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#which results in silver having strands of
selsieeeo · 9 months
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Writing little smth based off this from @llondonfog and it’s 12am as I write this so this will have mistakes lmao
The old fae couldn’t believe his eyes. In all his 700 years of living he couldn’t believe someone dare attempt to remove his blessing-his claim.
He had been desperately searching for his sweet son who had mysteriously vanished from the school entirely. He didn’t want to lose hope, he could not lose hope for his precious son.
The NRC vs RSA tournament had once again started anew. Sebek was one of the many students representing the school.
A miracle or a cruel twist of fate if you see it that way happened.
He saw his son again, donned in the RSA uniform representing the opposing school. First he felt confusion and shock.
As he ate up the sight of seeing his precious son again he took note that his hair was not only one singular colour but there were strands of gold hair within the sea of silver.
He then saw the brunette who stood beside his son. Those conniving eyes looking around and landed on him as if this stranger felt like he had won a victory against him.
In an instant he knew it was him who had attempted to reverse his blessing he had given to his son. Tried to remove his claim on him. His son is his to keep. No one else.
If it requires going back to his old roots as a veteran general to get his son back then he’s willing to do it.
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rizsu · 1 year
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cherry balms gojo, nanami, geto.
sum. ex bf gojo, ceo nanami + one night stand geto. zzz not proofread sry !!
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gojo satoru.
“literally why are you sneaking around?” gojo questions. although he's basically crashing in your house, he still finds it odd that you're acting as if he hasn't seen above and beyond from you. his eyes trace your figure, he engraves every detail in his mind—almost as if he's slowly forgetting and doesn't want to.
gojo leans back onto the bed's frame, hands folded behind his head with one leg up. if you were to be honest, he looks devourable—if it's even a proper word. he's sporting a fitted black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and a silver chain. a fit that'll make anyone drop; simple yet defines.
you waddle to your closet, careful to not slip on the water dripping from your body. yeah, you just finished your bath and would've changed your clothes right in your room, but someone decided to welcome himself. piling your outfit on your arm, you grab your phone from the bed and waddle back to the bathroom.
well, that was the plan but yet again gojo had other plans. one swift movement of his hand (lightly) gripping on your robe and you're pulled right back down to his level.
“do you need something!?!?” “you maybe. i dunno.”
.
.
.
oh okay! you think, not sure if you should act surprised or if you should bite his arm to set you free. either way, it's not like he'd react. after all, he's been your (ex) boyfriend for more than two-three years. he knows you.
gojo doesn't let you go—in fact, he uses the same hand to wrap it around your waist and keeps it there. surely enough simple touches between exes are fine right..? maybe it isn't. who knows and who cares? not him!
even though your break-up was mutual, it didn't fail to leave a salty taste in gojo. he's good at masking his negative feelings but sometimes, that barrier is broken and he has no proper/healthy way to deal with it. approximately two weeks after the break-up, gojo tried flings, one night stands, hook ups, and even dates but they all failed after he reveal his longest relationship being two-three years. absolutely no one wants to compete with someone who was practically his soulmate.
“SA-TO-RU!” a call of his name along with slap on the arm shakes gojo from his thoughts. apparently, he's been zoning out while staring directly at you without blinking which creeped you out. you know better than anyone that when gojo zones out, he zones out. it's like having the eyes of god spawn in front of you without warning.
gojo ruffles his hair, redirecting any out of place hair strand back to its position. sighing, he looks at you before speaking his mind, “let me kiss you.”
now it's your turn to sigh. eons of knowing gojo and you still manage to react to his shameless requests.
nanami kento.
“okay, can i change first at least??”
“no, thanks.”
“what do you mean “thanks”!?”
busy and boring. that's it. those are the only words that can describe office worker life. you agree, it's nice to work for a large corporation as their advisor but it's so boring. you can't stress enough how many times you forced your eyes to stay open. the time can be two hours into work and here you are, opening your eyes with your fingers to not succumb to the creeping slumber.
stretching your body, you let out a yawn before fixing all documents to deliver for your boss. every day you thank god that your boss isn't some old man that's impatient. your boss, nanami kento, likes punctuality but he gives a grace period of one day. anything later than a day results in extra work and payment cut.
throughout the long hallway, the clacks of your heels can be heard but you don't mind; it's actually a nice sound. makes you feel like a true professional. standing in front the door that reads ‘Nanami Kento: Official C.E.O’ in a gold plated sign, you knock twice while speaking your name, “y/n l/n here, boss.”
no more than thirty seconds later, nanami orders you to enter as he says his goodbyes to some random that you assume to be a business partner. gesturing you to come closer, nanami folds his glasses into his shirt as he spins a pen on his hand.
“i take it you're finished with the documents?” he assumes, glancing at you before his gaze returns to the stacks of paper on his desk.
marking every fifth booklet with your fingers, you neatly place them on the less crowded side of his desk, “yes. they're all signed too, boss.”
clicking his pen, nanami praises your work with a little “good job.” and signs off his last signature needed for the day. placing his pen in its holder, he reclines back into his chair with a moan of relief. the feeling of his back getting some support will never not be good.
you awkwardly stand in your position, hands clasped together behind your back as you await his next instructions. luckily for you, he never delays anything.
“sit here,” nanami taps his lap twice. he watches you hesitate before you make any movement towards him. closing his eyes, he leans his head back into his chair, stretching it to the left and right. nanami feels your weight shifted to the edge of his knee—yeah, he doesn't like that. why are you closer to his desk than you are to him?!
“i said here, y/n” “my bad..”
shifting closer to him, you get close enough to sink your head in the junction of his shoulder to neck. just close enough so that you don't need to rest your entire upper body on him.
“if i'm going to be honest, this feels so wrong.”
nanami hums at your sentence. with his head is still resting on his chair, he questions you, “how so?”
you fiddle with your fingers—you can't quite put it into words. there's something about it that feels taboo but it's not. this overthinking can possibly be the side effects of indulging in too many drama t.v. shows.
“i dunno.. it just does? not really but yeah.” “quit overthinking.”
although he's holding a neutral expression, nanami's smiling at your worry. he thinks it's actually the dumbest thing to worry about but he'll keep it to himself.
“you're here because i want you here. also, you're a talented woman.” he reassures you, squeezing your thigh with one hand in an automatic rhythm.
geto suguru.
geto enjoys the sweet dream he's having. after a long night, all he needed was a nice shower, one or two cigarettes, and sleep. twisting and turning, he relishes in the soft sheets until his hand accidently slaps something—most likely your face. his hand halts in its position as he sits up sharply at a perfect ninety degree angle. who the fuck, he wonders, looking at you who's also enjoying a good sleep even after that slap.
it takes geto about ten minutes to function his brain's thinking ability and remember what took place before he knocked out cold. oh right, he thinks. he remembers meeting you at some club, offering to take you to his and the rest is history. surprisingly, that was out of character for him. as much as he flirts and makes out like his fellow friends, he's never gone more than a make out session.
taking a big yawn, geto runs his hand up and down his torso before concluding that he should go back to sleep. slamming his head down, he reaches for your waist and pulls (drags) you close enough so that your back's directly on his torso. if he can't hug his pillow because you stole it, he'll simply hug you.
with a leg thrown over you, one hand comfortably resting on your upper body as the other's under his head, geto sinks back into slumberland with you. he's going to keep you there until he wakes up again—whatever happens before that is not his business.
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mrs-snape5984 · 4 months
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“You've got the love I need to see me through…”
“Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough and things go wrong no matter what I do. Now and then, it feels like life is just too much. (…) But I know, I can count on you!” (“You’ve got the love” by Florence + The Machine)
Clinging to a comfort character over a long period of time can bring you both: Comfort and a feeling of desperate longing…
That’s exactly how I feel about Severus. I fell head over heels for him, when I read the “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” 21 years ago. I remember that I was almost forced to read the books, which I’ve thought of being only some overhyped children’s books. Oh, how wrong I was!! The first impressions of the bitter and sarcastic potions master were enough to convince me otherwise. It felt like a recognition…enlightening my heart. “Hey! You’re just like me!!”
Severus Snape has made himself a home in my heart, that he never left since then. From the first moment, I was hopelessly devoted to this raven haired, sassy man with his adorably crooked nose and those beautiful - and yet so sad - obsidian eyes.
Trigger warning: Whoever has problems with reading about traumatic events in someone’s life, please skip the next paragraph! After that, it’s safe again.
He was with me, whenever I struggled with my life, no matter what it was. And damn….there were a whole bunch of traumatic experiences in this mess, which I’m calling my life. Abuse, divorce, too many terrible health issues and operations (resulting in a defeated addiction to opiates and morphines), disability, miscarriages, terrible high risk pregnancies with months of being bedridden at the hospital, prematurely born children…and so on…
And now, that I’m losing all my grip on my life because of this terrible disease ME/CFS (seriously, what am I? A fucking magnet for shit?!?! Hey, god!! It’s enough!! I’m already done with everything!)…Severus is the only consistency in my life. Being trapped in my dark room all the time, only to be allowed to step out to my balcony to enjoy some fresh air at night, when the world around myself remains in silence, can only be endured because of my dedication to Severus. He’s everywhere in my room…every little piece of my collection feels like a comfort blanket, being woven to grant me solace.
Commissioning art became my passion, my way of consolation. My walls are plastered with framed artwork, which all those talented artists of our beloved Snape Fandom have made for me.
This time, I commissioned something different for the first time. I found the lovely @juanasunfall-blog on Instagram. She’s creating stunning and hilarious comic strips and I absolutely adore her way of drawing our fabulous dungeon bat. I mean, look at this silver strand of hair…I’m melting!!!! 🫠
@juanasunfall-blog, you did a wonderful job with this project and I enjoyed every conversation with you. I’m grateful for your kindness and for the connection, we’ve found to each other. You’re a gem of a human soul, my dear, and I hope, that we will stay in touch! 🥹
🖤 Severus & Julia 🖤
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bbyquokka · 1 year
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5:15 pm (hjs)
genre: timestamp, fluff, angst (if you squint) — MDNI!
warnings: gn! reader, established relationship, insecure reader, pet names
words: 1.2k ~ (1278)
a/n: i was watching the intro vid to 5 star, saw jisung's hair, fell in love with him all over again and this is the result. direction of it wasn't planned, it just happened because my brain said so
♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3
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dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!
“let me braid your hair!” you whine for the nth time. jisung let's out a soft sigh before pushing his round glasses up to rest on the bridge of his nose.
“why would you want to do that?”
“because it's so pretty and long now. i just want to braid it and put it in a ponytail. i wanna play with your hair, ji before you get it all cut short.” you say with a pout.
“fine! but just this once, ok?” he laughs softly as he watches you rush to the bedroom to gather accessories, hair ties and a brush.
during the process, jisung moved and situated himself on the wooden floor by the sofa. you rush to him, sitting on the sofa and spreading your legs to allow him to shuffle between them.
he turns his attention to the tv as you grab the brush. you gently run it through his long, silver and grey hair to free his hair from any knots. you place the brush down by your side before gently running your fingers through it slowly.
your fingers become lost in the sea of hair. the soft strands tickling your fingertips. jisung hums softly in contentment, his body relaxing at the soft and gentle gesture.
“does that feel nice, ji?” he hums softly as he nods. you smile to yourself before reaching around to the front of his face. you gather his hair together, leaving a few strands to hand in front of his face.
you part his hair down the middle, gathering one side up into a high pony. you giggle to yourself as you secure the strands in pink elastic before doing the same to the other side. you add in a few colourful butterfly clips before handing jisung the mirror.
“whatcha think?” you giggle. jisung takes the mirror, his brows furrowed together as he checks out the hairstyle.
“babeee!” he whines, “you said you'd braid it.”
“i know, i know! but you look so adorable!”
“really?” he looks up at you to which you hum before leaning down and gently kissing the tip of his cute nose.
“really really. but i will braid it, don't worry ji.”
you take out the clips and the elastics before brushing out his hair again. you run your fingers through it a few times, taking in the softness and how healthy and long his hair currently is.
“i love your hair. it's so soft and healthy.”
“the advantages of having good quality hair products.” he says with a chuckle. “seeing how much i dye it, it has to look and feel healthy.”
“mhm. i'm slightly jealous.” you say as you start to braid his hair.
“why?”
“because you're so perfect and flawless, ji. you're so handsome and beautiful. everyone loves and adores you. you don't have a single flaw about you. sometimes i wonder…” you pause, feeling a lump burn in your throat suddenly as the feeling of insecurity hits you hard.
“what do you wonder, baby?” his voice is soft and gentle as he is quick to pick up on the way your voice quivers, no matter how hard you try to cover it up.
“sometimes i wonder why you're with me.” your voice is nothing but a small and gentle whisper, in hopes he didn’t hear you–which he did.
“i'm with you because i love you.”
“i know but, you're you and i'm me.” you secure the ends of his braid with an elastic, before scanning for any imperfections such as lumps and bumps.
“i don't understand, baby.” 
“i'm just me. meaning i'm basic. i have flaws, i'm not perfect. i get insecure sometimes because i look at other people, people who are so much better than me in terms of looks and talents and i can't stop myself from thinking that you'd be so much better off with them than me.”
“baby–” 
regret rises to the surface before sinking deep in your stomach. you swallow that burning lump that refuses to go away before quickly wiping your eyes.
“forget it.” you hastily say, “forget i said anything. let's just continue being happy and act like i haven't just ruined the mood.” you say with a sullen laugh. you rise to your feet to clear up the hair products.
a hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling you down on jisung's lap to straddle him. your eyes widen at the surprising action before you sheepishly look down. you idly play with the material of his t-shirt and his silver neck chain, not wanting to make eye contact with him because if you do, you'll cry.
“look at me.” he gently strokes your hair and cheeks before slowly tracing your jawline with his finger. he hooks his finger under your chin, lifting it up so you're forced to look at him.
your eyes scan his facial features. from how plump his bottom lip is to the small, delicate mole on his cheek. the dam breaks, tears suddenly falling down your cheeks slowly.
“don't cry, my love.” he gently hushes you, raking his fingers through your hair slowly. he gently pushes you against his chest, encouraging you to put all your weight on him.
the softness of his skin, his touch and the rhythmic thumping of his heart rate calms you down to some extent. negative thoughts rush through your mind, thoughts you don't want to think but you can't help. An unwelcome guest that’s no stranger to you.
jisung rocks you back and forth, hushing and cooing you gently as he rubs your back and strokes your hair. a few minutes later, you manage to calm down as you pull away, sniffling.
“want to know why i'm with you and not someone else?” you look down, nodding slowly. “because you make me feel things i haven't felt nor never felt in a very very long time, yn.”
you look up at him, his expression so soft and eyes glossed over and shiny with so much love and admiration for you.
“i feel happy, excited. i feel like i'm the luckiest man on this planet. you may think i don't have flaws because you see me as this perfect being but i have flaws. everyone has some type of flaw. i'm not always perfect baby. i still have a lot to learn but with you by my side, i know it's going to be ok.”
“but what abo–”
“i don't want no one else but you. you're perfect to me. whether it be a good day, bad day. whether your hair is unwashed or you've been living in the same clothing for days, i don't care. i want that. you're human, you're real. you're true to yourself and to everyone else. i like that about you and it's what makes me love you so much.”
“ji..” your bottom lip sticks out as your eyes well up with tears yet again.
“i see myself with you and only you. just like how you see me as perfect and flawless is how i see you. i love you yn. i'm head over heels, a hundred percent smitten for you.”
