#<- will be using these tags in the future | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowercrowngods · 19 hours

Text

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer.

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown.

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been.

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there.

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore.

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground.

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth.

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him.

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived.

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror.

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels.

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.”

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever.

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette.

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve.

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands.

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore.

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it.

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer.

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself.

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.”

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve.

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came.

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world.

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try.

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.”

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday.

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting.

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it.

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn.

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes.

“Tell me again?”

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief.

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows.

She’s the one who should have had the chance.

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days.

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her.

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks.

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her.

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves.

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving.

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to—

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together.

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.”

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.”

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?”

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?”

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…”

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood.

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall.

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?”

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck.

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again.

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair.

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows.

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along.

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her.

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair.

“Do you really mean it?”

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know.

“Make him happy.”

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.”

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise.

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck.

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.”

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?”

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre.

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.”

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay.

Make him happy.

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise.

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie & robin #eddie munson #robin buckley #robin and eddie are grieving besties now #me writing another story about death and the inability to grieve?? it’s more likely than you think #this one probably doesn’t make sense yet because they’re both refusing to think about what’s real or think about anything at all #so past present and future need time to develop above the damaged psyche of two entirely too young adults #so bear with me and give us time #anyway i’m posting this despite its unpolished ugliness bc this is as good as it gets #if i were anything like my self this would be a 7k study but as it turns out writing about grief is exhausting #(hi taglist gang i hope it was okay to tag you for entirely too raw a draft for anyone to lay eyes on lmao 🤍)

68 notes · View notes

jeankluv · 3 days

Text

But daddy I love him - Gojo Satoru [ch.03]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags of the series: + 18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n.

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Notes: Spicy scenes are really not my thing but it’s always good to try and write new things. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter, as you see the chapters went from 4 to 5 bc there are still things that I know won’t fit in one chapter more.

words: 4,3k

Pinterest board

Your body was burning compared to Satoru's. He had taken your hand delicately and had begun to lower it to your intimacy. You were nervous, extremely nervous, you had never done that and throughout the afternoon you had tried to remember that you were doing it as a form of revenge against your parents and also because you wanted to explore this facet of your intimacy that you had never experienced.

“Relax…” He whispered. “You are really tense and it might hurt if you don’t relax.”

“Right.” You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel. It’s normal.” He kissed your kiss. “Now.” He began. “I want you to take your underwear away with your hand, okay angel?” He whispered against your ear.

You nodded, feeling shame fill your body. With his hand still holding yours, you moved your fingers and caught the fabric that covered your privacy to move it aside.

“Good girl.” You felt him smile against you. “Now I want you to pass your fingers through your vagina, can you do that?" He whispered and you just nodded.

The pads of your fingers were cold but quickly warmed up as they came into contact with your intimacy. At the new sensation you shrank your legs, but Satoru put them back in his position. With a small whisper he told you to caress yourself and with your heart pounding in your chest and the nervousness invading your body, you did so.

From your legs to the last hair on your head they trembled with pleasure when you began to rub. You could feel how with each touch of your fingers, your body became hotter and hotter, asking and pleading for you to continue giving it that pleasure.

You arched your back when you touched a sensitive spot with your fingers. And felt Satoru grab your hip with his free hand and pull you closer to him. Without being able to help it, you moaned and Satoru began to leave a trail of kisses on the back of your neck.

It was an embarrassing sight but it felt too good to stop, too good to refuse. You wanted more.

Satoru stopped your hand and you look at him confused. “We will continue with the next step.” You swallowed nervously about what it could be and Satoru's hand guided yours lower. “You will put your finger in, alright?”

“What?” You said confused and scared.

“It’s alright angel, that way you will get stretched out and when we do it, it won’t hurt that much.” He tried to calm you down while carefully kissing your skin. “Trust me.”

You wanted to trust him and his words, but that didn't stop you from trembling with nervousness even more when you felt his fingers brush your entrance.

Satoru assured you that you would be fine and that you could do it without fear. You squeezed your eyes shut and with your trembling hands you inserted a finger, feeling a spasm run through you.

“It’s okay…” He whispered. “Now move it.” And you followed his orders.

Shockwaves started to run through your back with each movement of your finger inside of you. And the moans that you couldn't hold back began to escape your mouth, but luckily they were muffled by Satoru's warm lips.

You continued to pleasure yourself in your intimate area while Satoru did not stop devouring your mouth. You felt like you were in heaven, that you could fly and that you were capable of anything.

He pulled away from you and looked into your eyes, your cheeks were wet from the pleasure and you could see him smile. “Now insert another one.” You swallowed when you heard his order, another finger? Wouldn't that be too much?

But Satoru had told you that this way when you did it it wouldn't hurt as much. Truth be told, you had felt his cock against your ass, and he wasn't small. When you first noticed it, a shiver ran through your body thinking about how you would be able to endure it.

You swallowed and inserted another finger into yourself. More spasms ran through your body and this time Satoru grabbed your hand and started moving it himself.

You moaned and you held on to the sheets of your messy bed. “Satoru… slow…” You tried to pronounce but the moans prevented you from saying a word.

You leaned your head back and rested it on Satoru's shoulder as he continued to move your fingers, in and out. Shockwaves ran through your body with every movement and you felt like you were reaching what they called orgasm. You had heard about it, in the books they always mentioned how it was a kind of culmination to the act.

You closed your legs and curled up as you held on to Satoru's arm with your free hand, saying his name between moans. You felt even wetter and as your whole body had reached that “peak.” Your chest was rising and falling agitatedly, you were extremely exhausted.

Satoru let go of your hand and you took out your fingers, feeling like they were completely wet. “You did extremely well angel.” He placed his lips on your hair and left a soft kiss.

He carefully moved away from behind you and laid you down on the bed. You looked at him confused and Satoru noticed your frown.

“As much as I want to continue and make love to you with this amazing moonlight watching us, you are exhausted.” He laid down next to you. “And the first time it’s always exhausting, so I don't want to exhaust you anymore.”

You looked at, observing his blue eyes being even more intense with the moonlight. “But… I’m not exhausted.” You tried to convince him. “I can handle it”

“Your tired eyes say otherwise.” He ran his hand over your face and then grabbed your hair. “If it's for fear that they might kick me out, don't worry angel, that won't happen.” A shy smile spread across your face. “Tomorrow, tomorrow we will do it, okay?” You just nodded and leaned against his bare chest.

Satoru put his arm around your back and pulled you closer to him, and with that simple act you felt the butterflies again and your chest vibrated. You closed your eyes, being embraced by the warmth of Satoru’s body and feeling safe in a very long time.

When you opened them up again you were met with the coldness of your bed, Satoru was already gone and a sadness settled in your chest when you didn't wake up next to him.

With your body still heavy and tired after last night, you got out of bed and walked to the window so you could watch the sea. If there was something you undoubtedly loved, it was being able to enjoy that view every day. You walked over to your dresser to brush your hair and there you found a small letter. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized that it was something you hadn't left behind. You quickly picked it up and began to read carefully.

“My dear angel,

Don’t worry if you wake up and I’m not next to you. I would have liked to stay with you until you opened those beautiful eyes of yours but I couldn't risk them finding us. As much as I want to be with you, in every sense of the word, I don't want that to put you in danger. We will see each other today my beautiful angel and at night I will visit you again. With love S.G.”

You brought the letter closer to your chest and sighed, feeling his words sink into you one by one. You looked in the mirror and for the first time in a long time you saw a version of yourself that you thought was gone, a happy and healthy version. You smiled widely and carefully put the letter away in your dresser drawer and began to get ready until Rose arrived.

Rose came through your door at the same time she always did and like every day she helped you get ready. You would go for a walk with her on the beach and then you would go to the town market. You wanted to see if they had brought any new books to the bookstore you used to frequent since you were a child.

As you left your room your eyes began to search for a tall, white-haired figure, but you couldn't find him. With a grimace you left the house and walked down the path that led to the beach.

You and Rose walked along the beach, listening to the sound of the waves and the laughter of the children who had come to play.

You looked at Rose who was looking lovingly at the children playing in the sand and you dared to ask her.

“Rose, do you want to be a mother?” Rose laughed and touched her cheeks.

“Is it that obvious, my lady?” You nodded subtly with a smile on your face. “Me and Jack have been trying for a while, but the blessing hasn't come to us yet.” She made a face and you looked at her with a sad face. “And what about you my lady? Do you desire to be a mother?”

You thought it for a moment and you had always wanted to be a mother, but as you became an adult you saw what was happening around you and you did not want to bring a child into the world who was not loved by their parents or who was born in a loveless marriage.

But now, the idea of marrying the duke and the possibility of starting a family with him was something that filled your heart and made you very excited. Was it possible that you had fallen in love with the duke? But all the signs you always read in your books, like; The butterflies in your stomach, the blushing when you were with him, the searching for him at every moment and imagining a future with him, were there.

“My lady?” Rose called you out.

“Sorry Rose.” You smiled. “But yeah I would like it.”

“Yours and the duke’s babies would be the cutest, I’m sure my lady.” You blushed at the thought of it. “But I’m kinda sad that once you marry the duke I will have to say goodbye to you my lady.”

"Come with me." You said holding her hand. “Your husband can also come, I will talk to the duke to give him a decent job and you can both start a family there.” You stared at her. “But Rose, I need you with me.”

Rose smiled. “Thank you so much my lady, honestly there wouldn’t be anything that would make me happier than to go with you.”

You smiled widely and gently hugged Rose. You practically considered her your family and you didn't want to leave her behind if you ended up leaving with the duke. Together you walked to the town and began to explore the countless stores there were. Your eyes scanned every corner looking for something that caught your attention.

“My lady.” You heard Rose speaking behind you. “I need to go and buy something for the kitchen, will you be fine by your own?”

“Yeah don’t worry.” You smiled. “I will go to the small library to search for new books.” Rose bowed and rushed to the food market.

You watched her disappear into the crowd and walked towards the small bookstore where you had spent many hours. Upon entering you were greeted by the sound of the bell that adorned the ceiling and then by the gentle purring of the cat that lived there. Mrs. Swift, the owner of the store, had rescued him when he was a baby and he had lived there with her ever since.

You greeted Mrs. Swift with a sweet smile and began to explore the shelves in search of a book to buy and add to your collection and also to enter a new world and escape from your reality. Although lately, your reality was more than interesting since a certain person arrived.

Reaching the back of the store you grabbed one of the books from the shelves and began to read the first pages, entering his world. You were so deep that you didn't hear the sound of the bell echoing through the store and the footsteps approaching you. So much so that you didn't realize the presence of someone else next to you, until he took the book from your hands.

“What?” You murmured surprised.

“What book is it this time, angel?” That piercing voice and charming nickname pierced your skin and made your pulse race.

With his wide smile, where two dimples were drawn on each side and his white hair, you felt yourself melt. You felt a small blush spread across your cheeks as you remembered the heated night you spent together and the promise he threw into the air to spend this night together again.

“Duke…”

He shook his head and corrected you. “Satoru. I told you right?”

“Yes, but we are in public.” You said, feeling shy.

“There is no one else in the library angel. I told the lady to leave.” He leaned close to your ear and whispered. “It’s just you and me, angel.”

His breath hitting your ear caused your legs to feel like jelly and your body to weaken for an instant. Satoru noticed it and smirked to himself, holding you from the waist and crashing both of your bodies together, he started to leave wet kisses on your neck.

You squeezed your legs together as you noticed how the tingling and heat began to arise in that area. That was embarrassing but it felt too good and you didn't want it to stop. Satoru lowered his hand and gently squeezed your thigh causing a moan to escape your lips.

“I wonder how wet you are under this beautiful dress of yours?” He whispered to your ear, raising your dress little by little.

“S-Satoru…” You moaned as you felt his fingertips getting closer to your upper thigh.

“What angel? Tell me…” He said kissing your neck.

You gasp feeling his cold hand grabbing your thigh. “I…” You needed something, you needed his touch, his fingers, him. You needed to feel like last night. “Please Satoru…” You murmured under your shaky breath.

“What angel? Just say it.” He smiled against your hot skin.

“Touch me…”

Satoru grinned and started touching your pussy above your underwear, you could feel that with each touch you were getting wetter and wetter. Satoru with his fingers separated the fabric and carefully gently inserted his fingers. Having two of his fingers inside you caused you to lose your balance and lean against one of the shelves behind you.

His fingers were thicker and longer than yours, they penetrated your interior, causing your walls to open before them. He moved his fingers inside you as if it were almost natural for him, causing every part of your body to vibrate under his touch.

Every time you felt wetter, hotter, more eager. Satoru was introducing you to a forbidden world full of lust.

“Satoru…” You felt your walls opening as he introduced a third finger. “Oh…”

You felt so full, it was painful at first but your walls adjusted to him with every movement of his hand.

“You are about to cum right?” He whispered.

“Mhmm…” You nodded, feeling your cunt trembling with each movement around Satoru’s fingers.

Finally with a push against your walls you came on his fingers, more intensely than yesterday. Satoru with a smile took his fingers out of you and tasted them, you blushed when you saw his act.

“So good my dear.” He said before kissing you.

“Satoru.” He hummed against your lips. “My parents are out today, we… we could be together.”

“You want us to be together at the house?” You nodded feeling how your cheeks turned red once again. “My sweet angel, aren’t you the most beautiful?” He said pinching your cheeks. “Alright but let’s walk around the market.”

“But what if someone…”

“Angel. I know no one knows who you really are.” You closed your mouth. “The daughter of the richest man of this town is a mystery for everyone, that’s why you are able to walk around so freely because no one knows who you are.” He closed the distance between you. “And no one knows you I am, so let’s walk around without caring and then head home where I will undress you in your bedroom and make love to you.”

You gasped at his words and felt your body burning hot. Satoru shook your world with every word, every gesture and every act he did. Not only your world, your heart also looked agitated and became increasingly agitated.

Satoru gently grabbed your hand and guided you out of the bookstore, together you began to walk through the market, going unnoticed and feeling completely free.

“You want one?” Satoru whispered to your ear.

