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voidsoull · 5 years

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good good kink meme // james buchanan barnes

ROMANCE/AFFECTION: lbr bucky is an incredibly romantic person– either with people hes in a relationship or not. he likes the idea of lavishing someone in romantic gestures and affections, he likes to make it clear how he feels about a person– even in fact, if that dynamic is platonic. so long as the other person is comfortable, he is more than happy to be what is dubbed as ‘romantic’ toward even friends. he is very expressive in his emotions and how he loves people. however, when actually in a romantic and/or sexual relationship with someone it manifests in some variety of different ways, but furthermore he gets a different kind of pleasure from indulging someone. in the same way, when in a relationship with someone, he also gets a different kind of pleasure from receiving romantic and affection gestures. whereas in platonic/non relationship instances, the pleasure is entirely different.

HANDJOB/FINGERING: bucky really likes fingering his partners specifically– especially when in a position to be at eye level with that person. to force them to look at him, to see and hear and feel their reactions. in a similar respect, someone he trusts fingering him till he cums?? good shit !! DEEPTHROAT: tbh he hella enjoys the sound of someone deepthroating him and like holding their head, affectionately stroking their cheek etc– but also fucking into their mouth like yiiisss. on the flipside, he has a reasonable gag reflex, but often gets watery eyes when doing it– but he hella enjoys the aesthetic of that/how he looks for that person. plus bucky is a Thirsty Boii for going down on people so SWALLOWING: no real opinions on it tbh EDGING: ngl bucky was……. an Innocent Bean to a degree back in the day like. lots of repression so he never truly explored a lot– skip forward in time?? he doesn’t like this being done to him a lot at first like. totally makes him freak out. anything related to being controlled and denied is a struggle for bucky at first. but given the right person and time to build trust– maybe even experimenting with doing it on the other person first, and it really opens him up a lot. to the point where it doesn’t perhaps become something he outright craves doing/having done to him all the time, but definitely something that will click in certain instances as a kinda of ‘welp shit yep this is what is needed to help rn’ in the sense of either having it done to himself or doing it to someone else. TEASING: jfc bucky barnes is a doof and has no idea but he is actually the biggest tease without even trying!! when he is trying however, it’s ridiculous and will cause eyes to roll. he loves being teased though but 10/10 will never admit.

DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?: massive fucken switch tbh but like– hes never in the middle. he either 100% feels one or the other, it just tends to change sometimes/depending on his mood/headspace/partner etc. TOP OR BOTTOM?: as with above tbh, a hella switch

DADDY KINK?: ohh boii he has a massive one. and being such a switch it works either way— being the daddy or little/whatever term preferred. that being said— he has a thing for name usage as a whole— sir, master/mistress/ma’am/all that stuff-- sergeant especially eyyy. but the further depths of daddy kinks work really well for him given, as with most, the level of trust and intimacy. PRAISE KINK?: ....oh boy. does bucky barnes have the biggest fucking praise kink or whaaattt DOMESTIC SERVITUDE: it’s not really something hes into tbh like, doesn’t need it/like it from his partners. but certainly, to tie in with the romantic stuff it can come into play with those he loves like it will just be a case of he does certain things. but it’s not a fully developed kink or anything-- not to the extent of essentially becoming a domestic slave for a person etc. he aint about that. PETPLAY: it’s another thing bucky comes to learning about in later life and at first, doesn’t understand– but as he comes to get curious, he learns about it more and it’s certainly something he enjoys exploring. hes particularly fond of his partner in position of ‘pet’ and he will always be a doting and adoring ‘owner’– never cruel, always nurturing. however, when it is switched around/if he is the pet-- then he likes his partner to take the opposite care with him. he wants a harsh owner within those scenes. DISCIPLINE: it’s a tricky one with bucky bc like he worries people get the wrong idea with him, that he enjoys it for the wrong reason. hes not a sadist, nor is he a masochist as such. it’s not about enjoying the pain, but enjoying the control it provides. the grounding. to discipline someone else and be allowed that trust and control with someone and to also receive it himself. but it is only ever with someone he has spent time with, spent time building a relationship and trust with. he can never have casual relationships that involve any of this, not on any deeper levels other than simple basics. but yeah he just !! he really likes the control it can provide either to do this or have this done with him. having clear rules and consequences if those are broken?? thats some good shit !! BEGGING: the idea of it nopes him out tbh. he hates the idea of it, but as he’s come to find-- he actually rather enjoys it in practice?? being driven to that level, and also driving someone else to it too and holding their release in whatever kind of way, in his hand?? perfect!! so it’s something that has grown over time tbh from a nope to a yes?? FORCED ORGASM: with stuff like this it’s always a case of the having a strong bond and trust thing. but as well like asdfghj he himself, when he is in a submissive head space, gets truly lost in it. he needs to offer up all control of himself in order to achieve some peace. due to his past it’s a difficult place for him to be in, but the fact is he craves it so deeply it hurts sometimes, so he needs a partner that will be right there with him and not hesitate to take from him. so this is hella encouraged!! in the same respect, if it’s something his partner is okay with too– he enjoys doing it to them too, having so much of their trust and control. ORGASM DENIAL: aandd this one ties in with that bc it’s the flipside.

GAG: 100% nope in any instance. although with someone he trusts, if he is really really deep in sub space like, he’ll ask for it. but it’s rare. very fucking rare. COLLAR: something he hates the idea of at first and thinks is a bit odd and-- honestly, again, he worries other people might judge him for wanting it?? but ends up being a thing he likes to wear- bc no matter his head space, dominant or submissive, he likes the visual representation of belonging. it’s grounding. especially bc it’s such a positive possession. he loves his partner to have one too but would never force it. but like with most things with bucky-- it’s only ever something that happens with someone hes committed to either in a romantic sense, or d/s dynamic etc. LEASH: not so much like?? nahh BONDAGE (LIGHT): he’s cool with light amounts?? cuffs, that kinda of thing?? BONDAGE (HEAVY): this one takes time though bc it can be a trigger for him if done wrong-- communication is so key in kink relationships, and he can be bad at it sometimes so?? but if it’s with someone hes insanely close to it’s a lot easier bc he can comfortably to an extent discuss his triggers and such. however as a side note: he fucking adores shibari.

DILDOS: he ends up with quite the collection to use either on himself or someone else PLUGS: as above-- he reeeally enjoys these VIBRATORS: aaasss aboooveee SOUNDING: he freaks the fuck out at even the idea ahahaha it’s kinda hilarious really his reaction at even the mention COCK RING: he’ll sulk over the idea of someone using one on him bc?? how dare u delay my orgasm/take that control but he actually likes the aesthetic of it and the amount of trust it implies.

ORGY: hard nope, will only ever watch but never engage. THREESOME: only ever with two other people hes in a relationship with/is close with etc VOYUERISM: he hella has a kink tbh but he will blush and ignore it and never admit EXHIBITIONISM: only his partner is allowed to watch him so nope, nobody else allowed. the closest he gets is like– semi public sexual acts kinda thing-- bathrooms?? dressing rooms?? balconies?? under a table?? that kinda thing. where the is a risk of being caught and seen, but it doesn’t even really happen.

PAIN

LIGHT: as mentioned before in the discipline section, it’s not so much that he craves the pain/inflicting it, as it’s about the control and trust that comes with it. while he does enjoy receiving pain and it certainly is true that certain types turn him on, it’s less about the sexual connotations for him as it is the emotional motivations and such. HEAVY: so as above NIPPLE CLAMPS: y e s !! ohmygod he l o v e s these being used on himself-- and on the flip side, adores the reactions when used on others. WAX: not so much, but willing to explore like?? the aesthetic and visuals of it interest him, but it’s nothing more than aesthetically pleasing really. BITING: b i t e hiiimm!! and he hella likes biting and leaving marks on people CANING: something that starts out as a soft limit, but actually ends up becoming a thing he really, really enjoys and craves. however, doesn’t enjoy using it on other people. SPANKING: yiisss receiving and giving!! especially given that it’s tied in with the whole discipline thing !! SCRATCHING: he likes being left with scratch marks a looott HAIR PULLING: indeeedd!! god he’s so weak for this. and has a real habit of doing this a l o t with other people !!

#posted this so long ago on my private blog with levi but !! made some tweaks here and there and just !!#PUTTING BUCKY ON BLAST ;D;D #✦ headcanon // james buchanan barnes. ✦

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inotherverse · 5 years

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I’ll Be Home For DedSec (Marcus/Wrench)

ONLY A DAY LATE FOR THAT GOOD CHRISTMAS FIC HERE WE GO

also I haven’t finished the game asdfghj I still have to play the last mission but I think this is still canon compliant???

also u can read it on ao3 if you’d like gimme a kudos hell yeah

thanks bl;pealse enjoy

“What’re you doing here, man? You know it’s Christmas, right?”