“i love you too.” you sob. the negative thoughts and feelings washing away with each kind and gentle word you hear. the reassurance from jisung puts your mind, soul and heart at rest.
nothing but love overpowers your body once again as you lean in to kiss jisung softly. he holds onto your waist, pulling you closer so you're sat in his crotch. you place your hands on his cheeks as you both bask in the warmth of each other;
in the warmth that's called love.
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tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @myprwttyhan ; @fairylouist ; @septicrebel ; @bbujiikseu ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer
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gravehags · 2 months
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if you're still looking for prompts, dare i say...reader and cumulus thoroughly taking care of each other while the cardinal watches, tied up and helpless :3 (the internet has been out these last few days and now i crave filth lmao)
-unhinged family anon
this is ticking all my boxes in more ways than one so naturally i have to write it
Pairing: Cumulus x f!Reader x Cardinal Copia
Words: ???
Tags: bondage, voyeurism, titty sucking, cunnilingus, dildos
~~~
“Told you the red would look good on him,” you say to the ghoulette currently lazing next to you on the bed.
Both of you are nude and are content to idly run your hands over one another, watching the mismatched eyes of the man tied up in a chair directly across from the bed dart between your bodies. He looks breathtaking, your Cardinal, with strands of silvering brown hair stuck to his damp forehead, chest heaving and straining against the rope binding him to his seat. Cumulus was thorough and snug in her knots, allowing very little movement for him and you’re impressed by the results. His fair, freckled skin is flushed and you note the way his hips make tight little circles in a pathetic effort to get some relief to his hard and reddened cock.
“Mmmm, don’t you love it when he looks so desperate?”
You chuckle, nosing against the ghoulette’s hair with your hand drifting across her belly.
“So sweet,” you coo as you begin to pepper kisses along her jawline, “I think he deserves a treat.”
In a smooth movement, Cumulus shifts her body towards you and captures your lips in a languorous, wet kiss. You loved the decadence that came with being with her and loved even more when you had a rapt audience. The two of you giggling into each other’s mouths between kisses has the jaw of the bound Cardinal hanging open as if he wishes to speak, but he knows better. Knows that he’s just a simple spectator to your pleasure. And boy were you two ready to put on a show. With a swift movement you straddle the ghoulette and arch your back for the Cardinal’s enjoyment. Cumulus laughs out loud and delivers a sweet, sharp smack to your ass.
“Don’t torture the poor man, love,” she grins, hands kneading the flesh of your hips.
“Why wouldn’t I when he likes it so much? Don’t you, caro?”
Dutifully, no words leave his mouth but he frantically nods and worries at his lower lip with his teeth. Feeling devilish, you lower your mouth to suck and nip at the ghoulette’s collarbone, leaving a necklace of dark bruises across her soft flesh. When your hand comes up to cup her full breast, you hear a whimper from behind you.
“Oh he liked that,” Cumulus breathes, fingers toying with your hair. You smile up at her before licking a stripe over her hardened nipple and her head tilts backwards in pleasure.
“Love sucking your tits, ‘Lus,” you murmur, tracing the bud with the tip of your tongue. “Satanas you’re beautiful.”
Her eyes are shut but a soft smile graces her features as the fingers woven in your hair scratch gently at your scalp. With a sigh you take her nipple in your mouth and suck while your other hand toys with the opposite breast. You can hear your audience breathing heavy behind you and you don’t have to look at him to know his hands strain at the bindings. With an exaggerated pop you remove your lips and bite playfully at the soft flesh.
“Isn’t she beautiful, Cardinal?” you ask, turning your head slightly. He looks at you both with wild eyes, seeking permission which Cumulus graciously grants.
“Y-yes. Yes. Both of you. Belle ragazze mie.”
“Ah, ah, ah, Cardinal. Not quite yours yet tonight. But if you’re still a good boy and make a pretty mess of yourself for us, we’ll consider it.”
The low whine that leaves Copia’s throat is pitiful and only worsens as you settle between Cumulus’ legs. You love seeing her spread open for you, the white curls at the apex of her thighs damp with slick and sweat. When you lick a swift stripe through her slit she gasps and pulls your hair.
“A warning next time my love,” she chides as you grin against her mound.
“Apologies, ‘Lus. I will tell you exactly what I’m doing next time. For example, right now I’m going to spread you open and lick up all that sweet mess you’ve made before I suck on your clit until I have you screaming my name. Is that acceptable?”
You swear you hear Copia let out a sob behind you and Cumulus’ tail thumps on the bed beside you. Her pupils are blown as she looks down at you, cheeks flushed and your hunger for her only grows.
“Please, love. Mmm fuck me with your mouth.”
You don’t need to be told twice. Spreading her open with your thumbs you dip your tongue down to her entrance, fuck you loved the taste of her, teasing at the hole. The sweet little noises and the way her hips buck against your mouth are your favorite part of doing this and you tell her so. When your tongue drags upwards and grazes her clit she cries out, claws digging into your scalp. When the chair behind you creaks loudly, your head whips around and the sight that meets your eyes delights you. The Cardinal’s head hangs forward, mouth open, his paints streaked messily down his cheeks. His chest heaves with effort and his hips jerk in their bindings. You desperately want to go to him, to lick up the fat bead of pre currently sliding down his painfully hard cock but you know the rules. And so you return to the task at hand.
Cumulus is so delightfully sensitive, something you adore about her, and the low moan that comes out of her when you suck her clit into your mouth makes your own cunt throb.
“So good, baby, so fucking good. Don’t stop.”
So you don’t. Not until her tail starts to twitch and her moans become higher and higher in pitch, your name a prayer on her lips. When she cums, her claws scratch blood into your skin, back arched off the mattress and every roll and curve of her body undulating. You’d be content to draw a second orgasm from her just like this but she’s shoving you away all of a sudden, overwhelmed and overstimulated.
“Not…not yet. Gotta take care of you first, baby.”
In an instant she flips you onto your back and Copia lets out a long, low moan.
“He hasn’t cum yet,” you say, somewhat impressed, “waiting for both of us, sweet boy?”
His nod is once again frantic, tears sliding out and leaving black streaks down his cheeks. His cock looks painfully hard and you almost feel bad if you didn’t know this is exactly what he wants. Cumulus reaches over to grab something off the bedside table that has you grinning when she presents it to you.
“Awfully big, ‘Lus,” you comment idly at the dildo in her hand, “sure I can take it?”
Cumulus laughs loudly, glancing mischievously at Copia.
“I’ve seen you take his, remember? Isn’t that right, Cardinal? Doesn’t she take your cock so well?”
Copia is trembling at this point, eyes squeezed shut and panting in an attempt to get a hold of himself. Cumulus takes the opportunity to lean down and bite the meat of your breast before laving her tongue over your nipple.
“Eyes open, Cardinal,” she says in a sing-songy voice, “you need to watch her take every last inch.”
Obediently, Copia’s eyes fly open and settle between your spread legs where Cumulus is currently running the tip of the toy.
“Look how wet she’s gotten just from licking my cunt. Such a good girl for me. Don’t you think she deserves a reward?”
Copia’s nostrils flare in an effort to control himself as his head twitches and a hoarse “yes” escapes his throat. With a flick of her thumb, Cumulus turns the vibrator on and presses it against your clit. The feeling of finally getting some relief makes your body turn to jelly, fingers gripping the sheets. She’s content to tease you for a while, bringing you close to the edge before pulling away. You’re about to whine, about to remind her that she’s not torturing you tonight when you feel the head of the dildo pressed insistently against your hole.
“Eyes right here, Cardinal,” she instructs, moving her body to give him a clear view, “you’re gonna watch her take my pretty fat cock just like she takes yours.”
Slowly, torturously slowly for your taste, she pushes the toy inside of you. The abundance of slick coming from you makes its path easy and you moan loudly at the way it stretches you. The cock is halfway inside you when Cumulus ramps up the vibrations, causing your walls to clench.
“Fuck, ‘Lus,” you pant, hands searching for something to hold onto, “fuck that f-feels so good.”
“Mmm I know baby. Look how pretty her cunt looks stretched around my toy, Cardinal. What a pretty show she puts on for us. But I think she can take more…can’t you love?”
Your laugh is a little too loud, a little too wild as you chant a litany of yeses. When she continues pushing the cock into you, your mouth hangs open and eyes roll back. Between the delicious stretch and the way the vibrations feel against your clit you know you’re close.
“A-almost there. So, so close ‘Lus. Please.”
“Hear that, Cardinal? She’s close - and I bet you are too, aren’t you? Look at him, love. Show him how good this makes you feel. Bring him over the edge with you.”
In an instant your eyes fly to meet Copia’s and you swear you’ve never seen him look more desperate. Suddenly you wish he was within your reach so you could use your mouth, your hands, anything to pleasure him. The way he watches you as Cumulus’ pistons the toy in and out of you is pure hunger. With each thrust of her wrist his hips rut forwards, eyes ever on yours. When you finally feel your spine tighten and white hot heat spread across your chest and limbs, your mouth falls open in a shout.
“Cumulus!”
You want to shut your eyes, to bask in your pleasure but then you’d miss the way Copia paints his chest and stomach with ropes of seed, moaning in broken Italian as his mismatched eyes bore into yours. His hips continue to twitch long after he’s spent and gently, Cumulus eases the dildo from your sore cunt. You move to get up but she gently presses you back down into the soft sheets. Panting, you watch her deftly untie the Cardinal from his bindings and guide his limp body into bed beside you. As if by magic she procures a warm rag and cleans up the mess on Copia’s belly and face as you tuck into him and gesture for her to join you both. Smiling warmly, she slips into bed beside you and her tail wraps loosely around your calf.
“You did so well, Copia,” you murmur into his neck, “always so good for us.”
He lets out a weak chuckle.
“It’s eh, very easy to be good for belle ragazze mie. Grazie, amori miei.”
You can feel Cumulus smiling against the curve of your shoulder and before long her low purring begins to lull the three of you to sleep.
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storkmuffin · 4 months
Note
I wanted to share a little of my perspective on John Silver. I am by no means a Silver stan and honestly, I didn’t really care for him either way (hate him or love him) in my first watch. Through my second (I’m now on both a third and fourth watch simultaneously, it’s complicated) watch, my feelings towards him changed somewhat. He’s still not one of my favourite characters, and by no means does he even compare to Flint in my mind, but I really think painting him as entirely bad is an oversimplification of his character.
Black Sails is, at its core, a show about incredibly complicated characters, all of whom have been through hell, and who are coping with their trauma in different ways. We never get Silver’s backstory which, to be fair, I was also mad about, but we do get hints at it. We know that he started off as a member of a merchant crew, and not a high ranking one which, at the very least, implies that he was not from a privileged background and likely never had any stable employment or family support (those who did were rarely enlisted into these merchant crews). The interpretation of the few bits of insight we do get into his childhood that I favour the most are the ones that suggest that him stating that all his backstory taught him was that the world was a place of unspeakable horrors (or something similar, I can’t remember or find the exact quote) is true—that so much of what we see him do is an effort to distance himself as much as possible from some trauma that he cannot bring himself to think about or disclose to anyone, first by doing everything he can to remain as independent as possible, then by making himself as necessary as possible. He cannot reveal what has happened for fear that speaking of it will make it more real, and possibly even bring its effects back into his life. It sure as hell isn’t a healthy coping mechanism and it definitely hurts those around him, but the same is true for so many of the other characters. Flint, in season one, kills Gates to continue his war against civilisation, one that hasn’t even started, because Gates calls him out on his recklessness (and was right, the battle that Flint killed Gates in the hopes of continuing ended with the Walrus wrecked and the crew decimated and stranded), but, in that moment, the audience feels for Flint, even though we don’t yet know why he’s so dedicated to doing what he’s doing, because, even as he’s killing possibly one of the most “good” characters, we feel sorry for him.
Silver’s backstory is one rooted in loneliness and pain. He starts with being unable to trust anyone then, as he starts to bond with the crew, they start to die off alarmingly quickly. Even in season two, he becomes important to the crew and vice versa, and this process is accelerated by the loss of his leg. I think this acceleration is also worth noting, as it puts him in a place of dependence before he would have been comfortable to do so, before he has learned that he can be vulnerable with someone and they won’t necessarily immediately hurt him. His refusal to allow his leg to heal properly and to let people help him stems from this wariness of vulnerability. Sure, it’s not a healthy attitude, and it does hurt other people, but, especially given the general attitudes towards disability at the time, I can at least understand it. In the eyes of his society, and, therefore, in the eyes of John Silver, disability = vulnerability = weakness = letting others hurt you, so he becomes consumed by the goal of making sure he seems as strong as possible. There’s also a heavy dose of toxic masculinity mixed in here, but, again, as I see it, it’s an understandable (if not excusable) result of what he’s experienced so far. The only physically disabled character we see before Silver is Randall, who is nearly kicked off the crew and then killed (without being able to raise any kind of alarm or defend himself), which certainly isn’t a comfortable frame of reference for someone who has also now lost their leg.
Moving on to Silver’s position in the revolution, I think a lot of my interpretation of his role comes from knowing that Madi & Flint’s mission cannot succeed. Black Sails is, in many ways, quite intricately and accurately tied into the historical context of the time and, the fact is, that the golden age of piracy ended, slavery continued, the empire won out (at least for the next few centuries), and the prejudices that they were trying to fight continued.  By the historical context that is set in stone, Flint and Madi’s revolution could not have succeeded and, honestly, Black Sails shows this. Their ideas were good, as were their tactics, but they had no widespread support. Any support for Nassau had to come at the cost of the end of the revolution, and they had none of the numbers, weapons, money, ships, land, public support, or really anything that would have let them succeed. It’s a good fight, and that’s what hurts the most, because we as the audience want them to succeed but know that, historically, and even within the context of the show, they cannot. Silver sees this, and it definitely isn’t a good look being the only major character in that trio resisting this revolution, but he knows, as we must also know, that it is doomed to fail. He is not stopping it because he doesn’t care for the cause, he is stopping it because he knows that the sooner he stops it, the less likely it is that he will lose someone he cares about, has he has already done with countless members of the crew. He knows in stopping it that he will probably lose Madi, but he does it anyway, because he sees that, whether she lives, dies for nothing, or dies and becomes a martyr, the revolution will fail, and all that will be different is that she and countless others will have died. Again, this level of pragmatism does not look good on him, but between the dreams of Flint and Madi and the sacrifices they will make to try to attain the unattainable, it is incredibly necessary.
Honestly, I can’t fully argue this case without your knowledge of the last part of 4.10. It isn’t a tragedy; it isn’t just filled with a sense that it was all for nothing. At the bare minimum, there are some very cool Max moments. Please, even if you have to skip through all the Silver scenes, watch to the end.
Sorry for the essay :)
posting bc I'm very honored that you chose to write this in response to my unhinged ranting!
I don't have the spoons for a proper response and this deserves one so I will hopefully be able to write something coherent in response sometime soon. I didn't want to just leave this hanging!
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doodle-pops · 8 months
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Diamonds and Pleasure
Curufin x reader
Kinktober 2023: Lingerie
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Warnings: fem!reader, lingerie, body–worshipping, fingering, Curufin is just in awe of his creation on you
Words: 1.6k
Synopsis: Curufin revels in the beauty diamonds offer as they adorn your body.