“Huh?” You looked at him confused, you were daydreaming about your feeling for Satoru that you totally forgot about your reality.

“A cake, you want one?” He pointed to them.

“Oh…” You were actually a bit hungry but mother would scold you if she knew. “I’m fine.” You smiled at him.

Satoru held your gaze for a moment and then turned away. “Two of these cakes please.” You looked at him surprised and tried to stop him. "Thank you." He took the two cakes and turned to you with a smile. “Here, you'll like it, you'll see.”

“But…” You said, feeling the weight of the words on your shoulders. "I don't want to."

“You don't want to or you can't?” He questioned you with a serious look.

“I’m not hungry.” You tried to lie.

“Angel, you are with me.” He said with his tone firm. “You don’t have to contain yourself and if you want to eat this then do it.”

You took the cake and look at it, feeling your stomach roar. Hesitantly you took a bite of the cake and felt in heaven. You couldn't remember the last time you had eaten something sweet.

“That’s my girl.” He said proudly.

You blushed momentarily at Satoru's nickname, didn't he get tired of treating you with so much affection and causing your stomach to do a dance of butterflies? He grabbed your hand again and you continued walking, until finally Rose saw you and approached you.

“My lady.” She bowed and then looked at Satoru. “Duke Gojo, hello.” She once again bowed at him.

“Hello.”

“My lady, I think we should head back home.” She smiled at you.

“Oh… yeah sure.” You nodded.

Your hand was still under Satoru’s touch, he wouldn’t let your hand go even if Rose was there. The three of you walked back to the house. When you were near the house Satoru stopped dead and let go of your hand. You turned to look at him, confused by his sudden action.

“I better go somewhere else, angel.” He said moving closer to your cheek and leaving your kiss on it. “See you now in your room.” He whispered against your skin making all your hair stand on end.

Satoru left before you could say anything, you watched his back walk away until he finally disappeared from your sight. You felt an emptiness in your heart, you wanted to hold his hand again and have him close to you. But it would only be a few minutes and you would be together.

You turned around and saw Rose smiling at you. "What…?" You whispered, embarrassed.

“You just look happy, my lady. I’m happy to see it."

You nodded blushing. “Thank you…” You began to walk towards the entrance of the house, while your heart was beating strongly in your chest. “Rose, when we get home, make sure no one comes near my room.” Rose nodded. “Only you can approach in case my parents return early.”

“It's okay my lady.”

You entered the house and were greeted by some of the employees, looking at Rose you communicated silently and Rose ordered that no one bother you during the day, nor that they come near your room. Cautiously you went up to the room, meeting the figure of the man who was changing your entire world.

You closed the door, making the click of the key sound through the room. You swallowed hard as you realized what you were going to do. You turned on your heels and Satoru was looking at you with a smile and his jacket already off.

“I love that dress of yours, angel, but I would prefer to see you without anything on.” His husky voice echoed the room, sending chills down your spine.

You looked down at your dress and taking a deep breath, you released the tie behind your dress and took off the straps, letting the dress fall to the floor.

The sun streamed through the window, making it impossible to hide yourself since the room was extremely bright. Satoru gently approached you and cradled your face in his hands.

“You are so damn beautiful.” He said before starting to devour your lips.

You couldn't get enough of his kisses, his flavor and his warmth, they were addictive and you wanted them in every part of your being.

Satoru picked you up and carried you to your bed where he gently left you. Looking at you with eager eyes he began to remove your underwear leaving you completely naked.

You felt embarrassed as you stood completely naked before him. He had already seen your breasts and touched you down there, but having his hungry eyes look at you like they did at that moment was different.

Satoru also started to undress himself and you swallowed seeing him completely naked before you. Your body was burning and you wanted it to be touched by the man in front of you.

“I will be gentle, okay?” He murmured, holding his member with his hand and lining it up with your entrance.

You just nodded, still trembling about what was going to happen in that room. Satoru carefully began to introduce his member into you and you noticed how your walls opened, causing you to close your eyes against the pain that that new sensation was causing you.

Satoru rested his forehead against yours and began to whisper to you. “It's okay angel. The pain will soon go away.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt how he entered you more and more until he stopped.

“When you’re ready I'll move, okay?” He placed a soft kiss on your temple.

Your chest rose and fell heavingly as you tried to get used to Satoru's member. Your body was burning completely and you needed more. You always believed that when your first time happened, you would feel dirty but at that moment and as the hands of the clock moved you felt better and better.

“Move…” You whispered against his lips. “Please Satoru.”

“Alright my angel.” He smiled.

And that's when he started to move inside you and you swore you could touch the sky with your fingers. Each thrust was better than the last. You rolled your eyes back feeling the immense pleasure that Satoru was causing in you.

His member came and went in, again and again and with each one of them the moans from your lips became louder and louder.

Satoru began to leave kisses down your neck until he reached your breasts where he attacked them with bites and pinches.

“Satoru…” You moaned, when with his free hand started to play with your clit, giving you even more pleasure than before.

Your face was soaked with sweat and tears of pleasure that fell from your eyes. If you continued at that pace you would reach your climax right away.

“You are such a bad girl, my lovely angel.” He smirked looking at you. “Moaning out loud like that, when everyone could hear you.” He approached your face with a mischievous smile on his face. “Is that what you want, angel? Do you want everyone to hear how I fuck you and how much you enjoy it?”

You moaned at his words. “Ah… Satoru please.”

“What angel?” He smiled. “Tell me.”

“Don’t stop please.” You hugged him, feeling your bodies become one.

Satoru began to move faster and harder making your entire body simply vibrate with each thrust. With each of his movements you could feel his member throbbing inside you, just as you were about to reach his climax.

Satoru grabbed your hips and sat you on him, causing his member to penetrate you even deeper and sending shockwaves throughout your body. You grabbed onto his shoulders and instinctively moved your hips, wanting to climax.

Moans filled the room as you bounced on him up and down, feeling how every inch of your interior was getting filled.

A moan died in your throat as you came on his member, Satoru kept thrusting until he finally came inside of you too. For a few moments neither of you moved, you stayed hugging his body and Satoru stayed with his head resting on your shoulder trying to catch his breath.

He carefully pulled out of you and lay down next to you. With your faces looking at each other you smiled, feeling a peace that you hadn't felt in a long time.

“I love you…” You murmured without any hesitation, you didn't want to keep that feeling to yourself for much longer.

Satoru looked at you surprised for a moment, but then his features relaxed and he smiled widely to move closer to you and plant a soft kiss on your lips. “Me too my angel.”

That day you fell asleep hugging each other, with your skin completely touching. You felt that after that your whole ordeal in that house would end, that nothing would matter anymore and that if you were with Satoru everything would be fine.

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @satoracyxys @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08

131 notes · View notes

a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 3 days

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 13

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

When the sun rose and light peeked through the gaps in the curtains, you allowed yourself to rise from bed, savoring the feel of the blankets beneath your fingers as you took deep, steadying breaths. Finally, you pulled yourself up and opened the armoire to find clothes Feyre had given you throughout your stay. At the bottom of the closet, you discovered a rucksack filled with clothing for all climates, fresh skeins of water, and various dried fruits and ready-to-make meals. You dug through the bag, wondering who could have left it for you. Nesta, perhaps? You shook your head, smiling lightly as you dressed, pulling out a cable-knit sweater and layering it over a turtleneck. You opted for green cargo pants and a knit blue wool jacket, then pulled on a pair of hiking boots. You tied your hair into a braid, securing the end with the ribbon Anthea had given you, allowing your fingers to linger over the frayed ends as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You slung the rucksack over your shoulder and walked into the hallway, knowing you would need to find someone to bring you to the ground or face the many stairs that would have you walking until nightfall. As you made your way down the hall, you heard indistinct chatter behind a closed door in the common room.

“You’re sure?” a deep male voice asked.

“Absolutely,” Rhysand responded.

“How is that possible?” the deep voice asked.

“When my father was High Lord, diplomatic affairs were very different. There weren’t strict border enforcements, and he and my father were quite close.”

A scoff from the deeper-voiced male.

“So you think it’s possible that he’s her father?” Azriel’s voice interjected.

You paused. They were talking about you.

“I would recognize that voice anywhere,” Rhysand responded.

“She was a child. Who knows what she accurately remembers,” the deep voice replied.

“Where else would she know his voice?” Rhysand countered.

There was a pause as you pressed your ear closer to the door.

“So what do we do?” Azriel asked finally. “Do we tell her?”

“What good would that do?” the deeper voice asked.

“For her safety, we can’t tell her anything,” Rhysand responded.

“So we just sit with this information?” Azriel asked, irritation lacing his voice.

Rhysand shot back, “What would you prefer, Azriel? That we tell her and risk not knowing what will happen afterward?”

“What do you think she would do?” Azriel asked.

“I don’t know,” Rhysand replied.

Azriel’s voice grew louder, “She has no other family. Is it not wrong of us to keep this from her? What if she wants to go to him?”

The deep voice responded, “You want her to go live with them? That messed up family?”

“I don’t think that’s for us to decide,” Azriel shot back.

“You know how they treat their females,” the deep voice responded.

Azriel said nothing.

The deep voice then continued, “Rhys, what do you want us to do?”

“I want you to keep this quiet for now. For all we know, he’s still looking for her.”

Azriel, hesitantly but with a touch of frustration, asked, “What about her mate?”

Your heart caught in your throat.

A pause from all of them. “That is not our concern,” Rhysand responded.

Azriel’s voice grew louder. “She’s running from him, Rhys! We can’t just do nothing. Who knows what he might do to her?”

Rhysand, his voice calm and collected, said, “Az, she doesn’t want to tell us anything about him. We can’t do anything unless she asks for help.”

Azriel, almost yelling, responded, “She’s terrified to say anything!”

The deep voice tried to calm him, “Az-”

“No!” Azriel stopped him. “Rhys, he’s in her head all the time. She screams his name every night. She’s been running from him. Who knows what he’s been doing to her?”

Rhysand replied, “Azriel, we cannot overstep boundaries. I’ve already entered her mind without her consent. If we do anything without her permission, we are causing more harm than good.”

“So we let her go? Let her keep running from him?”

Rhysand paused. “It is her choice what to do with her life.”

“She doesn’t want this!” Azriel yelled again.

“How can you be so sure what she wants?” Rhysand responded.

Your mind raced. Why did it matter who this male in your dream was? Why would they care? Your heart nearly stopped as you considered them knowing your mate existed, suddenly fearing they might call him to come and get you. You started thinking through a story to stop them, but then you heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and footsteps approaching. You stepped back, pressing your rucksack against the wall. The door flew open, and Azriel stood before you, his face hot with anger that faded slightly when he saw you.

“Y/N-” he stammered, “Hi, good morning.”

“Good morning,” you responded, taking a step forward slightly.

Azriel looked over his shoulder back into the room and then turned back to you, shifting slightly as he looked you up and down. “What—where are you going?” he asked, his face turning more concerned.

You looked down at your clothes and then back at his face. “I’m heading out. I was wondering if someone could take me down.”

Azriel’s fingers flexed around the door as he seemed to fidget more. “You’re leaving?” he stammered.

“I think it’s just time for me to move on,” you said, shifting slightly in your boots.

As you finished, Rhysand appeared in the doorway behind Azriel, who took a slight step out of his way. “You don’t have to go,” Rhysand noted. “You can stay as long as you like.”

You looked at Rhysand, smiling politely. “You’ve been so generous, but I’m just feeling an itch to move on.”

Azriel started to speak, but Rhysand cut him off. “Of course,” he said. “It’s been our pleasure to have you.”

You looked to Azriel, whose face hardened at Rhysand’s words, but he didn’t speak. From behind Rhysand, another male with Illyrian wings, a much larger frame, and shoulder-length black hair appeared.

“You’re leaving? But I just got here!” his voice boomed.

“You must be Cassian,” you said, smiling at the bright face with a beaming smile back at you.

“So you’ve heard of me? These guys don’t just spend all their time talking about themselves?” Cassian pushed between the two males, coming to stand in front of you, his hand outstretched.

You reached to him, shaking it lightly, his calloused grip hard. “Well, mostly Nesta.”

Cassian smirked. “So you’ve only heard the bad things.”

You chuckled, readjusting the pack on your back. “Just that she missed you.”

“Not that I’m the biggest pain in her ass and that she wishes I’d fly into the side of a mountain?” Cassian smirked back.

“No, nothing like that,” you replied, “just a little.”

Cassian chuckled slightly. “Well, it brings me too much joy to terrorize her day to stop now.”

Rhysand broke back in, “I can take you down. I have to get back home anyway.”

You nodded slightly, noticing how Azriel’s face tightened to the point where you thought his skin might snap.

Cassian gave you a kind smile. “It’s been nice to meet you, even if you’re so rudely leaving.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my fault you’ve been avoiding me.”

Cassian turned, walking down the hall towards Nesta’s room. “Someone has to work around here,” he threw his hands up and continued through the doors at the end of the hall, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck out there, kid!”

Azriel’s fingers loosened and gripped the doorframe again. Rhysand reached out his hand to yours. “Shall we?”

You looked between Azriel and Rhys before taking a few steps forward and wrapping your arms around Azriel’s neck. “Thank you,” you whispered to him.

Azriel seemed stunned momentarily before he wrapped his own arms around you, resting his chin on your head, one arm coming around your shoulders, pressing his fingers into your shoulder, the other coming around your waist.

“Of course,” he whispered back.

You took in his scent, mist and cedar, breathing him in deeply as you clenched your eyes shut. You couldn’t figure out why, but you felt a deepening sadness when you pulled away. Azriel seemed reluctant to let go. You pushed onto your tiptoes, pressing a kiss onto Azriel’s cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Take care, Azriel,” you said to him.

“You do the same,” he responded, opening his eyes, and letting one hand take your own. He rubbed his scarred thumb over the back of your hand as you stepped back, taking Rhysand’s hand in yours.

When you let go of Azriel’s grip, the world spun in black and gray, and you felt a single tear slip down your cheek.

