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talesofesther · 1 year

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souls tied, bound to burn | ch 1

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Your move to New York came suddenly, in the hopes of getting closer to what was left of your family. What you weren't expecting was to fall for your sister's roommate, Sam; and little did you know, she'd be your doom, in the prettiest of ways.

A/N: I feel like this story is told in moments, but I do like how it turned out; it is, after all, a story that I poured my heart and soul into. This is one which took many of my sleepless nights, but it was so worth it bringing this idea to life. Cannot thank @iamnicodemus enough for basically being my beta reader and helping me with everything. There will be two more parts to this storyline, but I can't say when they will be posted, as I'm still writing them.

Word count: 10k (limit? never heard of her)

Masterlist

One thing that Sam was still trying to get used to after moving to New York was the lack of calmness.

She had just finished her session with yet another therapist, it was past 10 PM, and the streets were still as busy as ever. There was no shortage of cars or people passing by her as she walked back to her apartment. Sometimes it could be overwhelming and she couldn't get home fast enough. Sometimes it helped to keep her mind a little quieter.

Sam was still unsure of what it felt like today, maybe a mix of both.

Things haven't been easy after everything that happened in Woodsboro, every day the weight on her shoulders worsens and she has no idea how to even start dealing with it. It only became worse after the rumors started.

The steps up the stairs to her apartment felt like a whole workout, after working the entire day Sam was absolutely drained. The hunch on her posture and faint dark bags under her eyes said as much.

Nearing the door, she could hear faint voices coming from inside, one of them she didn't recognize. The tensing of her muscles was inevitable.

Sam turned the doorknob and slowly made her way inside, she closed the door behind her without turning around. There wasn't anything different about the place — TV turned on, cheap yellow lights in the kitchen illuminating the dirty dishes on the sink, low music coming from Tara's room — except Quinn was talking with someone on the couch.

Though Sam didn't know who it was, she already relaxed at the fact that there was no trouble in sight.

She ran a hand through her hair whilst walking to the kitchen, there were leftovers of dinner on two pans over the stove; but despite only having lunch on her stomach, she wasn't hungry. Picking up a clean cup, she filled it with water on the sink and gulped it down.

"Hey, Sam's home," Quinn announced with a chipper voice.

Sam closed her eyes with a sigh before managing a smile, she really didn't feel like socializing right now. But she turned to Quinn anyway.

The girl was perched over the back of the couch, waving Sam over, "come here, I want you to meet someone."

Involuntarily, Sam's eyes drifted to the one who sat beside Quinn; it was a girl she had never seen before, but the gentle smile on her lips made Sam hesitate in her steps. She did walk up to them though, making herself comfortable on the loveseat beside Quinn.

"Sam, this is Y/n, she's my sister," Quinn motioned to you with a grin.

"Sister?" Sam's eyes were huge as she looked between you and Quinn.

"Well, half-sister," Quinn concluded, "it's a long story."

You then gave them a tight-lipped smile, raising your hand in an awkward wave whilst looking at Sam, "it's uh- a pleasure to meet you."

There were several question marks twirling around in Sam's head, but the biggest one seemed to be why she found herself quite trapped in the way the images on the TV highlighted the lines of your jaw, cheeks, and lips. "I'm Samantha- Sam," she stumbled out quickly.

Quinn raised her eyebrows in amusement, a beat of silence passed before she tilted her head towards Sam, "yep, that's Samantha Sam."

The older Carpenter kicked herself internally about ten thousand times. That was awful.

A weird weight filled the air after that. Sam didn't know what to do with herself, she didn't know if she should stay or just go and lock herself in her room. She ended up settling for pretending to watch the TV while you spoke with Quinn. From what Sam heard, you had just arrived in town and were staying in a hotel until you could find an apartment, because apparently, your mother had left a significant amount of money in your name; she also overheard that you were yet to go visit your father.

When it was nearing midnight, you decided to leave, saying something about it already being too late.

Sam watched as Quinn walked you to the door and bid you goodbye with a brief hug. And before the door clicked close, your gaze caught Sam's and you gave her that same gentle smile she'd seen earlier; all the same, it froze her, and Sam saw herself just staring back at you with an emotion even she couldn't place.