List of Requests
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“Turn around,” he gently commanded. His voice, though soft, held the anticipation of a man eager to behold your exquisite beauty within the artistry he had created just for you. Days and hours had been dedicated to the forge, amidst the searing heat and molten metal, all in servitude of your magnificence. Curufin had a peculiar way of expressing his love for the things and people that held a special place in his heart, and to him, diamonds were a part of that expression. He considered them not just a girl’s best friend for their eternal nature but also a symbol of the profound affection he reserved solely for you.
In his hands, he cradled a glass of wine while you adorned a delicately crafted diamond body piece, adorned with hundreds of diamonds of various cuts, intricately strung together with silver threads. You could discern that this was the most resplendent creation he had ever fashioned, and for you, it was the crowning jewel in the pedestal he had placed you on. From the necklace, diamonds resembling teardrops dangled gracefully down the front, suspended by delicate silver threads. Where these gems ended, they were joined to a waistband adorned with heart–shaped moulds housing five–carat diamonds. Completing the ensemble, you wore matching anklets and wristbands, all crafted to harmonize with the rest of the pieces.
A simple beam of light cast upon your form had the power to transform the entire room, bathing it in the captivating radiance you exuded. To Curufin’s delight, his satisfaction with the final result was undeniable, evident in the prominent bulge in his trousers. Seated comfortably in his favourite chair next to the crackling fireplace, he savoured a glass of rich red wine, reclining while you modelled for him on this enchanting evening. With your hair cascading freely and your body adorned only with the touch of the cool metal gracing your warm skin, you twirled gracefully, showcasing your figure adorned in his latest creation.
Returning to face him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered, tracing every curve and contour of your body. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips before taking a deliberate bite, and his gaze, now smouldering with desire, met your seductive stare. A palpable silence hung between you, heavy with anticipation, before he stirred from his reverie. Setting his chalice aside, he strode purposefully toward your dolled–up figure.
“Have I ever told you how utterly resplendent you look in this attire?” he whispered, his hands gently finding your waist, his thumb tracing tantalizing circles on your skin. The rest of his fingers splayed across your lower back, urging you closer to his chest, which, in turn, pressed your breasts against his leather–clad form. The contrast of your sensitive nipples against the cold leather, enveloped by the embrace of the diamonds, sent a shiver coursing down your spine.
“You are a rare gem to behold, even more, exceptionally adorned in these jewels,” he continued, his hands leaving their previous position to trail up and down your back, causing goosebumps to bloom in their wake. At one point, he paused his movements to give your body an abrupt twirl, positioning your back against his chest, and allowing his chin to rest upon your shoulder. From there, his hands returned to your waist, where he lazily rubbed circles into your skin.
The faint gasp that escaped your lips transformed into a subtle smile as your back met with his chest. You had a strong inkling of where this was leading when he began to sway gently, your body moving in rhythm with his, causing the cold diamond strands to brush against your warm skin. Where they made contact, a symphony of goosebumps erupted, until his hands started their ascent, tracing a path over your abdomen.
“I simply can’t help but cherish your beauty, my precious,” he praised with a slight smugness playing on his lips. His voice caressed your skin, and the scent of alcohol hung thick in the air.
You turned your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were focused downward, following the path of his hand as it glided up and down your stomach, tracing intricate patterns. It was clear that the telltale flush on his cheeks indicated some level of intoxication. However, you allowed him to indulge in his gift.
His hands explored the expanse of your stomach before venturing upwards to reach your breasts, where he playfully teased your nipples. The already hardened buds had become sensitive from the constant contact with the cold diamonds, and now they were the target of your husband’s calloused fingers. He alternated between gently tugging on your nipple with his fingers and rolling it over the palm of his hand, savouring the hitch in your breath as a melody of pleasure.
“You look even more radiant like this,” he admired as he glanced at your face. Your lips were parted, your eyes closed, and your head rested against his shoulder. “My very own star.”
Shifting his focus from your nipples, he encompassed your entire breasts, massaging them while continuing to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. A cascade of compliments flowed effortlessly from his lips, more than you had ever heard in a single night, let alone in a matter of minutes. Despite the coarseness of his hands, they seemed to find the perfect balance against the cool, hard diamonds and silver. He kneaded and squeezed your breasts with a gentle but firm touch, while his lips found their way to your neck, planting soft kisses that conveyed his words of affection directly onto your skin.
Your hands reached up to entwine in his silky, ebony hair, and you gently tugged, securing a handful of his strands. He inhaled deeply, momentarily breaking the connection of your lips. You felt his long lashes brushing against your skin—cursing him for those tantalizing lashes.
“Lie on the bed for me,” he commanded, his torment growing unbearable. With a gentle push, he watched with hooded eyes as you gracefully made your way to the bed, swaying your hips seductively as you went.
Like a ravenous wolf, he followed, his fingers caressing your legs as you crawled onto the bed, trailing along the delicate anklets. His fixation on the adornments and how they lovingly embraced your flesh made his tongue moisten his lips once more. Once you were comfortably reclining on your back, his gaze traced every inch of your body, his hands reaching out to adjust the pieces so that they adorned you as they were meant to. With each adjustment, his fingers lingered on your most sensitive areas, a mischievous smirk revealing his awareness of his own intentions.
After the last tweak, he took a step back to admire his masterpiece—you. His eyes glimmered with desire as he continued to drink in the sight of you, his fingers twitching, yearning to savour every inch of your body. But instead, he chose to indulge himself piece by piece.
“Spread your legs for me,” he whispered, barely audible as he was now entranced, his gaze fixed on the most intimate treasure.
You radiated with a brilliance he could never hope to achieve, no matter his craftsmanship. The sight of your arousal glistening all over you, creating a natural sparkle and sheen, caused his trousers to grow uncomfortably tight. He inhaled deeply, taking his time to appreciate every inch of your form, secretly patting himself on the back for the diamonds that accentuated your innate radiance.
His hands extended to rest atop your knees, gently parting them to obtain the best view. As he did so, a few strands of diamonds hanging from your belt grazed your sensitive area. The cold touch of metal and stone intensified the heat and sensitivity you were already experiencing. This caught Curufin’s attention, and without hesitation, he sank to his knees and tugged you further down the bed. The abrupt motion positioned your core right before his gaze, allowing him to observe every detail.
Slowly, his index finger traced through your folds, collecting your desire and savouring the tremors coursing through your body. With each shiver, the jewellery bumped against your clit, and to Curufin’s surprise, you hadn’t attempted to remove it. You knew that you were instructed to leave it where it belonged and not interrupt perfection.
“What would you like me to do, my love?” he asked casually, his fingers tracing patterns around your clit.
It was a challenge to concentrate on his words as they whispered in your ear; your attention was consumed by the masterpiece he was crafting. Biting your lip and exhaling softly, your fingers gripped the mattress, rendering you unable to respond as his finger delved into your entrance. His gentle thrusts evoked soft moans from you, yet you remained wordless. In response, you managed to move your hips in harmony with his motions, enabling him to penetrate deeper than he had initially intended.
“I could watch you like this all day, for all eternity,” he whispered, his eyes tracing the contours of your form and the mesmerizing way the jewellery adorned your body moved with each of your movements. “Would you like me to continue?”
“Mmm, yes, please,” you managed to whimper. Your head tilted to the side, and soft moans slipped from your lips, mingling with the heated atmosphere.
Pleased by your response, he leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your inner thigh, his gaze never leaving your face. The longer he observed your expressions, the more mischief danced in the depths of his eyes. Your writhing and the sheer pleasure on your face filled him with a sense of joy and generosity. He was intoxicated by the appreciation of your splendour.
“Then allow me to fulfil the same desire I have, my love.”
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Masterlist
Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @lilmelily @koyunsoncizeri @aconstructofamind @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @bunson-burner @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @batsyforyou @wandererindreams @ilu-stripes @someoneinthestars
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darlinsam · 2 years
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autumn leaves are falling down
david shaw x angel. lots of fluff & slightly suggestive.
david doesn’t call you angel for no reason, it’s not just some random pet name he picked from a book. he calls you angel because he is sure, with everything in his body, that you were sculpted by the gods. that you really are an angel.
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a half empty bottle of red wine and two empty glasses stand on the small round dining table of yours and david’s home. the end result of an evening of homemade cooking, which mostly consisted of you sat upon the kitchen counter and david preparing the food, while you share small talk and conversations about nothing in particular. the candles in the middle of the table are still alight and flicker gently, the warm golden glow reflects upon both your features, contrasted by the silver moonlight which has started to pour through from outside the window.
the clock has gone way past midnight, but at this point neither of your care. too busy tangled in each other’s arms, standing together in the kitchen, swaying slightly to the sounds of the autumn night; the rustling of wind and leaves falling outside, and the crackling wood coming from the small cosy fireplace in the corner of the room. however, the sound of david’s heartbeat is your main focus, the rhythm is calming against your ear where you have you head pressed against his chest. his arms are securely wrapped around your waist, and every now and again you feel his hands wander and dance along your back under the plaid shirt you’re wearing. one that you stole from him earlier in the day, claiming it was far better than any of your own clothes as it smelt like him. david huffed about it at the time, but there’s no denying the glint in his eye seeing you in his clothes. the shirt finishes just above your knees and the sleeves fall way past your hands. and truth be told, david has never thought you looked more ethereal than you do now.
“angel?”
his voice is soft. it always has a deep and husky tone to it, but it’s always softer when he talks to you. he lifts a hand, two fingers coming to rest under your chin to lift your head making your eyes meet his. you hum in response, tilting you head to the side ever so slightly. the eye contact is intense, the both of you taking in each and every detail of one another’s features. your eyes wander from the curl of david’s eyelashes, to the slight tint of pink on his cheeks. there’s stands of hair that have fallen out of place which now lay astray against his forehead, while the rest of his hair is still slightly slicked back from where he previously ran his fingers through it.
“kiss me.”
he whispers in a hushed out breath, and you pick up on the hint desperation in his voice, something that only you would notice as a result of the years you’ve been together. you’re one of the only people who knows the real david shaw. underneath the strong alpha of the shaw pack, is the davey you know.
he leans down slightly, pressing his nose against yours gently as if to remind you of his previous request. and so, you grant him his wish and stand of the tip of your toes to press your lips against his, moulding into him like a perfect fit. a mixture of shared breaths and quiet moans against your lips every so often makes your body feel like it’s on fire. your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling slightly at the strands making low growls escape his lips. his larger hands come to hold your face, fingers softly smoothing over your cheeks. the both of you know you’re completely lost in the atmosphere of being so close, yet you’re still longing to be even closer.
after a few more shared moments of gripping hands and quiet whines, david pulls back ever so slightly. your wide eye gaze follows him as he leaves a trail of kisses against your skin, down from your cheek to your neck and shoulders, before pulling away to press his tinted red lips to your forehead. you lift your hand to his, pressing your palm against his one before he locks your fingers together and brings your knuckles closer so he can lay kisses against each one. he keeps his eyes on you the whole time, wanting to watch the affect he has on you.
david smooths down your hair gently, taking in how it falls into place perfectly. it’s a little messy, mostly his own fault for tangling his hands through it a few moments ago. his eyes trace over the mixture of pink and light purple marks painting your skin from where his mouth had been, and your slightly swollen red lips that he’ll never get tired of kissing. his shirt your wearing is hanging off one shoulder, the first few buttons undone to frame your collarbones and neck perfectly. david thinks you look so effortlessly perfect, and he wishes he could freeze time in this moment wanting nothing more than to spend every day of his life dancing around the kitchen with you in his arms.
“i love you, angel.”
and when you press a single kiss against the adam’s apple in his throat and snake your arms up around his neck bringing his head to rest against your shoulder, he knows your actions speak louder than words.
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winterdeepelegy · 6 months
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The Grumpus
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Glace hadn't been looking for an excuse to visit Ciel, or that's what he told himself, but he arrived at her door nonetheless and was invited in for coffee. Something about her home matched the atmosphere outside. Although it was cozy, her parlor fairly shimmered with Starlight Celebration finery. A large tree, as well, stood decked out in shiny bits and bobs, and strands of gleaming silver. Surrounding its base was a pile of plush dolls and toys nearly as wide as it was deep.
"You're just in time," chirped the songstress upon returning with said coffee, cups, and adornments therefore.
She too dressed for the festivities in a mint green dress trimmed with fur, stockings adorned with snowflakes, and a red silk ribbon in her hair which bore golden charms at the end.
It would be a lie to say he didn't find the look at all adorable but this was a thought to which he would never lend voice. "In time for what? And what's with all the toys? I never would have assumed you the sort to collect dolls." Ciel filled his cup and presented it with her explanation. "Oh, they're not for me. I do collect them every winter, but they're for children in orphanages and less fortunate situations. I could use some help delivering them." He clasped his hands around the cup of coffee and lifted it to inhale the rich aroma. Neither coffee nor cream would find their way into it. It had to remain pure... bitter and dark like his heart.
"You know, I've never paid Starlight much mind," he said. "Never really had time or interest to get into it, and it wasn't so much a thing in Garlemald. Most of the holidays revolved around the Emperor's nameday,  or the date of a historic conquest..." "But there's nothing to stop you, hm? Do you know aught of the holiday's history?" He took a slow sip of his drink while considering the possibility, lowered it a few ilms and looked in her direction. "No, now that you mention it. I mean, I know the history, I had to learn it for immersion... but you're right, there's nothing to stop me now and I like kids well enough. I'm just... not the jolly type."
"But do it for them!" Ciel dropped a sugar cube and a dribble of cream into her cup, followed by a stream of coffee. "And the more the merrier, as they say. They'd love you for it." He turned his eyes downward to stare into his cup. "Gods, I've done enough pretending for a lifetime. You want me to pretend more?"
She feigned a pout, "I'm not asking you to pretend to be joyful, I'm just asking you to help bring joy to people who need it. Did they truly have nothing like this in Garlemald?" "Well... not while I was there. Something like it but not like it, a very long time ago, before it ever became the Empire." "Oh?" "They had a Grumpus." He said this much and lapsed into silence, again taking from his cup while Ciel waited moments for more details. "Well, out with it, Glace. You can't just drop something like that and not tell me what a 'Grumpus' is," the woman prodded. He grumbled in response, "I'm thinking... Like I said it's old history, fell out of favor after the military evolution began." Another brief pause for consideration, but he did piece together an explanation.
"I don't know how much you know about Reapers and their origin... the Grumpus comes from that. Supposedly, anyroad, it was the result of a farmer who was tired of his sons not helping around the farmstead... so to instill some fear and respect into them, he made a pact with a Voidsent and let it take over his body temporarily. When that happened, he sprouted aldgoat-like horns, his feet turned to hooves, his hands turned into claws..." Ciel lofted an eyebrow, "Well that hardly sounds joyful..."
He continued, "But it worked. The Grumpus, as it was called, threatened to drag them off into the snows and feed them to the Almastys if they didn't stop shirking their chores. And for every instance of disobedience, it would steal something they enjoyed - including the love of family. They never disrespected their father again after that, and the family was happier for it." She stared. Perhaps she had missed the part where there might have been anything truly joyful beyond terrified obedience. "Alright then..." She slowly sipped her coffee but inquired no further, figuring it better to leave the tale alone.
"Now what of your siblings? Do you think some of them might wish to help, too? It might be good to have them meet people this way."
Something in the Duskwight's expression brightened at that. He could think of several who might have loved the idea. "You're right, Plum. Let me finish this cup and I'll see how quickly I can gather them."
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ninadove · 5 months
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Find the words 📝✨
An ask game proposed by @bittersweetresilience! The goal is to find specific words in our fics or WIPs, and share the corresponding snippets.