When you landed, you found yourself standing in the middle of a busy cobblestone street near the large gates to the entrance of Velaris. Fighting off the nausea, you leaned forward, and Rhysand placed a comforting hand on your back.

“Does that ever get less disorienting?” you panted.

“I’ve been doing it for about 400 years. I don’t think I’m the right person to ask,” he laughed.

You took a few more gasping breaths, trying to steady yourself. As you did, the familiar scents of your childhood city filled your senses—the sweet smell of baking bread and the yeasty delight wafting from the baker's square. You stood upright, peering around at the gray stone buildings with the banners of the Night Court flying high above their spires. Your heart felt suddenly full as you envisioned yourself walking through the streets with your mother, seeing the world from so much closer to the ground. You tried not to let your mouth fall open in awe.

Rhysand gave you a light smile. “You recognize this?”

“I spent a few years here in my early childhood.”

“It’s a pretty magical place to grow up,” Rhysand remarked, looking around.

You nodded slightly.

Rhysand’s gaze landed on you. “You don’t have to leave, you know? You can stay here. We can find you a place to live.”

You shook your head, smiling politely while looking at your feet. “It’s alright. Somewhere else is calling me. I just need to find it.”

Rhysand nodded. “I understand. Sometimes we have to carve our own paths.”

You nodded again.

“If anything happens, or you need anything, you will always have a home here,” Rhysand assured you.

You tried to push down the tears and the lump forming in your throat as you smiled at him. He gestured to the gates. “This is the closest I can get you to the exit without putting you outside.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied.

“You have everything you need?” he asked.

“More than enough,” you responded.

Rhysand nodded lightly, reaching out his hand to shake yours, but instead, you took a step forward and wrapped him in a hug. He hugged you back. “Thank you,” you said.

“Of course,” he responded as you pulled back, turning and walking toward the shining steel gates.

“Be safe,” Rhysand called.

“I will,” you called back, before stepping outside the gates of Velaris and into the wilderness, immediately feeling a hole forming in your stomach as you walked farther and farther from that wondrous, shining place.

To my readers, much love. Be prepared for what's to come, we're getting serious out here. @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra

86 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

Text

A Guiding Hand 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: I'm a sleepy baby.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Another unit done. You’re not certain how you’ve kept it up but you’re just waiting for your motivation to fizzle out. Each activity, each page, you teeter on the edge of oblivion. Workbook Five is almost complete and Six will be the final for the course. There’s a shell of disbelief around you. You really did it.

Well, not quite yet.

You sit back and stretch your neck and shoulders. Your teachers always told you to stop hunching but your shoulders always curled forward and your neck sunk anyway. Not out of defiance, just to make yourself small, maybe even, invisible.

You stand, fingers cold and slightly numb. It’s a rainy day and the cold seeps in as your mother keeps the radiator off. You tuck your hands into your hoodie sleeve and find your slippers, a faded old pair that used to be somewhat fluffy.

It’s quiet. You haven’t heard your mother at all. It’s not too unusual. After a binge, sometimes she just sleeps all day and night. You don’t like it, you don’t like that it’s normal, but it’s just how she is. How it is and always will be.

Well, you’re trying to change yourself. You can’t change her or this place.

You open the door slowly and peek out. A habit. You emerge quietly and rub your nose with your cuff, sniffing behind your sleeve as you shuffle into the kitchen. You do your best not to make too much noise as you fill the kettle. You have a few more bags of green tea, the you’re all out. You need to go back to the grocery store but the food credits won’t come until next week.

You turn the dial on the stove and lean against the front as the kettle sits on the back burner. You close your eyes, groggy and slightly dizzy. You’ve been staring at numbers for so long, you don’t even know what time it is. Morning at night, you can’t tell by a glance through the gray window.

You yawn again. Maybe chamomile might be a better choice. You lift your head and lean back on your heels as you mull the decision. The floor creaks with your weight as you shift indecisively. You’re not even sure you have any left.

As you back up, you collide with something, someone, else. You grunt as suddenly there’s a clamp around your neck and you’re shoved forward against the stove. You brace the edge, careful not to touch the top as the heat from the burner radiates across the metal.

Lee’s chuckle brushes over your hair, “there you are, girl. You been hiding.”

“Eek, no--” you squirm and writhe.

He’s too strong. He pushes harder and you’re forced to bend, precariously hovering over the stove, the kettle not far from your cheek. You squeak as your slippers scuff on the floor between his feet.

“Please--”

“You should be begging,” he snarls, “little girl like you, messing where she shouldn’t be.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeal, “you were hurting her--”

“Ain’t none of your business, is it?” He jolts you and you nearly hit your head off the back of the stove. He grabs your wrist with his other hand as he pinches your neck tighter. “Your mama likes it rough, don’t ya know? Walls ain’t that thick.”

You whine and struggle to resist him as he brings your hand up, angling it towards the kettle as you hear that water starting to hum. You can feel the heat roiling from it. You push back against him, pressing your hand to the back of the stove to get better leverage.

“Want me to hurt you? Is that it? Tired of just listening,” he snorts, your hand shaking close to the kettle as you babble, “suppose like this, won’t be too bad.”

He wiggles his pelvis against you and you hiccup in fear. You twitch and he shoves your hand against the kettle. You cry out as it scalds your skin, steam hissing through the spout and towards your face. Your eyes well and you gnash your teeth.

“Pl-please,” you plead and he lets go of your arm, framing your hip instead.

He pulls you back against him, “Mmm,” he shakes his hips again, “think I could. You ain’t bad from behind.”

Horror erupts up your throat as you scramble desperately, trapped by his weight. You grab onto the handle of the kettle, even as your burnt flesh screams, and you hurl yourself back. He staggers as you swing the heavy vessel in his direction but it only splashes on your slippers as he dodges away from you. A flare of anger lights up his blue eyes.

“Ha,” he sneers at you, “you’re funny, girl. Got a whole lotta fight for nothing. Far as I can tell, ain’t no other man around to want you. Not even your daddy.”

You lower the kettle, breathless and terrified. The sting of his word wounds more than the blistering flesh on your fingers. You shake your head.

“Leave me alone,” you croak.

“Hmph,” he curls his lips, “just you wait,” he eyes you up and down.

You stand, paralysed by the stove. He stomps away and you watch him go, not daring to move. When you hear your mother’s door slam, you shakily set the kettle on the countertop. You turn your hand over an examine your palm, the sight of it adding to the agony.

You don’t know how you can write now.

📓

You tap the mousepad twice to get it to react. Your poorly wrapped hand makes everything double the task. You huff as you switch hands, awkwardly navigating to the email icon. You expand the window and find a new email. Professor Smith.

‘Thank you for your last submission. I have reviewed your work and would like to provide feedback via Zoom if possible. Please provide times which work for you.

Looking forward to speaking again.

Take care,

Raymond’

As usual. He is very direct. You can almost appreciate that about him and yet it does not rein in your paranoia. Feedback via Zoom? Why? Can’t he just write it down? Did you do something wrong?

Ugh. You slump and stare at the keyboard. It can’t be avoided. You haven’t even started Six because of your hand. Maybe a review would be helpful. Besides, it would be a waste to give up now. It wasn’t so bad before, was it?

You hit reply and key in your response slowly with one hand.

‘Hello Professor,

I can do anytime tomorrow.

Thank you.’

It isn’t the most academic or professional response. You don’t know what else to say. You have no schedule to adhere too, you can only hope your mom isn’t making a racket.

You send and close up the laptop. You have to rewrap your hand. It’s really hurting but you’ve been rationing the Polysporin. You just want it to heal quick so you can finish your work.

📓

Professor Smith confirms for nine in the morning. You make sure you’re awake but your head is pulsing. Your sleep schedule is all off. You opt for a plain long-sleeved tee over the hoodie, trying to appear as presentable as you can. Nothing you own can compare to his tidy attire; you recall his sweater and stiff collar. Often, you find yourself wilting over how he must think of you. Just like everyone else does, you suppose.

You get set up. Your room isn’t too bad. You’ve been trying to keep up on it. Your laundry is in a basket although the bookshelf is getting a bit cluttered again. Oh well, he won’t be able to see much around you.

You open the laptop. Ten minutes to go. You can hardly sit still. Your anxiety peaks as you hear your mom’s voice from down the hall. It’s early for you, but even earlier for her.

There’s a knock at the door, “honey, do we got any coffee left?”

“Mom,” you get up and go to the door, cracking it open, “I left enough for a pot in the tin. I’m still waiting on the credits.”

“Oh,” she smiles through the narrow space, “Lee musta used them the last of it.” She smiles. She’s drunk. She hasn’t just woken up, she’s been awake all night. She turns and waddles away unsteadily, “baby, we got no coffee.”

You sigh and shut the door. You go back to the computer. Please don’t make a ruckus. You don’t need another scene.

You click the meeting link and fidget. You’re not ready. Are you ever? Life is just doing things you’re unprepared for.

You wince as Professor Smith appears on the screen. He greets you by name and you return a ‘hello, professor’.

“Good morning?” He asks brightly.

You shrug, “yeah, I guess...” you look one way then the other, uncertain, “how are you, professor?”

“Great, thanks for asking,” he reaches for a tall mug and takes a sip before exhaling, “so, I suppose you would just like to get this over with.”

“Um, no, er, I...”

“Not saying anything about you,” he assures as he leans forward, crossing his arms over the desk. His eyes scan through his lens and you realise he must be reading something on the screen, “you’ve done wonderful work. I especially wanted to high light a few things.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I probably made some mistakes,” you clumsily click around as his image remains in the corner of the screen. You hiss as your fingers throb and open the workbook.

“On the contrary, it’s perfect. In fact, you’ve managed to bring my own error to light. I was certain at first it wasn’t me but I went in a redid the work for Problem Eight. Clever.”

You sit back and nod, surprised.

There’s a thump and your mom’s voice, met by Lee’s rumbling timbre. Muffled enough that their words can be deciphered but you worry it is still heard through the microphone. You clear your throat and move closer, sitting up as you bring your injured hand to rub your neck.

“A lot going on?” Smith wonders.

“No, sir, sorry, I wasn’t expecting it,” you shrug and scratch your cheek, the gauze rough and loose.

“Oh my, what’s happened there? Are you alright?”

You pause and jerk as another bang sounds and your mother’s cackle erupts, stopping sharply

“Yes, sir,” you quickly hide your hand, “I had an accident. Um, I was going to ask... it’s taking me a while to type...”

“By all means, we may discuss accommodations,” he assures, “I am, as ever, patient. Most importantly, you must take care of yourself.”

“Sir,” you nod and your door rattles in the frame. “Um...” you glance over your shoulder. Why now?

“Are you certain this isn’t a bad time?”

“I’m sorry,” you face the laptop, “I didn’t think--”

“Hey, you lazy bitch!” A hard rap shakes the door behind you, “get out here.”

You go wide-eyed and stare at the screen. No. Please. Not again.

Professor Smith’s brow ripples and his jaw squares, “it seems you’ve got some chaos over there.”

“It’s just... I... one sec,” you bring the call full screen and search for the controls and hit mute. You stand up and go to the door, trying to block it out with your body. You open it as Lee smirks back at you, “we’re all outta coffee. Why don’t you go and get us some?”

He holds up a ten dollar bill and flicks it against your nose, “y’ain’t got nothing else to do.”

“I’m busy,” you say, “can it wait a few minutes?”

“Busy?” He snips, “with what? You can watch your damn TV when you get back.”

“Sorry, but I can’t--”

“Lee, she’ll go in a bit,” your mother preens from down the hall.

“I got a damn headache, she can drag her ass out right now,” he barks back at her, “it’s my money, ain’t it?”

“Please, I’m... just after.”

“Why? Whatcha hiding?”

“Nothing, it’s school--”

He shoves the door and you stumble back, hitting the bookshelf with your shoulder. He bulls past you and looks around, his eyes narrowing on your laptop. You turn to see the professor watching intently from his side of the call and you scurry to catch up with Lee and stop him. He elbows you away, tossing you against your bedframe. You hit it and crash to the floor.

“I see, you entertainin’,” he scoffs and hits the keys several times.

“Who are you, sir?” Smith asks, his tone cool but dangerous.

You hear the little blip that signals the mute is off, “should ask ya the same. Whatcha doin’ talkin’ to young girls, eh?”

“Is she your daughter?” Smith challenges and gets a chortle in return.

“Nah, just a whore like her mother, ain’t she? You’d know better than me.”

You get to your knees and grab at his hand, “please, he’s my professor.”

“Don’t lie to me. Irene,” he spins as he hollers for your mother, “come see what your daughter’s doin’." He pauses to grit over his shoulder, "If ya gonna be whorin’ on the internet, you should at least try to get some money outta it.”

“Huh, Lee, leave her alone,” your mom appears in the doorway and you crawl past Lee, keeping low as you reach up to keyboard and feel around.

Professor Smith says your name but you hold the power button until the laptop fan slows and quiets. You sit back on your heels and look over as Lee peers around your room. Your mom sways in the doorway.

“Who was that?” She asks.

“I told him, it’s my professor--”

“You ain’t smart enough for all that book stuff,” Lee growls, “go on and keep lyin’.”

“Why do you care?” You sniff.

“Honey, don’t be rude.”

“Mom,” you whine, “he shouldn’t be in here.”

“Lee, baby, I’ll go get the coffee,” she redirects. You hang your head.

“I want her to go,” he turns and throws the ten at you, “the way she leach of ya, it’s the least she can do.”

You wince, “it’s okay, mom, I can go.” You grab the desk and stand, swiping up the bill. You need to get out of this apartment. Staying will only make him angrier. Staying will only make she shame worse.

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #the gentlement #series #fic #a guiding hand #dark fic #dark!fic #au

85 notes · View notes

dira333 · 2 days

Text

Current Friend, Future Husband? - Tenma Udai/Little Giant x Reader

whoops, my finger slipped... Words: 5k

Enjoy this reluctant Friends to Lovers/He falls first with the Little Giant from Karasuno.

created as a fanfic gift exchange for @lees-chaotic-brain

tagging: @mariaace @snail-squasher @yamaguchiwestad @respitable

- 6 -

“Tenma’s here,” your mom calls up from the kitchen.

