of an area where you build a temporary bridge connecting the broken arches so you can cross into the enormous building ahead. It's a fantastic sense of scale, to realise that this ancient civilisation ringed a significant portion of way around the base of this gargantuan mountain.

Half buried statues guard the crumbling entrance - smaller than the gigantic ones in the valley stadium, but pretty much the same otherwise lol. Given the amount of buried rubble around them and the chasm in the stone above, did something burst in... Or out? The mystery isn't solved on the inside, but at least the corridor isn't completely blocked. Sky kid (me!) for scale! It's interesting, how apart from the obviously ceremonial dramatic valley statues, these are the first things we see of anything resembling combat or even weapons. A culture which has a concept of militaristic might. They're guarding something important. (Vault, duh.)

No! Unlike what you'd think, the important thing becomes clear immediately. The collosal, toppled bell (I always wondered if they were hollow), the odd ceremonial structure it landed by (top left), those funny diamond bells (top right, top left if you squint), the studded cylinders (bottom left). The hastily stacked rubble blocking the krill's sight (bottom middle), the ripped open roof (bottom right).

It's identical to the forest elder shrine. This is a temple. Could this have been the original location of the wasteland elder shrine? The only remaining proof of a secret eighth elder, now subsumed?... A cool shaped building the architects took and ran with? We don't know. Whatever it was, it was clearly of great import. Most likely ceremonial, or for worship, or, heck, the equivalent of a podium specifically for big grand speeches. When the roof was there, it was an enormous, grand room, guarded by stern stone giants twice over and blocked by the same great doors that hide the forest glade. The ones that light up and spin and only open after meditating and meeting the elder...

There's no sign of those doors now, which is impressive. Probably where they got the stone for the krill blockade and the hiding places along the little bridge. Good thing they're gone, then, because those magic hinges seem to have run out of juice and gone dark. My theory is they were there to keep people out - a barrier between the last traces of peace and the battle torn graveyard we're about to walk into. (Another potential point in the 'prev wasteland elder location' - an ancestor would have to pass through him to enter, and the enemy on the way out.)

There's pipes now, too - I can only believe they were a later addition, given how haphazardly they coat the walls, and the industrial pollution aesthetic much more suited to the grimy, bleak wastes of today than the gilded ceremonial hall this once was.

Just off the left after the main temple area, there's a large room, ceiling also torn off. I can only describe them as pedestals, but what stood on them I don't know. My first thought when I found this place as a moth was a wardrobe/constellation/friend constellation thing, but it's??? Eh. If it were statues, they're long gone with no sign, and they're not big enough for anything mobile. This room served a function, that much is clear, but if decorative or practical I doubt we'll ever know.

^ The graveyard. This is its actual name, I believe. Fitting. The wasteland title promised us Vault, that's all this place is now good for, so that must be the vault we see looming in the background, tower reaching into the low clouds. (If you've played Journey, you're already familiar with the tower idea, so it's easy to slot the two together.)

Here you'll find, uh, krill. There's four here, the highest concentration of krill in all sky lmao. You'll find giant skeletons. You'll find sand. Toxic water. And that's kind of it.

Interesting things abound, however! There's a fleet of sunken, broken boats (middle left), a campfire now overgrown with dark plants (not shown) and a giant crab roasting campfire with a poor, beloathed by the community, crab loving spirit (middle). We can only assume he's the one who built the campfire! Thanks dude! Please have an easier relived memory! (should we call it a seance??) Now, given the guy is an elderly dude who carries a guitar and spends his time chasing crabs all across the dang map, he's probably not a warrior. Heck, with the amount of crabs, he probably arrived after the pipes. After the war, even? On the middle right pic is the weirdly undecorated entrance to the sunken ship.

Of course I looked at the skeletons and compared them! Each wasteland one had tiny scratches or notches in the spine spikes, and yes they aren't there on the other, but otherwise the size and shapes are identical! These skeletons are whales, as proven by the skeleton in forest haunted by the whale whisperer! The poor forest whale died of head injury colliding with the building, so there's every chance these guys were also used in warfare for similar reasons - maybe even specifically bred to fight the krill - but it could also have been a tragedy of mass extinction during what turned the graveyard into what it is today. :( That you can find a Rythm spirit in a skull tells us the troupe came about a LONG time after the deaths.

^ To the shipwreck! The first pic I caught during the shard event (though they landed all the way in prairie!) lol. It looks so ominous... Outside of the seasonal enchantment beauty, this is the biggest vessel in the game, and much more utilitarian. Unlike SS Enchantment, this thing was a tanker, not a home for those on board.

Featuring - the only decorated pipes in the kingdom (middle left)! Life boat deployment cranes (bottom left)! A beached lifeboat, bottom right :(. A boat still attached (feat me). More of those weird diamond bells for cargo, which proves they were a valued commodity and at least semi mass produced and shipped around the kingdom! More than the craftsman in prairie, or the tree fellers in forest, they prove a thriving, stable kingdom steadily advancing in technology and society! And the boat being pointed to the temple - incoming goods? Potentially, for Vault?

The krill decided it didn't want to be in the top pic, but I swear he's there XD... Most likely what sank the ship, tbh. It's not caught on some rock, or ledge, or ditch. In fact, the bottom is more intact than the top!... I think the krill escaped the warzone and caught the arriving ship, possibly spotting an unlucky crewmate through those big arched windows. The memory of the saluting captain walks the wreckage of his ship, sending away a loyal crew member on the second last life boat, back out to sea. Whether it's the boat dashed on the rocks or if they escaped the krill I don't know, but we know the captain didn't. Crab whisperer passes through later, so we know the light seekers are also post event.

We've reached the entrance to the vault! It's.. Smaller than it looks from a distance. Vault must be a shorter building hidden behind it, or far enough away it vanishes into the smog. Under a shard event sky, the black waters look like blood.