Wrench turned at the sound of the voice and saw Marcus coming down the stairs of the hackerspace, smiling playfully at him.

“Do I really seem the type to celebrate, M?” he said, turning back to his work, already comfortable with the second presence in the room. “Get drunk at somebody else’s party, maybe, but I’m not a ‘spend time with family, get all warm and fuzzy inside’ kinda guy.”

“Still, go home, take a break, watch a shitty holiday movie. It’s a holiday, use other people’s religion as an excuse to slack off like the rest of us,” Marcus said, coming to stand just behind Wrench at his workbench.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wrench looked at Marcus over his shoulder. “Hey, and what about you? Why are you here?”

“‘Cause I knew you’d be here,” Marcus said, with a smug smile playing at his lips.

Wrench laughed softly. “Yeah? And shouldn’t you be, like, with your family right now?”

“I’m going later,” He said, walking forward to stand next to him. “What’re you even working on down here?”

“Jumper upgrades, mostly. There’s not much else to do,” Wrench gestured to the guts of the jumper in front of him, spread out on the table, along with some other technological odds and ends. “Well, actually, I’m sure there’s a lot of rich and powerful people getting drunk in a room together somewhere...” the screen of his masked showed two capital O’s as he looked imploringly at Marcus.

“Eh, we’ll get ‘em on New Year’s,” Marcus said, dismissing Wrench’s suggestion with a wave of his hand. “Take a break, come with me,” He took a few steps backwards toward the stairs, ushering Wrench to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Wrench asked, looking for a stopping point in what he was doing.

“The garage.”

“Why are we going to the garage?”

“Because your Christmas present is at the garage.”

Wrench paused. “Oh. I—”

“It’s not a car.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“I know, but. It’s at the garage. I didn’t want you to think it was a car.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Because it’s not a car. And that would be, like, disappointing.”

“Yeah.” Wrench was now facing Marcus fully, the jumper forgotten at the mention of gifts. “I was just gonna say—”

“You were going to say something like, you’re surprised, or ‘oh, I didn’t get you anything,’ or whatever, right? I don’t care, man, just c’mon!” Marcus said, turning his back on Wrench and going up the stairs.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Wrench called after him, quickly crossing the room to catch up. “You’re way too excited about whatever this is.”

“No, I’m really not,” Marcus turned his smiling face on him, looking a little too mischievous.

“Sure,” Wrench gave him a small shove up the stairs. “And do you really need to wear a turtleneck and a coat in California? I get it’s Christmas, but you look like a love interest in a shitty Hallmark movie.”

Marcus sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t understand fashion. I’m sorry you can see art right in front of you and not even recognize it. It’s so tragic for you.”

They reached the door, and Marcus bowed, motioning dramatically for Wrench to go before him. He followed, and the sliding door closed behind them, sealing the hackerspace.

“Also, stop watching Hallmark movies.”

———————————————————————————-

“I can’t believe we made it all the way here and you’re still on this.”

Wrench threw his arms up in exasperation. “I’m just saying! I don’t actually watch them,” He argued, waiting as Marcus opened the door to the garage. “I just know what they’re like!”

“How do you know what they’re like if you don’t watch them?” Marcus taunted, clearly enjoying dragging out the argument despite his protest.

Wrench’s mask switched to ‘angry eyes’: two downward-slanted lines. “Because I just fucking know what they’re like! Everyone does! They’re like, a staple of—” he stopped short as he walked through the door, seeing Marcus’s handiwork.

Next to his workbench stood the chalkboard he kept there, giant letters in Marcus’s straight, thin handwriting read: “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” It was curved to arc perfectly over the box that stood in front, lined up with careful precision. The box looked huge, a tall rectangle coming to above Wrench’s middle, and was wrapped in red and green paper, complete with a ribbon running up the sides and forming a bow at the top.

“Whoa,” Wrench breathed, taking tentative steps toward the box. “It’s all wrapped up and everything.”

“...Yes.” Marcus said, as he closed the door behind himself. “That’s typically how these things go. Kind of a staple of the thing.”

“Damn, Marcus,” Wrench said, slowly circling the gift and ignoring Marcus’s jab at him. “This thing is huge.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Shut the fuck up, stop ruining Christmas with your dick,” Wrench said, holding a finger out to silence Marcus while eyeing the present.

“Well?” Marcus urged, impatient. “You gonna open it, or just stare at it?”

Wrench still hesitated a moment. “I’m… just trying to guess what it is. It looks like there’s a fucking toddler in here.”

“Nah, too tall for a toddler. He’s eight, minimum.”

Wrench rubbed his hands together, then attacked his present. Marcus watched, hands clutched in anticipation, as Wrench first untied the ribbon and let it fall to the floor, then ripped away the first bit of paper, halfway down the side.

“Oh… my god,” More paper ripping. “It’s not.”

“It is!” Marcus replied gleefully.

“Fuck. Fuck! Holy fuck!” Wrench started bouncing in place, unable to contain his joy.

“Yep!” Marcus replied, smiling, matching Wrench’s energy.

“Fucking… Marcus!” Wrench screamed, reaching a higher pitch than he realized he was capable of making, the filter of his mask helping it reach ear-splitting levels. Through his excitement he ripped the rest of the paper away until it stood fully revealed: a huge box emblazoned with Haum’s logo. He pulled the front panel away, revealing his gift: a brand new security bot. “I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Merry Christmas, Wrench!” Marcus said, clapping his hand down on Wrench’s shoulder. “Your boy’s been reincarnated!”

“Marcus, how in the hell!” Wrench was still barely able to control himself, and not really making the attempt, looking back and forth between Marcus and the robot. “It was like, absurdly difficult to get one of these the first time!”

“I have my ways! Don’t worry about it, just get to work on ‘im. He’s severely in need of a paint job.”

“Oh fuck, Marcus, thank you so much!” Wrench yelled, throwing his arms around Marcus. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Marcus laughed and returned Wrench’s hug. “You’re welcome, man.”

Wrench pulled back some to meet Marcus’s eyes with his own exclamation points. “You’re the best, you’re literally the best!”

Marcus laughed again. “Hey, I try.”

“You! You literally fucking..!” Wrench started, launching away from Marcus and toward the robot. “This is really the best thing, Marcus, I mean it.”

“Well, I mean, I know getting rid of Wrench Jr. was really fucked up, I mean even if it was the best thing to do at the time…” Marcus settled against the nearby table, watching Wrench excitedly pull the bot from the box, flitting around it like a hummingbird. “So, here he is! Look, your son came home for Christmas!”

They both laughed a moment, before Marcus said, “Hey, I got him, both times, doesn’t that make me like, his other dad?”

Wrench gasped. “Oh my God, it does.” He laughed, then spread his arms wide. “Hey, look at me, I’m spending time with family on Christmas, like a real person!”

They both laughed, bringing the initial excitement in the room down, replacing it with a calmer, comfortable moment of silence. Wrench stopped bouncing around the security bot, and came to stand in front of Marcus.

“I’m serious, M, this is really great. I wish I had something cool and amazing for you that illustrated that I understand you better than anyone else, but…”

Marcus laughed. “Hey, there’s always next year, man. And, I mean, you don’t have to get me anything, that wasn’t what I was going for here.”

“I know. Ugh, you’re such a nice person. I hate you.”

“Wow. This family is tearing me apart,” Marcus said, moving as if to walk over to the security bot. “Okay then, I’ll just take my son and leave.”

Wrench positioned himself between the two, putting a hand on Marcus’s chest to stop him. “Just kidding, I love you, do not touch him.”

Marcus held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Could’ve said it with more feeling, but I’ll accept it.”

“Oh! Okay, round two,” Wrench cleared his throat in dramatic fashion. “Marcus Holloway.”

Marcus burst into laughter, just at the way Wrench pronounced his name: deep and low like a love confession in a bad movie. “Don’t, don’t!”

Wrench, cleared his throat again, louder, as if protesting the interruption. “Marcus Holloway,” he began again, “Allow me to confess my admiration of you.”

“Stoooooop!”

“No! You must let me continue!” Wrench said, adopting an indistinguishable accent, lofty like a Victorian drama with the Victorian extracted, the effect only made more funny as it garbled through the filter of Wrench’s mask. “I have admired you from afar for too long! I can no longer bear it!”

Marcus threw his head back in laughter. “Stop, oh my God!”

Marcus’s laughter only urged Wrench to carry on, ready to take the bit as far as it could go. “Marcus Holloway!” his mask showed two pointed, smiling eyes briefly as Wrench couldn’t help but to laugh through his character. They lasted only moments, though, before Wrench tore the mask from his face, dropping dramatically to one knee, and holding the mask over his heart like a hat. “I must confess my undying love for you!”

“I regret—” Marcus began as his laughter began to die down. “I regret everything. Are you even doing a bit anymore? You’re a little too good at this!”