Without further ado, I give you my time machine the result of years of blorbo rotation:
1. Water
The water is warm against her skin — the polar opposite of the Tailtean rain, which stabbed through her cape and all the way to her bones.
“It was my responsibility.” Edelgard reaches for the pilled cloth, before Byleth gets a chance to do so. “When I started this war, I knew very well that it would end up with one of us killing the other.”
The truth is that she would do it again, over and over, as many times as required. Ever since the Holy Tomb, she has not regretted a single decision.
Enemy (FE3H)
A rare heavy angst piece from me but it’s OK, because I’m not particularly attached to Dimitri.
2. Shadow
“We don't have much time.”
Silver scratched Felix’s skin: cold, polished, foreign.
He knew better than to take the risk; knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, what fate awaited on the other end of his trickery. But the fake ring was well-crafted, and Uncle was stupid, and he felt his amok’s absence like a phantom pain — burning its way up his arm, nestling into his chest.
“This again?” Trixx’s pout was expected; it did not make it any kinder. “Come on, Félix, we’ve combed through the entire mention. There’s no point.”
“Yes, there is.” Logging into the tablet was child’s play, a well-oiled routine. “I’ve come too far to give up now.”
The roof of his mouth had been left bitter from too many orders: some forced down his throat, some swallowed with a smile. He needed to wash away the aftertaste, to know this had not all been in vain.
The blueprints were silent as always, but he would make them talk.
Kill the Lights (Dog and Fox Senticousins WIP)
3. Yesterday
“So are we going in or what?”
Emmy walked up the door with tense shoulders and fiery eyes — as if she was trying to intimidate the handle.
It did not move an inch.
“There’s a puzzle on the lock,” she growled. “Something about a watch that’s lost its markings.”
“That’s… peculiar.”
“In the world we live in?” Flora chimed in, very rightly so. “I’d be more surprised if there wasn’t some kind of riddle for us to solve!”
“Not that.” Clive rested his chin in his palm, scanning his surroundings with journalistic precision. “Why would the owners close down in the middle of the afternoon, on a week day? I don’t even see a sign.”
“It’s an antique clockshop in a deserted part of town,” Emmy groaned, squinting at the instructions with resigned diligence. “It’s probably abandoned.”
“No chance. The paint is pristine — I could almost believe it opened yesterday.”
Flora scratched her head, rebellious strands escaping from her carefully tied ribbon.
“Maybe they just really like puzzles.”
The Lucky Ones (Professor Layton role reversal WIP)
Thank you for the tag, Sunny! ☀️
@dragongutsixofficial, @paracosmicat and anyone who might be tempted: your words are time, embrace and sibling. If you can’t find these, how about ocean, sun and myth?
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z0-ne · 2 years
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Troubled (Abridged! Future! Trunks x Nonbinary! Reader!
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(TOLD FROM (Y/N) and Trunks's POV)
'Hello. My name is (Y/N)'
"My name is Trunks.'
'and this...is our story.'
'For the first half, we were babies, so certain things may be a little....inaccurate.'
As people surrounded a body lying flat and lifeless on the ground, frantic footsteps could be heard over the sound of one loud wailing child (T:Hey-) and worrisome mumbling could be heard from every corner of the room.
Son Goku perished in his own house, as you could have guessed. 
As a result of a heart condition. Out of all the things that could've done it he died that way. A damn heart attack
'Y/N-'
'Hush, I'm gonna keep going.'
"What happened, Mom?!"
"Your dad is gone! For good!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Trunks decided to repeat what he heard because he could hear distant screaming in the distance.
"Dad dead! Dad dead!"
'I was told those were my first words'
"Son of a Bitch!"
Vegeta screamed in disappointment, either because his son's first words reminded him that his father was dead or because Goku was dead. It was most likely the second one.
"Son of a bitch!"
'and those were my second..'
'Seeing what happens afterwards, your first words were a terrible choice.'
"But he just got back fro, his training, after being on namek, after getting back from his training, AFTER being DEAD!"
'Bye son'
A faint voice called out but soon faded away.
'And with the death of goku his freinds and family were left to mourn...For approximately six months'
'Wait why didn't they wish him back before the androids or at least wish piccolo immortal? '
'I..I don't know?'
'Either way, the warriors who were left all got their asses handed to them- I mean were mercilessly killed in a battle despite krillns sorry attempts at flirting. Including one of my dads. Homophobic Dicks.'
'After that things went bad, and it left the fate of the earth with little hope.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
'Over the next thirteen years the android would spend time destroying small town fter small town eventually working their way up. Maybe thats why we reacted the way we did, but (Y/N) and I spent a lot more time together.'
'And welcome back folks too TJ and the wombat! Wombat! WOMBAT! 'me so horny!' Starting today off wih our hour with sports: The college Battleball Association has had to disband ENTiRELY'
'As most of the and associate colleges have been destroyed by the Cyborgs.'
'Ahahahhahahaha, WIPEOUT!'
'They dealt with things with....dark humor'
'Speaking of which! In Cyborg news..'
'As we currently speak, Paprikaburg is under siege by the mechanical threat!'
'But on the brighter side!- wombats getting married!'
'That's right! Unfortuantly, my beloved fiance resides in Paprikaburg..and is probably most certainly dying as we speak!'
'But -- silver lining- Im single again!'
'holy hay!'
Bulma, a middle aged woman with long blue hair kept in a messy braid, blue eyes and fair skin reached over and shut off the radio, no longer wanting to hear it. Sitting beside her was two children but only one belonged to her.
A young boy, he wore a white shirt with blue long sleeves and the Capsule Corporation title on the chest along with grey sweatpants and blue boots.
He haf blue eyes, and hair colored  lavender that is soft and straight that parts from the top of his head to frame both sides of his face reaching his ears with two loose strands over his forehead but the wind blew it our of proportion.
Another child named (Y/N) sat beside him, they were Trunks's age and wore a black tank top underneath an orange sweater with a white belt wrapped around the lower part of their waist along with grey leggings and dark brown combat boots.
They had (E/C) eyes, and (colored) hair that was combed/braided/brushed into a bun. (IF YOU HAVE NO HAIR OR SHORT HAIR) They didn't have to worry about hair/ They brushed through their (Colored) hair into some style.
There was a nice breeze in the air and the ride from the store in general was a nice distraction from recent events.
That was until Trunks said something to ruin it.
"Mom? Do you believe in destiny"
"Im a scientest so no."
"Paprikabrug is only 30 miles from here! If we hurry we could save someone!"
"hm." (Y/N) disagreed
The car came to a sudden stop, making the once calming drive come to a stop due to Trunks's stupid yet wishful thinking.
"Or you could die like your father and get Y/N killed too."
"Why do you say that everytime I wanna go fight them?"
"Because YOU are 13, Im 37, YOU somehow manage to drag them into everything and Im all alone."
'My mother had been thirty seven for ten years'
"No means no end of discus-''
Just as she ended the conversation trunks flew off and you watched.
"Oh! No! Just, just fly away! That's fine!
He flew off and you stood up, hovering above air and conteplating how stupid this was, but the simple fact that Trunks didn't think things through like always was enough for you to want to drag him back by his hear, so you ended up following him.
"Don't worry Miss Brief, I'll drag him back if I have to."
"Not you too!"
You dashed forward and quickly caught up to him not hearing bulma call after you two.
"God...bless them."
(Y/N) quickly caught up to him, and he looked back with wide eyes as if he was shocked to see they followed him, and they glared in response much to his dismey.
"Hey! You actually came, I was a little worried about going by myself so I'm glad you-"
"I'm here to drag you back if shit hits the fan, which I know it will. Wanna know why?!"
"Because we're thirteen?"
"BECAUSE WE'RE THIRTEEN!"
'We weren't sure if we could do anything at all....but we had to atleast try to stop their chaos.'
"The innocent people-"
"Tell me trunks, what the hell are you gonna do against the androids when you can't even hold your own long enough against ME, and everytime you lose you get all teary and whine about getting stronger knowing damn well it's not gonna happen because you don't even know how to properly fight?! we don't even know how to do ki balst like gohan!"
"Wha- bu- YOU do?! Plus that thing was years ago!"
"Oh yeah A year ago is enough time for us to learn how to fight like sayains to defeat androids and for YOU to stop whining like a little bit-"
The two came to a sudden stop, and so did their "arguing" right below them was a city that was in absolute rubble. Buildings collasped, rubble everywhere.
'But we were too late'
"Damnit! We're too late!"
 The two lowered their bodies and planted their feet onto the ground and right below one of them sat a single doll, and you both got a closer look at it. Trunks kneeled down and picked up the doll, staring at it and then tightening his grip around the toy which probably belong to some dead kid. (Y/N) looked around the area.
'But...as we walked the ruins of the demolished city..'
Suddenly as trunks was trying not to cry, the two of you looked around and there he stood. A slightly older man known as son gohan, a tall, stern, and muscular man who wore an orange Gi.
'A Sexy Hero appereard!'
'A sexy hero appereard!-- Damnit (Y/N)!-'
'Ahem. A Hero appereard! The hero of our time: Gohan!'
'And face-to-face with him all I could say was..'
"GohantheykeepdestroyingcitiesandIdon'tknowhowtostopthemandeverybody's de-he-head!"
'I believe it was profound'
("Gohan they keep destroying cities and I don't know how to stop them and everybody's de-he-head!")
All Trunks managed to choke out was some slurred words that were covered with tears and a whiney voice, in response to that (Y/N) closed  their eyes and took a deep breath before letting out the most dissapointed sigh in history.
"I-..damnit Trunks."
The two children and gohan flew  back to capsle corp, and walked through the door once they landed.
Trunks, who was still in tears and stiffling back cries lead them upstairs with the help of (Y/N) where there was a table and some chairs, so everyone could sit down but gohan stood there looking out the window and (y/n) stared at him for a while, and took in the silence and enjoyed the peaceful moment.
Before Trunks ruined it....again.
(Y/N) Liked the boy a lot, but they wished he would shut the HFIL up sometimes, and this time was one of them. Regardless they still handed him a peice of tissue to wipe his tears away with.
"You remember a time before this gohan..what was it like?"
There was another short moment of silence until gohan took a deep breath and recollected his thoughts before answering.
"Welp, when I was a toddler, my Uncle kidnapped me, and then Mr. Piccolo killed him and my Dad. Then *Mr. Piccolo* Kidnapped me, the sayins showed up, killed a bunch of people -- Including Mr. Piccolo...Then we went to Namek, a bunch more people died, we came back, then my Dad died *again* then all my friends died, and now everyone else is dying."
'But somehow he survied all along, and his life sounds really shitty so far..'
     "But...It was better right?"
(Y/N) slowly turned Their head over to face him, questioning if what they heard was actually real and they weren't imagining things.
"Trunks what the fu-''
"....No"
Gohan inturrupted and trunks stood up from the table, and (Y/N) sat still at the table and watched them conversate hoping this time Trunks wouldn't drag them into his shit.
"Well (Y/N) and I can help you! We're half sayins! Just like you!"
Nevermind. (Y/N) stood up and walked beside trunks with their arms crossed over their chest.
"I've got two Mr. Piccolo"
Gohan whispered under his breath causing both (Y/N) and Trunks to look at hime as if he was insane, which he probably was, after all he's been through he might have a few screws loose.
"What?"
The two kids said in unison and gohan began to walk over to them and place a hand ontop their heads.
"I said from now on, you two shall be my pupils..and you will call me Mr.Gohan!"
"Oh! OK.--"
(Y/N) stepped on Trunks's foot to catch him off guard, and that it did, because tears started rolling again but since he was already crying it seemed like he was just getting emotinal again. They stepped over and smiled at gohan before asking him a question.
"Would you like to stay for dinner, Mr. Gohan?"
"Mr. Gohan would!"
Soon the door opened and the three of you heard keys jingling and the rustling of what sounded like grocery bags, and then the sound of bulmas shoes trailed through the house.
"Trunks, (Y/N)? Are you guys home? You know Their dad is gonna kill me if they're dead. Should I change my dating profile from 'Single Mother' to just 'Single'? Because one gets more hits--"
Bulma headed up the stairs, so Trunks quickly dried his tears and (Y/N) sat infront of him as they both acted like they were reading the entire time instead of talking about training to fight man-slaughtering andriods.
"Oh. Gohan, long time no see!"
"Bulma."
"so Gohan, You staying the night? we got plenty of room here but, you know..no extra beds, so..."
The three of you looked over to see where she was headed.
"We'll have to share..."
"I'm good''
"well, worth a shot. Who's hungry?"
As bulma walked into the kitchen gohan followed her like a lost puppy simply because she had food.
"I am"
As (Y/N) started to follow Gohan Trunks stopped them dead in their tracks by grabbing their left wrist, and they turned around to face him.
"What was that for?!" Trunks whispered/yelled at (Y/N) while they stood their confused until it hit them, he was tallking about stomping down on his foot earlier when he was about to talk to Gohan.
"Oh you mean kicking you? Because *I* wanted to ask Mr. Gohan to dinner."
"Wha- WHY!? It's not like it's a date or anything!"
"It is if I pretend you aren't there"
"But- Why him?- What about me?!"
"Hey trunks, I like you. you're cute and all, but gohan is just...Wow.."
"What does wow mean- I can be Wow too!"
"...*Can* you?.....  Really?"
"Yes! I can!"
"*Look* I'll give you chance if Gohan ever *Dies*."
Trunks stared at them for a minute before he let go of his wrist and watched as they left, and bawled his hands into fist as he looked down at his feet and mummbled to himself.
"But- He's so much older- and *I'm* around them more! That's stupid! Their crush is stupid! I'm gonna show them I can be wow too. whatever that means!"
"TRUNKS COME ON!"
"Coming!"
'We were determinerd for....different reasons'
'...yeah...kinda should've worded some things better tho'
"You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get produce nowadays, but luckily we have our own greenhouse."
Bulma sat the final plate infront of gohan as she finished her sentence, and gohan immediatly picked up the bowl. (Y/N) sat across fromhim and stared with dreamy eyes. Trunks sat at the end looking down at his food and sometimes taking glances at (Y/N).
"can't talk eating
The two half-sayins and (Y/N)  sat around a oval-shaped wooden table with food surrounding them, Gohan dug in and ate fast. He was a little messy and fast, getting rice on the table ajndbut it wasn't  that disturbing. what was disturbing was how he still looked so attractive.
"Oh you are just like your father!"
suddenly Gohans vaccum like eating came to an end and glanced at bulma almost as if she just said something that triggered something.
"In what reguard?
"Well your strong and brave and look at you n that gi."
"It was the *Only* thing he left me.''
"aww that's sweet"
'Over the next few weeks, Gohan would begin training us, focusing on making us super saiyan like him."
"His meathods were..."
Gohan dashed forward while (Y/N) came from the right and trunks charged directly, Trunks delivered the first blow and gohan vanished into thin air by the time they came to back him up he was already behind trunks.
"Watch out!"
"Huh?!"
"DODGE"
With little to no effor he sent the kids both flying into the water after delivering a hard kick to Trunks's chin and caused him to fall back taking (Y/N) with him. They both fell into the water and struggled in the waves.
"HELP US MR.GOHAN!"
"HELP MR.GOHAN!"
(Y/N) gripped onto Trunks's shirt and tried to steady the two of them so neither would sink.
"FLY UP!"
"The whirlpool'd too strong we can't swim!"