The first thing you see of the battlefield is the large, imposing building, now listing to one side and rimmed with stakes (cheval de freise, if you want to be fancy. Large caltrops... When your mounts and enemies can fly). There's only one spirit here, lookout (middle left). Whether it was supposed to be a temporary building (UNLIKELY) or whether they didn't build it properly and the sandy ground subsided over the aeons that have passed between then and now is up to interpretation, but at least this time the lack of roof seems intentional. I'm more annoyed it doesn't line up with the temple, I had to stand literally on the right wall to get the bottom picture and it's still slightly left!

Lighting the crystal triggers three krill to emerge from the ground and start hunting. (One time I visited some unknowing friends who triggered the gate... A krill emerged less than a metre from me with no warning... Terrifying XD.) Previously they used to spawn basically on top of the players and you had to run for your LIFE, but now they take a leisurely stroll in your direction, so you've got plenty of time to wander your way to safety. Maybe stop and get an ice cream. Boring :/. In terms of lore very fascinating and scary, given the last stand and the aurora concert both seemed focused on defending the crystal. This whole time... It was rigged. By which side, I don't know.

The shrine! ^

From the outside, a large, ominous building covered in pipes and statue towers. On the inside, an octagonal chamber many stories high. Like the rest of wasteland, what little decor there is is chockers with that hollow star shape that symbolises light, the king, all that good stuff. There's six ginormous double doors ringing the chamber, all tightly shut. My first thought was six realms, one war council. Nothing to prove or disprove that lol. It would have been a great place for diplomacy, though, without the shrine statue. Sand everywhere, probably through the gaps in the ceiling lol. Beautiful door.

Wasteland elder himself!!! His weapons are the ones arranged on his shrine - whether that means he can manifest in the world and grab them or if they're stone recreations of the ones he carries at all times, I don't know. He's never been seen in any memory or cutscene of war, so maybe he can't manifest... We know the isle elder can, in the song runaway of aurora. His space is the very same place as the Crystal outside his chamber, facing out, and he points his spear towards where the kings star would be, the crowning jewel of his tower. We can safely assume whatever his role, he was defending Vault and Eden behind it. And he succeeded.

There's so much to talk about with the vault door. Top left, the closed wasteland/vault door. Bottom left and right, the closed forest door. Centre and top right, the open vault door. You'll notice more diamond shapes and boat imagery. But in wasteland, the jewels that presumably power the great door are missing, black. The double switches, inactive. Even when activated, no line traces up and no light appears - only the outlines of the stars and speckled lights hidden on the door itself. If that's not divine intervention from the elder, I don't know what is lol.

Pass through into vault, and see its beauty untouched. But turn around, and see the mounds of golden sand blown in from Wasteland, settling in the still air. Vault acknowledges its protector.

Some final thoughts:

^ For some reason, probably that it's the only place it's not very visible, the shipwreck is the only place where the kings star is absolutely massive and has a ring. Every other place, it's normal! It's probably an old design tgc forgot to update with the rest lmao.

^ An entirely accidental realisation due to my research. Man I love environmental storytelling. Nearly every detail of the mask matches the skull! The IMAGERY.

^ My first attempt to get a good shot of wasteland instead caught a first person witness to an expert krill dodger! I didn't get to talk to them, but know you were caught being very cool in high definition!!

^ I didn't get to talk about this theory before, but every entrance and exit to the graveyard and next door shipwreck EXCEPT their connecting corridor are all huge drops in altitude. Both are the only places you find boats. Both are sodden with black water. The ground is uneven. There's whale skeletons. My theory is that these areas were once entirely submerged! Water areas! Shipping and naval battles and cargo! Abyss proves krill can survive perfectly under water - and all emerging krill do so from water!! It'd explain the sand and the debris and the beached boats and all!

Elder shrines do like their slitted roofs. This is prairie. 'S why I wasn't theorising about the sand in wasteland lol. Gotta get the dramatic shafts of light from somewhere!

The open door and two beautifully poised strangers - well done on completing wasteland! I hope you enjoy vault!!

Pipe theory: these things pop up at the entrance to wasteland and follow you all the way through to the shrine, disappear in vault, and then reappear. They go all the way to the point of no return in eden!!! They're either taking something up, or, considering the amount of pipes that open into black water areas, the general gravity situation of vertical pipes... It's likely they were siphoning something away. Sewer pipes, but evil. Maybe trying to wash away whatever corruption happened to the Eye? It didn't work... Poisoned the waters instead. Maybe they carried water up to the Eye like a kingdom sized cooling system and that drained the waters??

And the photo that started this whole thing, the day I climbed the wasteland temple...

that's not smog. That is a wall. That is the biggest wall I have EVER seen.

Do you see the line under the clouds? The sky box? The 'horizon'?

YOU'RE ALREADY LOOKING AT VAULT.

TGC YOU MOTHERS OF DUCKS.

#LONG POST #VERY LONG POST #Realising the true size of vault from the outside I think messed up my brain #It's like an ant seeing a circuit board #Like yeah. Vault is huge. It's got to be. It's like a pocket dimension of indigo magic. Vault barely follows the laws of physics.#It's a world unto itself.#But to realise all of vault fits in one building of brick and stone.... It's insane. It's a mind boggling feat of engineering and magic #It's just insane.#Thank you for making it this far LMAO I hope the pretty pictures kept you entertained #extremely long post #Do you love the colour of wasteland?#But now I feel settled lmao that's been bugging me for months #sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky oc #sky photography #thatgamecompany #thatskygame #that sky game #skykid #that game sky #Tgc #s: cotl #Scotl #sky cotl screenshots #sky cotl photography #sky kid #skyblr #sky cotl lore #environmental storytelling

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duhragonball · 7 months

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The Future of Dragon Ball

I was going to play Mega Man X5 tonight, but it's acting kind of buggy and I'm not in a mood to try to troubleshoot my copy of Legacy Collection 2, so I'll write about Dragon Ball instead. Specifically, what happens next?

Let me make this clear up front: I don't actually know the answer to this. I'm not an "insider" claiming to have "leaked" information. All I want to do is discuss the possibilities, and the culture of speculation that seems to persist in the fandom.