Wrench laughed at the jab, only taking everything Marcus said as encouragement. “My own love laughs in my face! How will I go on?”

“Stop, oh my god, if you go anymore I’ll have to think you’re serious, c’mon!”

Marcus kept laughing, but he felt the air in the room change. It was immediate, but subtle, as their laughter stopped and a strange expression flicked across Wrench’s face; the eyebrows previously knit in a fake severe expression rose in surprise for only a moment, before Wrench was standing back on his feet. He broke eye contact, and moved to put his mask back on, but hesitated, standing almost frozen, looking for an out.

Marcus looked over the other, trying to find meaning in the sudden change. “Wrench?”

“Uhh… yeah. Anyway,” Wrench looked everywhere but at Marcus, already half turned away from him. “What were we doing?”

Marcus began to connect the dots, and a flash of realization passed across his face. “Oh,” He stopped leaning on the table to take a half-step toward Wrench. “Wrench.”

“Oh, yeah, the present,” Wrench recalled, ignoring the knowing tone of Marcus’s voice. “It really is great— It’s a great present, Marcus, thanks.”

Wrench turned away to face the robot and moved to raise his mask to his face, but felt it stopped; he looked down, and Marcus’s hand was there, holding it in place. He looked up into Marcus’s eyes, which fell too softly on him, and he stood waiting for the worst, his anxiety written all over his face.

“Wrench,” Marcus said again, waiting for the other to turn his face away— happening at the sound of his name. “Wrench, man, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—” he stopped, fishing for words, and fast, before Wrench could cut in and say with a laugh that what he thought was happening wasn’t happening, that he misunderstood.

“Wrench, this isn’t— I di— ugh, this shouldn’t be so hard,” Marcus stopped a moment to look over his friend, who stood still, silent, like he was waiting for this to end, like he had already conceded defeat.

Marcus needed to respond quickly, needed to let Wrench know that whatever awful scene he was playing out in his mind wouldn’t happen, but at the same time he was at as much of a loss for words as Wrench was.

Marcus sighed. “Fuck it,” he whispered to himself under his breath. “Wrench,” he called, softly this time, like gently calling him to come home to him.

One hand came to rest on Wrench’s shoulder that faced him, that was trying to keep him away, as everything in Wrench’s body language screamed that he was ready to run, wanting to run, but was tired of running. The hand that rested on Wrench’s mask came up slowly until it met the cheek that was farthest away, and gently urged it to turn toward him. Wrench complied, not resisting the touch, smoothly moving where he urged him like floating in the tide.

Marcus looked into Wrench’s eyes, which was a mistake, as he almost lost his nerve, but something in the shock he saw there pushed him forward; Wrench was surprised, scared, it was clear, but what wasn’t there was protest. The hand slipped from his cheek to his chin, tipping it upwards, towards him, and Marcus dropped his eyes down to Wrench’s mouth, steeling himself to take the leap.

The kiss was slow, uncertain, and it felt to both of them like it barely held onto life, like a dandelion trembling in the wind, knowing that one stiff breeze could whisk it away entirely. Wrench’s heart thrummed in his ears like roaring wind shaking the building, but the rest of him stood stock still, afraid to move and end what he barely knew was happening. His mind screamed to slow down, to enjoy the moment before he lost it, and it took some thought before he even realized he should kiss Marcus back.

The kiss was short, Marcus eventually pulling away. His own face felt hot, and he saw a pink blush running along Wrench’s cheeks, and even a splash of it across his nose. He studied it a moment while they both caught their footing, the sight of Wrench’s uncovered face still being a rarity.

Wrench was hesitant to open his eyes. “If I look up—” He started, “I swear to God, If I look up, and there’s like, mistletoe— or some shit— above me, I’m going to fucking lose it.”

Marcus laughed, relief apparent, as he read the still-persistent uncertainty in Wrench. “Nope. Nothing up there.” He smiled, amused, as Wrench opened his eyes, flitting them briefly to the ceiling as if his word wasn’t good enough. “Just a regular kiss. Sorry to disappoint.”

Wrench sighed like a weight was lifted from him. “Marcus, oh my God,” he breathed, closing his eyes again and covering half his face with his hand. “Oh my God. That’s— I’m— Oh my God.”

Marcus bubbled with laughter, suddenly feeling lighter than he was before. “Yeah, I agree.”

“I’ve been— I’ve been— fucking dreaming of that,” Wrench said, suddenly with a confidence he didn’t have before.

“Yeah?” Marcus said, listening to Wrench as if this were the first time he had heard his deep, unaltered voice, husky now in the fading heat of the moment just before.

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“Since I fucking saw you, first of all, and then I got to know you, and fuck, it got so much worse than I fucking thought it would.”

Marcus smiled, and another comment to urge Wrench on played at his lips, but at that moment his phone sounded, breaking through the air like a hammer on ice. Wrench looked almost startled, like he had forgotten that there were other people in the world, and felt their eyes on him. He moved toward the security bot.

“‘S my family,” Marcus mumbled, reading his text. “I should probably leave, if I’m gonna make it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Yeah,” Marcus watched as Wrench looked for something to do. “But, hey, this was—”

“Wait,” Wrench said, suddenly freezing in his tracks.

“What?”

“Wait a fucking second.”

“I am.”

Wrench let out a pained sigh, rested a hand on top of the security bot, then laid his forehead on it. “So you gave me, like, a perfect Christmas gift.”

“I’m not looking to brag, but, yes?”

“Demonstrating that you understand me really well.”

“...Sure?”

Wrench sighed again, full of exasperation. “And you look so stupid handsome in your stupid turtleneck.”

“Thank… you?”

“And we had our first kiss. On Christmas.”

“Yes.”

“Marcus, we’re living a fucking Hallmark movie. I’m a fucking Hallmark movie protagonist,” He ignored Marcus buckled over with laughter in the background and started to pace back and forth. “I’m the fucking workaholic boss or whatever the fuck and you’re my sprightly coworker who showed me the true meaning of Christmas or some shit, and I just stood here and let that happen.”

Marcus reined in his laughter long enough to respond, wiping a real tear from his eye. “I don’t think Hallmark makes movies about hacker anarchists with queer, interracial romance plots.”

Wrench perked up. “That’s the only thing that saves us,” he pointed an accusatory finger at Marcus. “Only thing.”

Marcus laughed again. “Thank God. Now, go work on your son, give him a cool paint job, inappropriate catch phrases, the works,” he headed toward the door as Wrench settled in to work on the robot. “I need to go now, but… later? We’ll talk?”

“Yeah,” Wrench said with a lopsided, content smile, as he replaced his mask. “You know where to find me.”

#wrencus #wrenchus #hollowrench #marench #watch dogs 2 #marcus holloway #wrench #watch dogs #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #mine #WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #i might change the title honestly i keep changing my mind lmao but thanks Abby for the suggestion anyway

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shipaphon · 6 years

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Sicheng x Reader- Flirting

*Requested- 2 NCT members flirt with you without knowing you’re dating another idol

A/n- okay, I’m so sorry that this is so short and bad omf, I have no idea how people flirt so like lmAO Johnny and Yuta would probs not be thAT straightforward but whatever. I made the other idol an NCT member still just because I have been so soft for Sicheng lately, so like, I hope that’s alright and you enjoy it!

Ok let’s be real Win’s a little out of character especially near the end but I just am so soft for him okay like woW I needed it and like we ALL DO low-key.

-Admin 2

(Ew he’s such an angel omf asdfghj)

You sat on a couch in your dorm, waiting for your groupmates to return. You were high-key salty that you were one of the two members not invited for an episode of Hello Counselor- the other member of your group was fine with it as she was able to sneak out and mess around with other idols. But you were stuck alone, a groan escaping your mouth. You jumped as your phone vibrated. With a pout, you reached to check it.

Win² : Are you busy?

You: No, just lonely and bORED

Win² : Good, hang oUT wIth mE

You: Ok but I'm lazy sO YOU cAn COME HERE

Win² : You think I'm really going to walk all the way to your dorm?

You:..

Win² : ... On my way but you owe me

You: Uhm isn’t my love enough?

Win² : Uhm you can come to the 127 dorm then

You: Ugh rude. FINE.