Quinn dragged herself back to the living room then, laying down on the empty couch to wait for the inevitable interrogation.

"I didn't know you had a sister," Sam started eventually, mindlessly switching through channels. The room was dimly lit, with the only other lights coming from the kitchen, the brightness of the TV hurt her tired eyes.

"Neither did I."

At that, Sam's attention was fully on Quinn, her brows furrowed.

Quinn shook her head, dismissing the worry, "I mean, I knew, sort of," she explained, "she's from a fling my dad had before he met my mom, I think they broke up when she was born and her mom took her to Boston. Never met her until like, yesterday."

Now, the pieces from what Sam had heard were starting to come together. She wondered just how detached you were from this side of your family until now. "And your father never told you had a sister?"

"He did, in passing, sometimes I heard the calls he'd give her to check in. But she's always been distant," Quinn shrugged.

Sam mulled over the words in her mind, part of her couldn't help but feel wary, "why is she here?"

"Her mother died, she has no other family left."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It didn't take long for Sam to bump into you again. It happened actually only two days after your visit to Quinn at their apartment.

It was a mildly calm afternoon at the coffee shop Sam worked at. At least for a Thursday, it felt calm. Just a few booths had people sitting on them, and every few minutes someone would stop by to grab a cup of coffee to go.

What the place lacked in fanciness it made up for in coziness — between her shifts here during the week and at the bowling alley on the weekends, it was easy for Sam to pick a favorite, nothing beats the vibe of a coffee shop — the place held warm tones to its decor, brick walls here and there with a few black boards hung up that had order choices written on them with white chalk; there was also a vintage radio on the corner that Sam always sneakily changed the songs of.

Against her own beliefs, she became rather good at preparing lattes and cappuccinos. She mentioned it to Tara once, and the girl said she'd believe it once she drinks it; Sam has been waiting for her to stop by.

Though as with everything, it wasn't perfect. Even before the rumors blaming her for the murders started, Sam was already an outsider, not quite allowed to fit in. She had no friends amongst the staff, only colleagues; and after the rumors, she even considered that to be a stretch.

Sam doesn't mind. She tells herself as much every day before walking in for work. But feeling judgemental eyes burning into your back at least once a day tends to take its toll on someone.

So she keeps to herself, she does her job, and she tries not to give them more reasons to bother her.

The small bell above the door dinged as someone came in, pulling Sam back to the present when she realized she would be the one taking the order.

She straightened her posture and smoothed down her uniform, looking around on the counter for her notepad and pen. Upon finding them, Sam finally glanced up and felt her breathing get momentarily stuck, the usual 'what can I get for you' dying on her tongue.

Part of Sam thinks she'd ironically recognize you anywhere. She realized you had that about you, something that felt unmistakable.

Same thing that happened to her apparently happened to you as well, as your lips hovered yet no words came out. It was that weird moment of I know you but I don't actually know you yet.

You were the first to talk, and Sam wanted to thank you for it. "Hey," you chuckled, somewhat awkwardly, "it's uh- Sam, right? It's nice to see you again."

Try as she might, Sam wasn't able to hold your gaze, she glanced down at her hands before looking at you again, "that's me," she gave you a small smile, "can I get you anything?"

"Yeah…" You dragged on, stuffing your hands on the pockets of your jeans as your gaze skimmed over the order options, "just a simple cappuccino to go, please." You eventually decided.

Sam felt your eyes on her as she scribbled your order down, even if it was just a cappuccino, she had the habit to write them all down. "Coming right up," she said, before turning around to make your order.

Ever since she started working here, she has probably made more than a hundred cappuccinos; yet she found herself checking things twice over. Espresso, steamed milk, foam. Everything carefully poured down on the cup.

You were standing right where she left you once she brought the order to you. That same gentle smile she saw two nights ago was present on your lips when you paid her and bid her goodbye.

Secretly, Sam wondered if you'd be back some other day.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It was never your plan to come to New York, let alone on your own. But tragedy strikes when you least expect it.

When, on one of his monthly calls to check in on you, you broke the news to your father that your mother had passed, he told you you should come live closer to him if you wanted to. And honestly, not feeling so alone in the world felt appealing.