I tend to call this "modern" era of the Dragon Ball franchise a "renaissance", because very little official material came out between 1998 and 2012, and then after Battle of Gods ushered in this new wave of Dragon Ball movies, TV episodes, web series, and comics. I've been covering this all year in the #2023dbapocryphaliveblog, in case you're new to this blog, and while much of it hasn't been very good, there were a lot of bright spots. Battle of Gods, Broly, and Super Hero were classics, the Tournament of Power basically saved and otherwise lackluster Dragon Ball Super anime, and the Granolah Saga in the DBS manga is a fun read with a great cliffhanger.

However, things have slowed down a lot this year. The Granolah Saga ended and the manga began a long, long adaptation of the Super Hero film. There was some hype about a new Tenkaichi Budokai video game, but there's been no word on when it'll come out what we can expect to see. I get the sense that the fans are champing at the bit for some big announcement, like a new movie or anime series, but it hasn't happened.

Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but back in my day you just had to wait and see, and accept the possibility that you may never get what you were hoping for. The vibe I get from DBTwitter is that people think they can somehow manifest a new animation through sheer force of will. News will spread of some Toei panel and fans will cling to the hope that there must be some big Dragon Ball announcement, and it must be nothing less than a teaser trailer for Xenoverse 3, a DBZ remake, and release dates for the next five movies. Then the panel will come and go, and it just ends up being a fluff PR thing where a spokesperson says "Dragon Ball is very fun and Goku is cool." and that's it. And all the fans get upset until the next panel, where they put their clown makeup on all over again.

"No, this can't be happening. Dragon Ball 2uper is real..."

When I was still new to the fandom, I always wondered how Dragon Ball AF could be such a potent fantasy for so long. But now I've lived through the Dragon Ball Super era, and seen fans chasing similar dreams. People have been waiting for Xenoverse 3 for over six years. They've been expecting "Dragon Ball Super II" ever since Dragon Ball Super I ended five years ago. And I'd say it's a pipe dream, except fans held out hope for Tenkaichi 4 since 2010, and it looks like we're actually going to get that one? You never can tell with this franchise. My kneejerk reaction to Dragon Ball Magic is to dismiss it as fake, but I can't be completely sure.

The weird thing is that 2uper, Magic, and XV3 have been hyped up during a boom period for the franchise. Dragon Ball Super had a 131 episode run, followed by two feature films. It's still going, but people want 2uper to animate the Moro Saga. People want a new web anime, but there's already a web anime. Super Dragon Ball Heroes has been running since 2018 and it's still going. Xenoverse 2 is still releasing DLC packs. I recognize that some of this content isn't what everyone wanted, but it's weird how fans are demanding new projects before the old ones have run their course. At least when AF became a legend, there weren't any official works to compete for its attention.

It occurs to me that maybe this is just part of the fan culture, and every so often fans will collectively agree on some imaginary premise and Goncharov their own series. Maybe that's what AF was then, and what Magic is today. They're not hoaxes, but rather some sort of mutually-agreed-upon daydream. I'm not sure I get it, but it is what it is.

Anyway, my position has always been that Dragon Ball has ended before and can end again, so there's no reason to assume that there will be some new anime or movie or video game to look forward to. I watched Super Hero fully believing that this could be the last one, even though the box office numbers suggest that a sequel is probably inevitable. But nothing is guaranteed. Dragon Ball GT started strong in the ratings, only to get canceled about a year later.

And yet, there seems to be some kind of guarantee, because of this guy:

I think there are a lot of fans who believe that Dragon Ball Super has a lot of loose ends to tidy up, and the series can't end until Goku and Vegeta surpass Jiren, Beerus, Whis, and Orange Piccolo. And maybe this is true, but I'm not so sure. But Black Frieza isn't just a loose end. This seems like a pretty big honkin' deal, and it would be pretty weak if they wrapped things up without some kind of reckoning here. Frieza's the main villain of Dragon Ball Super now, and in his most recent appearance he revealed he can defeat Goku and Vegeta with frightening ease. And yet, he spared them. Why?

So that seems like the obvious direction going into 2024. This is why fans are so burned out on the manga this year, because they know a Black Frieza arc is coming, but they have to wait for Toyotaro to retell Super Hero before we can even find out when it's happening.

My guess is that Toei/Shueisha decides to tease this out even longer. We get to chapter 100 of the manga and it starts some bullshit arc about Goten and Trunks playing superhero park rangers on 17's island. Or... that dumb android from the Moro Saga comes back and they jerk around with that guy for 18 chapters. They'll get to Black Frieza eventually, but I suspect that they're holding off until they can set up a Black Frieza movie. Then the manga can just adapt that movie and everything gets paid off around the same time.

Either way, I'm a little skeptical about it just being Goku and Vegeta training to beat Black Frieza. I keep coming back to how he let them live at the end of the Granolah arc. Ostensibly, he just wanted to frighten them, and make it clear that he no longer sees them as a threat. But maybe there's more to it than that. Maybe Frieza needs them alive for some reason. Like he plans to use them to achieve some goal, or he needs their help to stop some even greater menace that we haven't seen yet.

Maybe that's what Frieza was talking about at the end of the Broly movie when he said he wanted "one other". I kind of thought he meant to use Broly as an ally against Goku and Vegeta, but maybe he's planning a campaign against some other guy, and he sees Broly as a potential resource. And maybe that's why he spared Goku and Vegeta on Planet Cereal. If he kills them, he might not be able to find Broly when the time comes. Or maybe he just needs all three Saiyans, so he has to pull his punches.

Or maybe I'm overthinking this, and it just turns out that Black Frieza ends with a manga arc where Goku turns "Ultra Instinct (Defined) (Remastered)" and wins a paint-by-numbers battle. Or Roshi beats Black Frieza, because that sounds like something Toyotaro would do.

So what would happen after Black Frieza? See, that's where I wonder about the future of the franchise, because so much work has gone into mining past arcs. The first DBS movie was about bringing back Broly, Bardock, and Gogeta. The second movie brought back the Red Ribbon Army, the androids, and Cell. Frieza will almost certainly get another turn, and then what? What's left?