Win² : I love you

You: Yeah, yeah, I love you too

You locked your phone, slipping it into your back pocket as you stood up, stretching. You quickly made yourself presentable, leaving and locking your dorm up. You walked through the sm building, occasionally waving at other idols. Luckily the 127 dorm wasn't too far and you were soon knocking. It didn't take long for the door to fly open. "Hey, Y/n, looking beautiful as always." Johnny greeted. You laughed. "Yeah, sweatpants are so beautiful, thanks." "On you they are." "Are you going to let me in or just compliment my pants for the next hour?" "I mean, you could take off the pants and I'd find other things to compliment." "Oh my god, Seo, movee." You whined, hitting his arm. He laughed, moving aside to let you in before closing the door. "Where's Win?" You asked, flopping onto a couch. "In the bathroom. Did he invite you?" "Yeah, his lazy ass refused to come to my dorm." The man laughed, finding a spot next to you. "Ah, Y/n! You look cute as always." Yuta spoke, walking into the room. "Aw thanks, you look cute too." You replied, a bright smile consuming the said boy's face. Johnny pouted. "You compliment him back and accept his, but you reject my compliments? What is this?" "He doesn't recommend I take off my pants." "You told her to take off her pants?" "No-I- ugh I was trying to be smooth okay." The tallest of the group whined. You rolled your eyes before hearing the bathroom door open and shut. "Oh hey, Y/n. You got here pretty fast for being too lazy to come here in the first place." Sicheng teased. "Coming from the boy who couldn't find the effort to walk like 5 minutes to my dorm." ".....Touche." His eyes looked to Johnny, then to Yuta on either side of you, Yuta's arm slung on your shoulder, his eyes unconsciously narrowing. "Okay, one of you needs to move so I can sit next to MY best friend." "YOUR best friend? What is this disrespect, I thought I was your best friend?" Yuta's voice was laced with fake hurt as he brought a hand to his chest, looking at you. You rolled your eyes. "Uhm, I think you're both wrong. It's obviously me." Johnny cut in, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Sicheng raised an eyebrow at each of them before he got an idea, putting on a fake pout. "Yuta, I thought you were my best friend." He whined. The said man quickly retracted from you as you tried to hold in a laugh at the scheme Sicheng was pulling. "Of course I am! Ah, Win-Win~" The japanese boy cooed, standing up, going in for a hug. Johnny quickly caught on too. Sicheng pushed Yuta onto the love seat, quickly stealing his spot next to you, the cutest smile on his face as he looked to his victim. "How could you betray me like this? I love you, Win." "I mean, just look at Y/n, I'd betray you too to get a spot next to her." Johnny joked, sending you a wink. "Oh that's just mean. Y/nnn cuddle with me. Pleease?" "Why would she want to cuddle with you when I'm right next to her?" Win Win looked between the two males, an eyebrow raising before catching your gaze. You could tell he was debating to spill it or not, but you could only shrug. "Why would she want to cuddle with either of you when she can cuddle with me?" "I mean, look at me." Johnny playfully gestured to himself, cuing everyone to roll their eyes. "Okay but, she and I look the best together." Yuta cut in. You felt Sicheng twitch the slightest bit against you. "Pfft, I'm way out of either of your leagues." You joked. Yuta leaned forward, reaching out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?" He asked, winking. "Yes she is." Sicheng blurted, quickly grabbing your face, pressing his lips to yours softly. Johnny's arm retracted from your shoulders, Yuta's eyes widening. Both of your faces were hot as your lips parted and the room fell silent. "Wait.. what?" Johnny sputtered. "Haha, surprise we're dating?" You sheepishly said, wrapping your arm around Sicheng's who rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, keeping his gaze down, slightly embarrassed at the pda. "About time, I was wondering when he'd... Win-Win your heart." Yuta spoke. "Oh my god that was terrible please don't ever say that again." Johnny begged. "By the way, we were obviously just flirting with you in hopes of one of Win finally confessing to you." He continued. You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah okay because suggesting I take off my pants when he wasn't even around is totally going to get him to ask me out." "You told her to whAT??" Sicheng broke in. "Hey wow, you know, I've got this thing to go to- yeah this thing..with uh- oh yeah, Jaehyun. So uh yeah, bye." Johnny rushed, leaving the dorm quickly. "Oh yeah, THAT thing, see you guys, have fun here, don't swallow each other uh yeah bye." Yuta followed, quickly exiting as well. You and the boy next to you rolled your eyes before laughing. His fingers slipped in between yours, tugging you to lean against him. "At least they know now. Were they flirting with you the whole time?" "A little bit." "You know, next time I'll just come to your dorm." "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

#nct #sicheng x reader #x yuta?#x johnny?#lmao idk #admin 2 #this is awful I'm sorry #scenario

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 6 years

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- Show two over!!!

- Okay lmao I Love Kids for some reason they were trying to stage a wedding between the girl playing grown Nala and a hyena boy and it was the FUNNIEST THING lmao. Scar Kid was the ‘rabbi’ with another kid as is ‘backup pastor’ (”Why does a rabbi need a pastor?” “Ugh, fine, she’ll be the cantor” “I'm DEMOTED?!?!”) and they kept getting interrupted so they had to move to backstage and then Young Simba had to miss it to block a scene and he dramatically reached for the group while letting out a tearful ‘Nooo, wait-’ and they all had speeches and Scar Kid had to start his Official Matrimony Spiel over like 10 times this whole event took like a full hour it was so funny lmao

- INSTENSE debate over who Nala’s father is for some reason??? Top Three contenders are Scar, Raffiki and Mufasa, Raffiki was pissed as all hell to even be considered (”A BABOON CAN’T MAKE A LION WHY CANT YOU PEOPLE UNDERSTAND BIOLOGY”) and none of them would Listen when I gave valid points as to why Scar couldn’t be her father lmao

- Wait omfg tho at one point I was like ‘doesn’t he try to marry her in act two’ and the little girl playing Zazu omfg she was like ‘Oh yeah! Maybe it’s a-’ and she pressed her middle and pointer fingers on each hand and then tapped them together and scandalously whispered ‘family thing’. But the hand gesture just had me on the floor. What was that supposed to symbolize???? She’s so precious help

- I was mic-ing Scar and he’s like ‘When I grow up, I wanna be an American.’

“What are you now?”

“An American.”

“....?”

“I’m gonna be an ORTHADOX American!”

“What’s.....what’s your definition there-”

“YEEHAW! YIPEE-KIGH-YAY! That’s how they talk!”

- “I’m gonna convert to Jewish!” “Judaism?” “No, JEWISH!”

- Last night in the beginning of ‘I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’ young Simba was a little quiet from obvious nerves but he got louder as the song went on but apparently he has Stage Parents(tm) because they literally came up asking what was wrong with his mic yesterday because he wasn’t loud enough and I was like. begging. like ma’am please your nine year old is capable of being momentarily shy adddfghjkhgf

- During ‘Be Prepared’ Scar’s head just flew right off and I accidentally laughed Way Too Fucking Loud lmao

- Oh my God....they messed up Mufasa’s Death scene and now Zazu can go down for conspiracy to murder. that happened

- Lmao he’s supposed to throw Simba to Zazu and those two run off stage and then he jumps on the rock and the whole thing with Scar happens right. But when he threw Simba to Zazu, Zazu just like. wasn’t off the rock yet. So Simba had to get on the rock. And then they just. stayed there while Scar blatantly murders Mufasa. And then Zazu just ran off stage and Simba climbed down and finished the scene and then Zazu just didn’t come out for the funeral scene??? And also now Simba’s guilt complex makes no sense because he was Less Than A Foot Away And Realistically Would Know It Was Murder. Oh my God I died with Mufasa tonight okay there was no way to fix this asdfghj

- ‘Okay, you’re gonna have your mic on for a whole hour before the show starts, so you need to BE CAREFUL and not mess around!‘ ‘Okay!’ *Nala immediately picks Simba up like a toddler and carries him outside where Everyone is messing around*

- They really....STILL making grown Simba sing the low note on the last line....it drives me insane guys help it doesn’t sound cute at all

- The dude on the soundboard oh my God. like. he GAVE me a SCRIPT and TOLD me to TELL HIM when to turn someones mic on. It’s not like I'm just Being Bossy or something. but every single time I tell him who to turn on he hesitates!!! always like are you sure!!!! uhhh they’re on stage and speaking so yeah p sure my dude!!!!!

-ugh

- The music director/piano guy just........showed up wearing African robes omfg

- and then he played the ‘fame’ music while people were filing into the house and never before have I been so attacked. the first real show I was ever in. the worst show I was ever in. the show I'm working next month for some unholy reason. I'm literally having flashbacks help me

- we couldn’t get the one door to stay open so I had to be a breathing door stopper for a solid 20 minutes

- we lost like.....four of the colored lights and it’s Noticeable lmao

- like it still looks pretty dead center but like. the sides of the screen are just white now and it looks a bit sloppy lol

- something is up with mic 5 and we all are just blatantly refusing to address it

- The whole audience stanned the shit out of Raffiki as she Deserves

- The smoke machine ALMOST worked correctly today!!!!!! :D

- there was finally a vocal warmup....finally....

- for mic checks we just asked them to sing circle of life together and these kids. the very definition of ‘ham’ let me fucking tell you. I almost wish I filmed it lol

- anyway overall the show went well and the audience loved it!!! Hopefully we can finish strong tomorrow!!!!