So you packed everything you had of value, and took the leap. You had your mother to thank for being able to simply do that out of nowhere, she'd left everything of hers in your name, including her company's income.

But money hardly solves all problems, because you never actually met your father's side of the family. All you had were his phone calls, where he would sometimes briefly mention a sister you'd get along with if you were to meet, and not much else.

Upon knowing you'd be coming to the city, he gave you Quinn's contact, promising she would help you find a place to stay. You weren't exactly keen on meeting your sister for the first time all by yourself, but Quinn had been surprisingly easygoing; telling you all about how cool it was to have a sister instead of another brother. And the question 'I have a brother too?' lingered on your tongue, but you thought it would be a weird thing to ask. That was a few days ago, and you settled in a hotel for the time being.

In any way, you had a lot of catching up to do.

And now, anxiety was bubbling relentlessly in your stomach and you clutched tightly at the straps of your backpack. The police station was kinda busy at this time of day, but it was exactly the time he asked you to come in, so you did.

You didn't know exactly what to feel other than anxiety. How is one supposed to feel when they're about to see their father for the first time in their life?

It's a weird situation, though you couldn't really blame your mother for it; yes she took you away shortly after you were born, but from what she told you, she and your father didn't end on the best of terms. From the moment you were born, she'd been protective.

You reached the front desk, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. "Hello," you greeted the woman there.

She glanced up from the pile of papers she'd been sorting out, "hi there, what can I do for you?"

"Um- Detective Bailey asked me to stop by," you explained, and the woman in front of you raised an unamused eyebrow. Even before saying it, the words already felt somewhat strange in your mouth, "he's my father."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Your first two weeks in New York were hectic. Meeting a whole new side of your family was a strange experience, but you'd say it went well. Quinn was the easiest of all, she treated you as if you were one of her friends from university and you appreciated it. Ethan was distant, he was kind and polite, but you could tell he didn't want much to do with you. Your father was, essentially, what you expected him to be; he was kind and attentive, obviously a little awkward just as you were, but he seemed to genuinely care about you; as much as one can care about a daughter they'd never met.

Quinn had been quite insistent on having a sister bonding time with you, so you'd find yourself at her apartment more often than not. This led to you being acquainted with Mindy, Anika, and Chad, who were around just as much as you; plus Sam and Tara, of course.

The youngest of Quinn's roommates took an instant liking to you. Your personality matched Tara's quite well, you were happy to hear every gossip she liked the share about her colleagues at the university and the usual rant about her sister.

Sam, she was not an easy one to read; at first, you thought she might not even like you, but Tara explained that 'that's just how she is, she'll warm up to you eventually'.

Maybe that was part of the reason why you found yourself creating a habit of stopping by a certain coffee shop — after all, they served delicious food and drinks and the place was really cozy; the doe-eyed brunette who worked there was a bonus.

You'd usually stop by later on in the afternoon, when the sunlight had that deep golden glow just an hour or so before disappearing behind the horizon. It was a time of day the coffee shop was a little more crowded, but not as much as it was in the mornings.

Every time you walked in, you found yourself involuntarily looking for Sam; deep down feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush because of the butterflies that invaded your stomach whenever she remembered your order.

You quickly realized the importance of details with Sam. The more you came to eat at the coffee shop, the slightly more comfortable she became with you. It started with her serious expression changing to a small smile whenever she saw you, then she started greeting you by your name, and recently, she has been drawing little smiley faces on your cup.

The usual booth you'd sit at was tucked in a more reserved corner, just beside one of the windows; you liked the privacy. Each time that Sam brought your cappuccino and apple pie, you held yourself back from asking if she could sit down and have a coffee with you.

Maybe tomorrow, you'd think to yourself.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The smell of freshly made lasagna filled the whole apartment. If you had a good enough sense of smell, you'd be able to tell it was just the slightest bit burned, but no one seemed to care.

Mindy and Chad could be heard bickering about how to properly take said lasagna out of the oven without causing a disaster, Tara was opening up a cheap wine bottle while Anika set the dining table, and Quinn was switching through channels on the TV.