I mean, let's break this down by the major antagonists we've had so far.

Pilaf Saga. The Pilaf gang are still living in Bulma's house, apparently, so that comic relief bit from Battle of Gods shows no signs of ending.

Red Ribbon Army. DBS Super Hero brought them back and opened some interesting doors for future Red Ribbon stories. It's hard to imagine the Army making another comeback since Cell Max destroyed their secret base and all their top leaders were killed. But the Red Pharmaceutical Company still exists and someone must have taken over after Magenta's death.

Tien Shinhan. Tien never left, and while I'd be down for a Tien-centric saga, it seems pretty unlikely after all these years. At best, he gets a prominent role in a story featuring some more important player.

King Piccolo/Piccolo Junior. Piccolo never left either, and now he's got his own movie in Super Hero.

Saiyans Saga. Vegeta never left, and DBS: Broly pretty much covered the idea of "here are some new Saiyans we didn't know about before."

Frieza Saga. Resurrection F, Tournament of Power, DBS: Broly, this upcoming Black Frieza thing, I think this has been covered.

Androids/Cell Saga. 17 and 18 never left, and the idea of more androids and a new Cell was already covered in Super Hero.

Majin Buu. It's been 27 years and no one seems to want to do anything with this guy. Maybe 2025 is the year when Akira Toriyama finally does some big Buu story to justify keeping him around this whole time.

Zamasu. I mean, the dude got erased, so it'd be pretty bullshit to bring him back. Then again, it was pretty bullshit of Toriyama to create this idea in the first place, so I can't rule it out. "Whoops, more Zamasu" might be the storyline that would force me to quit the Dragon Ball fandom for good.

Tournament of Power. I mean, they could do another Tournament of Power for funsies, but it probably wouldn't live up to the spectacle or the novelty of the original. More likely, I could see some adventures featuring prominent characters from the event, like Jiren, Hit, the U6 Saiyans, etc.

Moro. I did not enjoy the Moro arc much at all, so it kind of bums me out when people suggest that Toei should do an anime adaptation of it. To me, that would be just as big a waste of time as the DBS manga doing the Super Hero adaptation that's going on right now, but it would be even worse because Moro kind of sucks. In the same vein, doing stories that follow up on the Moro arc would be difficult because you'd have to refer back to the Moro arc, which only appeared in the manga, which not everyone read. So it's this difficult spot where you'd have to animate the Moro arc first, just to do a new arc about Merus and Jaco or whatever. It's probably not worth it.

Other Z Movies and GT: The success of DBS: Broly sort of opens the door for similar reboots of guys like Cooler, Turles, Janemba, Baby, etc. But honestly, this seems pretty far-fetched to me. Broly was a much, much bigger star than any of those other characters, so what worked for Broly isn't necessarily a road map for a guy like Bojack or Omega Shenron.

Looking over all of this, I kind of wonder what's left to do. Maybe something with Majin Buu, or the big shots from the Tournament of Power, and after that, I think they'll have used up all the viable nostalgia. After that, Dragon Ball will probably have to come up with something brand new, which is kind of a dicey proposition, because they've been hit-or-miss with that. Granolah and Tournament of Power were good, Moro and Zamasu were bad, so when I hear they're doing something all-new, I get kind of nervous.

But in the end, I don't know what will happen, which brings us back around to where I started. We'll just have to see what shakes out.

#dragon ball #idle speculation #black frieza

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peppered-moths · 1 year

Note

guess whos back, its me and i've come to cause problems! call me what you like by lovejoy is majorwood coded scott pov because i said so - screamingallium

bold take! i'll be completely honest, i haven't even listened to call me what you like. be back in a few minutes.

alright, i'm back! what the fuck. why are you right.

"Smiling when I ask if she's bored yet / Wonder if we took it too far" - this feels like a not-quite-unrequited thing. martyn is definitely Not Over ren, at this point. not sure if he's using scott as a rebound, or if he genuinely wants something serious. maybe he doesn't really know. either way, scott knows and is just a little bit bitter about it, but he can't even try to push martyn away. he's down bad and hates it

"I'd like to think that I'm / The only guy she'll see tonight / You can call me what you like / As long as you call me" - he's not sure how much longer he can take this. he doesn't know why he bothers. is it just the attempt at human contact? is it love? is it desperation? he doesn't care. he wants martyn to want him, even if it's a pipe dream. wishful thinking.

"And you could kiss the skin from my lips / 'Til it makes you feel good" - martyn takes and takes and takes, but that's alright because scott is a giver. he gives lives, he gives love, he hands his heart to martyn and says i hope it's worth it. he knows it'll never amount to anything. his love never does.

"Just let me follow you / And I'll proceed to bang my head on every doorway / And doorframe you see suitable for us to go through" - please let me come with you. please let me be there, in your shadow, in your orbit. he knows it isn't exactly healthy. he's used to ruining himself. why not throw himself on the sword again? what does he even have to lose?

"I'm not paranoid, I'm a realist / I know you're gonna kill me!" - scott's not a fool, despite it all. he knows martyn intends to win. scott's always known he's going to lose, depended on it, an anchor. if he's going to die at martyn's hands, it'll be on his own terms.

"But you can't stay awake forever / No you can't stay awake forever" - sometimes it feels like a dream. a dream where martyn loves scott, where he can pretend that this isn't two lonely people clinging to each other for comfort, but never love. he doesn't want to wake up. he can't sleep. he knows he's going to die. he thinks he'd like it to be a final, grand gesture. i love you, so here. here i am, on a silver platter. maybe if you loved me, you wouldn't do it.

martyn doesn't even hesitate.

#majorwood #moth answers #scott smajor #smajor1995 #inthelittlewood #martyn inthelittlewood #limited life smp #trafficshipping #traffic smp

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xiuminsmygrandpa · 9 months

Text

I'm in love with someone.

This should make me happy because for most people the moment they realize they're in love with someone there's a good chance the other person feels the same way too.

That's not the case for me. The moment I realized I was in love with someone for the first time in my entire life, I cried. I felt sad in a way I'd never felt before. Because the love I feel for this person has no place to go.