The announcement is unnecessary because Tenma has yet to learn how to walk quietly, stomping up the stairs to your room.

His face is set in a scowl too, dark curls and dark eyes giving him quite an evil aura.

But you’ve known him long enough not to care about that.

“Grab a scarf,” you tell him as soon as he steps through the door, “I’m playing wedding.”

“Not again,” he groans, though does as he is told. The pink scarf he picks has hundreds of little coins sown to it, chiming as he wraps it around his shoulders and moves through the room.

“I’m a Djinn,” he exclaims, “I will curse you.”

“Djinn’s don’t curse people! They fulfill wishes,” you correct him.

“Fine,” he huffs, “What do you wish for?”

“I want Tenma to play the husband.”

“Not again!” He groans, throwing his hands in the air.

“You have to!” You declare, “Djinn’s always have to follow their master's wishes!”

He huffs and whines and begs but it’s no use. He plays the husband to your wife.

“Can we play outside now?” He asks as soon as you kiss his cheek and declare the marriage official. “Mom brought my ball.”

“Fine,” you decide to be nice today. “But don’t kick it too hard. I don’t like that.”

- 8 -

“It’s so weird that you’ve got a boy as a best friend,” Asuka exclaims. Your small group of (girl)friends has gathered in your favorite spot, overlooking the garden and the big open space below. Tenma’s playing Ball with a group of boys and he’s easy to pick out, he’s always the smallest in any group.

“You think so?” You ask back, taking one of the strawberries Sango brought for lunch break today. “It’s not like I had a chance. Our mothers are best friends. He’s basically my annoying twin brother.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Ryo asks, looking up from where she’s painting Tomoko’s nails.

You consider this for a moment, look down to where he’s running around, red-faced and panting. He’s not ugly, that much you can tell, but cute?

“I don’t think so,” you say, because it’s better than to admit that you don’t really know what cute really means for a guy. You think babies are cute, but that’s not the same thing, right?

“I think he’s cute,” Ryo admits easily now that she thinks she knows where you stand. “Can I ask him to be my boyfriend?”

“I mean you can ask,” you offer, feeling a little weird that she asks you in the first place, “but I don’t know what he’ll answer you. I bet he still thinks girls are gross.”

- 10 -

“I think you’re getting a little too old to be sharing a bathtub,” your mother announces after Tenma has left.

“We weren’t sharing,” you explain, drying your hair. “We were playing that he was my magical shapeshifting dog but he rolled around in a mountain of dragon poop and I had to give him a bath. He pulled me in when I was almost done washing him.”

Your mother sighs. “Aren’t you getting a little old for those stories too?”

You tense and she notices right away.

“Dear, I didn’t mean… if this is how you want to play, I’m totally fine with that. I was just wondering…”

“How else are we supposed to play?” You ask, unable to keep the agitation out of your voice. “Am I supposed to kiss him and hold hands like the other girls in my class are pretending to do? Or play Volleyball the whole day? Or just do our homework and study, study, study until we fall asleep? Or play video games that you don’t like because they make you dumb? How are we supposed to play?”

Your mother sighs again, lowers herself until she’s sitting crosslegged on the floor next to you.

“Come,” she says, opening her arms until you crawl into her like you used to do. “I’m sorry. I know, as your mother, I should say and do all the right things but that was pretty stupid of me. Can you forgive me?”

You nod and she pulls you in a little closer, kissing your damp hair. “Now tell me, what do you like to do? What’s fun?”

You lean into her, the familiar smell and warmth, and let yourself open up.

“When I come up with a story, Tenma always makes it bigger. Like today, when I said: Do you wanna play my dog, it was his idea that he could shapeshift. And that we’re living in a world that has dragons. And… and I was a maiden that had a tavern and there would be knights who came by to slay the dragons but the dragons are actually our friends… It’s like reading a book but you’re in it, you know? And he doesn’t ask about who I like and what I like and what I think is cute all the time. That’s so annoying.”

“You like hanging out with Tenma?”

“He’s okay,” you offer and she snorts. “If he ever gets on your nerves, you can tell me, okay? I know boys can be annoying too.”

“I can handle Tenma,” you tell her, knowing you’re right. “But can you, like, not allow me to go to Ryo’s sleepover next week? She’s so obsessed with boys and she always pranks someone during sleepover. I don’t want to wake up with my head shaved.”

- 12 -

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement.

It’s not that you don’t get chocolates and confessions, because you do, a lot actually even though you decline every time, but never from Tenma.

For a long second neither of you does or says anything and all you see of him is the back of his neck as he bows.

But then he pops up, a weird grin on his face.

“Got you!” He declares, opening the pack of chocolates and biting into it without a moment of hesitation. “Did you think that was real?”

“No,” you say even though that’s a lie, “Why did you do it?”

He shrugs, offering you the chocolate. You take a bite as well, feeling a little smug that neither of you cares that it will be an “indirect kiss” as the girls call it.

“Everyone thinks we’re dating,” he admits finally when he pulls the chocolate back again, “just wanted to see what you think about it.”

“It’s annoying,” you declare ad you should have watched his face a little closer because something like a shadow moves over it, but it’s gone before you can catch it. “You’re like my brother.”

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds a little weak for someone as headstrong as Tenma.

You don’t wanna think about it though, so you poke his shoulder. “Where did you get the chocolate?”

“Someone confessed to me. I said no but I kept the chocolate because they thought I was dating you and still confessed. That’s stupid.”

“Mhm,” you don’t ask for a name. “Wanna stay and play a bit before we walk home?”

“Volleyball?” He asks, ears perking up.

“Sure.”

- 14 -

Neither of you is dating anyone.

None of your girlfriends believes that you’re not into Tenma and you’ve given up on convincing them of the truth. You don’t really want to date anyone. You like solving puzzles and coming up with crazy ideas that Tenma can bend and fold into even crazier stories. You like going for a run with him in the morning because even though you hate waking up early it sets your mind at ease and you like going for a run with him in the evening because without it, you’ll be unable to sleep.

Sure, there are some good-looking boys in your class. But maybe you’ve spent too much time around Tenma, or boys in general, to find any appeal in them.

They fart and they burp and they dig their dirty fingers into their noses and they refuse to shower even though they smell awful and sweaty. The number of times you’ve had to drag Tenma into the shower, turn it on, and hold him under the spray because you couldn’t allow him in your room otherwise and he wouldn’t go on his own is too high to admit at this point.

It helps a little that Tenma thinks the same of girls.

Not that the girls from your class are as disgusting as the boys.

But they giggle too much and they always flutter their lashes at him which he thinks is a little creepy and they don’t listen to him when he talks about anything that isn’t their appearance.

“I like talking to you instead,” he admits and this is probably the highest praise he’s ever sung you, “you know what I’m talking about.”

And you know what he means because you always know what he means. It’s not that hard. Tenma likes stories, the crazier the better, and he likes volleyball. And food, but he’s picky with that, giving you his tomatoes and eating all your salmon even though you’d have wanted to eat that yourself.

All the other girls in your class are talking about boyfriends and getting married and having a family and all you want to think about is solving riddles with Tenma or telling him a story so he doesn’t make you practice receives with him.

- 16 -

“Did you get your first kiss already?” Hisoka asks and you shake your head. Nothing sounds less appealing than tasting someone else’s spit.

“Don’t you and Tenma kiss?” She asks and you stare at her as if she’d said that Alien’s are real.

“Why would we kiss?”

“You’re dating, aren’t you? Everyone says that you’re dating.”

“He’s like my brother,” you tell her. “We grew up together.”

“But you’re the manager of the Volleyball team too.”

“Yeah, because I like Volleyball.”

She huffs. “Okay, who do you like? I think Tsukishima is still single.”

Tsukishima, blond, tall, and universally liked, blushes like a strawberry. You glare at him for eavesdropping.

“I’m not interested in anyone,” you declare loudly. You hope that’s the end of it.

It isn’t.

“Hey, can you walk home without me? We’re going to prank the store owner down the street,” Tenma hands you his bag without waiting for an answer.

You walk home alone, grumbling to yourself about how you would have wanted to play along with the prank.

But it doesn’t matter.

After years of being an okay player, Karasuno’s trainer seems to have spotted something in Tenma that he didn’t even expect there himself.

Extra training. More time on the court. Recognition from others.

Soon enough you’re sidelined with Tsukishima and the others.

First-year managers are not allowed on the court during official matches.

Is there anything worse than realizing that you’ve made a mistake? Putting all your faith in one friend only to realize they can drop you without a moment’s hesitation?

“Tenma’s here,” your mother calls out from the kitchen.

You’re not fast enough at sprinting toward your door. He slips into your room before you’ve managed to close it.

“Tsukishima told me you’re leaving the team?” He sounds out of breath. Did he run here?

“I’m just a manager, it’s not like the team will notice,” you scoff, pushing him off your bed. “Besides I’m taking up Advanced English, so I’ll have more time to study.”

“What? Are you going to turn boring now?”

“You’re boring!” You scream, surprised by the anger that’s spilling from your lips. It feels as if he’d stabbed you with that question and all the words are just the blood that’s spraying out of open wounds. “All you do is play volleyball and think you’re the greatest and it sucks!”

“You suck!” He yells back. “You’re just jealous I’m finally cool!”

“You’ll never be cool!”

Tenma stomps his foot like a little kid before storming out of your room.

You can hear the front door slam shut all the way up to your room and if you crawl into your bed to cry right after that’s nobody’s business but yours.

And your mother’s, as it seems, because she appears at your doorstep just a few minutes later.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“No.”

“Hm, maybe not right now,” she offers at your tear-soaked voice, “but I expect an explanation until tomorrow evening, okay? Tenma’s family to me too. You know we can solve all fights with good communication.”

You don’t answer and she leaves you alone to wallow in your despair.

“Tenma wants to apologize,” Udai-san pushes him toward you. Your mother nudges you forward in much the same way.

“I don’t want you to be cool,” you say instead, the words prickly on your tongue. “I like you better when you’re not cool.”

Tenma’s eyes flutter around the room, arms crossed. Your mothers leave the room and you sink into the floor, annoyed and hurt and so many more things you can’t properly name.

“Do you really think I’m boring?” Your voice is much to vulnerable for your liking.

But it stills his nervous movement and he sinks onto the floor just like you, heavy and exhausted. You’ve never fought like this before.

“I think you’re trying to be,” he offers quietly, “but I want to you to keep playing Volleyball with me.”

“I’m just a manager.”

“Yeah, but it feels like you’re playing with me. And… and you’ve always been the smart one, okay? Everyone’s always said: Tenma, you should be more like her. She’s so smart. Can’t she tutor you? No one ever told you to play Volleyball like me. No one ever told anyone to try to be like me until now.”

“I’ve always wanted to be as creative as you,” you offer and even though he wrinkles his nose you can tell he’s touched by that.

It feels like you’re standing at a crossroads. Whatever you decide or do or say next will change the trajectory of this friendship. You’re not ready for that. You doubt you’ll ever be.

As long as there’s the safety of your past, you’ll always try to grasp it.

“Do you wanna play my dog?”

- 18 -

You’re not sure if it’s the awful music, the crowd around you, the smell of sweat and food and spilled soda, or just everything all at once, but you don’t think College parties are for you.

You recall a balcony or backdoor to your left so you move that way, push against the wall of bodies with everything that you’ve got, panic already bubbling in your throat.

Someone grabs your hand just as you’re gasping for air and with a well-aimed push you’re through, cool air hugging you like a loved relative at a family dinner.

“You good?” Tenma’s squinting down at you. He’s grown a little during break, though you doubt he’ll ever be as tall as the other guys on his former Volleyball team.

“Yeah, thanks.”

His hand is still around yours, now pulling you down the path into the dark garden.

“Where are we going?”

“Dunno, getting some fresh air into you. Met anyone you like?”

“Yeah, the fridge.”

He snickers. “What about that girl from your business Class?”

“She’s trying to eat the face of some guy I don’t know.”

“Tsukishima?”

“Pretended he didn’t know me.”

“Aww, I’m wounded.”

“I bet you are. What about you? Any hot girls tried to talk to you?”

“About that,” he knocks his elbow into your side, “one of them tried to kiss me.”

“A hot girl tried to kiss you?” He nudges you again at your incredulous tone.

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m famous.”

“Bet you are,” you snicker. “But what happened? Did she realize you’re not a tall girl but a small guy and run away?”

“No,” his voice sounds weird now, but you can barely see his face in the dark, “I turned her down. Didn’t want my first kiss to happen at some party.”

“How do you want your first kiss to happen?”

“Ah,” you know he’s just shaking his head from left to right as he’s thinking, you don’t have to be able to see him for that, “Like this, you know? In the garden in the dark? That’s kinda romantic.”

“Should have brought someone else over here then.”

His hand lets go of yours.

“Right,” he says, voice weirdly tight.

“Shit, did I ruin the mood?” You ask, nudging your elbow into whatever you can reach, “I can get that hot girl for you. Just tell me what she looks like.”

“Do you wanna get KFC instead?” He must have turned his back to you. You don’t know what you said to derail this conversation, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to keep it up.

“Sure,” you agree, “but you’re paying.”

- 20 -

Tenma has started growing his hair out.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t suit him.

You’d be a filthy, awful, terrible liar if you said you didn’t want to drag your hands through it all the damn time.

“You should cut your hair,” you tell him when you meet up for lunch, “You look like a homeless guy.”

“And you look like a sexy secretary,” he jokes, pulling you in and putting you in a headlock. It feels brotherly and it’s just what you need to get through this lunchdate that’s not a date.

Somewhere in between graduating Highschool and today Tenma’s gotten hot.

Or maybe you’ve just finally gone through puberty, discovered all the hormone’s healthy teenage girls were supposed to have.

Last week you even sniffed his leather jacket when he was in the bathroom and you wished you could have put in on for a few minutes, but you feared he’d notice and how would you ever live that down?

“Did you get any feedback on that story you submitted?” You ask, trying not to overthink his comment. It’s probably meant as a loving insult, after all you’re not a secretary.