It was a pleasant sight for someone who wasn't used to many of those.

Sam had just gotten out of the shower, towel in her hands as she finished drying off her hair. She had managed to get out of work earlier today and ditched therapy so she could have dinner with her found family — which honestly felt more like therapy than actual therapy.

A chuckle escaped Sam's lips when Mindy called her brother a moron with a halfhearted slap on the back of his head.

And then, three soft knocks came from the front door.

"I got it," Sam told them, hanging her towel over her shoulder as she got over to the door and steadily undid all the locks in it. She knew who it was, Quinn warned you'd be coming for dinner today too. Sam felt a little childish when anticipation started twirling in her stomach.

Selfishly, Sam wanted to think that this specific smile of yours belonged to her.

"Hi," she greeted you with the same softness you stared back at her with; for the second time today, the first being at the coffee shop. Sam figured she wouldn't mind seeing you more often, "come in, dinner is almost ready."

"Hey Sam," you smiled timidly as you walked past her and inside the apartment.

Sam has known you for a little over two weeks, and there should be alarms blaring inside her head for the way she felt so naturally drawn to you. But there wasn't, there was only the softness of your presence and the way she wanted to drown in it.

"Hey new girl," Mindy called, her voice ringing loudly through the room as she peeked over from the kitchen with a grin, "you like lasagna?"

"Of course," you grinned, taking off your jacket and failing to see the way Sam's gaze lingered a little too long on you, "who doesn't like lasagna?"

Mindy pointed a finger at you, "right answer," she quipped before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Sam awkwardly cleared her throat next to you, "let me take this for you."

You glanced beside you to see the girl subtly gesturing for your jacket, unsure if the redness of her cheeks was a trick of the light or not. "Oh, thanks, Sam."

"Alright y'all, dinner's on the table," Mindy announced, getting everyone to flock to the dining room.

It was maybe after the second or third time you'd stopped by that you had unconsciously assigned a seat for yourself at their table. Ironically, it was the one beside Sam.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had a lot to thank this peculiar group of friends; if it wasn't for all the laughs they managed to pull out of you at each dinner, maybe settling in on the new city wouldn't have gone so smoothly. They sure took away the feeling of loneliness that had been steadily collecting in your chest ever since your mother passed.

And you had found a reason to like every single one of them; Mindy was naturally funny and made you feel as welcome as if you'd known her your whole life, and so did Anika; Chad was the exact opposite of what you'd picture him to be, sharing his sister's tendency for kindness; Sam was… you couldn't find a word to describe her quite yet, maybe entrancing could work; and Tara, well, you'd just found out tonight she shared your penchant for horror movies.

That's how, after dinner, you found yourself laying with Tara on her bed as you watched a movie of her choosing.

"You know, I'm glad you decided to come to New York," Tara told you out of the blue, the sound coming from her TV almost covering her voice.

Her room was dimly lit, the only source of light being the TV itself and a small lamp on her desk, you could barely make out her features. "I am too, I'm sure glad I met you guys."

Tara chuckled fondly at that, "Sam seems to like you," she told you quietly, her voice sounding as if she was letting you in on a pretty secret, "she could use a friend, you know."

You caught the hidden words in her soft tone. You weren't blind to how lonely Sam tended to be sometimes. Isolating herself even in a room full of people who cared about her.

Though it stunned you for a brief moment that Tara was asking that of you, you wondered if she saw something you didn't. At this point, you already knew of their story, at least partially; from articles online about the Woodsboro killings, and consequently, from the rumors circling around about Sam. Needless to say, your heart broke for them.

"I'd be happy to be her friend, if she'd have me," you meant it.

The movie extended longer than you predicted and Tara was already dozing off on your shoulder by the time the credits rolled. So you carefully turned off her TV and sneaked yourself out of her bed, your steps as light as a feather touching the floor.

You closed the door to her room with extreme delicacy and only as you turned around, did you notice the absolute darkness of the rest of the apartment.

It looked like everyone had already called it a night.

The only thing illuminating your steps was the soft orange glow coming in through the windows from the street lamps outside. The apartment held an eery silence to it, the clean plates and cutlery you all had used earlier rested on top of the table, there was an occasional sound of water droplets falling from the kitchen sink, and the red numbers of the clock on the coffee table read 12:37 AM.