#LK vagueblogging 2k18 #musicals #molly mumbles

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yugirl-with-dragons · 7 years

Text

Arabic AU

This was fully written by the incredible @aceyugiohdreamer, it simply started with this ask and a drawing (I had no intention of adding more, I mean, I really had no ideas, but look what she took out of it all on her own!!!?? it’s all her material I am at a loss for words asdfghj) and idk I’m just SO in love ???!!!! JUST READ THIS PLEASE IT’S AMAZING SHE’S SO GOOD AT WRITING AND THESE SCENES ARE PERF

#we officially have a new AU I’d say #also thanks to @misfits-den #Yugirl keeps dragging people in her AU hell intentionally or not

He couldn’t help thinking she was stunning—as he felt the immense pressure of her intention to kill. It filled the room, along with the ominous red glow her body emitted.

“How dare you,” she growled. He could hear the rumbling fury in her voice behind the restraint, a terrifying power waiting to be released. It blazed in her eyes as a heavy wind circulated around her, her own personal sandstorm.

It was only a small comfort that she wasn’t speaking to him.

The king was caught, back against the wall, held in place by thick vines curled along the length of both his arms and legs, creeping threateningly like snakes and squeezing dangerously tight around his throat. Yusei could see blood leaking from every wound where the thorns had dug into his skin, carving through it as they slowly slithered on. It was amazing that the king’s only sign of pain was a hard wince.

“How dare you,” the woman repeated, stepping toward her prey.

Yusei was still on his back. Her sudden attack had knocked him down, and with such strong winds it had been difficult to stand. But he understood clearly what would happen if he didn’t intervene. He had no love for this king, but to just stand by and let her kill him … it felt wrong.

He spun onto all fours and struggled against her winds to plant one foot flat on the ground.

“Stop!” he shouted, hoping his voice carried through the rush.

He knew it had when she froze. And when she slowly turned her head. And when her eyes found him, wide and dangerous.

Yusei continued rising, leaning forward, grounding himself with feet wide apart, facing that glare with determination.

“Stay away from him,” he commanded.

Even with so much anger, he could see the incredulity in her expression.

Without a word, she lifted an arm toward him, and at her silent call more vines appeared and caught him by the wrists and ankles, lifting him into the air. Their thorns pierced him—a sharp, searing pain—but he gnashed his teeth to hold back from screaming. He looked down to see the woman still holding her arm out. Do not interfere, she seemed to be saying. He was just a nuisance she was setting aside for the moment—and she probably intended to kill him too now, if she hadn’t been already.

His birthmark began to burn.

“Did you really think,” the woman said, turning back to the king, “that we would let you do this?”

The king’s body kept twitching, betraying the pain of being stabbed all along his limbs, but he laughed. “So, you are from that tribe. I’m impressed you found me.”

“Don’t be stupid, we’ve been watching you a long time.”

“Heh, if that’s true, then why didn’t you come to stop me sooner?”

“Because you were never going to accomplish your goal, so there was no need.”

“Until now,” he noted, a smile darkening his face, and his eyes glancing toward Yusei. “That means I am close to succeeding.”

Her face broke with rage, and suddenly her hand was gripping his throat. “You are nowhere close to succeeding, now that I’m here!”

The vines constricted tighter, and the king could no longer control his groans, his lips trembling and jaw grinding as he tried.

With her nails clawing into his skin like the thorns, the woman glared deeply into the king’s eyes and murmured in a seething tone, “Goodbye, Rex Godwin.”

A blinding red light flashed, combined with an ethereal song, like an echoing voice.

As the light faded, the scene came back into view: the winds had gone, the woman held her arm protectively against her eyes, and the king was still straining against his binds—alive.

The woman lowered her arm, seeming more confused than angry now.

“I said I won’t let you kill him.”

She snapped her head to the side. Her eyes widened. Because Yusei was standing there, free of her vines, giving no mind to the blood dripping from his wrists down his clenched hands as he stared at her with fierce, shining blue eyes.

And he was glowing.

Like her, his body emitted an aura of red light, and she felt the pressure of his power pressing against her own.

Impossible.

“You …”

And then she saw it. The long, slender body made of deep red fire, curling in the air around the man, and the open mouth releasing a haunting song of approval.

The Crimson Dragon.

She stared, bewildered.

How could it be? How could this man have been … chosen?

Trembling, she met the Dragon’s eyes, asking with her heart if this was true?

The Dragon answered with its sacred voice, another call that rang sweet and eerie within the stone chamber before gradually disappearing again like a fire dying down against its bed of ash.

There was no arguing then.

Her eyes shifted back to the man’s. It didn’t make sense, but if he was one of the chosen, then fighting with him was not an option. Did this mean the Dragon also did not intend for her to kill this arrogant king? The Rex Gordon, who sought the power of gods?

She furrowed her brow in confusion. What to do then?

Yusei also faltered in his stance. What was that dragon that had been floating around him? And why did the woman react as if she knew it?

He forgot his confusion for an instant when she turned, returning her attention to the king.

“Wait!” he protested, stepping forward.

“Relax,” she muttered without a glance. She stood before him, and only then did Yusei see the deep smile on the king’s face—a chilling smile of wonder and ravenous desire. Yusei didn’t know what to make of it.

“I won’t kill him.”

The king laughed.

“Very generous,” he said with that grotesque smile. “Shall I show you my thanks?”

The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously—what could he do, restrained as he was? But then he flexed his hands, extending his fingers with a summoning gesture, and the hundreds of glyphs decorating the walls lit up with a blacklight glow, and a low rumble like water flowing underground shook the floor.

The woman’s eyes widened with venomous outrage, but before she could respond, a mass of solid darkness swung from the wall and knocked against her with enough force to send her flying across the room. When her body smashed into the wall, the vines holding the king in place went limp, dropping him to his feet. He brushed them from his wrists, unconcerned with all the blood coating them, and let gravity claim them.

Yusei’s gaze shifted back and forth several times from the woman collapsed on the floor in a puddle of white robes and the King smiling haughtily down at her. He didn’t know the woman, and her aura certainly pulsed threateningly, but Yusei felt at least slightly more inclined to root for her than the king.

Even so, he knew that with this distraction, it was his chance to bolt out the door and escape them both.

But …

Something was holding him in place.

It wasn’t just curiosity, this felt like a calling. Deep in his soul.

He couldn’t leave.

The king approached the woman with slow arrogance, holding his arms to his sides as more black masses began sprawling through the air.

And then her body twitched, her eyes opened, and to Yusei’s relief she seemed recovered from the blow, so much that when she saw the king and his unearthly servants, she bared her teeth, and on a sudden gust of wind rose up in the air.

She released a terribly cry, like an animal screech of fury, and as the revived winds threatened to pick Yusei up into the air as well with their strength, a ball of light began to grow—and grow and grow and grow until it bloomed and fell apart like leaves or petals blown away by the wind, and—

Revealed yet another dragon.

Sleek black skin lined with rows of deep red flower petals, and with its height and the spread of its wings, the room felt suddenly much too small.

The king’s face contorted with both reverie and uncertainty—as if only now was he starting to get concerned.

But he collected himself and clenched his hands into fists, causing the glyphs to glow brighter, the black masses to grow larger.

“STOP IT!” the woman screamed wildly, her hair and robe whipping about, and with a sharp wave of her hand, the dragon reeled its neck back, opened its jaws wide, then lunged forward with a powerful burst of breath that pierced through one of the black masses before smashing the wall behind it to rubble, along with the glyphs depicted there. And as they broke apart, their light died, and some of the black masses began to disintegrate.

The dragon reeled back for another gust, and Yusei heard the king cry out a distressed, “NO!” But his main concern was to crouch down and shield himself with his arms, because the next blast filled the room with more dust and flying debris. And for the next, rather than a blow from its mouth, the dragon gave a threatening flap of its massive wings, and then another that sent out a ring of destructive force that shattered the entire circular wall with a deafening crack. The stones rumbled, the pressure building up in all the new weak fractures, and Yusei knew what would happen next.

It was so dark now, the torches had been blown out, the light from the broken glyphs were gone—all that remained was his own strange glow and that of the terrifying woman still floating above. Could he even find the door now?

He had to try, it was his only chance at surviving the stones that would soon be collapsing on top of him.

He began wobbling over the uneven floor, arms stretched out before him, but before he had taken a few steps he felt a hand suddenly seize his arm.

It was the woman, her eyes narrowed and intense and lit up by her glow. She batted away a falling piece of stone with her arm and a gust of wind without even a glance, then said, “Get ready.”

For what? he thought incredulously.

Then he found out.

She swung her arm in a wide, elegant circle before her, conjuring a wave of sand spiraling in the air, riding on a living wind that began circling around the two of them until it had engulfed them in a moving cocoon. Their combined red glows illuminated the inside of it eerily, like a blood red sunset against the desert horizon. It was all he could see for a moment, the sand spinning fast and full, but somehow none of it flew into his eyes or nose. Magic sand indeed.