"*I said* FLY. UP."
"Maybe...I can build a raft!"
Gohan let out a fustrated groan from the lack of understanding with what he said. What was so hard about flying up? was he this hard to train when was younger?
"Wait...didn't he say something about flying?"
Either way no matter what they said trunks was too busy thrashing around and crying for gohan to help to really pay (Y/N) any attention so they linkedd their arms underneath trunks's arms and began to fly up to the nearest surface and sat him down as you landed.
Trunks was coughing violently while you patted his back, and a crab came out his mouth? How is he still alive?either way (Y/N) didn't notice gohan Approaching with towels because they were trying to help steady Trunks's breathing. That was until..y'know he tapped their shoulder and trunks stopped coughing. He handed them a towel and then he handed one over to Trunks
"Here. Clean yourself up"
"Oh-  Mr.Gohan..Thank you-"
Trunks glanced over at  (Y/N) as they stuttered out some words and then Gohan who nodded in their direction  before they took a seat beside Trunks who was still looking at Gohan and so was (Y/N).
"Y'know, if you two think im rough you two should've trained with Mr.Piccolo"
"You really looked up to him didn't you?"
(Y/N) and Trunks said in unison and gohan sat between the two since there was a gap.
"Yeah he was like the father I never had.'
"Y'know speaking of dads, mom never talks about mine...You knew him right? What was he like?"
Gohan looked in the distance as if he was remembering something and it left the three in a few seconds of silence, and Trunks watched (Y/N) looking down at their own shoes as if they were lsot in thought, so he snuck his hand over theirs.
"Not now."
"Yep. Got it."
Suddenly Gohan spoke up and all attention was on him too see what his answer was.
".....He had a lot to prove" Which meant in so many words that vegeata was a d!ck. They'd find that out in the future.
"Gohan never talked much about his family. Apperently his mother and Grandfather lived alone in the woods"
"Hey (Y/N)?"
"yeah?"
"What do you do when you're *not* here? I mean theres gotta be a reason why you're stronger than me right?"
There was some silence as (Y/N) had flashback's and the laughter of an evil being named Popo came to their mind as they stared at the ground for a minute leaving Trunks waiting for an answer which he probably wasn't gonna ever get.
"(Y/N)?"
"First rule of Popo's training never talk about Popo's training.."
"Huh"
"Bye."
"Wait- what about-"
Just before he could say anything you flew away and he followed.
"Gohan would continue pushing us harder and harder, day and night, to become a Super Saiyan"
Trunks and (Y/N) pushed and pushed , trying to find the power to become a Super Saiyan but it wasn't really working.
They got close, powering up and their ki's locked and formed a sort of flame around the two while their hair raised (Or not)  but then they lost it and the flame went out. Their hair fell back down and so did they, the twokids crashed down to their knees and took deep breaths wondering if they'd ever transform into Super Saiyan.
"The next day the Cyborgs would attack super world"
Three people flew in the sky scanning for the androids wondering if they were really out this time, well one was? Until they all spotted them and hovered over to just witness the mess they made instead of doing something about it in advance.
"Y'know when you can fly these rides don't seem all that fun"
"Well, if you're already bored, why not try taking a ride on my fist?"
"*Wow*... You, uh, want a minute to rephrase that there, cheif?"
"Nope! I'd rather take that minute to kick your ass!"
"Okay now see, that's better"
"Now, (Y/N) and Trunks, I want you two to just sit back and spectate! Unless they team up on me, in which case - jump in."
"I can't help but feel like we're woefully unprepared for this."
"Yeah maybe we should've taken more time"
"That's *exactly what we prepared for!"
The three of them got into a fighting stance despite how unsure they all were, it was highly possible that one was gonna loose and bets were on the guy who brought two kids to the fight, but regardless they all started to take on seperate targets without really paying attention to morals. Nor the fact that this could end up with everyone dead and humanity was *really* fucked.
'This would be our first real battle, and We've never seen anyone fight so fiercely!'
'Or got our asses kicked so badly.'
'Later- Gohan had always told his stories about fights in the past...but those had a lot more screaming and posturing, eh'
"Heh...Ma-"
"Whatever you're gonna say, don't. "
Gohan and 17 did fight fiercely it was nearly an even number of blows being shared amongst the two instead of one being comepletely destroyed. Yet. Eventually gphan gained the upperhand android 18 bitch slapped him into a building so now his chances were very slim when it came to winning.
"Damn, he's pissed today!" "You think its his time of the month?'
"Ha! Ah it's funny cause you're a chick!"
"Gohan!"
"Gohan!"
Soon enough the two Cyborgs teamed up on him, each taking a hit after the other sen him their way. It was bad.
"Stop it!"
So the two kids stepped in and were soon blasted away by 18, luckily they caught themselves and went to higher ground to fight 18. Unfortuantly this now means that the two kids were left to fight the *other* android which (despite there being two vs one) seemed to be a little more...unfair when it comes to strength.
"I can't believe you brought kids to a battle! Super irresponsible."
"She wasn't wrong"
"We're not afraid of you! We can take care of you ourselves!"
"I, However, was."
In a few seconds, the cyborg punched (Y/N) away and punched trunks in the nose, holding him up by his sweater while (Y/N) hit a pole. Trunks was lifted by his shirt to see 18 and she smirked down at him.
"Now what do you think?"
"You hit like a girl!"
"Well...you're not wrong."
"Trunks!"
18 lifted her left hand and formed a ki blast luckily (Y/N) regained enough consiousness and dashed forward to kick the cyborg away and grab Trunks, after securring their arms underneath his they tried to fly away and get some distance in time, but she still managed to graze their back with a ki blast.
It would've been deadly up close but lucky for them, they managed to gain some distance and it only burnt up their back. Despite the amount of distance they had and the little damage they took they still  lost consiousness and fell to the ground as they faded in and out all while still keeping a hold on trunks.
"TRUNKS, (Y/N)!"
Gohan caught the two of them and ran to find cover while the cyborgs continued to blow things up.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"
"No you don't!"
The two androids threw ki blast at the
"Hey mom?"
"what is it Trun..OH, MY GOD!"
"What do you know about reattaching arms? That we couldn't find?"
"Oh, sweetie."
Luckily bulma was able to fix Gohan, well everything but y'know..his arm because it was gone.
They set Gohan's things to the side and then returned to his side with trunks and pateintly watched to make sure he was actually breathing.
He was.
"So...have you learned anything today?"
"The only good Cyborg is a dead Cyborg?" "..You really are your fathers son.."
You questioned what his father was like after that but regardless it didn't matter right now.
Luckily bulma was able to fix Gohan, well everything but y'know..his arm because it was gone.
They set Gohan's things to the side and then returned to his side with trunks and pateintly watched to make sure he was actually breathing.
He was.
"So...have you learned anything today?"
After putting his things to the side and stabilizing his body, Bulma waited to see if trunks would answer her question
He turned to her and did just that.
"The only good Cyborg is a dead Cyborg?"
"..You really are your fathers son.."
You questioned what his father was like after that but regardless it didn't matter right now. _______ 'Now stronger and more motivated than ever, we were back to training as soon as Gohan was able again'
The two children struggled as they stressed their bodies to achieve such a difficult form.
'Though we think he was still a little...sore..'
Their energy formed around them, and merged simultaneously as they continued to struggle with the transformation.
"Come on, you two! Just imagine losing someone or something close to you! Like your arm!  Cause trust me, that really friggin sucks!"
Once again they were nearly there, but as soon as they changed the movement of the wind they quickly fell to their knees.
Trunks threw up last night's dinner, and you fell to your knees holding in your own possible puke, and eventually got a headache from it.
"Alright, take five."
'Unfortunately, we didn't transform in time...' ________ Now sitting in the middle of nowhere ontop of some random rock You three found around the deserted area.
It was just all three of you laying or sitting there either talking or watching the clouds in the sky and reminiscing.
"So, Gohan- d you usually hang out in wastelands?"
"What do you mean? This is where I live."
You looked around the place and wondered what he was surviving off of while he were there. It could've been the lizards.
"Oh- uh it's nice!"
Maybe he went back to his mom's house every now and them to get food? The androids managed to be what killed the dinosaurs so he wasn't getting any meat from them.
"I think you guys are really close, you know. You just need something to push you over the edge..."
"Well you always told us to use the pain of loss, but I've never lost anyone."
Looking over to you as you sat him, trunks mightve wondered just why you hadn't turned to super sayain considering you lost a father.
"What about you?"
Unbeknownst to him, you hardly knew him enough to be that upset that he was dead.
Afterall he died when you were four, and you saw him arguing with your father most of the time over sending you out there or not.
"I only know my father from what my dad told me about him. I haven't seen him in years."
You spoke so highly of him, but it was because he wasn't gonna send you out there in the first place until things got rough.
He's the reason why you ended up nearly living with popo had it not been for them sending you to go visit bulma.
Looking away from you as if he was ashamed that he even thought to ask that question and you just shrugged it off.
"Well, for me it was my greatest source of anger. I just think about losing killing or Mr.Piccolo--"
"Or your dad?"
"Uh, yeah, sure. And then it just builds up inside me until finally...it explodes."
Suddenly, a giant explosion from a nearby city was set off, catching all of you of guard and snatching your attention.
"Uh yeah, like that only figuratively"
The three of you immediately jumped up and got ready to go down there and try to stop the cyborgs again.
"The cyborgs! Mister Gohan we have to go!"
Trunks insisted while gohan turned super sayain. It was like he was about to leave the two of you behind in that very moment.
"No, we all know neither of you are ready."
This time you stepped up and defended Trunks's actions instead of going with what Gohan said for once.
"If we don't go you'll be left to fight them all alone! We saw what they did to you at the carnival but now you'll only be fighting with one arm! You have to let us help you!"
You insisted as he looked down at you and then back at Trunks who had one last thing to say before Gohan would retaliate.
"Yeah! You only have one arm! What can you do with one arm?!"
Suddenly, he relaxed ever so slightly, and turned to face Trunks it was like he was about to change his mind and let you guys go.
"You know what, yiu guys are right. What can I do with only one arm?"
"Thank you Mister Gohan! We will not let you down!"
Everything went a little too well, and soon you'd both find out why.
A swift hit to the back of the neck for Trunks first, and he fell to the ground, out cold and leaving you in a slight shock.
That didn't last long, because the next person he went after was you, and yet another swift chop to the back of your neck left you out cold.
"That..I can do that with one arm." _______ (I didn't wanna write out the fight, so just enjoy the video until the sad part comes around!) ______ Suddenly, when the two of you woke up and finally stood despite the struggle that came with being knocked unconscious.
You both saw the smoke coming from the city, and your hearts dropped to your stomachs you shared a single glance with eachother before dashing off to make sure your nightmares hadn't come true.
As the rain poured from the sky and wet the area surrounding it, you squinted through it and kept searching for anything that would give you a sign that he was alive.
"(Y/N)! Come quick!"
Flying over as soon as you heard Trunks's voice you hoped in your heart that what you were thinking was just put of control paranoia, but when you stopped by his side and saw what he saw you realized it was all true.
You two sat there in the air, completely shocked before you made the first move to grab his hand and squeeze, and he squeezed back bringing you back into this horrible reality.
It was Trunks who moved first this time, and you who followed in making your way to the body of your friend and mentor.
You both sat by his side and you reached for his hand only to feel it was completely cold to the touch, not an ounce of warmth left.
The world went silent for the both of you, as Trunks screamed to the top of his lungs, and you felt your entire body burn with both rage and grief.
You hunched over his body as you sobbed, and those sobs turned into screaming. Screamjng until your throat hurt and continuing on long after that.
Your hearts felt like they were burning, and your muscles were so tensed you poured blood from your fist when you left go of gohan and bawled them.
Neither of you knew how long you sat there and just cried, but after such a loss you both found a new hatred for the androids.
New strength was found as well. _________ One year later (Pause here for the sake of not losing track of the video)
"So..(Y/N) remember when you said about..uh..giving me a cha-"
"Trunks!"
"What-"
"Too soon!"
"I'm sorry."
(Unpause) ______ THREE YEARS LATER _____
"All right mom, we've got the rest of the supplies for the time machine. Too bad grandpa's not here to help you."
Setting the boxes down where they needed to be placed, you watched as they talked about Trunks's grandfather.
"Yeah. Unfortunately he's still off searing the cosmos for new namek."
Regardless of how odd that sounded. You wondered how long he's been alive and how he even managed to live so long.
"So until your grandfather returns-- just me."
Just when she finished speaking, there was an emergency broadcast from the radio in her work station.
"Hello, this is an emergency broadcast from Cuminopolis!"
You both walked over to hear just what they were talking about a little clearer then you could from the other side of the room.
"They Cyborgs are attacking! And rhey are sparing no one! No one is safe-"
It then went out, and silence followed. Those people were all dead by now from what you could deduct from that last sentence.
Still, you glanced and saw trunks looking at you as if waiting for confirmation to say something about this situation.
You looked back at the radio, and despite this being a bad decision you would make sure to let him know that it would be his last that you agreed on.
"Thats close to here."
"Trunks I know what you're thinking but let me finish the time machin-"
"We don't have *time* for that!"
"That's what the machine is for!"
"Listen! We're stronger now! We're super sayains!"
You heard screaming in the distance, and it definitely didn't sound like anyone you've ever heard before.
"So was gohan! And look how that went!"
"Oh, so now you're just replacing dad with *Gohan*?"
"Trust me I *tried*!"
That last sentence had you both stuck for a bit, but it wasn't like you didn't take notice the very first time you all saw it.
When she invited him over for one, but it still didn't make the situation any less awkward to acknowledge.
"We're going now."
"Be safe.''
So you just reached for his arm and started to drag him out the place as bumla went back to the Time Machine. ___
'And so, armed with the sword given to me by tapion....which is a whole...other story...'
'Which doesn't make sense since we could've just let him run loose on the androids and helped him after.'
'We raced off to fight the androids.. one last time..' ______
"So we done here?"
"Yep! No more people left to kill here."
Just as they walked away from the city they left in ruins, the two of you showed up to take them on and hopefully put an end to this.
"Why don't you try us?"
But that was wishful thinking.
As one of them turned to face the two of you looking a little suprised by Trunks's statement, her brother pointed out the flaw in it.
"Wait did you just ask us to kill you and your little buddy there?"
"N-no, a-as in 'fight me'"
"Do we even know the two of you?"
"Yes! You murdered our mentor!"
You decided to get right to fighting the one with dark hair while Trunks played catch-up with the blond one in the jacket.
"Oh wait, hold on... I don't care."
It was a somewhat even fight, but even you could tell that he was still a lot stronger than you were and gohan probably gave him more of a fight.
Still you flew circles around him and cut him off up until he started catching on to your movements and you were neck and neck with him.
"So uh hey, your little boyfriend over there is cheatin on you with pavement."
"Hope you can be close with it too!"
You answered his Sparky remark with a swift kick to his neck and knocked him through a rock and flat into the pavement.
Unfortunately, you got distracted when you looked to your side and saw trunks blast a ki blast in the blond ones direction.
"Hey doesn't he kinda remind you of, you know who?"
"Yeah, I see the resemblance, but unlike good ol' righty, he's still got both arms."
You turned to see the one with black hair had disappeared from where yiu threw him and got on defense again.
"Do not let your guard down!"
It was like they ignored you completely, and fought the one who was on a disadvantage by being on the ground and distracted.
"Yeah...but not for long."