The darkness and silence were a striking contrast to the commotion from earlier.

You opted for turning on the lights in the kitchen so you could look for your jacket and go home for the night; though after a good five minutes of unsuccessful searching you were almost considering leaving without it. That's when a soft, barely there whimper caught your ears.

It got a cold shiver running up and down your back, momentarily making you imagine yourself in a horror movie.

Until your eyes landed on the bigger couch of the living room and you saw Sam; she was curled up there, fast asleep with her hands under her head and knees tucked up to her chest, looking much smaller than she actually was, just barely being highlighted by the kitchen light.

You couldn't help the swelling of your heart. She was undeniably endearing.

There was the sound of a siren passing by in the distance. You looked out the window by instinct, but you couldn't see where exactly it came from.

When your eyes settled back on Sam, you found her clutching at the cushions under her head, a frown etched unpleasantly on her eyebrows. Her hair was messy, you realized; maybe from tossing and turning too much.

You were genuinely not sure what got into you, it's not like you have enough intimacy to even be seeing her like this. But you crouched down in front of her, one hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder.

Before you could even fully touch her, Sam was already stirring awake. Her body was visibly tense and her eyes a tad too wide and alert for someone who just woke up.

"I'm… sorry," you said quietly, feeling embarrassment crawling up your neck and to your cheeks, "sorry I woke you up."

Sam held herself up with her elbow, her free hand running through her messy hair. She wasn't looking at you, attempting to regulate her unsteady breathing.

You could see it from the way her chest moved up and down quickly. And there you followed a single drop of sweat running down from her neck to her collarbone. The night was far too cold for her to be sweating.

You wanted to reach out, but didn't. "I was just wondering where you put my jacket," you continued when she remained quiet.

Sam felt bare in front of you, somewhat timid. There were goosebumps rising on her skin. She nearly didn't find her voice, "I'll go get it for you."

You waited for her by the front door, shifting on your feet. She came back with your jacket in her hands, clutching tightly onto it so you wouldn't catch the shaking of her fingers. But you did, you also caught onto the hollowness of her eyes and the hair clinging to her damp forehead. You knew it wasn't your place to ask, but Sam looked so alone in the darkness of the apartment, that you feared she might let herself be swallowed by it the moment you leave.

"Are you okay?"

Sam's expression did something complicated, unsure of how to feel. Several beats passed in silence, as if she was considering how to answer you. Eventually, she nodded softly, "I'm alright, just tired from work."

It was a half-truth. You had been there today when a group of teenagers came into the coffee shop, one of them casting accusatory glances at Sam as he whispered — quite loudly — the word 'murderer' to his friends. You weren't able to wave her goodbye after that. She stayed hidden in the back.

Maybe your heart felt something it wasn't telling you yet, because it was hurting, for her. "For what it's worth," the words rolled off your tongue in a soft whisper, "I don't believe them."

Sam's lips parted, her mouth going dry and her doe eyes glinting with a sudden vulnerability. The grip she had around your jacket tightened.

Your smile was bittersweet this time, "the rumors, I don't believe them."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

"I don't think I see you," you spoke on the phone, squinting at the evening sun shining on your eyes as you walked the busy streets of New York.

Last night your father had called you just before he left the police station, asking if maybe you would like to have an afternoon snack with him today; stop by at a popular bakery to catch up on lost time.

You felt an unfamiliar warmth on your chest at the request, agreeing promptly. He was trying to form a connection with you, and honestly, it was something you wanted too. You already lost one parent, you didn't fancy losing the other.

"I see you."

He spoke over the phone.

"Look to your right."

You followed his instructions and sure enough, he was on the other side of the street, his arms up and obnoxiously waving you over so you'd see him.

A chuckle escaped you as you hurriedly crossed the street, tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. You smiled tentatively then, slowly closing the distance between you and him without knowing if you should lean in for a hug or extend your hand for a shake.

Bailey decided for you, he was opening his arms before you even reached him.

The hug was brief but welcomed. He kept one hand on your shoulder when he pulled away, seemingly taking a good look at you as a sincere smile appeared on his expression; "thank you for coming, I know we've never been too close, but I would like us to be."