“Yes, actually, they told me they’re printing it.”

“No way,” you shut the menu again, “You’re joking, right?”

He grins. “You think I’m joking?”

“Not really, but I wanna make sure you’re being honest with me before I pay for your lunch.”

“You could let me pay and we call this a date,” he says and even though you catch yourself freezing up you can see on his face that he caught it.

“I was joking,” he tells you and if you’d be able to be honest, if you’d trust yourself not to ruin this, you’d tell him that his joking is the one thing that makes you still freeze up in fear.

After all, you don’t throw away a friendship of twenty years to a joke, right?

“I know,” you tell him pointedly, clearing your throat and opening the menu again. “Which means you’re paying for yourself.”

“Come on,” he whines, but his voice comes easy now, which means you can breathe again.

The moment is gone and somehow, you’re sure, you’ll survive the next one too.

“Can’t your girlfriend sleep in your room?” You can’t place the voice for a moment even though it sounds familiar.

“Not my girlfriend.” That’s Tenma. Who are they talking about?

“Well, if you keep having a girl over make sure she has a place to sleep that is not the living room. I need my space in the morning.”

“Sure, sure.” Tenma sounds like he’s not taking this seriously.

You blink and wipe the drool from your face.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Tenma’s face is so close now you can smell the toothpastey-freshness of his breath.

“What day is it?” You ask, feel your jaw crack as you yawn.

“Sunday,” he pulls you up with ease, “Let’s put some of my spare clothes on you before we meet up with our parents. Or did you bring something?”

You rub your eyes as you lean on him. He might have stopped playing Volleyball, but he hasn’t lost his muscles.

The memories are slowly coming back to you. Going through his newest idea, a Manga this time. Reminiscing over old footage from his Karasuno days. Sharing one, two, maybe three beers as you giggle and swat away his hands on the Couch.

You can only hope you didn’t say or do anything embarrassing last night.

But this is Tenma. He’d let you know right away if you had.

It gets easier to live with your crush.

Tenma never mentions any girl he’s seeing or points out who he thinks is cute.

He’s pretty good at keeping in contact even when he’s so lost in his creative mind that he forgets to eat.

And while your work is equally demanding, the hours there are more regular.

It’s not uncommon to find you in his kitchen after work, growing from putting ready-to-eat food onto plates to actually preparing home-cooked meals. They’re not awful and you think that’s the highest praise you can get.

Sometimes, when it’s so late you can forget about catching a train back home and Tenma’s so tired he sounds like he’s speaking a foreign language, you end up sleeping in the same bed.

If you drag your fingertips through his hair then, hear him mumbling softly under his breath as you fall asleep, that’s your secret to keep.

- 22 -

Tenma’s a full-fledged Manga Artist now.

You got your own promotion just a short month later and as he raises another glass on your good work, the question tumbles out of you before you can stop yourself.

“Do you want to move in together?”

His grip is suddenly too tight around his glass. You can tell because you’ve grown a bit too observant lately, always way too laser-focused on where he is and what he’s doing and how he’s smelling like, freshly-showered or cozily slept-in.

“You can say if it’s a stupid idea,” you ramble on, “I mean, I’m over at your place all the time anyway to make sure you’re eating enough. It would be weird though if one of us brought home a date, but like-”

“Sure,” Tenma clears his throat, “we could move in together.”

He deflects all further questions though, whether it should be closer to his work or closer to yours, how many rooms you’ll need, and if you’ll be able to get a cat, instead filling up your glass again and again.

Eventually, you walk home arm in arm, each of you trying to support the other.

It’s a hopeless case but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying.

“This was fun,” you say at the train station, debating if you’ll take the train home or find some excuse to stay at his place.

You turn your head, surprised to find him this close. His eyes are wide open, dark and beautiful. He’s always had the prettiest eyes.

You’re still debating their color - more of a dark brown or maybe black - when he leans further in.

You half expect him to headbutt you when instead, his lips touch yours.

The kiss is so soft, you think you’re imagining it, along with the sigh that follows it.

But you’ve always been a realist, digging your fingernails into the skin of your arm to prove yourself you’re not dreaming. It hurts.

“Tenma?” You ask, breathless and floating, “Did you mean to do that?”

His face turns pale, eyes wide like those times you’ve pushed him into a cold shower to sober him up.

“SHIT!” He pulls away so quickly that you stumble, lose your balance and fall flat onto your ass.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Tenma’s rubbing his face with his hands, up and down, up and down, and you’re left sitting there, backbone hurting, the world spinning in the wrong direction.

“Okay, shit, this…” He’s folding himself into a tiny version of himself, just across from you on the cold sidewalk, “I didn’t meant to do this, okay? I know you think of me as your brother, so we can just pretend this never happened, okay? I’m drunk. You’re drunk. We’re going to have forgotten about this tomorrow-”

“Tenma?” You interrupt him, your voice weirdly cloud-like. “Are you in love with me?”

He deflates like a balloon, there’s even a little whistling sound coming out of his mouth when he further shrinks into himself.

“Maybe?” He squeaks out. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, though-”

“I love you too.”

There. You’ve said it. You can’t take it back. Maybe you’ve misunderstood a lot of things tonight, you’ll for sure be able to blame the alcohol for it, but you don’t kiss people you don’t like, right? Especially not if you waited twenty-two years for that.

Wait, did Tenma even wait that long? Is this even his first kiss like it’s yours?

“Why didn’t you say something?”

You blink, shaken out of your musings by the petulance in his voice.

“You didn’t ask.”

- 24 -

You’re not sure what wakes you, but his side of the bed is empty and cold.

You push yourself up with a groan, hiss when your feet touch the freezing ground.

You don’t have to look long to find him, hair disheveled, eyes foggy.

“Hey,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your chin on top of his head, “I miss you.”

“Sorry,” he yawns, “I’ll be in bed in a minute.”

“You said that four hours ago,” you remind him, leaning further into him, “can you still see what you’re drawing?”

“If I lose this idea-” he starts before a loud, jaw-cracking yawn cuts through his sentence.

You unwrap yourself to dig your thumbs into his shoulders, press a well-aimed kiss underneath his left ear.

“Come to bed,” you're not surprised when he follows you without another argument.

Last week one of your coworkers mentioned off-handedly that your boyfriend looks like a delinquent, all long hair and dark shadows, the hint of a stubble and a shirt he forgot to iron.

You weren’t meant to hear it, you’re sure, but you don’t care anyway.

He curls around you now, long limbs and warm hands, head resting heavy on your chest.

You drag your fingers through his hair, up and down and up and down, tell him about all the plans you have until you fall asleep along-side him.

“Look at you,” Saeko pulls you into a hug, “You’re practically glowing.”

You snort. “Don’t tell that to my mom. She’s started asking about grandchildren.”

“Yours too?” Akiteru jokes, turning from you to Tenma. “Are your parents united on the grandchildren front or are they more like ours?”

“No, no,” Tenma shakes his head, “My mom is just as insistent that we get started. Our mom’s are best friends for a reason.”

“And they never tried to set you up?” Saeko waves at someone across the streat before dragging you onto the seat next to her, “I smell a story.”

“I’m not sure my mom really cared about it as long as we stayed friends,” you think back. “But there was that time when she asked me to stop taking baths with you.”

Tenma’s face turns pink.

“I remember that time well.” He laughs along with the others, but your hand finds his under the table, squeezes tight.

You like to think that he fell first but you fell harder, but he disagrees.

If anything, he likes to say, I love you most.

“I say,” Saeko interrupts your thoughts, slinging an arm around you, “we play it like your parents. We just have to have babies around the same time and the rest will be history.”

“Don’t get ideas,” Akiteru says but you know him, he’s just as helpless against Saeko’s charm as you are.

“Not the worst idea she’s had,” Tenma whispers into your ear.

- 26 -

“Morning Udai-San,” Akaashi greets you.

“I told you to call me by my first name,” you tell him, laughing when he blushes a soft pink. “How’s it going, anyway?”

“Good. We’re actually on schedule, but I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Hmm, I get it.” You resist the urge to tousle his hair. “Is Tenma in his office?”

“Yes, I was just going to get coffee. You want some as well?”

“No, but thanks for asking. What are you getting for Tenma?”

“Two shots of espresso and extra sugar.”

“Make it one shot and I’ll make sure you get a promotion,” you wink and he winks back, slipping out of the office.

“Baby?” You ask, slipping through the door.

Tenma’s leaning heavily onto his desk, one hand playing with his hair as he thinks.

“Hmm?” He sits up, opens his arms to welcome you. “Hey, what brings you here?”

“I left Naoki with Saeko and Mi, they were playing so nicely.”

He smiles as you plant yourself on his lap, sink into him like you’re not much bigger than your toddler and not the grown woman you are.

“You good?” Tenma asks, rubbing a hand over your back. “You seem in your head today.”

“Yeah, I am, I just…” You sigh and turn your head to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you stayed my friend.”

“Where’s that coming from?”

“I was thinking about how I don’t have that much patience. I don’t know if I’d kept crushing on you for as long as you kept crushing on me. What if you’d have given up? We wouldn’t have gotten together.”

He hooks his head over yours, wraps his arms a little more snuggly around you.

“Listen, I didn’t stay your friend because I was hoping you’d one day see me as more. I stayed your friend because I’d rather have you as my friend than nothing at all. After all you’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Even though I made you play my husband, my dog and my dragon?”

“Especially because of that.”

“Did you have fun playing with Mi?” Tenma asks your thirteen-month-old.

The bathroom door is open and you can hear them splash around in the bathtub.

“Mi,” Naoki repeats with excitement.

“Yep, Mi. Now, can you say Dada too?”

“Mama.”

Tenma laughs, easy and carefree and you leave the dishes in the sink in favor of joining him.

After all, the dishes won’t run away, but those little moments with your family might.

87 notes · View notes

brodieland · 2 days

Text

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Royal Rivalries !! ´ˎ˗

Luke Castellan x Fem!Zeus!Reader Synopsis: you and Luke finally get married to one another Tag(s): royal AU, arranged marriage, allusions to previous nsfw activities(LOL) Word Count: 1264 A/N: sorry this took over 2 weeks, I really don't know why it did😭, actually I do know why I was to busy watching Bridgeton, does it show in my writing be honest😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻. anyways this ones a little shorter bc it was bothering me on how long its taken me to update this, but lemme stop yapping!!

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt4

It was the day, the day you'd been... dreading? Waiting for? You didn't know anymore. Currently you were laying in your bed in a silk robe with rollers in your hair, relaxing whilst getting all nice and pretty for your big day. While you were thinking about how your wedding would play out, your door opens and your siblings enter the room.

"Happy wedding day," Jason and Thalia cheered.

"Hey guys," you smiled and sat up.

"How you feeling," Jason asked as he sat at the end of your unreasonably large bed.

"I'm about to be a wife, I don't know its kind of weird."

"Are you saying you're not ready to commit to your wifely duties," Thalia joked, the sub context not lost on you. Suddenly you're regretting telling your dear sister all of your business. Ehh not really she kinda funny with it.

"What constitutes as 'wifely duties?'" Thankfully, Jason was oblivious.

"Oh, you knoww-"

"Enough," you shut your eyes.

"Well, we have a gift for you," Thalia said as Jason handed you a box.

"I bought it by myself and Thalia slapped her name on it."

"I don't think the logistics matter."

"Shall we see this gift," you did the grabby hands and opened the box. It was a polaroid camera.

"To document the honeymoon," your sister beamed.

"Yeah!"

"Guys... I don't think I get a honeymoon," they looked at you dumbfounded.

"What."

"To be fair, us getting married was an apology for slapping Luke, so I don't think I get a, um, prize."

"I think somebody already got part of her wedding night prize anyways," Thalia muttered under her breathe, causing you to smack her shoulder.

"What?"

"Ignore our foolish sister Jason."

"Yes, ignore me and my foolish thoughts."

You and your siblings stayed in your room and hung out for a while before your servants came in to help you finish getting ready. They were ushered outside as you were zipped, plucked, and pampered. You were gorgeous, but moving on..

﹒º. ౨ৎ

The wedding was to be held at your estate, per Zeus' orders most definitely. The ceremony was to start at any moment, and once again you were sat away waiting in a room with your siblings.

"I'm still upset we couldn't throw you a bachelorette party by the way," Thalia complained as she ran her fingers through her basket of rose petals.

"And what would we have even done with fathers eye never leaving our sides?"

"I could accomplish anything with nothing but a dream," the three of you chuckled, then began to turn your heads to the sound of the bells, indicating the start of the ceremony.

"Are you ready," Jason extended his hand.

"Never," you chirped, gladly interlocking arms. "But is my flower girl ready?"

"I was born ready," Thalia smiled as she pushed through the doors, littering your path with rose petals.

"Deep breathes little brother, deep breathes," you whispered, not knowing if you were truly talking to the little brother by your side, or yourself.

One thing you were nervous about is not the actually getting married itself, but who would be outside when you opened the doors. You had little, if not absolutely no say in the matter. You didn't know the people sitting in the crowd, the flowers hung around the room, or even the color scheme the room has taken. Though of course knowing your father, it would be white and gold, very Greek.

You were knocked out of your daydreams by a nudge to your side. "It's time."

You nodded as he opened up the door, introducing the two of your... future. Your life, as dull as the statement may seem, was dulled down to a single moment. The moment you were handed off to another man. One you didn't want to marry, but right now, it didn't seem to bother you as much as it did before. Obviously you weren't going to tell that to Luke, no need to inflate his already large ego.

You finished your walk, and Luke is standing right in front of you, taking your hand from Jason as you hugged him off. The wedding went smoothly, though you mostly zoned out as the priest began his speech, only zoning in into Luke's big brown eyes. Ever since the past week together, the tension has gotten thick and even after the day you were trying on wedding dresses, why it has only gotten worse.

You didn't know you craved the feeling of being skin to skin until that moment. You knew doing such actions before wedlock have just as much ruined you, and you know you should care, but you just wanted more. You wanted cake, and now you had it, and you were most definitely going to eat it, too.

"I, Luke, take you Y/N, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

"I, Y/N, take you Luke, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

"I do." "I do."