As it started dissipating, he realized from what he saw through the growing gaps that they were no longer in the underground chamber.

This was open air, the moon a high, thin crescent above them. He was so stunned that he forgot her hand was gripping his upper arm. And the stars only further distracted him, like a thousand flecks of white sand caught in that expansive black void.

Only when he heard a hum of voices did he drop his attention back to the earth.

And he started.

It was a settlement. She had brought them to a desert community, packed with high tents composed of rich red and earthy canvas, glowing with the light of several fires burning in corners he couldn’t see around. He could smell smoke and cooking meat flavoring the dry air, hear music not unlike what he had heard in the city, though with a strangeness that made it clear this wasn’t home. He could hear laughter and possibly dancing a few tents away. But here where he stood, he was met with a few intrigued eyes of strangers who gathered before him. They all wore layers of loose-fitting garments—ostensibly to protect themselves from the harsh sun—mostly of a neutral cream color, except for the single red sash draped around their shoulders. The group was composed half of men and half of women, and though they all gave him a curious look, their attention went first and primarily to the woman.

“Did you stop him?”

“Did you take care of it?”

“Is everything safe now?”

They each clamored with hushed voices, cramped together and shifting with agitation.

The woman released Yusei’s arm and nodded. “Yes, for now. Just as we thought, tonight was not the time we’re expecting. But I’m sure it’s coming soon now.”

The eyes of the mass then shifted to him again.

“Is he … ?”

He didn’t understand the anticipation in their expression.

“Yes,” she said, earning him a palpable hum of excitement, “but I need to explain things, so please just make sure we get some privacy.”

“Of course, Priest Aki,” several of them answered together with a respectful bow.

She nodded her gratitude, then snatched his wrist and tugged, signaling to him to follow her. He was in such a daze that he didn’t resist.

So, so many questions.

They entered the expansive tent they had arrived next to, lined with several intricately designed rugs on the floor and hung along the inside of the canvas wall. She unfastened the ropes holding back the drapes at the entrance and gently guided them to hang straight.

They were alone.

“Are you ok?” she asked, sounding more sensitive than he would have expected.

He was disoriented.

He looked at her, and she seemed to understand. She gently pat his shoulder, another wordless signal to follow her.

He did. She stepped further inside until they arrived at a low table—the height for kneeling at—set with a thick scroll rolled up on both ends.

“What’s your name?” she asked beside him.

“Yusei.”

“Yusei,” she repeated, familiarizing herself with the feel of it. “I’m Aki.”

So he had heard.

“I’ll explain things,” she said, sounding as if she meant to reassure him. “But let me ask you a few things first.” She turned to face him, her white robe hanging so that her figure was perfectly hidden. All he could see of her was from the neck up, and her eyes were on him with an air of authority. “What is your relationship with the king, Rex Godwin, and what were you doing with him tonight?”

He stared. His “relationship”? His hands clenched unconsciously at his side. And as was his fashion, he answered with few words. “He killed my parents five years ago, then tried to kill me.”

She stared back. The way her eyebrows rose told him she hadn’t expected such an answer.

“And tonight . . . I don’t really know. He didn’t say much, only that he wanted me for something.”

She nodded.

“Why did you try to stop me?”

“You were going to kill him, right?”

“Yes.”

“If you do that, I won’t be able to …”

She considered him, then guessed bluntly, “To kill him yourself, is that it? You want revenge?”

He squeezed his fists, feeling just as tight in his chest.

“No,” he said softly. “I want my parents back. That’s what I’ve always wanted.” He felt a sting in his nose, but he breathed slowly until it was gone. “Revenge won’t get me that.”

“So you don’t want to kill him?” She sounded skeptical.

He had thought about it. Of course he had thought about it. But …

“There are other ways to get justice.”

She stared at him, her brown eyes large and thoughtful, though he had no idea what she was thinking.

She sighed quietly, bowing her head. “I’m sorry.” One hand slipped into view through the part in her white robe, curled into a fist set against her heart in a gesture that seemed to carry the significance of custom. When she lifted her eyes the hand withdrew back beneath the robe.

“You do deserve justice, you and your parents. I don’t want you to think I’m simply dismissing that, we take justice very seriously. What is happening here, however, is much bigger.”

Bigger than his entire life falling apart in one night?

No, he understood. He was just one person, there was a whole world of people, a whole system of stars dancing in the sky with a mystical life of their own. His life was just a single puff of air compared to all of that.

So all right, he’d bite.

“What is happening?”

She stood still for a moment, giving him the feeling that she was trying to decide where to start. He could barely see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed—her robe barely rustled around her.

Finally she announced, “The Crimson Dragon chose you.”

“Crimson Dragon?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she nodded, turning to indicate with her gaze toward one of the woven rugs, the one hanging centered in the canvas at the back of the tent. Like most things here, it was red, but he could see a stylized design of a long, winding body, four curled claws, two outstretched wings, and a thick arrow at the end of its tail. It stuck out from the rest of the rug with its clashing pattern, lined along its length with energetic zig-zags.

And he recalled the roaring fire the dragon from before had been composed of, rushing like a river.

“The Crimson Dragon is an incredibly powerful god, one that protects this world when something cosmic enough threatens to destroy it.” She said this without turning from the image and with a tone that was both reverent and didactic.

Then she looked at him, inviting him to express comprehension.

He answered with a nod. He was with her so far.

“My people worship the Crimson Dragon. I became the priest not long ago, but before that, I was chosen, too.” She flipped half of her robe back over her shoulder—revealing garments as deep a shade of red as her hair, loose to allow her both comfort in the heat and ease of movement—and pushed up the sleeve of her right arm. Staining the warm olive skin was a dark, reddish birthmark, something spindly that looked like a scorpion, or … a claw.

He stared, feeling deeply drawn to it.

“The Crimson Dragon is able to manipulate fate itself. It can know what will happen in the future, and it will choose the ones best suited to carry out its purpose in the world. Then it will bring them together when the time is right.”

Without much thought, Yusei slid his own right sleeve up. His skin was a little browner than hers, but the stain there was the same color of rich red wine. Where hers was a collection of four curled, slender fingers, his was solid, like a shield, the bottom pointing toward his wrist and the top a wide concave angle. Was she telling him there was some significance to this?

She put a hand under his arm to lift it closer to her eyes. She didn’t need any further confirmation than the Crimson Dragon’s presence that he was chosen, she just couldn’t resist getting a closer look. She hadn’t seen any mark besides her own.

“Have you had this your whole life?”

He didn’t withdraw his arm. Not when she was gazing with so much wonder.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

She held her fingers over the mark, letting them hover for a moment, before releasing his arm and bringing her own up in the air beside it.

“There are five of us,” she continued. “Five Signers—people the Dragon chose before we were even born. You’re the first I’ve found, beside myself, which leaves three more out there.”

He softly passed his fingers over his mark, since she had decided not to.

“Signers,” he repeated.

“Yes. The Dragon only chooses its Signers when something cataclysmic is about to happen, so since I’m one of them, my people have known to be ready. We didn’t know for what at first, but then eventually we heard of something that got our attention.”

She turned to the low table and leaned down to pass her hand delicately over the rolled parchment. Given all the context, he made an educated guess that it was her people’s scriptures.

“There aren’t many people outside our community who know about us or the Dragon. But they exist. And beginning several years ago, we became aware that someone had been finding them and asking for information. Disturbing information.”

Yusei wasn’t a religious man, but he knew that gods weren’t something to take lightly. And with a scripture that thick, he didn’t doubt there were plenty of stories that could make the hair on the back of his neck stand. His mother had told him many such stories as a child, from her studies of other culture’s folklore.

“The Crimson Dragon doesn’t just protect this world in a general sense, there’s something very specific it protects against: the King of the Underworld, and all those beings that serve him. He’s a hungry god who intends to swallow this world into his own if he can. But a long time ago, the Crimson Dragon and the Signers it had chosen sealed him away. What disturbs us is that someone seems to be trying to find a way to break that seal.”

Yusei blinked.

“Why? Why would someone want to do that?”

“I can’t be sure, since you said he didn’t tell you anything.”

“The king?”

“Yes. He has been very interested in learning all about the King and the Dragon in secret. But to be honest, we weren’t sure it was him the Dragon was concerned about, since he’s just one man and it didn’t seem possible that he could actually release the King. But we kept watch so we would know if it became necessary to intervene.”

“And tonight it was.”

“Yes. Since none of the other Signers had been gathered, we were sure that it still wasn’t time for the crisis to occur, but something doesn’t have to be at the cataclysmic level to be worth stopping. So I came.”

“If you don’t know what his plan is, then how did you know what he was doing tonight?”

She slipped the collar of her robe over her head and wrapped it around her arms into a bundle before letting it drop from her extended arm.