You reached up to the hand he still had on your shoulder and squeezed his wrist in reassurance, "I would like it too."

That was enough to cut through the awkward bits of tension still lingering between you. Part of you felt like you were fifteen again, giddy for having your father dedicate a whole afternoon for you and you only.

It didn't make the pain of losing your mother go away, but it engulfed it into something more bearable. Something you could get used to.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It was about an hour after lunch that Sam received a rather urgent call from Tara. The only words she managed to focus on were "asthma attack" and "inhaler at the apartment."

The problem? Sam was basically on the other side of town.

Her first option was Mindy, but the girl wasn't picking up her phone. And then neither was Chad. Her last resort was calling her own apartment in the hopes that Quinn was home and could drive to the university with Tara's inhaler.

The line ringed, and ringed, and ringed. Until…

"Hello?"

The thought about why she recognized your voice so easily flew by. "Y/n?" Sam stopped in her tracks, forcing the other people on the sidewalk to walk around her.

"Sam?"

"What are you-"

"No, I didn't break into your apartment."

Sam heard your chuckle from the other end of the line.

"I stopped by to bring something to Quinn."

"Y/n, I need you to-" Sam took in a deep breath, running a hand through her hair and gripping at the roots of it. She closed her eyes tightly, "Tara is having an asthma attack and she left her inhaler at the apartment, could you ask Quinn to-"

"Sam, calm down."

Your soft voice made Sam realize she was having trouble breathing.

"Breathe, okay? I'll take it to her, I'm less than five minutes away by bike, I'll let you know when I get there."

Sam bit at the inside of her cheek, nodding even though you couldn't see it, "thank you."

Only mere minutes passed by — though they felt much longer than usual — until Sam received a text from you, it read 'hey' and she could see you were still typing.

Sam held onto her breath and only released it once you sent her the next text, which read 'all is good'. Instant relief washed over her and she leaned back on the wall of the random store she was standing in front of.

Her cellphone vibrated again, and this time it was a picture of you and Tara making silly faces while you held her close.

The smile that came to Sam's lips was as big as ever, her heart beating painfully against her ribs as if it was trying to leap from her chest and into the screen of her phone; all so it could reach you.

Sam typed back; 'I owe you one.'

She held back on sending a heart emoji.

It was becoming increasingly harder to deny the way she started feeling about you; how you seemingly occupied a place in her heart no one else could have; or how she hoped to see you walk into the coffee shop every day, because, on the off chance you didn't, something felt out of place, missing.

Maybe it was time for her to do something about it.

And the opportunity presented itself on the very next day.

It was a cloudy Tuesday afternoon, the coffee shop lacking its usual golden rays that came through the window at this time of day. There was a slightly colder breeze in the air, it came through each time a new customer opened the door and it forced Sam to wear her jacket on top of her uniform.

Sam had been anticipating your arrival ever since the clock hit 4 PM, which was the time you usually stopped by. She couldn't help looking up at the door each time she heard the bell above it.

It scared her, to take a chance like this. Trusting people with your heart only opens room for them to break it. She knows it.

But oh you made her want to turn a blind eye to every single risk, and fear, and doubt.

Sam wondered, for a moment, if destiny was playing with her. Because when the clock hit 4:47 PM you walked through the coffee shop's doors and the sky just so happened to have a crack in its clouds, casting a faded glow that bathed you aureate for a moment.

Sam's eyes were unfocused, caught in a daze that was only broken when you were already standing in front of her.

"Good afternoon, Sam," you smiled, your cheeks flushed from the cold wind outside.

"Hi," Sam stumbled out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat, "the usual?"

"Please," you confirmed, already reaching inside your backpack for your wallet, but Sam's hand on your forearm stopped you.

The touch of her skin on yours felt electric. Sam pulled her hand back quickly, timidly curling her fingers to try and keep the feeling of you a little longer. "This one is on me," her voice wasn't nearly as confident as it needed to be for that line.

You were about to open your mouth to protest, but she beat you to it; "please, let me do this. As a thank you for you helping Tara yesterday."