Just as she said that, You saw the man with black hair coming right for you after you turned around to save your behind.
Unfortunately Trunks wasn't as lucky, and got knocked right through the building she popped out of and caught your attention.
"Damnit Trunks!"
You yelled as you tried to keep up with the new found pace despite losing your train of focus due to the multiple distractions.
One good kick and he was down again, but just as you tried to blast him away the blonde on came up from behind and used that same move all over again.
Except this way she blasted you straight downwards, and the black haired one was waiting for you just to punch you in the stomach.
You felt sick as you coughed blood and fell to your knees, only to be kicked far from him and right through a building.
"Hey sis! Make sure you blast that building while your at it!"
She did just that, and left the whole building in complete rubble, but she only hit the room right below you to send it all crashing.
They must've thought you died after that, because they didn't come back to finish you off or even check it.
"Hey sunshine, cough if you're still alive."
He had his foot underneath Trunks's chin and just like he asked Trunks let out some painful coughs after his attempt to gasp for air.
"Good boy."
You were out of it. Your back burnt like fire hit it and you felt like you would puke your intestines out on the ground.
"Why? Why are you doing this?"
"The question isn't "why?" , kid. It's "why not?"
"I mean who's gonna stop us?"
"Not those guys seventeen years ago."
"Not ol One-Arm"
"And certainly not you"
They purposefully teased him until he got up and started to punch at them weakly. Hardly having any strength to pronounce words let alone stand and punch things.
"You..you!"
He missed every swing, and even when he manged to hit them it was just those weak little punches that you'd get from an infant.
"You evil bunch of jerks, I'll kick your god damn..."
They laughed and mocked him as he punch them square in the face and spilled those pitiful words out to them
"This is hilarious!"
"You killed my master! My friend!"
"Now it's sad"
"WHY! WHY! WHY!"
"And now it's annoying again."
Suddenly, she moved out of the way and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying in the air and meeting him half way only to knock him back down.
Just as he crashed, his hair turned Lilac again and he nearly lost complete consiousness due to all the pain his body was put through.
"Wait a sec, this kid look familiar to you sis?"
"Yeah! He was at the amusement park with stumpy!"
Stomping on the top of his head and twisted his shoe on a new possible wound, they mocked the both of you.
"Oh look at you, a little survivor. Too bad your little pals can't say the same, but how about we fix that."
Suddenly, the blonde one got in the way of the blast and called dibs on killing him last minute. She took the hit.
"Sis get outta the wa-!"
The near nuclear explosion should've killed yiu both, but from what you knew they couldn't sense the two of you.
"Did you just friggin' *blast* me?!"
"You stepped in front of it what is wrong with you?!"
"NO-NO- TH-THAT'S IT! We're leaving!"
"Oh come on sis! Get back here!"
They also probably can't see in smoke so as long as you snuck to grab Trunks you both could leave to bulmas before anything else happened.
' I still have no idea how we survived'
'I got blasted three times that fight. I don't know how I managed to drag you to bulma.' _______ "Trunks sweetie? You waking up?"
He was in a hospital room covered in bandages and hooked up to a heart monitor that you assumed his mother made.
You entered the room just as he was opening his eyes and peaked from behind his mom to see if he was really waking up soon.
"Mom? Am I alive? How long was I out?"
Leaning over the railings of the bed, bulma smiled, definitely relieved that both of you ended up alive in this.
"Well, I finished the Time Machine."
"Oh...is that long?"
"Yeah.. so now you've got two options."
"One option really."
"They  have a point! So you can take a swing at the androids again."
Grunting in pain from the mere memory of that last interaction with the androids, you knew that answer meant hell no.
"Or you can use the time machine and go save goku! (Y/N) already gave me an answer, we were just waiting for you."
Looking up at the ceiling lights, and after a few seconds of weighing his chances again.Trunks reluctantly answered.
"I wanna save goku."
He mumbled so low that even you couldn't hear it so you tilted your head at his response.
"*Trunks*"
"I wanna save goku!" _______ 'After recovering for a few months, we were finally ready.'
It was spring by now and things felt a little better. After all those months things finally started looking up as you guys prepared to get into the machine.
"Awe my jacket looks so good on you! All the girls in the past are gonna love it!"
Trunks's face flushed a bit after she said that, and you smiled and pat his shoulder, catching him off guard.
You wore your fathers old sword around your waist inside of over your shoulders because the strap couldn't be completely saved.
You also wore his logo on the back of your shirt, and wore his belt around your waist. A way of paying your respects.
"Oh look at you! You look amazing in your fathers stuff! I'm sure he'd he proud if he could see you now!"
"Thanks bulma.."
Looking over at Trunks you saw his face flush and he looked at the time machine as if he was searching for a distraction.
"I can't wait to meet histories greatest hero!"
"Oh yeah...Goku might not be exactly how you think, so do temper your expectations."
You didn't exactly question what she meant by that but you were happy that you got to meet your own father and get to now more about him now.
You'd even get a chance to finally find out just which you came from and how you even had sayain blood in you.
"And dad! I finally get to meet dad!"
"Oh shit you do."
"Huh?"
"I mean, just be yourself sweetie, everything will work out!"
"Good luck with meeting your father too (Y/N) he's gonna love you"
You both nodded and smiled before hoping onto the ship and waving goodbye, hoping that the future would be changeable.
"By now, next time you see us.. this'll be a cyborg-free world!"
"Unless this actually operates on multiverse theory in which case-"
Even if it wasn't, at least when you guys come back you could fix it yourself and just kill the androids by then.
You both waved good bye one more time before you closed the window and punched in the time the two of you would be traveling back to.
"Can't hear ya mom time traveling!"
"By sweetie!" _______ "And multiverse theory it is. Shit." ______
74 notes · View notes
rreskk · 1 year
Text
Before the storm
CHAPTER 1: New friends
This is based before my ‘hate to love, love to hate’ book that has already been published. This story will tell the tail of what blossomed, before the storm.
Summary: Michael has introduced you to someone who is keen to meet.
‘Hate to love, love to hate’ ---> HERE
“He’ll be here soon.”
Michael conversated as you both sat in the local bar, waiting for the mysterious man to show up. He was already an hour late. You were growing antsy in your seat. From what you heard, he wasn’t exactly a ‘normal’ guy, Michael’s words exactly. He was described as demented, freakish, crazy… Abnormal. Agreeing to finally meet this man seemed exciting at first, now you grew tired of waiting around. Mikey must know him well enough to trust the process of waiting, confidently predicting the time he'll turn up like a fortune teller.
“He’s eager to meet you, actually,” He admitted with surprise, “I’ve described you to him and he’s intrigued.”
“That’s reassuring.” You deadpanned.
Michael could only shrug before identifying his good friend from across the bar. He turned stiff and watched the stranger approach the table.
“Isn’t this nice?”
An unfamiliar voice riddled from behind you. You didn’t have to turn around as the guy swiftly seated himself beside Mikey, directly facing you. With the light hovering over the table, you could visualise every detail to his face… His appearance was not what you had expected.
His face was charmingly dirty. His eyes were brown, almost peachy and honey coloured. He had bloodshot surrounding the dilated pupil, almost as though he was on drugs… Which he might be. He had a strong jaw that was clean shaved apart from the impressive goatee that complimented his cracked and dodgy lips. He had a silver piercing that irritatingly sat on his red nose, being a rosy tint due to the cold temperatures outside but the faulty cleanliness he’s lacking. The man’s hair was shoved in a small ponytail, some of the outcasted strands loose at the top where he was beginning to bald. The short strands just hovered on his masculine face… The face that was intimidatingly glaring at you.
“Aren’t you a breath-taking specimen.”
Michael grimaced at his buddy. He sent him a side glare before clearing his throat.
“[Y/n], this is Trevor… Trevor, [Y/n].”
The man known as Trevor held out a cold hand, his nails having dirt and blood living and consuming his traumatic life-style. The handshake invite delayed until you gave in. The physical contact with his skin sent you electrising shivers upon your nervous system. Something about his presence made you grow entitled to risk, and your body fell into eternal shock.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, [Y/n]. I’ve heard so much about you.” Trevor cooed delightfully, but it resulted in sounding perverted and ugly.
To excuse the change in mood, Michael asked for preferred drinks so he could order for everyone. Trevor immediately crashed the attempt to avoid socialising.
“Where’s Brad?”
Mikey shrugged, “He’ll arrive later.”
You frowned knowing he’ll be longer than expected. You had met Brad before Trevor. He was bearable, but you must admit his obnoxiousness left you bamboozled and exhausted. You could only hope you’ll survive the night out with a nutcase and a walking headache. Even though Michael is far from normal, he is a saint compared to his friends.
“Have you met Brad?” Trevor questioned with curiosity.
You nodded.
The man raised an eyebrow and smirked towards Townley.
“She’s met Brad before me? What game are you playing, M?”
Michael rolled his eyes, “I couldn’t overwhelm her with your personality.”
“Brad ain’t any worse.”
“I know,” He replied to Trevor, “But at least he has better morals.”
Trevor scoffed at this remark before turning to you. “Can you believe this guy?”
Shrugging, you just remained silent.
“He ain’t the one to speak,” He continued, “He was the first guy out of all of us to commit crimes.”
Michael was beyond appalled by this comparison and raised a daring finger towards Trevor.
“No, I’m not perfect, but I’d rather be a thief than a murdering drug addict.”
Your eyes grew wide before glancing at Trevor who didn’t justify nor disagree. He blankly returned your gaze until Michael converted the subject into drinks again, actually being able to leave without interrogations from the other man.
“You ever done drugs?” Trevor lowly disengaged.
“I’ve tried weed once, but nothing else.”
He didn’t react but leaned forward, his arms crossed threateningly.
“You steal shit with Michael?”
You found this to be ridiculous now. You are not a criminal and never will be. You were just a waitress for your hometown café.
“Listen, I’m not in this crew of yours. I’m just a friend with Amanda and Michael. I don’t condone criminality.”
“You are a friend of mine now, not just with them plastic pigs,” Trevor pointed out willingly, “Me and Brad are committed and real, I can’t say the same for Mikey. Family man and all… Pathetic. Who’d bring children into this world? Especially when you are a fat thief!”
You sat in discomfort as he began reminiscing about Michael ‘back in the days’. You aren’t far off their ages, but he talks as though he’s been through both wars. I guess it would when you live a life like that. You assumed Michael did the right thing by beginning to settle down. You’ll only hope he stops the criminal offences when Tracey, his infant daughter, grows up.
“You don’t have any girl you’ll want to settle down with?” You inquired.
He shook his head. “I’m not a marriage kinda guy. I like the idea, but I don’t think there ain’t a girl out there that is mature, sexy, and loyal.”
His objectification of this dreamy ‘sexy’ woman made you cringe internally. Someone mature with a guy like him? You doubt he’d find anyone like that, agreeing with his statement silently.
“Why, are you married with kids as well?” Trevor murmured.
You shook your head, “I’m childfree.”
“And boyfriend?”
You foretold being single and his eyes lit up strangely.
“Ah, us singles should get some more recognition in this world of horror!” He protested with a sense of hope.
He somehow made you giggle. Your smile was contagious and you felt your cheeks reddened at how closely he was inspecting you. Trevor’s chin rested against his palm and he studied your appearance with an open mouth. He seemed invested and abnormally aroused.
“Brad called,” Michael grunted when sitting, holding a tray of goody drinks, “He’s almost here.”
Trevor averted his eyes from you and glared towards Mikey for interrupting his long daydream. When the sound of cups clicking and spilling, his mood changed from annoyance to excitement. Trevor dug in, dragging himself a pint of beer before glancing at you.
“What do you want?”
His voice proposed a tensity of anger. You slowly sunk into your chair, thinking he was gaining offence of you even remotely looking at the drinks. The clarity diverted from a misunderstanding. Having no inside relationship with Trevor, you mistook his resting face for a tormented, threatening glare.
“To drink,” Trevor pinpointed after noticing your discomfort, “What do you want to drink?”
You grew embarrassed after misleading his intensions. Scanning the choices, you pointed to the green bottle of beer. He hummed in consideration and commented on your choice, labelling you as old schooled.
Michael tuned in, “Yeah, I ain’t seen anyone drink those in years. I remember we used to live off them in high school.”
You couldn’t say the same but nodded your head to forward the conversation. Trevor charmingly winked your way; spontaneously exchanging knowing gazes like you understood what he wanted. You didn’t. Before questioning his gestures, a blonde and stubby man walked towards the table, the only vacant seat being beside you.
“I’m just in time for the booze!” Brad laughed and made himself at home on the seat that invaded your personal space. He made no effort to acknowledge you but opened a can of beer and chugging the remaining ounces of liquor.
Trevor conjured a baleful side eye when Michael openly ignored Brad, hitting him with an elbow and disapproving the lack of respect towards close friends. You watched him eagerly and noticed how much he values human connections. It interested you.
“So,” Brad returned his attention to Mikey, “How is Amanda and lovely Tracey?”
“Plastic.” Trevor commented.
Michael took no offence but bellowed a spiteful grimace. He then attentively looked at Brad.
“They are fine.”
You, being quite the muted speaker amongst the group, zoned out due to the repeated sips of alcohol. With no one involving you, it resulted in acting dysfunctional and blue. Trevor observed your unique quietness and carefully brushed his foot against your motionless one.
“Hey,” He complied, “You a lightweight?”
Michael pulled Trevor back from leaning against the table, taming his unnatural movements.
“I don’t think [Y/n] would like to smell your rotten breath.” He persuaded.
“I’m fine,” You chuckled, “I just realised I’ve got work in the morning.”
Brad finally looked at you as Trevor whined.
“Oh man, you are a killjoy.”
Collecting your things and thanking Michael for the drink, Trevor reached forward and nudged your coat to gain your attention. He passed you a screwed up piece of paper before whispering teasingly.
“Call me later.”
Flatteringly nodding, you waved goodbye and was greeted by the icy air. Unscrewing the paper in your hands, Trevor’s handwriting scribbled in blue ink. He wrote his number and drew a distorted smiley face. You shouldn’t smile but you couldn’t help it. He was awfully handsome and charming. You’ve never received so much male validation in your life. For your time drinking with the group, he almost looked at you godly. You were disturbed by his corrupted morals and being a ‘murdering drug addict’, it couldn’t overbear your sudden spark of interest in the man. You’ll definitely be calling him later.
With your static TV being unable to register service after another typical storm, you resorted in your house telephone that is barely used. Copying the numbers from Trevor’s note, you hoped he wouldn’t be asleep as it was only 10pm. The line began dialling and your heart thumped louder and louder.
“Who’s this?” His rough voice wearied thoroughly, almost as though he was genuinely asleep.
“I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Trevor took a while to recognise your voice before chuckling softly.
“What do I owe this pleasure, [Y/n]?”
Beginning to smile at his charms, you pathetically slumped against your nightstand.
“I thought we could meet together soon, without the rest?”
His voice coiled into a stream of ridiculed cackles. After realising his interpret of your statement, you failed to correct your mistakes as he only grew louder in his joyful laughs.
“What are you implying, sugar?”
You stumbled over your words, “I didn’t mean tha-“
“You call me at night, I can hear you smiling, and you’d like to hang out… Alone?” Trevor teased.
“For Gods sake, Trevor,” You frowned, “I just want to get to know you better. As friends. Nothing less, nothing more.”
He clicked his tongue at your commentary.
“Hmm, you sure are fiery. I like that.”
You sighed and refused to say anything more.