"You may now kiss the bride."

The two of you moved together with the speed of magnets, how much you oddly missed the feeling. This kiss was different, more tender, less hurried and hungry than the last. You liked it, very much indeed. The two of you parted, breathless, and turned to the cheering crowd (ignoring Thalia's eyes, her knowing eyes, that this was not in fact, the first kiss between the two of you).

Luke held out his arm, to which you interlocked with, and walked down the aisle together. "Told you I knew what would be your dress," he whispered.

"I'm soo smacking you when we pass through those doors," you gritted out through your smile. As you scanned through the crowd, curious on who was witnessing such a moment, you saw many familiar famous except one, the Aphrodite princess Luke went around floundering about with. It made you chuckled, just a little, that your father seems to have lost her invitation.

Now the two of you were behind closed doors, away from the cheering crowd. Only for a short time of course, for there'll be a party later in the evening. "Wonderful acting, it almost seemed like you liked me."

"Oh shut it," you knocked his chest with your bouquet. "Your teasing isn't very husband material."

"And what, prey tell, would be considered husband material?"

"Hmmm.." you pretended to ponder as you brushed your imaginary beard while looking between Luke's eyes. "I shall give it some thought."

He hummed in response as he softly grabbed your hand from your chin, holding it in his. "You're smiling."

You didn't even realize you were, "So are you."

"Why of course, I've just married the most beautiful woman I've ever set my sights on."

You rolled your eyes with your smile still evident on your face. "Why must you insist on poking fun?"

"What makes you thinking I'm jesting," Luke leaned down, close enough for his nose to touch yours. You didn't bother answering before slowly leaning in again. It was a slow and affectionate kiss as he slide his hands down to your waist, pulling you close. You both pulled away, still standing close to one another.

"Shall we make it to the party?"

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n

114 notes · View notes

caligvlasaqvarivm · 1 day

Note

you think kankri and cronus

like all the dancestors, kankri and cronus mirror their counterparts (and as we all know, karkat and eridan are soul mates), but the brief interaction we do see of them makes them seem pretty toxic for each other. i think it's funny for that reason though!

Karkat and Kankri both love going on long, endless rants and walls of text, but where Karkat fills his spiels with self-loathing, Kankri fills his with incredible smugness and self-satisfaction (often calling his spiels "sermons" or "lectures" before catching himself and correcting them to "discussions" or "conversations," which have a less one-sided "i'm right and you're wrong" connotation). Moreover, where Karkat loves all his friends, and masks that under disdainful insults and screaming obscenities, Kankri tends to hold his friends in contempt, masking that under kind language and politeness.

KANKRI: And really, it's every9ne's 6usiness t9 examine their privilege, even 6urgundies, wh9 may 6e su6ject t9 the pitfall 9f 6elieving inc9rrectly there are n9ne 9n the scale 6eneath them wh9m they enj9y certain privileges 9ver, which 9ff-spectrum tr9lls will never kn9w, such as th9se identifying as 9ther6l99ds 9r caste-multiples, "p9ly6l99ded", any wh9 hem9gl96ically ID as having a caste which manifests n9where (as yet kn9wn) in any9ne physically, 9r f9r that matter 9ffspecs wh9 physically d9 p9ssess such a 6l99d type, 9r "mutants" (VERY pr96lematic term, highly triggering t9 s9me, 6e warned), such as y9u and I, Karkat.

Translation: lowbloods think they have it SO HARD, try being a mutant 🙄

KANKRI: I just think there is inherent danger in muddying the waters 9f disc9urse 6y intr9ducing s9cial issues which are suspect at 6est, thus c9nsuming crucial res9urces fr9m the limited cache 9f rhet9ric which pr9pels these narratives. And furtherm9re, 9ne c9uld argue it's m9re than a little pr96lematic, 9ffensive even, f9r y9u t9 6e appr9priating the lexic9n 9f sensitivity used t9 advance awareness 9f maj9r issues, thus reducing it t9 the level 6uzzspeak and pseud9science. It makes it m9re difficult f9r th9se 9f us wh9 are genuinely f9cused 9n p9sitive change t9 6e taken seri9usly, that's all. PORRIM: Appro+priating?? #That's no+t #what that even #means? PORRIM: PSEUDOSCIENCE??? #Yo+u did no+t just… KANKRI: I'm s9rry, I just d9n't think there's much there. We aren't like humans, wh9se species 6izarrely en9ugh includes highly specialized r9les f9r 69th sexes in the pr9cess 9f repr9ducti9n, and s9 this naturally had s9cial ramificati9ns f9r the way their civilizati9n ev9lved. 6ut that's n9t h9w it w9rks f9r us, s9 I fail t9 see h9w gender fact9rs int9 the discussi9n in a way that can 6e effectively and rati9nally pr96lematized. Where is the r99m f9r unexamined privilege in the dich9t9my? I d9n't see it. And appr9priating the talking p9ints and awareness-raising tactics f9r du6i9us issues like this is, frankly, fr9wned up9n, t9 put it p9litely. Such appr9priative gestures 9nly serve t9 marginalize and invalidate th9se su6ject t9 seri9us, real life struggles and 9ppressi9n, and I guess I'm a little disapp9inted t9 see y9u 6eing s9 6lithely and inappr9priately appr9priat9ry. #Fr9wned up9n #Fr9wns all ar9und #Welc9me t9 fr9wn t9wn PORRIM: Kanny, I'm starting to+ feel just a little bit triggered by all this "appro+priatio+n" bullshit. #Trigger warning: #Abo+ut to+ kick yo+ur tall pantsed ass KANKRI: 9h! My sincere ap9l9gies. I sh9uld have d9ne a 6etter j96 tagging my statements, 6ut f9r future reference, it's helpful t9 alert y9ur c9nversati9nal partners t9 y9ur triggers well in advance. Sh9uld I g9 fetch y9ur m9irail t9 help settle y9u d9wn? And if s9, wh9 exactly w9uld 6e filling that quadrant t9day? #It's the may9r, right? #G9tta 6e the may9r

Translation: Stop trying to steal my spotlight by bringing up your own social justice pursuits. Shut the fuck up. Oh, are you offended? Maybe you should go cry to your moirail. Slut. God I hate women.

KANKRI: 9n the 9ther hand, if I'm 6eing h9nest, I've f9und Mituna's entire existence t9 6e a pretty pr96lematic impediment t9 the advancement and 9verall awareness 9f a6leism and its painful manif9ld c9nsequences f9r una6ilitied pers9ns. The speech impediment, frankly, I c9uld d9 with9ut, and I'm 6y n9 means ecstatic 9ver his t9rrential 6ig9try and h9stility. 9n the 9ne hand, I want t9 6e sensitive t9 him as a pers9n and as a friend, 6ut 9n the 9ther, what kind 9f message d9es his 6ehavi9r send? And frankly, I'm n9t crazy a69ut the helmet, either. MITUNA: W4LT5 WR00NG W17H MY H4ML37 8( KANKRI: N9thing, friend, it's a really c99l helmet and it's a g99d l99k f9r y9u. 6ut are we n9w t9 assume that all th9se wh9 are stricken with y9ur particular disadvantage9n will 6e similarly pr9ne t9 require such headgear, due t9 falling d9wn and hitting their heads frequently? MITUNA: 8U7H 1 D0 F4LL D0WN 4ND H157 MY H34D FR3QUN3UN74NY KANKRI: 9h, I kn9w y9u d9, and I think y9u sh9uld c9ntinue wearing it f9r y9ur safety, particularly if y9u c9ntinue t9 insist 9n fl9undering a69ut 9n y9ur danger9us t9y. It's m9re a69ut the unf9rtunate message y9u are sending 9verall, with certain aspects 9f y9ur pers9nality and existence, that's all. MITUNA: 1M 50RRY KANKRI: As a friend, I w9uldn't want t9 change anything a69ut y9u, well, n9t m9st things. I just think y9u may n9t 6e d9ing y9urself 9r th9se wh9 are similarly disadvantaged any fav9rs with, what I'm h9ping, is a perfectly inn9cent array 9f traits and mannerisms. 8ut again, I say this with all due sensitivity. MEENAH: vantas youre being a shit dont talk about him like that

Translation: Mituna, you're such a goddamn embarrassment, I wish everything about you was completely different.

The big difference between Beforus and Alternia is also the definition of "culling," which on one meant killing and the other meant coddling. Naturally, this is its own form of oppression, as the longer-lived highbloods still hold great power over the lives and fates of those deemed cull-worthy, which includes a lot of lowbloods, and definitely mutants like Kankri who didn't have a lusus. However, it creates a different kind of mindset from that of more standard abuse, like what Karkat suffered for his off-spectrum nature - where Karkat spent every day fearing for his life and cursing himself:

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. As was previously mentioned, it is your WRIGGLING DAY, which is barely even worth mentioning. It is an anniversary, if anything, to lament the faults of your existence, of which there are assuredly plenty.

Kankri was experiencing the opposite: being told that his mutation made him exceptional, made him special, made him MORE worthy of attention and praise than other people. At the same time, his agency was taken away from him, but the thing is, being 13 when he started the game, I don't necessarily think he'd have missed that - around the age of 13 is when kids START to crave agency, and he got it by playing the game. Kankri's dialogue suggests to me that he genuinely believes in his superiority to the people around him, more in line with being spoilt.

This is why, although he talks a big game about how bad casteism is, and how you shouldn't say slurs because they're offensive, he still unironically uses the term "Royal-V" to refer to violet bloods and chastises Mituna for calling Meenah a wader, which is an anti-seadweller (and anti-seadweller apologist) insult. Sure, he acknowledges within that chastisement that because Meenah and Royal-V's DO have privilege, the weight of the insult is not exactly the same, but then he follows up by saying that he wishes everything about Mituna was different, to the point MEENAH feels the need to defend him.

This is because Kankri is a fucking wader.

If you'll notice, he's actually quite agreeable and sympathetic to Meenah (despite Meenah being a confirmed bully, especially to the team rustblood):

KANKRI: Wh9a, Meenah. I didn't see y9u c9me in. Y9u sh9uld have c9me say hell9. ... KANKRI: I've als9 heard y9u're recruiting mem6ers f9r a militia? An9ther 69ld endeav9r. N9t surprising, th9ugh. 6ef9re y9u em6ark, I d9 h9pe y9u'll set aside at least several sweeps t9 listen t9 s9me 9f my…

KANKRI: And Meenah, while I can understand y9ur frustrati9n 9ver 6eing ver6ally assaulted under any circumstance, it is incum6ent 9n me t9 remind y9u that Mituna requires a certain am9unt 9f special c9nsiderati9n and m9re than a little patience. Please try t9 resist taking his 6ait, which I'm guessing is m9stly well intended(?), 6ef9re its c9ntenti9us undert9w pulls y9u further int9 an exchange laden with deeply pr96lematic expressi9ns 9f a6leism, a6leist slurs, and 9ther such manifestati9ns 9f unc9nsci9na6ly unchecked a6ility privilege. #a6leism #a6ility privilege #6ait #undert9w #are the aquatic terms helping?

... And he's nice to Cronus. I just don't think it's a coincidence that Kankri is super mean and shitty to land dwellers, while being super kind to the two sea dwellers on the team, the caste he was presumably culled (raised) by - to the point of emulating their aquatic terms to try and ingratiate himself to them (something Karkat thinks is stupid and cringe.).

KARKAT: (not really.) #SHELLF IMPORTANT ABALONEY? #GODDAMN SEADWELLERS

And that brings us to Cronus. Now, I've written extensively about how Eridan is not actually casteist, but the TL;DR is that Eridan genuinely doesn't treat people differently based on their caste, but it's societally expected of him and he has an overwhelming amount of anxiety about living up to those expectations, so he will say a lot of slurs. He and Feferi are actually the only two highbloods that never say anything disparaging about Karkat's blood color.

In contrast, Cronus is a casteist; where Eridan tries to play up how casteist he is while secretly not being so, Cronus does the opposite and tries to play down how casteist he is while secretly being so.

CRONUS: nowv, please don't tell anyone i said so, but you and i both knowv pretty much all these people should feel honored to go out vwith a guy like me. CRONUS: vwhat being royalty and all, and not evwen slightly put off by dating dowvn on the spectrum. i mean, really, howv much more evwident can i make it to evweryone that im really a cool, progressivwe, easy going dude, vwho doesnt take the social order seriously or buy into any of the stereotypes? first of all, as if the hemospectrum scene isnt 8EYOND played out. #you should be sticking your fork in THAT CRONUS: i barely EVWER evwen bring up my high social status. it couldnt be LESS of a big deal to me, but i think people maybe are still intimidated by it? theyre probably putting me on a pedestal, in spite of all my easy going assurances that my royal lineage is something i nevwer evwen think about. like, no friend, i am just like you. vwe laugh at the same jokes, listen to, vwell, to some extent, the same music… #i at least USED to listen to music you like #does that count? CRONUS: all these cats and kittens, im telling you. theyre alvways drawvn to the freaks and rejects. you havwe to be 8ROKEN in some vway to get a little concupiscent attention. #cats #kittens #freaks #rejects #broken

You got a whole bunch of SEA DWELLER BLING! It's pretty obvious this all belongs to Cronus over there. He's just not wearing it right now so he can convince everyone he doesn't feel like his royalty status is a big deal, even though he does.

Moreover, we get a direct parallel to Eridan's final conversation between him, Feferi, and Sollux, with the interaction Cronus has with Meenah and Mituna - in both cases, the violet-blood has a crush on their fuchsia, while probably having some sort of blackrom thing with the mustard (ashen for Eridan, pitch for Cronus). The differences really highlight how different the two are.

First, Eridan doesn't actually mean all the casteist things he says to Sollux - we know this because he's actually mentioned Sollux twice before, and both times, felt no need to comment on Sollux's lowblood status at all. Eridan is so transparently full of shit that even his own teammates don't think he's actually being casteist, and instead take it as ashenflirting:

ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted. FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling. FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)( you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspiticize between you two, and pull us out of your quadrant! FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!