“I told you I’m the priest here, right?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a reason for that. It’s something the Dragon decides, not us. We know who the next priest is because that child will be born with divine magic.”

All that power she had demonstrated earlier—that was from the Dragon?

“I was born to take this role, and I take that very seriously.” She bowed her head, bringing her hands flatly together at her chest in the span of one long, deep breath. He felt a change in the air, the hanging rugs shivering even though no wind passed through. And then she began to glow again, that same red light from before, and from the corner of his eye, the lines of the Dragon’s image seemed to move. It was an eerie, supernatural silence, and in it the tent seemed to fill with an invisible presence. And as if like called out to like, he felt his birthmark tingle.

It was all so subtle, and yet, somehow, quietly profound.

Aki released another extended breath, letting her hands separate and lifting her head. “Rex Godwin is still alive, if you were worried.”

“You can see him?”

She smiled. “Convenient, isn’t it? It’s how I’ve been keeping track of him. Not all the time, of course. Only when I can sense he’s dabbling in something with sinister intentions.”

“You can sense that?”

“I’ve formed a kind of link with him, something like a magical string with a bell that rings whenever he moves in a certain way.”

Convenient indeed.

“I could sense he was up to something tonight, and when I channeled him, I saw what he was doing. That place you were in with him—” Her eyes went scarily fierce, her voice deep with contempt “—it was covered with sacred and profane symbols. All mixed together. Either he had had it done with complete disregard of all sense and propriety, or it was intentional, meaning he was deliberately fusing the King of the Underworld and the Crimson Dragon in some unholy, perverse ritual.”

He recalled that blazing glare in her eyes.

“How dare you.”

He hadn’t been familiar with any of the religious language he had seen, so he hadn’t noticed it as anything other than foreign.

“I don’t know what he wants—if it’s to hand the world over to the King, or something worse”—Yusei didn’t say what he thought, that it was hard to imagine there was something worse than the world being consumed by a god of annihilation—“but I know he is serious and we can’t just be idle about it anymore.”

Her eyes were hard, and it began sinking in then just how ignorant Yusei had been.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, making her blink. “I didn’t know any of this. If I had, I …” He probably wouldn’t have interfered.

Probably.

There was still a part of him that wondered … if he was capable of killing.

Even the man who had ruined his life.

Even a man who threatened the entirety of existence.

Killing had destroyed everything for him. The very idea of it left a sour taste in his mouth. Could he do it? Even if it was justice? Even if it was for a good cause—the best possible cause?

A very small part of him doubted …

Her hand on his shoulder called him out of his wonderings.

“Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly. “That room of perversion is destroyed, so he won’t be able to channel magic through it anymore. He’ll need time to come up with something else. And besides, I believe in the Crimson Dragon. I believe it will guide fate to give us victory in the end.”

Fate.

Do you believe in fate, Yusei?

Why had he asked that … ?

“Come on, you’re probably exhausted. I’ll make you a bed.”

He welcomed the offer. Because he realized she was right—his entire body felt drained, his mind overwhelmed.

***

He laid on the mat on the floor, arms crossed over the red blanket Aki had provided.

Five years ago. That’s when this had all started for him.

Rather than the change in the sun’s path or the change in seasons, Yusei tracked time by the change in the stars. As his father had taught him. What constellations were visible on any given night told you what time of year it was, as could the presence of certain phenomena.

And by his calculations, it had been five years and three months since he had jumped out the window and run into a new life.

He had relived that night so many times, lying awake like this and staring up with eyes open and blinded to the world around him.

His parents had been gone for hours—longer than he had expected, but that must have just meant that the king had very important business with them. He wasn’t worried. Instead, his chest glowed with pride. Someday he would be smart enough, too, for the king to summon him for something.

To that end, he sat in his room, one thick book open, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the wide window. It was easy to concentrate there, where he could see the stars just by glancing up. He didn’t have to, he could picture them as easily as his parent’s faces, but that didn’t take away from the pleasure of seeing them. Something resonated with him when he soaked in their beauty.

He sat with his head cradled in his hands and his elbows propped on the table, deep in focus, enjoying the cool night breeze carrying in the sandy smell of the city.

But it wasn’t enough to keep him from hearing the door open and feet that didn’t sound right creep in. Even if his parents had been worried about waking him with their entry, they still wouldn’t have sounded … like intruders.

Too many of them.

Three or four.

Chest tight and heart hammering, Yusei slipped as quietly as he could to the entry of his room and poked his head out. He definitely saw shadowy figures sneaking around suspiciously, and most worrisome of all, with swords ready in hand.

His head pounded. It was so loud he had trouble hearing those footsteps anymore. He pulled back inside his room, but it was too late.

“Hey!” he heard someone shout, his chest bursting in response.

“He’s over here!”

Footsteps. Racing footsteps.

And his arm was caught.

He struggled, too frazzled to think of anything beyond instinctual fight or flight.

Or in this case, both.

“Hold still!”

“Like hell!”

Yusei wound his arm until it was too awkward for the man to grip anymore, but when he was free there were already three of them crowding into his room, swords brandished, gleaming with the moonlight. He backed away, ears ringing, head throbbing. One man stepped forward, thrusting his sword straight at Yusei’s chest.

He dodged right, then noticing another man swinging to meet him, he changed direction, shooting forward low to the ground quickly enough to slide through their legs before they could turn around. He heard the clang of the blade against the solid floor—avoided thinking that that could have been his head—and hopped to his feet to keep his momentum going in a sprint. He had intended to use the front door, but at the sight of another man blocking the way, he made a split-second change of mind and dashed sideways into his parents’ room, which was mercifully empty, because it gave him the opportunity that he took without thought or hesitation.

He leapt.

And tucking his legs up, he cleared the edge of the window.

And fell.

It was only from the second floor, but with his senses and awareness on so high alert, time moving so slowly around him, it felt like a fall from two or three times that height.

He prepared himself for the landing, legs bent, arms curled up over his face.

He felt it bluntly in his feet, and to protect his knees he rolled forward so they wouldn’t break from the shock riding up his leg. He rolled a full circle back to his feet, and without bothering to look back, he pushed off into another sprint down the empty road. This was the elite’s district, after all, the inner circle for the educated and noble. Respectable people kept their dirty night life to the anonymous neighborhoods of the common people, or hidden in the secret confines of their own home. Yusei navigated his way unseen, darting between buildings as often as he could to make sure he was harder to follow or find.

But for his own safety, he couldn’t assume that these men would be anything less than doggedly persistent. He had to keep going, and that meant another drop.

He reached the edge of his district, where he met found himself at the top of a wall ten times his height and too smooth to climb—which was the idea, since the elite’s district was high above all the rest, and with this wall the only way in was through the official and heavily guarded entryway.

But no one bothered paying much attention to the wall itself, because it was designed to be impossible to get up.

Fortunately, that wasn’t what Yusei needed.

He took a deep breath, pushed away the thought that this was incredibly, incredibly stupid, then got on all fours and crawled over the edge until he was falling, hugging the wall all the way down. He had his legs bent again so that the impact wasn’t so harsh, and he rolled backwards as soon as felt it. The friction had helped slow him down some, but that didn’t mean his legs weren’t screaming in protest.

But he still needed them, so despite the ache, he pushed on, diving into the commoners’ district, which had a strange smell to it that he didn’t like, like the whole air was infused with some kind of vague filthy spice. But better to be breathing dirty air than be dead.

So he ran and ran through streets and alleys he didn’t know until his legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground. He pulled himself up so he could lean against the side of a building in a narrow lane, out of sight from any main roads, and there he sat, alone, shaking, panting, sweating, mouth dry, covered in dirt, legs throbbing from the fall and abusive running.

Confused.

Not just from the invasion and attempt to slice away his life, but because now, able to collect his thoughts, he could see clearly in his memory that on the crests centered on those men’s chests had been the king’s insignia.

Soldiers. Royal guards.

But why?

Why had they come to kill him?

What did it mean had happened to his parents?

And why, when he looked up to the sky, did it feel like their eyes were looking down on him from among the stars?

Reliving that moment, Yusei felt his eyes dampen. He closed them massaged them with his fingertips, then with a deep breath he moved on to another memory: the previous day.

He had been arrested, and as he had been paraded through the street toward prison, the king, of all people, had passed by.

Whether he had felt the heat of Yusei’s glower or had seen him on his own, he didn’t know, but the king paused in his path and turned. Their gazes crossed, and Yusei watched as his eyes slowly grew wider—apparently recognizing him.

He had stopped the guards then, had come closer, inspected Yusei’s face for a moment, and then with a smile of sheer delight that Yusei didn’t understand, he clasped his hands on Yusei’s shoulders.

“My, my, how unexpected!”

Yusei said nothing, but thought bitterly, You mean that I’m not dead?