It's like Aphrodite truly wants me to suffer. Because for years I begged her to find someone for me to love. She held up her end of the bargain but it came at a steep price.

I suppose I deserve this. I asked for too much. I needed to be humbled.

But hasn't life done that to me enough? Love is supposed to bring joy and meaning to your life not loneliness and suffering. I want to turn it off and feel nothing for no one ever again.

If that's not possible, I'd like it to hurt less.

When people are injured they usually take something to numb the pain.

But how do you numb a broken heart?

For once in my life I have no idea what to do. Maybe I could move far away. To a place where I can be at peace and free from the torment of loving him.

Sadly, I know this is mere pipe dream because I carry my heart with me everywhere I go.

I can't escape my feelings. I have to let them run their course. I wish I could channel my ancestors and ask them what to do. I could call my mom or dad or brother. But I know they'll all tell me the same thing.

To build a bridge and get over it. And I will. For now, though, I need a good cry and a hug. I need someone to tell me it'll be alright.

Because I know it will, eventually... Who knows, maybe a year from now I'll be living somewhere far away with a love of my own, finally. I'll look back on this time and think I knew it would get better someday.

I know I can push through this. But what if I don't want to. Does it make me a bad person? To continue to cling to this doomed love? I suppose it does...

-L.M. 7/23/2023

#writing #journal #journaling #poetry #love #heartbreak #unrequited love #heartache

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justanothersyscourse · 1 year

Note

Genuine question about ptsd and cptsd

Do you have to have direct nightmares to your events? I have flashbacks (which, i can't ever remember the source of the trauma), but not exactly nightmares of those events, or, directly.

If not - then can nightmares be a more abstract interpretation of trauma you may not remember, if you can do process of elimination? (If it's not related to anything the body is going through currently, or deja vú dreams)

This is a really tough question with a lot of elements. I really like it, and I hope I can answer clearly.

So, for early life trauma, I, specifically, don't have clear flashbacks or nightmares. I get these feelings, like I'm absolutely having a flashback-- my heart rate kicks up, my breathing suddenly catches and struggles, I fight the urge to run and hide, or lash out at people around me.

I always assume SOMEONE is having the true flashback and seeing the memories in their mind's eye.

Sometimes I have a memory and I have to stop and question if it's real, if it's really mine and if it really happened.

Nightmares tend to work the same way, and I'll wake up knowing I had a nightmare, but not be able to remember, or not be able to figure out why it was so disturbing to me.

What really piqued my interest about your question was the worst nightmare I ever had.

I was underground, running from someone I knew all too well, and there were pipes all around me, attached to the walls of this narrow tunnel from start to finish. The pipes kept bursting, scalding me, but they were always bursting right next to me, no matter how slow or fast I ran. This dream had me FUCKED up, and I woke up KNOWING with every fibre of my being that even if it was a different scenario, it was a direct representation of one alter's creation.

The mind is incredibly funny like that.

All this talk of exotrauma and source trauma is so stupid to me.

The brain is notoriously good at refusing to deal directly with situations and emotions, and it's even BETTER at instead clinging to situations and representations that are physically and mentally removed from you and your life and easier to deal with.

Abstract is a perfect word. The brain will twist anything and everything to try to make it more palatable and easier to handle. And sometimes it malfunctions, and you're left with this horrifying and confusing mix of truth and imagination.

Not everyone will experience nightmares and/or flashbacks, and I wouldn't suggest trying to interpret either in order to uncover things outside of therapy. You don't NEED to know, and if you're not ready, you won't figure it out.

PTSD nightmares are different from CPTSD nightmares. PTSD flashbacks and nightmares will usually be about the event specifically. For example, veterans will typically rewitness real images from war. CPTSD flashbacks and nightmares tend to be more generalized and abstract.

PTSD is based on single traumatic events, CPTSD is based on long-term, varied traumas and this can make it hard for your brain to focus on a single part or aspect, so it just tries to shove everything into one. Don't go poking at it until it's safe to do so.

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invisibleraven · 11 months

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There's too many good ones, but you know I had to prompt visiting an animal shelter and playing with the animals for Reggie/anyone

Reggie was almost vibrating with joy as the car pulled into the lot, and if not for Julie's calming hand on his knee, he was sure he would have been out of the car like a shot before it even fully stopped.

"Hey," she said, cupping his cheek. "I know you're excited, but if you don't calm down, you're gonna scare the doggos right?"

"Right," Reggie said, blowing out a breath. "And you two are sure you're okay with this?"

Luke turned around in the driver's seat, shooting him a smile. "Babe, we wouldn't be here if we weren't. Just... only one dog okay?"

"I know," Reggie whined. "It's gonna be so hard to choose though!"

"Well that's why we're here today," Julie said. "To meet them all, and see if all three of us vibe with somebody. If not, we can come back another day, okay?'

"Okay," Reggie nodded. "Can we go in now?"

Luke and Julie laughed, agreeing that yes, they could go into the shelter.

Reggie had always wanted a dog, it had been a lifelong dream. But his parents were never open to the idea, and then he was hopping from couch to couch until Ray took him in after he left home, and he couldn't ask about a pet there. Especially after he ended up dating Ray's daughter and her boyfriend at the same time.

Julie and Luke had been all for getting Reggie his dog, but the first few years out of school found them in shoebox apartments with no room for a dog, or places that didn't allow animals. But now they had their own home, with a yard, and there was nothing stopping bringing home a furry friend.

It was just a matter of choosing one.

They were brought out to the yard where a bunch of dogs were running around, and Reggie was tempted to just go join them. Only Julie was clinging to him, just a little. "N-nothing too big okay?"

"Darlin'... are you afraid of the big dogs?" Reggie whispered back.

Julie nodded minutely. "I didn't think I would be, but..." she let out a whimper.

"No big dogs, that's fine," Reggie said.

"And nothing small and yippy either," Luke piped up, side eyeing a chihuahua.

"No fighting the doggos Lu," Reggie cautioned. "But I agree, we can get something medium sized." He found an employee and told them what they were looking for, and she smiled, leading them to a meeting room.