But while Eridan leads with casteism he doesn't mean, after being rejected by his fuchsia blood, Cronus rounds on Mituna to vent his frustration, revealing HIS real feelings:

CRONUS: i said shut up. do you havwe any idea vwhat a man of my class vwould do if a mustard blood like you spoke to me this vway on alternia? honestly, sometimes i think i vwas hatched in the vwrong univwerse, let ALONE the vwrong body. CRONUS: i am so sick of havwing to pretend to treat you vwith the dignity you vwouldnt deservwe evwen if you COULD count the scars on my forehead. you couldnt tell me the ansvwer if i asked vwhat your favworite number vwas. ... CRONUS: you are a brain damaged reject on a team full of rejects. a rejects reject. i vwould havwe culled you myself if that vword meant vwhat it should havwe on our planet.

Moreover, Eridan is genuinely wracked with emotional anguish basically 24/7, but he refuses to allow anyone else to provide him with emotional support, lashing out at Feferi when she insinuates that she's been taking care of him up to that point.

CC: I can’t look after you anymore. CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble

On the other hand, Cronus outright admits that his constant talk of being a "sensitivwe soul" is bullshit he uses to attract the ladies:

MITUNA: 1M 50RRY CRONUS: no youre not. youre lying. CRONUS: your vwhole bifurcated demeanor is such an act. half the time you are noxious and incomprehensible, and the other half you are mild and contrite? sure, "PAL." CRONUS: as if im not SO on to you. you only pretend to say youre sorry to get girls to like you more. sure seems like pyropes a sucker for the ruse. like im not familiar vwith THOSE tactics. vwho do you think vwrote the book on that??

CRONUS: guess ill attempt ghost suicide YET AGAIN. CRONUS: of course by vwhich i mean, tell people i did, to vwin sympathy points. MITUNA: D0357H H47 W0RK CRONUS: not really.

This isn't to say that Cronus doesn't have legitimate emotional issues - just that they aren't the ones he says that they are. When Aranea is expositing on Cronus to Meenah, she winds up explaining that Cronus used to believe in a prophecy where he was Harry Potter and LE was Voldemort, and that it was his destiny to destroy this evil wizard, but that his team basically bullied that belief out of him:

ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. [...] I'm unsure why he suffered this crisis of faith, aside from the o8vious reasons having to do with an overall lack of character, or any other redeeming qualities. Perhaps someone talked him out of his 8eliefs. May8e a friend close to him. Or, if one is to 8elieve his fantasy held any water, perhaps someone who was in league with the evil magician. Whatever the case, it was pro8a8ly for the 8est, since pretty much everyone who had half a think pan thought it was all a 8unch of ridiculous nonsense.

Which, you know, given that he was their HOPE player, was probably a not-good thing that they did. Put a pin in this conversation, we'll return to it in a bit.

His humankin stuff is mostly treated as a joke, but it's also a symptom of this - we know that it's actually a portal to something Cronus genuinely feels bad about, because despite complaining about how you need to have something wrong with you to get concupiscent action, he's uncomfortable bringing it up to Meenah.

MEENAH: i heard a rumor you think youre a human now MEENAH: that true CRONUS: its a privwate matter. i dont see vwhy i should havwe to talk about it vwith you, and open myself up to more of your judgmental scorn.

He's a Hope player who lost what he believes in - so his actual emotional problems stem from directionlessness, exacerbated by the fact that he's generally untalented, feels entitled due to his high caste and resentful that it's not being respected, and doesn't seem to have any real goals aside from sleeping with other people (and now he's dead). As a result, he's clung onto this idea that maybe the reason he feels so empty inside is because he's not actually a troll - not wanting to be himself, he tries to be something else.

So let's go back to the pin we put into Aranea talking about how he was talked out of his beliefs. Cronus very nearly reaches self-awareness about how being humankin is just a cover for his actual emotional problems... and then "a friend close to him" - maybe the only friend close to him that he has - talked him out of that epiphany.

KANKRI: Listen, I was d9ing y9u a fav9r. Y9u d9n't need t9 6e dating any9ne wh9 can't appreciate y9u f9r wh9 y9u really are, 9r m9re imp9rtantly, which fantasy versi9n 9f y9urself y9u m9st str9ngly identify with. CRONUS: yeah, youre probably right. she doesnt appreciate me. so fevw of you cats do, really. #evwen the ones vwho literally identify as cats CRONUS: to be honest, she might be right. sometimes i think i might only be saying im a human to get attention. maybe i should givwe it up. KANKRI: I'd 6e extremely disapp9inted t9 hear that, if it were true. That w9uld 6e such a slap in the face t9 all th9se wh9 kn9w themselves t9 6e an alien while trapped in the pedestrian 69dy 9f their 9wn race. It w9uld 6e unspeaka6ly invalidating 9f their struggles and massively triggering t9 their em9ti9ns. #TW #invalidated struggles #triggered em9ti9ns KANKRI: 6ut f9rtunately, I kn9w y9u w9uld never st99p as l9w as that. Y9u understanda6ly have d9u6ts a69ut y9ur feelings and pr96a6ly d9wnplay them as a defense mechanism, since s9 few are prepared t9 rec9gnize the legitimacy 9f y9ur plight. 6ut I am, and I just wanted y9u t9 kn9w that I'm here f9r y9u, and am prepared t9 lecture t9 y9u extensively, I mean, listen t9 y9u extensively, a69ut y9ur ultra-imp9rtant pr96lem. CRONUS: vwowv. thanks, pal. CRONUS: youre right. my feelings really are real. not fake, like the huge disappointing fraud that magic turned out to be. CRONUS: i guess the truth is, deep dowvn i alvways knewv i vwas a 1950s-style human greaser. CRONUS: i just needed to finally be introduced to human culture to make sense of those feelings. KANKRI: W9nderful. I'm s9 happy y9u have f9und the light 9f truth within y9urself. N9w j9in me in tagging 9ur discussi9n with righte9us warnings, as we c9nsecrate y9ur disadvantage in the h9ly annals 9f Pr96lematics.

She also mentions it might have been someone "in league with the evil wizard," which would indicate Damara or Kurloz, but he never mentions Damara even once, and he actually seems to be on neutral terms with Kurloz:

and i vwouldnt dare to intrude on your longstanding moirallegiance vwith kurloz, and not because he scares the shit out of me either. that just really seems to vwork, you and him, doesnt it? i dont get a peep out of him of course, not evwen if im super nice and compliment his hideous hair[.]

So since we literally see Kankri exacerbating Cronus's problem by not only insisting that he not introspect, but expresses that he would be extremely disappointed in Cronus if Cronus did, I'm inclined to believe that the one who talked the Hope player into giving up his Hope beliefs was Kankri.

So what I'm saying is, if Karkat and Eridan are beautiful soul mates who make each other better in basically every way, Kankri and Cronus are incredibly toxic for each other and are in desperate need of a fucking auspice. Somebody please middle leaf these two, they cannot be left alone. Kankri's wader tendencies validate Cronus's entitlement and stagnation, and Kankri loves manipulating Cronus into believing whatever BS Kankri is espousing, because that's how Kankri gets his validation.

Kankri and Cronus means love loses.

Thank you for reading.

#homestuck #eridan ampora #erikar #karkat vantas #cronus ampora #kankri vantas #crokri #this is very critical of crokri so please don't read if you think they're a cute/sweet/wholesome couple #actually i really like cronus and meenah as moirails #meenah stops cronus from shitting on mituna #and then they immediately jump into taking each other to task for their own personal failings (& cronus IGNORES HER saying 'lets make out')#to the point cronus actually considers that maybe he should stop with the humankin thing before kankri ruins it #and since kankri is the SEER of BLOOD and his convo with cronus honestly sounds so so so much like paleflirting #'oh dw cronus ill listen to ur ultra important problems'#it kind of gives me the vibe that kankri jumped in BECAUSE he doesn't want cronus and meenah to figure that out #and also itd be really funny and thematically appropriate #if eridan and karkat were great for each other and cronus and kankri are horrible each other #that cronus and meenah's problem is that cronus keeps trying to pursue her in flushed when he really feels pale #when eridan and feferi started out pale but wound up with eridan loving her flushed

69 notes · View notes

chosai · 3 days

Text

EMPTY WISHES — NANAMI KENTO.

tags. angst + not spoiler-free

“i’ll be back home soon, i promise.”

those words that once filled your chest with hope faded into an endless cycle of doubt, longing, and empty wishes.

empty wishes.

oh, how you’d love to see his soft smile whenever he lays his eyes on you, and his lips twitching up in a small smile; his eyes imbued in a love so pure it made your heart melt.

the pain that soon followed after days and days of waiting failed to cease, but it can never truly compare to the ache you felt when you heard the words, “i am so sorry for your loss.”

you couldn’t accept it. he promised.

he promised.

the place where you once called your home became meaningless. the thought of staying in that place brought you a sense of grief and loneliness – this loneliness you couldn’t ever stand.

it was pure, unadulterated torture.

from the pictures you once both reminisced together to the familiar scent of his favourite strawberry shortcake lingering around the house, you knew your heart couldn’t take it. the following nights were spent with endless sobs and sore eyes. through the pain, there was also resentment – resentment towards the person who snatched him away from you without a care in the world. with all your being, you wanted to curse him to the deepest depths of hell and burn in it.

nanami kento. the mere thought of his name sent you bawling in an endless puddle of tears, the unforgiving ache dwelled deep within your chest. oh, how much you’ve missed him. his sudden parting was a sudden reminder – a big slap in the face, of how cruel the world truly is.

it was the beginning of a new day, and you mustered all the power to get up from your bed. you could never get used to having the mattress feeling lighter, more empty. the space beside you has gotten colder, gradually losing its touch of warmth.

the house that once smelled of his favourite dessert now reeked of pure heartache; sitting atop the dining table were bottles of wine and glasses that are yet to be washed, and droplets of tears stained all over the letters you and your husband once wrote to one another.

to my dove, i know how much you worry for me, but please rest assured as this will be my last mission. there is nothing i want more than spending the remainder of my life with you, and i promise you I’ll keep you and our future family safe. i don’t plan on going anywhere, not without you by my side. also, there’s a new bakery near my place. i’ll bring you there with me once i return from my mission. i’ve heard from gojo that their strawberry shortcake tastes good. i love you so much. stay safe, and i’ll see you later. yours truly, kento

droplets of water fell down to the surface of the aged paper, leaving a stain over your lover’s name written in ink. you couldn’t let him go. everything around you reminded of him, and it pained you greatly.

your tears never ceased to fall, and you made no effort to stop it.

you shook your head, ruffling your hands into your scalp. even as you close your eyes shut, the memory of your husband giving you his last smile and kiss before he parted kept replaying in your head like a broken record player. it was torture. pure torture – knowing that even if it stopped playing in your head, he won’t return.

as much as you wished that you could stop your memories from playing repeatedly in your head you couldn’t ever bring yourself to move past his sweet smile, his soft touches, and his gentle kisses.

after all, the thought of him always gave you a sense of longing for a time that will never return.

#ੈ✩‧˚sora’s creations #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento angst #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #anime angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami drabble

89 notes · View notes

leaping-laelaps-art · 2 days

Text

I haven't posted in a while because I've been busy with some big commissions but here's a low-quality little guy I made as a secondary element of one of said commissions (generalized conodont):

References and notes:

Following the "standard" for conodont reconstructions, morphology is based on the 3 species with known soft tissues (Clydagnathus windsorensis, Panderodus unicostatus, and the giant Promissum pulchrum) (Aldridge et al. 1986, Gabbott et al. 1995, Murdock & Smith 2021), with details filled in from living hagfish and lampreys based on the assumed vertebrate (and possibly even cyclostome) affinity of conodonts (Miyashita et al. 2019). The count of 7 pairs of gill openings (as in lampreys) is simply because i couldn't be bothered to sculpt more.

Note that the mouth is not depicted as a the usual gaping hole filled with spiny elements but rather as folded tissues nicely hiding any trace of offensive toothiness, much like modern hagfish, which, despite their impressive set of "teeth", have a very kissable (closed) mouth. I understand the didactic value of showing the element apparatus in conodont reconstructions but have always felt a little weird about depicting animals actually swimming around looking like that... but who knows?

Another departure from the usual way of reconstructing conodonts is the inclusion of a single nostril. This is based on the single nostril of extant hagfish and lamprey (to which (eu-)conodonts may be most closely related to) (Miyashita et al. 2019), and also supported by the fact that a single nostril may be part of the ancestral state of vertebrates (Oisi et al. 2013) (assuming conodonts are actually vertebrates, of course).

Anyway, that was a lot of reading and shoddy speculation for a background model. Certainly don't trust any of it, I don't know shit about conodonts.

References:

Aldridge, R. J., Briggs, D. E. G., Clarkson, E. N. K., & Smith, M. P. (1986). The affinities of conodonts—New evidence from the Carboniferous of Edinburgh, Scotland. Lethaia, 19(4), 279–291. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1502-3931.1986.tb00741.x

Gabbott, S. E., Aldridge, R. J., & Theron, J. N. (1995). A giant conodont with preserved muscle tissue from the Upper Ordovician of South Africa. Nature, 374(6525), 800–803. https://doi.org/10.1038/374800a0

Miyashita, T., Coates, M. I., Farrar, R., Larson, P., Manning, P. L., Wogelius, R. A., Edwards, N. P., Anné, J., Bergmann, U., Palmer, A. R., & Currie, P. J. (2019). Hagfish from the Cretaceous Tethys Sea and a reconciliation of the morphological–molecular conflict in early vertebrate phylogeny. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 116(6), 2146–2151. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1814794116

Murdock, D. J. E., & Smith, M. P. (2021). Panderodus from the Waukesha Lagerstätte of Wisconsin, USA: A primitive macrophagous vertebrate predator. Papers in Palaeontology, 7(4), 1977–1993. https://doi.org/10.1002/spp2.1389

Oisi, Y., Ota, K. G., Kuraku, S., Fujimoto, S., & Kuratani, S. (2013). Craniofacial development of hagfishes and the evolution of vertebrates. Nature, 493(7431), 175–180. https://doi.org/10.1038/nature11794

#dubious speculation #<- i'll be using that tag in the future for reconstructions involving disputable or unsupported personal takes (see notes under the cut)#also no fine attention given to anatomy and proportions for this one #probably don't use it as a reference for anything #conodont #chordate #paleozoic #paleontology #paleoart #palaeoblr #my art

19 notes · View notes

official-linguistics-post · 12 hours

Note

Yessss Zotero user!!🖐️ Help me spread the world, persuade people that source managers are good (side-eye to my gf who insists it's fiiiiiine to write a thesis without one...)