“By the way, I wasn’t asleep, I just left Michael’s place.”
“You went over after the bar?” You asked.
Trevor nodded from the other line. He was standing in the middle of a deserted pathway, his small phone inches away from his ear.
“I normally do.”
You giggled slightly as you were wondering how you didn’t bump into each other sooner. You’re always invited to Mike’s place, seems as though Trevor is as well.
“It’s funny how we haven’t met sooner.”
He smoothly laughed as well, “You see that sexy drawing of Amanda on the fridge, I drew that months ago. I’ve insisted on keeping it there. Amanda ain’t too happy about it though.”
Remembering the drawing, you shook your head with a grin.
“Of course that was you. I can’t say she is happy about it.”
“She has no humour,” Trevor depicted, “It’s refreshing to find a lovely lady who does. Almost too good to be true.”
Your eyes peered to the clock and you hitched your breath.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch soon about our plans, right?”
He disapprovingly whinged, “You always leave so early. What’s your issue, sugar? Scared?”
Rolling your eyes, you politely said your goodbyes and declined the call. You felt satisfied to have a personal conversation with him privately. Despite all the words he’s been called, you found him devastatingly attractive.
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ofainur · 1 year
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( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ pre corrupt!vanimóre ⠀〳 navëquen⠀ ❜࿔
· ⊰ synopsis. eager to see his counterpart for being tardy — the last thing vanimóre expected was to be standing there, caressing his hair
· ⊰ note. I'm so obsessed with these two please. if you want to know more about navëquen, check out this post. he is my darling friend @cilil 's oc, the maia and attendant of námo ~ I love him so much<3 I thought I'd give these two some fluff since their story absolutely breaks me
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♡. — 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅
‘Where could that pesky creeps be?’ 
Raking a hand through dark hair, Vanimóre groans from the strain in his legs and arms — still heavy with the weight of lingering sleepiness. He has always been the ‘slacker’ of the two, as Navëquen put it. In Vanimóre’s humble opinion, his counterpart was a workaholic and thus made him look bad in comparison. He took breaks when needed and indulged in slumber; many would assume he was the Maia of Irmo rather than older Fëantur. 
That aside, Vanimóre now scoured for his other half with pursed lips and a small irritation in his crimson eyes. Navëquen was typically the first one sitting in their shared office. However, upon entering the other found him nowhere to be seen. Granted, it was rather early but was the creep not uselessly good at his job? One would expect him to be there in that blasted, favourite chair of his at the onset of a new day. 
‘Maybe he is still sleeping?’ The thought crosses his mind as he approaches a particular cobblestone corridor. A tickle pricks at his fëa. A brief tug. A melody seeping into his own. Vanimóre thus glances in the direction of this allure and realises the aforementioned Maia’s room is right down the corridor. He must still be there — their bond tells him so. 
“Hypocrite. You’re still in your fifth dream I bet.’’ Clicking his tongue he steers his steps down the hallway and makes a beeline for the room. To think, the one time he shows up early the criticising voice that always buzzes in his ear is in fact late. Oh, Vanimóre simply could not let him live this down. He’d do anything to drive both his colleague and closest friend up the wall. Even if it resulted in the other giving him the silent treatment for a few good hours. It mattered not to Vanimóre, he knew that Navëquen couldn’t resist him for long. 
“Creeps!”
His voice echoes the hallway as long-nailed fingers wrap around the doorknob and fling it open carelessly. Hoping to startle the Maia awake and witness his spout of dishevelled panic. Eager to tease the poor thing on being ‘tardy’ when in reality neither of them was to start shift yet. 
Yet that was not the sight that awaited Vanimóre’s eyes. At the far end of the room stood a man. Tall and of fair face. In front of a silver, full-length mirror with a brush in hand and viridian ribbons wrapped around his wrist. It took a second for Vanimóre to recognise this man as Navëquen. Which many would deem strange at first — but the reasoning behind it was far too valid. For not only did Vanimóre behold his closest friend in a dishevelled state, but with his hair, which was typically fastened in a tight braid without a strand out of place, now framing his stunning — ahem. . . pale face. 
Ebony tresses lay loose and extend down to his waist. Messy, yet perfect in every way. It was certainly a rarity to see Navëquen’s hair open, let alone a little all-over-the-place. But coupled with those deep grey eyes and his porcelain-like face staring back at him, Vanimóre could only find one word to describe him in this moment. 
‘Gorgeous.’ 
“Vanimóre — How many times have I told you to knock?”
The spluttering tugs him from his brief haze and only then does Vanimóre take notice of the flustered, almost panicked expression spread across Navëquen’s face. His cheeks give away his embarrassment with a soft pink tint and Vanimóre cannot help but think it adorable. 
“Ah, when do I ever listen to you?” He coughs, hoping that his own cheeks did not mirror the blush of the other. Nevertheless, he attempts to brush it off with his typical, sharp-toothed grin. Yet it trembles, and barely reaches the likes of a smile as he takes a small step forward. “I was wondering where you were. I arrived early only to see that you’re slacking off.’’ He chuckles at the click of tongue he receives in response and watches as Navëquen shuffles back to the mirror. Ignoring — or at least trying to ignore — his presence. 
An awkward silence sets upon them like a heavy sheet. Neither Maiar utter a word despite stealing each other small glances through the mirror; if only to avert their eyes swiftly once caught. Vanimóre fumbles a little, taking a gander at the door and wondering whether he should head back to their office. Instead, his own words betray him as he takes another step towards the chest of drawers displaying the mirror. 
“Would you like some help?”
The question stiffened Navëquen’s brushing movements and struck a lump in Vanimóre's throat. Grey meets crimson through the reflective glass and for a few, silent seconds, they aimlessly stare at one another. Pink faces and surprised expressions galore. 
“. . . Or I could just —”
“Yes.’’ 
Vanimóre swallows the lump in his throat at the acceptance of his offer. His fána moves on its own accord and he soon finds himself directly behind Navëquen who continues to eye him through the mirror. “Alright then,’’ Vanimóre mutters, motioning to the seat in front of the vanity, waiting for Navequen to adhere to his instruction before he takes a hold of the dark locks. 
So soft, he almost mutters, but manages to bite his tongue at the last second. For awhile he gently rakes his fingers through the silky strands — if only to be handed the brush. 
“Ah,’’ he blushes. “Sorry. Forgot about that.’’ Chuckling to quell his own fluster, Vanimóre sets to work on brushing through long hair. Admiring each and every inch of it. So soft, silk-like. . . stunning. It felt as though he was holding his breath for the entire styling process and had to practically scold himself to set the brush down and actually fasten the hair into its signature braid. 
Much to the surprise of the common eye, Vanimóre was expertly skilled in the art of hair-styling. He recalls the number of times his little sister would run to him with pink ribbons and dazzling eyes. Tugging at his sleeves and begging him to try a new style she had learnt of. All those times of endless brushing and ribbon fastening paid off. Vanimóre recounts that she too preferred her hair in a braid, so it was something he could do blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back. 
From the corner of his vision he sights the faint specks of pink on porcelain skin. A quick stolen glance would confirm that Navëquen was indeed still blushing. 
‘How cute.’ He smiles to himself. If not only to immediately mentally reprimand himself. ‘Damnit, Vanimóre. Would you give it a break? His heart’s not yours.’ 
The smile on his lips falters at the reminder — only emphasised when he takes the viridian ribbons from around Navëquen’s wrist and works on fastening them into the braid. The soft silk of the ribbons felt like a burn on his fingertips. For he knew what this specific colour choice represented. Their lord’s preferred colour.  A certain swell spreads throughout his chest, and Vanimóre is unable to stop his sigh which escapes into the air. 
“What’s the matter?” Navëquen’s quick question prompts him to curse at himself as he finishes the braid off with a neat, viridian bow at the end. “It’s nothing.’’ Vanimóre quips and brings his gaze back to the mirror where pools of grey await him. The arch of a brow and the shine of disbelief tells him that Navëquen was not so easily fooled. He should be aware of that. Navëquen knew him well.
Navëquen knew him most. 
“It’s just. . .’’ releasing the braid, Vanimóre cannot escape the awaiting eyes of his counterpart. With another sigh, he shakes his head. “I was just thinking that you actually look quite. . . pretty,’’ a brief pause. “With your hair down.’’ 
‘Why do I feel like this? It's just a braid.’
Red not only shined itself on Navëquen’s face but on Vanimóre’s as well, and the latter immediately backs off and starts making his way towards the door with a few coughs. “Anyway, I’ll see you back at the office. Lord Namo’s probably already looking for us.’’ Escaping not only his own embarrassment, but his true feelings once more — Vanimóre scampers out of the room without another word, leaving Navëquen all by his lonesome. 
Cheeks still burning with blushes, Navëquen timidly glances back at the mirror. His hair was back to its average stature — yet something felt different. The warm, fluttering feeling within him told him so.
Subconsciously, he shifts the braid over his shoulder and glances at the Maia’s handiwork. Not too bad, he thinks before bringing his gaze to the mirror once more.
Was that a smile?
He blinks. 
Indeed it was. One that only grows with fondness as he relives the recent encounter. . . Who knows when he’ll bring himself to unfasten his hair again. 
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·⊰ masterlist.
·⊰ tip jar.
·⊰ get tagged for my writing. @doodle-pops @rurifangirl @a-chaotic-dumbass @cilil
( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡ 
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18 notes · View notes
ladydarkey · 1 year
Text
Once upon a Dream
Days ago I dreamed of this man. Since then he is haunting me. He has no name.However, the blury image of him in my dream was so beautiful, it forever imprinted itself on my mind. I couldn’t help myself, so I wrote it down and added some details for the context. Thanks to @kaagazkefool​ , who was patiently listening to my ramble about him.
Disclaimer: it was written in german and then translated
male/female, light smut, no fandom, you could say he is an OC now (?!)
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I must have fallen asleep.
I woke up and I was angry. Like every Friday and Saturday I was with him. We hadn't had much time together anyway and I had to oversleep. It was just too comfortable in his arms.
When I opened my eyes, the door to the hallway was ajar and light poured into the bedroom.
He is still there.
It was the middle of the night, as so often, he was on night duty with the police.
A movement in the shadows drew my attention to the chair opposite the end of the bed.
There he sat, hunched over and turned slightly to the side to lace up his 10-hole boots.
A few black strands covered his face. The inverted cross on his earlobe, that swung back and forth with the movement, gleamed in the light.
Most of his torso was hidden in shadow.
In the dim light, I could only guess that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. With tattoos adorning his arms from shoulders to hands, there was no line between shirt and bare skin in the darkness. Nevertheless, the play of the muscles was clearly visible. I was fascinated by the rapid and yet constant alternation of light and shadow.
My gaze wandered to his hands, busy pulling the laces through each hole. The movements looked deliberate and yet very routine. Skillfully and almost silently, the shoelaces wound their way up. His elegant, strong fingers wore heavy silver rings. They seemed to change their shape depending on how they reflected the light. While his matt black painted fingernails swallowed any light. Ever since we started dating, I've been painting his nails. It has now become our Friday night ritual. Before that, he painted them himself, which mostly resulted in messy and chaotic results. His fingertips were rough from his job, which often required him to wear gloves. But that didn't bother me when he let them slide gently over my body.
A pleasant shiver went through my body as I thought about how he had caressed me with them earlier in the evening. His fingers always found just the right spots, as if my body were telling him where they were needed most. How he later clasped me tightly in his strong arms, his hands slid down my back, his nails digging into my skin and my throat wet from his heavy breathing and kisses.
A sudden movement snapped me out of my thoughts.
He finished with one of the boots and rose to tackle the other. It was only seconds, but I still got a quick glimpse of his thighs, which almost threatened to burst his combat pants while sitting. At least the curved pocket flaps made it seem so.
The pendant on his silver necklace flashed briefly, drawing my eyes to his bare chest tucked between the button plackets of his open shirt.
On his slightly hairy and fully tattooed chest, shaped by hard training. The nipples were hidden behind the black cotton fabric. I've spent hours studying the paintings all over his body and yet I felt like I didn't recognize them all.
Again my thoughts drifted to the early evening scenes. His bulging, thick and strong thighs, which I held between my legs. His bare chest against mine. The sweet sweat of our bodies flowed together. His silver chain is a cold touch against my nipple. My arms were wrapped around his neck, my hands firmly anchored in his sweaty, shiny hair.
Just before I mentally relived the climax again, he got up. All he had to do was fasten his shirt and put on his gun chest harness and he would be ready to go.
I seized the moment and got up. It only took three steps until I was standing in front of him, covered only by a sheet. It was very fresh in the room.
"You're awake," he was visibly surprised.
"Please don't go yet," I slumped against his chest, one hand holding the sheet, the other resting on his chest. My fingers played lightly with his black curls.
"I'm sorry. It's always hard for me to leave you here alone. Unfortunately, I have to go to work." His muscular arms held me tightly in their grip.
I buried my face between his pecs.
“I'll be back for breakfast. Would you like me to bring you a croissant or a cinnamon roll?” He gently lifted my chin with his right index finger. First I saw his loving smile. It was the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I couldn't explain it, but my heart overflows with joy.
"Both?" I asked him with my best puppy eyes.
Then our eyes met and he nodded. As always when he left the house, he wore white contact lenses. I still don't understand why he did it. When we were at home he wore glasses. Behind them were the most beautiful, shining with passion, caring, calm, gentle and mystical auburn irises. They gave me comfort, security and trust. On the one hand, it saddened me that he hid exactly those behind the contact lenses. On the other hand, this beauty was reserved only for me.
"You know, every time I see you with your white eyes I imagine you're a vampire," I giggled at the imaginative and unrealistic thought.
"Is that so?" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. A mischievous smile flitted across his lips, his long eyelashes swung briefly up and down.
Suddenly, he threw his head back, raised his arms slightly, and flexed his hands like he was about to dance at any moment in Michael Jackson's "Thriller" music video. He made a sound like a hiss and put one hand on my shoulder and gently pushed my head sideways with the other for easier access to my neck. bang! He bit! Not really. It was more of a gentle nibble. We both burst out laughing. I loved how silly he could be. He always made me laugh.
With a last kiss, he said goodbye and went out the apartment door.
I was still watching from the window as he got into his car. He turned around again, blew me a kiss and drove away. I stood there for a while, wondering how an average woman like me deserved such a wonderful, extraordinary man like him.
He will be home for breakfast and I will be here, longingly waiting for him. ~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.
Please leave a comment <3
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sanctaignorantia · 2 months
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I'll throw in an interesting tidbit about the spiritual things that surround me. This doesn't just fit into one religion because it's seen by various fields of study, so there can be variations according to cultures and sciences.
But how are cords seen from a spiritual point of view and how is this present in Death Stranding? Let's see…
We know from the spiritist view that when we go on astral journeys (our spirit "detaches" itself from the material body) we are still connected to it through a cord. So there are two types of cord here. One is extremely strong and resistant and the other is more or less fleeting.
-> Silver Cord - also called fluidic loop or astral cord. It is made up of a semi-material substance that connects and keeps the psychosoma or perispirit connected to the physical body or soma. Each cell of the spiritual body is linked to the corresponding cell of the physical body; however, when these bodies dissociate through unfolding or projection, the subtle elements of the psychosoma form a kind of appendage, which is called the silver cord. At the moment of physical death or disincarnation, it is definitively broken, while during the process of unfolding or projection of the incarnate consciousness, it is what maintains the connection between the spiritual body and the physical one, preventing the death of the latter and keeping both not only connected, but in constant communication. Anatomically, the silver cord is elastic, with variable density and diameter. It is formed at the moment of conception and spends most of its time collected or shrunk in the intimacy of the physical cells.