They brought in a Shar Pei that Julie cooed over, loving how wrinkly he was, but both Luke and Reggie agreed they wanted something with a bit more fur.

Next they brought out a collie who was very happy, and loved all their affection, but there was no instant connection, so they put her in the maybe pile.

Then there was a cocker spaniel who delighted in bringing them a ball, but was also heavy with puppies, which was a bit more commitment than they were ready for.

But then they brought out a dog that the shelter informed was called a Finnish Spitz. "It looks like a fox!" Luke exclaimed. "I love foxes!"

"Oh, he is precious," Julie cooed, holding out her hand, giggling when the dog licked it. "And so friendly!"

"Reynard here was a rescue," the employee informed them. "But he's well trained, though a bit vocal, and in good health."

Reggie sat down on the floor, and Reynard came right to him, flopping onto his back, panting and yipping happily when Reggie indulged him with belly rubs. "Who's a good doggo? You are! Yes you are!"

They took him out in the yard, playing catch and giving him ropes to tug on for the longest time, and even Reggie found his energy flagging, but he was having the time of his life. "I love him," he declared.

"Me too," Julie admitted. "They said he's a pretty easy breed, and good with kids, if we ever decide to have any."

"Dog first," Luke declared. "Then in a few years we can come back to that decision."

"So can we keep him?" Reggie asked.

"Sure we can babe," Luke said, ruffling his hair.

"I'll get the paperwork," Julie said. "Now we can't take him home today, they'll have to do checks and we need to get the dog stuff, but it shouldn't be long."

"That's fine," Reggie said, even as he hugged Reynard tighter, grinning at the doggy kisses he got in return.

It was hard for the three of them to leave, but they had stayed there until the shelter closed, and the employee promised she would hold Reynard for them for a few days until their paperwork was done.

"So do you want to change his name?" Luke asked as they drove away.

"Where did they get the name Raynard anyways?" Julie pondered.

"It's the name of a clever fox in classic literature that stretches back to the middle ages," Reggie replied. Both his partners starred at him for a moment. "What? I like old fairy tales and stuff like that, I've read a few Reynard stories for my Medieval Literature course."

"So the name stays?" Julie asked.

"Well it's that or Miles after Tails from Sonic."

"Reynard it is!" Luke declared. "I always sucked at Sonic."

"What video game are you good at?" Julie teased.

Luke stuck his tongue out at her and they playfully bickered all the way to the pet store. But Reggie didn't mind, he was too busy looking at the photos he had taken back at the shelter.

And within a week he could finally upload the phots he took of bringing Reynard home.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rukebox #peterpatterlina #julie and the phantoms

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ainulindaelynn · 1 year

Note

Hmm… Amphipolis or Amphipolis alt for the WIP game please - whichever you feel more comfy sharing (or both, if you like!) 😊🤍

Amphipolis 😫

I may expand the wall top scene a little and the battle to reflect history (because WOW), but right now this picks up immediately after the fight with Kleon. Personally, I needed to run back to the battlefield in that moment, and I'm furious with Ubi for denying it. Before anything, I want to capture the feeling of my childhood night terrors, where there was no ground and unless I was clinging to something I might get sucked into space... It's still eluding me, so progress has been minimal... xD

From that point forward, Kassandra stays with Brasidas, taking the role of guardian over his body through the funerary process. She's with him almost continuously, experiencing Amphipolis' initial shock and watching their response unfold as a grim bystander. This has required several OCs and more research than anything else I've done for Odyssey and my knowledge still feels woefully inadequate. I want to blend (what we know of) Spartan & Macedonian rituals and highlight the historical honors from Kassandra's view. The city's response was so beautiful in history - I want to bring life to that as much as possible. It does end early though, as Kassandra leaves the moment she can no longer see him in the cremation flames, slipping away to the mountains for solitude.

I have 10k thrown in a document, but honestly I really hate all of it, so I'm gonna skip a snippet for this one :)

----------

Amphipolis Alt

This one is very underdeveloped. It's a little AU where Kassandra says, "Hey, If Deimos shows up, he's MINE" and because he trusts her, he DOES and LIVES. Bypass death, go to Kleon's attack, and the game resumes as normal, except everyone is happy. The central conflict is around Kassandra's troubled relationship Sparta and learning to support the campaigns in shadow form (I can’t imagine military structure smiles on commanders messing around while their subordinates go without - or that Brasidas would publicly permit that discrepancy), keeping with the traditions of military structure. It would follow Brasidas future campaigns if the treaty of Nicias never happened. AND EVERYONE WOULD LIVE HAPPILY.

Realistically, I'll never write this because there's not enough tension in the story to push me through. But also, knowing myself, I would need context to play at Brasidas' next strategic step and that would be a slippery slope into dedicating my life to understanding every intricate detail of the Peloponnesian War, which I do not have time for xD

This fic is a pretty little pipe dream and a couple scattered thoughts :)

#fanfiction #tag games #ac odyssey

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nosleepfoxtales · 27 days

Text

I do i.t. for the supernatural. Today I met the off-brand three stooges.

"So, ah, what did you do once the slime had, um, given birth to you?"

I sighed. My therapist was doing her best with what I was giving her. It's hard when one person is thinking metaphorical and the other literal.

"Well. I still had it's many children clinging to my jacket and slacks, so I shook myself off like a wet dog," I wasn't even sure this therapy was helping me. To her, I was just having some very fucked up dreams.

I didn't lie to her. But when someone tells you they were eaten and birthed by a giant green cube, it's hard not to have a little doubt.

"Hmm. And what did you feel then? Free? Unburdened?"

A snorted chuckle was all I could muster because to be honest, I felt PISSED. Less like the ham stuck in a poorly designed 1960's jello mold, but still pissed. Was it ham? What the hell were they putting in that jello, anyways? Who's idea was that? The original creeped me out, so I definitely didn't have any love for it's apparent descendant, cube mother.

I held back the sigh this time, "Like I need to address my problems head on."

and find that bastard Eli and get some answers, I added in my head.