CITATION MANAGER EVANGELISM UPON REQUEST

i picked up zotero right when i started graduate school (i can't remember why i chose that one specifically, but i do know i liked it better than mendeley). i have every single reference i used across coursework, exams, dissertation, and publications, which is literally hundreds of items.

not only does it let you keep the citations themselves, you can use libraries, folders, and tagging systems for organization, and zotero allows file attachment (either natively using zotero's cloud storage or linked to a local source), notetaking to a linked document, AND annotation within the program.

i got the most use out of its ms word plugin since that's where i wrote literally everything. every time i added a new citation, i could just zap it in with zotero and the manager would keep track of every reference. at the end, it let me drop the entire formatted reference section right into the document.

the only time it ever failed me was trying to reformat my dissertation references to school standards, and that was probably more the result of my own lack of csl editing knowledge than zotero itself.

please, if you are juggling many references or will be in the future, invest the time in a citation manager.

#OH ALSO there's a mobile app (at least on ios) in case you need to make notes at 3 am. but don't want to get out of bed.#no that never happened why do you ask

69 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 17 hours

Note

Me pareció extraño que ellos (sí, ellos, por supuesto) no simplemente optaran por duplicar su apuesta por Barbie Fitness. Para bien o para mal, ya estaba algo establecido. ¿Qué crees que les llevó a cambiar de rumbo?

Dear Bizarre Anon,

Como siempre, primero la traducción y luego - mi respuesta.

' I thought it was bizarre that they (yes, of course, 'they') didn't just choose to double down on Fitness Barbie. For what it's worth, that was already a fixture. What do you think made them change their mind?'

I have many conflicting thoughts and yes, even feelings about all this, Anon, at the moment. I think it was a botched plan from the very start. Must have picked her from Raya, she was cheaply available (a quick buck for a quick side job, for her) and he did not vet her at all.

Why not double down on the other woman? Too loud, too orange, too brash are things that immediately come to mind. I think she sealed her fate with that Scottish week-end, when she had to share her son's vomit with the entire world. And overexpose a child, in the process. Probably also some things we might never be privy to - so, no use to look for answers in the Room of Nothing.

My answer to your second question will be very short: Park Anon. Panic. The problem was that this pap walk was picked up by People, a media outlet read by many in Hollywood, including agents, directors, producers, etc. A Big Problem, indeed.

For the moment, he turned off tags. I don't think you will see that girl ever again, Anon - and I do think this is a sure sign.

My questions are perhaps simpler:

How many IG followers will he lose in the foreseeable future?

How will this impact OL's broadcast ratings for Seasons 7-B and 8?

How will this impact Sassenach Spirits' sales short and middle-term?

How will this impact his business relationship with Southern Glaziers and the like?

How will this impact MPC's subscription trends and financials?

How will this impact his CSR relationship with NGOs, such as WWF, Blood Cancer UK, etc?

How will this impact a personal brand that can now be legitimately described as unreliable and borderline schizophrenic? And I mean it in a very logical way, as the impossible reconciliation between manwhoring and philanthropy.

From my watchpoint, I couldn't care less about any other rationale. These are the real questions he will have to face soon enough. All the rest is bullshit and sentiment. And we are now forced to talk business, not sentiment. For as far as sentiments are concerned, my answer will never change: they will find a way, even if in the process they might hurt each other. True love is never easy.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

80 notes · View notes

jellogram · 2 days

Text

Okay I am ready. An actual longform review about I Saw the TV Glow, spoiler-free because I want people that haven't seen it to know what to expect.

I suggest reading this before you watch.

I think the shortest way to sum it up is that this is not a happy, uplifting, trans narrative, nor is it a Danish Girl-esque tragedy designed to tug at the heartstrings of cis people. This is a cautionary tale, designed for queer people (and particularly genderqueer people) about what can happen if you try to ignore who you are. Because most of Tumblr is queer, I am going to assume most of you guys will be entering with that perspective.

And it's worth noting that the director is nonbinary and has openly discussed this film as a trans narrative.

It's strange. It's uncomfortable. At times it feels like it's moving slow, but you need that time to sit in the emotions. This is not a fun movie to go see with your friends on a night out. This is more like doing powerful hallucinogens in a basement. Either nothing will happen and you won't click with it at all, or you will leave feeling like you just woke up from an incredibly vivid nightmare, wondering why no one around you seems as freaked out as you are.

This is why I recommend either waiting until you can watch it at home alone in the dark, or going to the theatre at a strange time of day when it won't be crowded. My theatre had lots of people laughing around me while I cried. When you are going through a really intense, painful, and emotional reaction to a film, and the people around you are laughing at the movie, it sucks.

So if you don't like the movie and don't get it at all, please be kind and do not laugh or say anything insulting in front of the other guests. If you go through the tags for this movie and many of the reviews, you can see how personally this film affects many people, and you are being very hurtful and dismissive by laughing in front of them while they're upset. This was not only my experience, but one I've seen echoed among many other viewers. So keep it to yourself until you are out of the theatre, please.

Yes, some lines are a little weird. There's things that feel a bit silly and cartoonish, and you just need to ride with it. The absurdity is not an accident on the part of the filmmakers and I think my fellow theatre-goers thought it was.

And as for the technical and artistic aspects, I only have good things to say. Phoebe Bridgers' cameo easily could have been cheesy but it was that song that first made me cry. Pay attention to the use of color. Pay attention to the music. The actors are excellent and it's very cool how many queer people were involved in the project. This is what happens when queer people get to tell our own stories.

tl;dr You will either walk out of that theatre confused and annoyed, or feeling like you just got home from a war. If you are in the first category, please be respectful to those in the second. This is not an easy watch but it's an incredible and highly unique film and it makes me excited about the future of horror and queer filmmaking.

#i saw the tv glow #movie reviews

54 notes · View notes

a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 2 days

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 14

Azriel x Reader Fic

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Word Count: 1.7k

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

It felt like it didn’t take more than a few hours for you to make it deep into the woods surrounding the city, remembering the paths your mother used to take you on up into the mountains. You let your hands pass over the bark of trees that had grown so much taller since you last had seen them, the canopy above casting green shadows down onto the forest floor as the entirety of the world seemed to wash over you. You walked with a new clarity, a new sense of purpose, thanking the Mother silently that you hadn’t had to explain more to the Night Court about your own affairs. You were free. You were far from the cabin in the woods, healed, refueled and ready to move on.

You continued walking, until you came upon a clearing through the trees, looking down onto the quiet city that was slowly rising to life. You felt a slight pang of guilt as you looked across, the House of Wind stuck into the side of the mountain, glimmering in the morning light. You hadn’t said goodbye to Elain, Nesta, or Feyre. And while you knew they wouldn’t be upset at your lack of manners, you still felt a sense of responsibility.

You wondered what would become of that great family, who had taken you in without question, allowing you to eat their food, sleep in their beds and care for you when you were wounded. They were rulers, diplomats, fae in positions of power, and yet for that week they had been your nurses. You wished them the best and turned back to the deep green wood.

There was no set path to follow, no destination in sight. You allowed yourself to wander freely, allowing your feet to guide you. Birds, singing out their early morning songs chattered in the treetops, a counterpoint to the crunch of your footsteps. You felt the weight of the world lift from your shoulders, each step deeper was a step farther from the worry and constraint of the world. The dense foliage seemed to absorb your anxiety, replacing them with a profound sense of serenity as you imagined running through the bushes with your mother in hot pursuit, a smile on both your faces with sweat pouring from your brow but without care, giggles echoing through the trees. Your fingers brushed over the rough bark of the ancient oaks and wondered if your mother had touched the same.

The woods grew more alive with subtle sounds of the world waking up - the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush and the murmur of a hidden stream.

You came upon a large meadow, the spring flowers a riot of colors as you perched upon a large boulder, the moss soft under your boots and fingers as you breathed in the air around you. Your mind was quiet and content, and the world was yours.

________________________________________________________

It felt like it didn’t take more than a few hours for you to make it deep into the woods surrounding the city, retracing the paths your mother used to take you on up into the mountains. Your hands brushed over the bark of trees that had grown so much taller since you last saw them. The canopy above cast green shadows onto the forest floor, and the entirety of the world seemed to wash over you. You walked with a new clarity, a new sense of purpose, silently thanking the Mother that you hadn’t had to explain more to the Night Court about your affairs. You were free. You were far from the cabin in the woods, healed, refueled, and ready to move on.

You continued walking until you came upon a clearing through the trees, looking down onto the quiet city that was slowly rising to life. You felt a slight pang of guilt as you gazed across at the House of Wind, stuck into the side of the mountain, glimmering in the morning light. You hadn’t said goodbye to Elain, Nesta, or Feyre. And while you knew they wouldn’t be upset at your lack of manners, you still felt a sense of guilt. You wondered what would become of that great family, who had taken you in without question, allowing you to eat their food, sleep in their beds, and care for you when you were wounded. They were rulers, diplomats, fae in positions of power, and yet for that week, they had been your nurses. You wished them the best and turned back to the deep green wood.

There was no set path to follow, no destination in sight. You allowed yourself to wander freely, letting your feet guide you. Birds sang their early morning songs, chattering in the treetops, a counterpoint to the crunch of your footsteps. The weight of the world lifted from your shoulders with each step deeper into the forest, the dense foliage absorbing your anxiety and replacing it with a profound sense of serenity. You imagined running through the bushes with your mother in hot pursuit, both of you smiling, sweat pouring from your brow but without care, giggles echoing through the trees. Your fingers brushed over the rough bark of the ancient oaks, wondering if your mother had touched the same.

The woods grew more alive with subtle sounds of the world waking up—the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush and the murmur of a hidden stream. You came upon a large meadow, the spring flowers a riot of colors. Perching upon a large boulder, you let your fingers run over the soft moss and breathed in the crisp, fresh air around you. Your mind was quiet and content, and the world felt like it was yours.

A few days and nights of wandering passed without meeting anyone on the way. You sustained yourself on the meals packed for you, sheltered in the tent lovingly provided in the rucksack. You had no issue making your way over the mountain, down the other side, and deeper into the wilderness of the Night Court. On the third day, you found what looked like a path through the woods, long untended but remembered by the underbrush. You followed it and, among the pines and oaks, discovered what looked to be an abandoned cabin. Its windows were missing glass, the door was off its hinges, and the roof had missing slats, covered in moss as the forest reclaimed its property. You made your way around the perimeter, checking for signs of life, and seeing nothing but long-abandoned pots, pans, and furniture.

Attached to the side of the cabin was a small greenhouse with many panes of windows shattered, the tin roof rusted, but small plants still thriving within. You made your way inside, the light of the afternoon shining through cobwebs. The floor was torn apart, with boards arching under the dampness of the forest. It was one room, with a ladder leading to a lofted bed. The curtains, frayed and tattered, fluttered in the breeze as you took a few creaking steps in. The wood stove, perched in the back corner, was rusted over but still looked usable. On the wall, a single desk or kitchen table held various cups and plates left out, and a single candle sat in the center as though someone might be coming back for dinner. But from the layer of dirt lain on the table, you doubted anyone had dined here in many years. The back wall was lined with shelves, crusted over with dust and dirt. You ran your hand over the pans left behind, books heavy and rippling from rain, pages stuck together. Oil lamps lined the walls and seemed to still hold fluid. You dropped your rucksack and clambered up the rickety ladder to see the old, dirty mattress lying on the upper loft with a lamp next to it, the blanket old and rotten.

When you dropped back down to the floor, you gazed around the room. It was broken, worn down, neglected, and yet it seemed to yearn to be lived in. Perhaps it could be home.

You left your pack in the cabin, wandering outside to take in the surroundings. Planting beds needed tending, but the soil was rich. About fifty paces into the woods was a babbling creek with clean water. You decided that for the time being, this would be as good a home as any other.

You spent the next few days cleaning out the cabin. You formed a makeshift broom by collecting old, dried weeds from the creek and securing them to a broken branch, tying them together with a braided cord you found on the shelves. You swept out the dirt and grime, taking care to clear the cobwebs from the rafters and windows. You ripped the rotten boards from the floor, replacing them with bundles of sticks for the time being. You pulled out the old mattress, cutting pieces of it for tinder. You scaled the rooftop, surveying the rotten pieces and laid down brush and moss to patch the holes. It leaked less but still allowed a steady drip when it rained. You cleared the chimney of the stove, finding a rather unhappy squirrel family living within but managed to get it working after an afternoon of sweating and swearing. You tended to the garden and greenhouse, pulling out weeds and turning over the dirt. You saved the seeds of the fruits and vegetables packed for you, pressing them in a piece of wet cloth and planting those that would survive the heat of summer.

Sleep still came in bouts. If you slept with any sort of awareness, your mate still wormed his way in, so you often spent nights tinkering with the oil lamps, working into the early mornings as you tried to mend the curtains with old fabric scraps from around the cabin. Only when you reached exhaustion and seemed to fall asleep from mere necessity, when you slept with a depth of death, did you sleep without his interference. Even then, when it seemed you regained a sense of consciousness, you awakened yourself.

You had found father down the creek a large lake in a clearing and you felt comfortable enough to strip down and bathe in the water, allowing it’s cold temperature to soothe you as you cleansed yourself of the grime of the days.

Within the garden, you collected various stones and etched into one of them, “Anthea. Your escape was worth it.” You laid it among blooming purple flowers that you couldn’t identify.

As you settled into this new routine, you found a sense of peace and purpose. The world around you was wild and untamed, yet it felt like home.

My lovely tagged readers: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006

67 notes · View notes