-> Golden Cord - also called the extraphysical umbilical cord. It is an extraphysical organ that connects the psychosoma to the mental body and is responsible for higher-level energy transfers. It is responsible for the information and mentalizations carried out from the mental body towards the psychosomatic body, which is lower in vibration. It has survived the biological shocks and clashes of disincarnation and reincarnation over the millennia. It has a physical and extraphysical role, as it participates in the paraphysiology of the psychosomatic body and the physiology of the physical body.
source
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[image taken from the internet, not mine]
And then, when we go to Repatriate in DS, we know where to find Sam's physical body because we are guided by the golden cord.
Things sometimes get confusing because we have 7 bodies and they all have their functions, but let's keep in mind the idea of the astral body and the material body.
I'm going to explain the interpretation of the 7 bodies and the levels of action of each of them, but we don't need to get too attached to this because it's not something seen (literally) in Death Stranding like the golden cord (or other cords/connections).
I've taken this information from a book I own. The visions explained here are reports of the author's clairvoyant experience.
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#1) The Etheric Body
-> First layer -> "Ether", intermediate state between energy and the matter:
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Note: the circles around the body are the seven main chakras, including the vortices at the head and base of the body.
It is made up of tiny lines of energy "like a glowing web of light rays" similar to the lines on a television screen. It has the same structure as the physical body and includes all the anatomical parts and organs. The etheric body consists of a defined structure of lines of force, or energy matrix, on which the physical matter of the body's tissues is molded and fixed. The physical tissues only exist as such because of the vital field that sustains them; and for this very reason, the body, which precedes the body, is not the result of this body. Note: the color of this body can vary between blue and grey.
#2) The Emotional Body
-> Second layer -> It is associated with feelings
Its colors can vary from bright light matrices to dark and cloudy ones, depending on the clarity or confusion of the feelings or the energy that produces them. Clear and highly activated feelings, such as love, emotion, joy or anger, are bright and clear; confused feelings are dark and cloudy (it's basically a thermometer).
#3) The Mental Body
-> Third layer
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It extends beyond the emotional body and is made up of even finer substances associated with thoughts and mental processes. The mental body is also structured. It contains the structure of our ideas. Almost all yellow, within it you can see thought forms, which look like bubbles of varying brightness and shape. These thought forms have additional, overlapping colors that actually emanate from the emotional level. The color represents the emotion, linked to the thought form. The clearer and more well-formed the idea, the clearer and more well-formed the thought form associated with that idea. (Have you heard that sometimes thoughts take shape? I think that's where it comes from...)
At this point we can say that the 3 lower auric layers (etheric, emotional and mental) are associated with energies related to the physical world and metabolize them, while the 3 upper auric layers (astral, celestial and keteric) metabolize energies related to the spiritual world. The fourth layer (astral), linked to the heart chakra, is the transforming crucible through which all the energy that goes from one world to the other passes. In other words, spiritual energy needs to pass through the fire of the heart to be transformed into the lower physical energies, and the physical energies (of the three lower auric layers) need to pass through the transforming fire of the heart to become spiritual energies.
The fourth layer is associated with love and is the door through which we can enter the other states of reality. Each layer above the third is an entire layer of reality, with beings, forms and personal functions that go beyond what we normally describe as human.
(Do you remember Heartman's studies on how the Egyptians believed that the spirit was connected to the brain and/or the heart? That's the way to go. The heart is one of the paths. It's one of the bridges.)
#4) The Astral Level | Astral Body
It is amorphous and made up of clouds of a more beautiful color than those of the emotional body. It usually has more colors, but they are generally imbued with the light of love. When people fall in love, you can see beautiful rainbows of pink light between their hearts. When people establish relationships with each other, they create cords from the chakras that connect them. Such cords exist on many levels of the auric field in addition to the astral one. The longer and deeper the relationship, the more numerous and stronger the cords. (This is where things get very Death Stranding...) When relationships end, these cords are torn, often causing great suffering. The "healing" period of a relationship, as a rule, is a period in which the cords in the lower levels of the field are disconnected and re-rooted within the self.
#5) The Etheric Level | Standard Etheric Body (author's designation)
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The author gave it this name because this body contains all the forms that exist on the physical plane in heliographic or standardized form, as if it were the negative of a photograph. In this way, the standard etheric level of the aura creates an empty space, or negative, in which the first level, or etheric level, of the aura can exist. The etheric pattern is the pattern for the etheric body, which then forms the grid structure on which the physical body grows. The standard etheric level of the universal energy field contains all the forms that exist on the physical plane, except for the standard level. These forms exist in negative space, creating an empty space in which the etheric grid structure grows and upon which all physical manifestation exists. (works as our " blueprint")
#6) The Celestial Body
-> Sixth layer -> Emotional level of the Spiritual Plane
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This is the level through which we experience spiritual ecstasy and we can achieve this through meditation and many other forms of transformation work. It is the point where we know our connection with the whole universe, when we see the light and love in everything that exists. It is the connection and recognition with "God". (I put it this way because god has many interpretations)
#7) The Standard Keteric Body or Causal Body
-> Seventh level -> Mental level of the spiritual plane
When we raise our consciousness to the seventh level of the aura, we know that we identify with the Creator. The external form is the oval shape of the aura body and contains all the auric bodies associated with the individual's current incarnation. In addition, this plane contains the tracks of past lives within the eggshell. The Keteric level is the last auric level of the spiritual plane. It contains the plane of life and is the last level directly related to this incarnation. Beyond this level is the Cosmic Plane, the plane that cannot be experienced from the limiting point of view of a single incarnation.
source
So in a nutshell I'd say: YES! Death Stranding looks like a great walking simulator and (ironically enough) it would never make me think about the things that shape it. :)
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seokiloquy · 2 years
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The Chances - Sugawara Koushi
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Soulmate au: Shared pain; if one person gets hurt, the other can feel it too
Requested
Tags/Warnings: GN!reader, injuries… thats it
Word Count: 1.8k
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You always caught Sugawara’s eye as you waltzed into class. As students were allowed a little bit of lenience with their uniforms —like Hinata often wearing a hoodie beneath his uniform jacket (He said he was just cold, and Sugawara was inclined to believe that the boy hardly had any fat on his body to keep him warm with all his biking)— you opted to added gently flowing layers to your daily outfit that added a serene air to your movements. First, you’d peek your head into the door, checking for the teacher. Then you’d make eye contact with your friends sitting in the front corner. Shuffling in, you’d straighten your back with an excited smile before plopping into your seat, causing your decorative layers to wave and glitter in the morning sunlight.
This happened every morning. Sugawara was entirely entranced until Sawamura nudged a heel into his shin as the teacher arrived, and he had to focus on class. It was hard to focus fully during the first period.
“It’s not like you haven’t talked,” Sawamura smirked, rising from his chair. “Go ask about the recent assignment. You know (Y/N) is finished and will help you with whatever you need.”
“(L/N),” Sugawara forced through his teeth, “helps anyone who asks.”
“Exactly. So go ask.” His tone was smug.
Sugawara glared. “No way.”
Sawamura shrugged, giving a little hum before turning away. With the conversation done, Sugawara gathered his notebook and pencil, grabbing his backpack while the heat in his cheeks dissipated.
“Hey, (Y/N)!”
“Dude!” Sugawara smacked his friend's arm, watching from the corner of his eye as you jogged over.
“What’s up?” you said.
“Have you finished the essay? I’m having trouble explaining it to Suga, and I can’t help him over the weekend cause I’m taking care of my siblings.”
“Oh,” Your eyebrows jumped up, lips curving into a smile as you faced Sugawara. “Do you want me to help? You have practice after school. So the weekend would be best, wouldn’t it?”
“You know our schedule?” Sugawara asked, breath catching in his throat, which resulted in a series of light coughs.
“Of course I know your schedule.” Whatever drug was in your smile was making him addicted. His palms began to sweat as you continued. “How about we meet at the library for lunch? Everything we need is there, and the staff are really helpful.”
Sugawara gulped, “Uh, Hmm, ya. Sounds good.”
“Awesome. See you then.”
He froze, watching you skip by and out the classroom door. “Did you just get me a study date?”
Sawamura hummed happily, “I believe I did.”
“What’s the point?”
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“Bro! A date with (Y/N)?! That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” 
Nishinoya and Tanaka were as obsessive as ever regarding matters of the heart. Nishinoya rested his hands on Sugawara’s shoulders and jumped up and down, sending his feet over his head. Tanaka, the taller of the two, opted for pacing instead of possibly knocking his teammate to the floor while rattling about a romantic date, cuddling on the library couches while reading in front of the fire.
“The library doesn’t have a fire.”
“Boo.”
“And it isn’t a date!”
“BOO!” Nishinoya yelled in Sugawara’s ear.
Gripping onto the silver strands of hair that fell into his face, Sugawara sighed. “(L/N) is just helping me with our final essay.”
“Who’s (L/N) anyways?” The first year who wasn’t already running around the court or tiredly ignoring the team as he put his shoes on faced his seniors. 
“(Y/N) is in our class,” Daichi said while adjusting his shirt. 
“(L/N).” Sugawara insisted.
Sawamura ignored him. “And (Y/N),” he smirked, “has amazing grades, is very kind, volunteers at the local shelter, and wants to be a teacher like our Suga here. Match made in heaven, eh? Ahh—”
“You good captain?” Nishinoya stopped bouncing, looking at the captain.
Sawamura gripped the ribs on his left side. “Fine. Soulmate’s at it again.”
“Ugh, I’m jealous.” Tanaka’s soulmate, to his knowledge, was nowhere to be seen. Being someone with a soulmate mark, he had to rely on seeing someone with minimal clothing to know whether they were his soulmate. Despite being one of the most prevalent connections, it wasn’t easy to see someone in such a vulnerable state.
Sawamura, like Sugawara, had one of the other most common soulmate connections, shared pain. Luckily for Sawamura, his soulmate seemed to be an athlete like himself, gaining injuries in similar spots at similar times. On the other hand, Sugawara’s soulmate got injured very rarely. The only clue he had that they existed was once in middle school, and it felt like he broke his nose in the middle of class without being hit.
But despite his soulmate's ghostly existence hardly appearing, Sugawara couldn’t let himself indulge in the possibility of another person, even (L/N)’s.
The conversation spun away from him, giving Sugawara a moment to breathe on his own before practise started. (L/N) was perfect, but some things just couldn’t move forward even if he hoped they could.
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The library near the school was two floors and stacked to the brim with books. Sugawara glanced at his phone as he entered, catching your message about leaving and asking the staff about topics. He followed the suggestion, interrupting the conversation that the two ladies behind the front counter were having to ask about where to find books about Japanese literature history.
Sugawara waited at a small coffee table with his supplies and book resting in his lap. The clicking of the nearby clock seemed to drill into his ear, and he found himself glancing at the time every other minute. He hoped that another message would appear on his phone but seeing as you were likely biking through the light snow, he knew better than to expect one.
After ten minutes and no appearance, Sugawara huffed and got to his feet, marking his page in the book with his notebook with a few lines written in it. He was only a metre away from the front counter, lips parted and ready to ask where the bathroom was, when a blunt and forceful pain rolled through his side before enveloping his whole body. 
His face hit the floor with a knock to his forehead as the woman behind the counter gasped.
“You okay there?” one leaned over the edge of the table as the other ran around it.
Sugawara groaned, while feeling like his body was melting into the floor. He was rolled over, chin held as the librarian fussed over his forehead.
“You’ve given yourself a goose egg,” she said, poking the growing bump on his head. “Sara, do you mind grabbing an icepack from the back?”
“Sure thing.” Sara ran off, before calling through the doorway. “Taeko, ice pack? Or a bag of ice?”
“Whatever works!”
“Ice pack it is!”
Their shouting was sending spikes into Sugawara’s head, but before long, a cold pressure was gifted to him.
“Do you know what happened?” Taeko asked, handing the ice off to Sugawara to hold on his own.
“I think my soulmate might have gotten into a bit of trouble.” His back was fighting against his push to sit up, but as there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him other than a phantom pain, he managed. “I think I might have gotten them back by kissing the floor though.”
“That’s not good. Not to scare you or anything but that much pain doesn’t bode well for their condition. Do you know them?”
“No,” he groaned.
“Well, that doesn’t help.” Sara rolled her eyes.
“How about you lie down for a bit and head home when you’re ready? Are you waiting for someone?”
“My classmate is supposed to meet me here. It’s been fifteen minutes though.”
They didn’t say anything, and half an hour later, when you still hadn’t arrived, Sugawara’s mind was whirling with possibilities. Jumping to conclusions that were just as unlikely as the next but didn’t stop him from fantasising and worrying all at once.
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With no message and the remaining pain making his body ache, Sugawara returned to class on monday with his usual routine; waving off Sawamura’s questions and keeping his eye on the door. But, you never arrived. You weren’t at school the following week either, and Sugawara’s early morning class was missing its usual sparkle.
By the end of the week, Sugawara was tired of waiting.
“Do you know where (L/N) is? We were supposed to work on the essay over the weekend.”
Your friends gave him bewildered looks before sitting straighter.
Yuki spoke up. “Oh, Sugawara. I completely forgot, we’ve been so in our heads.” The group was shifting in their seats. “(Y/N) got into a bit of an accident on the way to the library. There was black ice on the hill and a slow moving car at the bottom.”
Sugawara felt like he had been struck by lightning as Yuki continued to elaborate. According to the girl's words, while you were okay by the end of it, rolling uncontrollably down an icy hill only to crash into the hard side of a parking car left you in pain and with a broken bike. Luckily, you were supposed to be back on Monday, which was also when the essay was due.
The weekend leading up to your likely return was more tiring than the last. Cramming in a last minute essay while repeatedly trying to stop his mind from wandering off of Japanese literature and to your condition was not the best way to get a good grade. And the pressure on his shoulders seemed to grow with every passing second.
It lifted slightly with the sound of his pencil dropping onto his desk after finishing his last sentence.
Then, Monday finally came around.
Sugawara kept his eyes on the door, but the sleepless nights had him struggling to keep his eyes open. Sawamura ended up slipping their two jackets under his head before he could slam his head on another hard surface.
Something pressed against the bruise of his forehead, making Sugawara look up.
“Sorry about that.” you smiled, sleeping off your sunglasses. “I’m also sorry about missing our study date, and getting you injured, and not messaging you. I was told to stay off technology and rest.”
Sugawara shot up, blinking. “Elaborate.”
Sawamura snorted.
“Sorry,” you repeated. “I missed our date—”
“Pause. Date? You thought it was a date?”
“Didn’t you? You said it last week.”
Sawamura was chuckling behind his hand.
“I guess I did. Continue.”
You laughed a little, playing with the layers of your uniform. “I missed our date, which meant I couldn't help you with the essay, and I got hurt, which hurt you as well—”
“Elaborate?”
“Well, I’m sorry for not saying anything earlier, I was hoping to talk last week. But, well, do you remember feeling like you broke your nose in middle school?”
Sugawara buried his face back into the jackets on his desk.
The chances. You really were perfect.
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I have 3 exams this week. And i just want it to be overrrrr - Bacon
Good luck to everyone doing exams and finals! Bacon and I are suffering with you - Kiwi
Posted: 04/12/2022
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