After our session, I went straight to Moe's, my favorite hookah bar. No relation to the simpsons, I assumed, as it was run by a jovial Indian man named Gaurov. I had been trying for two years to pronounce his name and was still butchering it, but he was always very nice about it.

"Pi-pi!" his eyes lit up as soon as he saw me, golden irisis filled with mirth.

"You have to find a better nickname, Gau."

"Okay, I'll GO right now!" he laughed, a deep belly laugh and slid a red hookah from the counter beside him, "Pi-pi, this flavor is called Sex on the Beach. If you're not getting it, you can at least taste it."

I scowled at his grin, shaking one fist at him while using the other hand to snatch the hookah.

"Who wants to fuck on the beach, man? Do you want sand in your nethers? I didn't think so," I plopped a guard on the tip of the pipe and took a good breath in, "Not bad, though."

"What I can do for you, miserable lady?"

"I need to talk to Eli. He's not picking up my calls and the last job he sent me to is going to be the most challenging case of my therapists career."

He laughed again.

"Haven't seen him, milady. You've got some jello in your hair, did you know?" he picked a piece out of a shock of hair next to my ear, "Someone was hungry."

My face was going to get stuck in a scowl if I didn't stop, so I smiled at him, making some excuse, and we chatted for a bit about his grandkids and his various Nascar bets.

"You know you're the only non-white trash person who watches Nascar, right?"

He pouted, shook his head in mock sadness.

"White people can't have nothing nowadays, can they?"

Once I left the bar, I intended to just keep calling Eli until he picked up, but not even 20 paces past, I was jerked off the street into an alley. I stamped my boot in a puddle and got mud all over my jeans.

"Dude!" I yelled, unceremoniously.

"I'm not a dude." the voice was deep, harsh, bubbling, "And no one can hear you, so screaming is a waste of both of our time."

I gaped up at the man who was speaking. He was broad-shouldered, in a deep grey suit and shiny black shoes. His hair was nicely tucked against his head, an ebony matte, very sleek looking.

I didn't say "You look like a dude to me," because one, well, I'm nonbinary so who am I to assume people's gender.

But second and more importantly, the two figures beside him were definitely not human. Crouching back in the shadows, hunched over and poised with a restlessness that said they were ready to spring at a word, lackeys was the only word that could come to mind. A human man wouldn't have paranormal lackeys hanging on his every word.

They were both horrible, but in opposite directions. One was fat and unkempt, his clothes loose and his face stuck in a scowl.

See? I thought manically, It does get stuck that way.

The other was like a business slender man, far too tall and gangly, hunched over and seeming to lean on the wall for support. They both wore the same style of suit but it didn't fit either of them like it did the main guy, hanging loosely in some places and clinging tightly to non-human shapes in others. I couldn't make out either of their faces very well, besides noting the displeasure in both.

I had been alternating between gaping up at this guy and nervously sliding glances towards his henchmen for 30 seconds, so I cleared my throat and tugged my shirt down, Picard style.

"Uh, what can I do for you, big guy?"

"I am not a 'guy', either. You are a human," his voice was deadpan.

"uh, yes, i, um, am," my glance slid for the first time toward the street, which was odd for me since I'm always looking for an exit plan. I guess I was just flabbergasted by being accosted by Benny and the jets in broad daylight. But a shimmery filter seemed to separate me from the street. Even the light in the bubble we were in seemed replicated, like warm fluorescent lighting.

"You have been playing with a man named," he paused, seeming to think as my attention was snapped back to him, "Eli? Is it?"

He took a step towards me, and I hit the wall of the alley taking one back as well.

"Uh, I'm not sure playing is the right word," I stammered, one hand flat against the wall behind me. The long skinny form behind him growled a low growl, seeming to vibrate. He shoved off the wall and began clambering towards me.

Fuck. Of all the times to be unarmed. My therapist got nervous whenever I brought blades into the office, especially since the ones that I'd need for protection were pretty sizeable. Plus a lot of them had 'sacrificial' in the name, which she also wasn't a fan of.

I squeaked and leaned as far back against the wall as I could, but Boss man gave him a cold over-the-shoulder look and he stopped dead. He muttered miserly, before slowly returning to his awkward lean against the brick.

"He has been here too long," he sent a wistful glance to our left, into the main street where dozens of humans strode along the sidewalk carefree, "He needs to go home."

His glance flicked back to me and the entire power of his cobalt blue gaze hit me all at once. His eyes would have been attractive had he been human, but the light green ring around the outside of his pupil gave him away. Olive colored and sapping darkness from the deep blue iris, the ring constantly moved, shaking as it circled the pupil. As it was, it just made me feel like prey being played with by a predator.

"You will refrain from contacting him or there will be consequences. Is that understood?"

He seemed like the kind of guy who was used to his questions being rhetorical, even the idea of refusing comical. It lit a small fire in me, chasing the cold of fear out for a moment.

"Listen, not-dude and not-guy, I'm a contractor, okay? I go to who pays me. Keep your quabbles between you," my voice started strong but shrank bit by bit until I was almost whispering the last word.

The goonies behind him had seemed to swell half their size, and the light in the bubble slowly transitioned from the dull blue to a light glowing pink as he stared steadily down into my face.

Feeling like a coward but not really caring because I, you know, like to live, I started sputtering.

"Look, there's a thousand other people on this block alone that can do what I do. Taking out ONE of his techs isn't going to get him to do what you want. Honestly, I'm not sure what will, he's the most stubborn dud- uh being I've ever met. If you're having issues, I know a great therapist," I finished weakly.

"ENOUGH," Slender business man screamed loud enough for me to flinch and cover my ears like a kid at a concert. He slammed his fists into the wall to shove off and began rushing towards me, his clambering steps bouncing his small gangly head.

I noticed a smell I hadn't before, which I wouldn't have recognized without Eli's interference. I mean, honestly, how many of you know what brimstone smells like? It really didn't give me much help for the current situation, but I filed it away for just in case I survived.