The king didn’t seem to notice Yusei’s hard eyes because he just kept smiling and commanded the guards to release him—he was a noble, after all.

That seemed to surprise the guards, but they didn’t argue, and the king waved them away.

The way the king squeezed his shoulder sent red-hot needles into his skull.

“I am just thrilled to see you again, Yusei.”

The affection in his voice seemed genuine, but at the same time, warped, somehow.

The confusion didn’t lessen Yusei’s anger.

“Come, walk with me.”

The king gave him a gentle shake then a heavy pat before nodding his head sideways and turning to head in the direction he had indication, latching his hands comfortably behind his back.

Without a word, Yusei followed.

They passed through the palace, which despite the late hour and sinking sun was bustling with movement—many important appointments to keep and people to entertain, no doubt, though some cast curious glances at a rare sight of the king without any guards in sight.

Yusei ignored them.

The steady stroll did nothing to calm Yusei’s nerves. He and the king moved wordlessly along at a casual pace, until they reached a door set at the end of a remote corridor where two guards stood at the ready, one on either side. At the sight of the king they snapped into a respectful, erect pose, holding their spears close to their muscular bodies.

They said nothing, and the king merely nodded his approval before pulling a key tied to a thick string around his neck out from under layers of fine garments. He unlocked the door and opened it himself, then after receiving a lit torch from one of the soldiers who pulled it out of its hold on the wall, he beckoned Yusei with his eyes to continue with him.

Yusei didn’t like the look of the darkness that awaited him beyond the door, or the strange, ominous feeling it seemed to breathe out on his soul, but he knew there was no turning back.

He followed, and heard the door close behind him by the soldier’s hand.

By the light of the torch, Yusei found a long downward staircase, the only path forward in the narrow hall they were now in.

“I imagine you hate me,” the king mused, taking the first steps down.

Yusei took this as a confession. He would only expect Yusei to hate him if there was a reason—like killing his parents and attempting to kill him.

He had always suspected it, based on the evidence, but he had never known it with full certainty—or understood why.

The king chuckled quietly at Yusei’s silence.

“I understand. You know, I had a feeling you were still alive. Oh I knew you had survived that night, but that was no guarantee you would have been able to survive everything after. A noble like you suddenly thrust onto the street? You must have been very resourceful, considering how healthy you look after all this time. And now, the fact that you’re here again, I can’t call anything less than … fate.” He seemed amused by this for some reason Yusei couldn’t fathom.

And at the moment, he had other interests.

“What happened that day?” he asked flatly. “Why did you kill them?”

The king continued descending the stairs at the same even pace, tilting his head back in thought with one hand resting against the small of his back while the other continued holding the torch steadily forward. It struck Yusei as unforgivably flippant.

“Your parents were remarkably intelligent,” he praised. “And helpful. They provided me with invaluable information, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for that.”

That was not what he wanted to hear.

“So then why?” he demanded more adamantly.

The king finally paused on the next step and turned over his shoulder to meet his gaze.

He braced himself for what he might be about to hear, but out of all the possibilities he could think of, the response he received was a disappointing blow.

“Come.”

Yusei clenched his jaw. He had the distinct feeling that he was being teased. Toyed with. He felt it in the casual way the king kept his back to Yusei, with absolutely no concerns about his safety, content to run things at his pace. Yusei’s glare had no effect. And he had no leverage to turn the situation around. He stood feeling hot in his own anger, anger at being a pawn so easily moved—then followed anyway.

Because this felt like the only opportunity he would ever have.

So all he could do was keep following. For a while he could see no end either up or down, but finally there was a floor, a small landing with another door. The king pulled out a second key from its hiding place and leaned down, leaving it roped around his neck as he inserted and turned it.

Yusei heard the deep click echo in that cramped space, then the king pushed the door open and entered first with the torch held out before him.

Even so, it was a dark room, so Yusei couldn’t see how large it was until a ring of torches set in the walls all suddenly lit up.

Yusei couldn’t be surprised too long, because the king spoke again.

“If I recall correctly, you have a certain affinity for stars, am I right?”

What relevance could something like that have? At a time like this? In a cold, underground place like this?

The king sighed. “You think I’m avoiding your questions.”

“You’re not answering them,” he noted scathingly.

Unruffled by the tone, the king distractedly wandered to the wall, setting his torch in an empty hold before brushing his hand over something written on the wall. It was a strange chamber, circular with a dome ceiling. The flickering torchlight revealed many strange characters—whether symbols or letters or something else, Yusei couldn’t tell—painted all along the stones that composed the walls.

“Do you believe in fate, Yusei?”

This was too much.

“Stop messing around!” he shouted, his voice reverberating in that enclosed space. “I’m not interested in anything cryptic, I just want to get to the point! Why did you kill my parents?”

The king didn’t turn to face him until the phantom of his voice had ebbed away. His iron eyes shone with the fire’s reflection, but Yusei was too angry to be unsettled by that enigmatic gaze.

“I appreciate your impatience,” he said quietly. “Unfortunately, I simply have other priorities over explaining myself to you.”

He raised his arm to Yusei, and inexplicably, rows of the unrecognizable glyphs lit up in concentric rings on the floor. He had no idea what they meant, but Yusei sensed something ominous exuding from them.

“Show it to me,” the king demanded, anticipation thick in his deep voice.

Yusei stepped back, heart racing.

This was not normal.

His attention shifted when he noticed the glyphs coating the walls lighting up from the bottom to the top. He thought he could feel a distant rumble beneath his feet. And above him, the dome lit up with lines drawn in a pattern that didn’t look like any he had seen in the city—this whole room felt completely foreign, something misplaced from another culture. Had the king imported the design from a neighboring country he had recently conquered?

Whatever it all was, Yusei’s clearest thought was that he needed to get away.

The king seemed to read it.

“You’re not leaving,” he announced.

Yusei glanced to the door. He was pretty fast, he could probably make it before the king could intercept—

“I need you.”

Yusei turned his eyes back to the king.

“Show it to me.”

The insistence did nothing to make Yusei understand better what it was he was talking about.

“Come on, Yusei!” he called eagerly. “I know it’s you. This is fate—fate taking my side!”

He wasn’t sure—it was hard to tell under so much stress—but he thought he could see all those lucent glyphs start to move: spinning slowly on the floor, or sliding along the wall. He felt sweat trickle down his neck.

This was so far beyond anything he had prepared himself for.

“You’re holding out on me, Yusei,” the king said with a threatening edge.

“You’re not making any sense!” Yusei felt his body surging with adrenaline. Everything was buzzing with the very urgent need to run. His legs just wouldn’t listen to him. His vision was narrowing in, blurring the periphery, so all he could see clearly was the king standing just a few feet away. This king who now seemed more dangerous than he had ever known. “What do you want from me?”

The king’s eyes widened, the muscles in his neck taut.

“I want—”

CRASH!!!

Yusei felt the impact of the floor against his back, but the buzzing cushioned him enough that he felt no pain. Disoriented, he struggled to see through the billowing clouds of dust. And strangely, he began to feel a wind slowly circulate close to the ground, which helped clear the view.

So he could see the wrecked stone floor, cratered into a dome not unlike the ceiling—though, how was it that … the ceiling was unscathed? How could something strike the floor without making an entrance anywhere else?

And standing in the center of that crater was a figure, draped with a white robe.

A woman. Wearing a serious expression, one that sharpened with disgust and fury as she took in the sight of the glyphs, as if she found them deeply offensive. They had lost their light with her arrival, but in their place, she began to glow herself, and the winds got stronger and stronger …

***

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he was woken up with several sharp jerks.

It was still night, judging by how dark it was, but he could clearly make out a set of violet eyes, a sleek mass of spiked golden hair, and a wicked smile.

“Well hey there, sunshine.”

Yusei was too stunned to speak.

“Surprised to see me, huh?” The man laughed, his arrogant self-satisfaction still ringing clear despite his hushed voice.

Surprise was one thing—Yusei could hardly believe this.

“Jack?”

The man crouched above him smirked, then gently pressed his fist against Yusei’s forehead. The gesture to say stupid.

“Obviously.”

Yusei opened his mouth, but Jack shushed him with his whole hand.

“No questions. Let’s go.”

Jack dragged Yusei by his tunic, and only when he was sitting up could he see a figure standing there in the shadows behind Jack.

The figure snapped, and a fire lit magically to the side, and in the sudden new light there was Aki, a single eyebrow raised.

Jack jumped to his feet, quickly brandishing a sword in his hand.

Aki eyed it with boredom.

“A friend of yours?” she asked.

Yusei was still too tired for this.

#arabic au #arabicau #yusei fudo #akiza izinski #aki izayoi #faithshipping #jack atlas #fanfic #friends writing #aceyugiohdreamer #ya al have no idea of how much i love this #and there's even more she wrote!!#i'll post the rest sooner or later

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