Before I could move a muscle, the man in front of me snapped his fingers and slender business man exploded. Like, full on, inside out, exploded. Pieces of him rained down as I stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the gory rain coming down around us.

"Ah!" I flinched back as a piece landed on my arm and burned it's way down. I frantically wiped it on my pants, the true victim in all this, and suddenly I noticed why his stride was so imbalanced.

In his wake, his footprints were imprinted into the cement. He appeared to be melting through the concrete with every step, the footprints cutting off right where he exploded.

"Okay, bud," I started, "And I don't care if you're a bud or not. Either explode me or let me go because I promise you, you're not getting to Eli through me. He's not even picking up my calls."

"Hmm. This might be more troublesome than I first thought."

Beginning to deeply regret my haste, I backed towards the street, the frizz from the barrier pulling my hair to stand on end.

His penetrating gaze bored into me, and as I placed a hand up to the barrier, I saw someone walk by, barely sparing a glance into the alley. But they did look, nonchalantly, and then back to the street. She couldn't see me, I realized, my heart dropping. I was truly alone with this malevolent being and who knows if they'd even leave my body? I was going to just vanish without a trace.

I turned back to see him, hands in pockets, striding towards me calmly, his jacket tails waving casually around his forearms.

I searched my brain for what I could possibly say to him. I didn't even know what he was, let alone how to negotiate for my life from him.

As I was debating my willingness to pray to the ether, he had come up just about chest to chest and I stared up at him, trying to puff myself up. Not sure why, he's not a bear. I guess it's human instinct to try to make yourself look big when cornered.

"You should have listened, Woman."

He raised his hand and I closed my eyes, not wanting to catch sight of any of myself exploding around the alley. Before I could even squeak again, something soft banged against the back of my knees, causing my legs to buckle underneath me. A flash of silver popped up in front of me, topped by a familiar growth of onyx curls.

I let out a short shriek as I landed on my ass, moaning and rubbing my hip.

"She's not a woman, she's a non-binary," Nathan explained simply.

I swore and, ignoring my swollen hip, snatched him backwards.

"Nathan," I hissed, "get the fuck out of here. What the fuck are you doing?"

"You're not supposed to say 'Fuck'," he said.

"You're not supposed to say fuck, Nathan. I say fuck because I have very good reasons. Now-"

"How come you're not calling me squirt anymore?" he asked, sulking.

My emotions could not have been more upheaved at this moment. Nathan is Eli's nephew, whom I had been tasked with babysitting not long ago. With how obsessed this guy was with Eli, this was the absolute worst place for Nathan to be. My resignation at being taken out by an anime character was quickly replaced with a fresh batch of fear.

"Squirt, please, blink back home and I'll come visit you, soon, okay?" I was pleading with him, clutching him by his slender shoulders. My shaking voice was not going to be able to summon the mom voice by the time this kid was a splat against the concrete.

"Olgir?"

Nathan did a 180, gazing up at mr. scary eyes and squealing with glee.

"Uncle Sloane!"

I groaned loud enough for people outside the bubble to hear, and the man mirrored me to my surprise.

"You've gotta be kidding me." I moaned.

"How do you know my nephew?" Sloane asked, then dipped his head, "Ah, obviously. My brother put you together."

"Brother?" I squeaked, furious, "You were going to kill me so your brother would come home for a freaking visit?"

He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at me.

"I wasn't going to kill you, stupid human. I was just going to put you in another universe where you wouldn't be in my way," he sniffed and adjusted his jacket, pulling down his sleeves.

I was incredulous.

"Oh, okay, well that's fine then," I said bitterly, and somewhat shockily.

"Uncle Sloane, that's mean," Nathan frowned up at him, "Auntie Piper is my friend."

"Oh, Auntie Piper is it?" he asked, bemused, his enourmous hands shoved back in his pockets.

"Where is Uncle Eli, Olgir?" Sloane asked, particular poison in the words Uncle Eli.

"Uncle Sloan," Nathan elongated his name, emphasizing it, "Up here, you call me Nathan. 'You can call me Nathan', right, Auntie Piper?"

He was beaming at me but I could only stare at him in a stupor, alternating my gaze between him and Sloane.

"Is there anyone in this family not trying to kill me? Just curious," I pushed myself up, brushing the stray pebbles from my pants, before heaving a huge sigh and placing my hands on my hips. I was out of emotion, I had wrung myself dry between being snatched by Senpai here and thinking, for the second time this month, that I was about to watch this kid die.

Sloane scoffed.

"My brother would never let a woman die under his care."

"She's not a woman, she's a-"

"I don't care about your petty human politics," he spat, his former ruthlessness bleeding through, "and neither does my brother. He's tolerating it because you're of use to him. Don't let your tiny human mind become confused into thinking he cares for you."

"Okay, Jordan Peterson," I replied, chuckling at his confused expression. Now that he was scowling, I definitely saw the resemblance to Eli.

"How many times must I remind you, I am not a dude, and I am not a guy, and I am not a Jordan Peterson."

"Okay, Sloane, first off, I was never under the delusion that he 'cares for me'," I bunny quoted with my hands even though I doubted he knew that particular piece of human culture, "I've still got fucking sentient jello in my hair."

He cocked his head, clearly still confused, and I decided tutoring whatever he was in the human world was beyond my abilities at that moment.

"And second of all, I'm just hired help, okay? I'm not the one keeping him here, and away from," I gestured wildly, "wherever it is you're from. You need to talk to him, not me."

"Hmm." he said in a sound of dismissal.

"Come, Olg-," he sighed in disgust, "Come, Nathan. Let's go see if we can find Uncle, hmm?"

Nathan gave me a friendly wave and skipped off, hand in hand with my would be executioner. Or...travel agent, I guess? I peeked around them and saw the fatter of the lackeys melting into mist, leaving a pile of soggy clothes to rot in the alleyway.

Frazzled but out of energy to think about it, I watched them stroll away before returning to Moe's and checking my phone. Six missed calls from Eli.

"You better be dead," read a text from him.

Oh, don't you worry, Eli, I thought, this was a call I couldn't wait to return.

#scary stories #short stories #nosleep #series

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