A sly smile crept into your lips, your eyes roaming over Sam up and down before you spoke; "only if you drink something with me."

Your boldness surprised Sam, in the best of ways. She was burning up inside, her heart working overtime to keep up with her feelings. Despite the cold, she felt suddenly warm.

"I have a break in ten."

When Sam brought your order to your table — the usual table in the far right corner near the biggest window — she sat down in front of you. She carefully placed down your cappuccino and apple pie before closing both her hands around the simple cup of coffee she had for herself.

You took your time with taking a sip from your drink, closing your eyes when the slightly sweet, warm beverage hit your tongue.

Sam followed each movement, from the way your fingers closed around the mug to the way the corner of your lips lifted just the smallest bit after tasting the coffee she made — for a moment you were all she could see. Though she shook herself off of it pretty quickly, realizing how it might be creepy. Sam took a generous drink of her coffee as well.

"Do you like it?" Came the sudden sweetness of your voice, "working at a coffee shop?"

A faint smell of burnt bread reached Sam's nose, it was probably Enrique forgetting about the oven again. She could hear loud chatter happening at the entrance of the coffee shop, it was probably the five students who usually stopped by at this time of day. Sam was hesitating. Between apartment visits because of Quinn and everyday meet-ups for her to make you coffee, Sam didn't plan for herself coming this far with you.

"Could be worse," were the words that eventually escaped her mouth, "beats the bowling alley."

You chuckled, a lovely sound as you sheepishly glanced down, your thumb tracing the edge of your mug. Sam wanted to pull her cell phone out and trap this moment in time; it felt precious enough to do so.

"I definitely prefer coming to coffee shops instead of bowling alleys," you smirked.

Sam somewhat mimicked your smile, "are you liking New York?"

You hummed, choosing to take a bite of your pie before answering, "all things considered, I am. It's a lot of getting used to," you had a faraway gaze out the window then, leaning your chin on your hand, "meeting a whole new side of my family is… strange. But we're getting along surprisingly well, I've been going out with my father at least once a week, Ethan is more distant but still nice whenever we meet, and, well, I've been visiting Quinn quite regularly, as you know."

Sam took in each of your words, softly nodding along, "it's good one of us is feeling at home, sort of." She gulped, mulling over her next words, "you know you're welcome at the apartment whenever. Tara adores you… everyone does."

If you caught Sam's 'I adore you' you didn't comment on it. Instead, you asked; "how are you settling in? Tara mentioned you guys moved in only a few weeks before I did."

That had Sam holding back a sigh. She leaned back on her side of the booth, "feels like all the shit that happened in Woodsboro followed us all the way here."

Some days were better than others. Some days the weight on her shoulders felt more bearable and the people around her weren't as menacing with their baseless accusations. Some days were worse.

"I'm sorry about everything that's been going on the internet about you," you said.

Sam met your eyes and found there a gentleness no one had ever looked at her with.

"You don't deserve it, Sam."

Being with you was as easy as breathing. For a fleeting moment inside the walls of the coffee shop, there were no rumors crucifying Sam for something she didn't do; there were no bad memories taking her sleep at night; there were no permanent scars marking her skin — there was only Samantha, the girl who had almost forgotten what it felt like to just worry about which words to say next to impress the girl she developed feelings for.

And if she went to bed that night with the ghost of a smile on her lips because you kissed her cheek goodbye earlier, that was nobody's business but hers.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

"Guys, what do you say we order pizza for tonight?" Sam threw the idea into the night.

It was nearing 7 PM and it was a Saturday, meaning it was the unofficial girl's night of the week. Sam, Mindy, Anika, Tara, and Quinn sat together in the living room of Sam's apartment watching a random action movie. Dinner time was nearing and none of them really fancied cooking tonight.

"I think it's a good idea," Mindy agreed, leaning back on the couch and pulling Anika with her, "do you think one is enough for the five of us?"

"Six," Sam spoke without looking up from her phone, already searching for the pizza place's number, "I invited Y/n over."

Save for the movie playing in the background, there was a sudden silence in the living room. It stretched on until Sam found the number and looked up to see everyone staring at her.

A frown slowly came to her eyebrows and she chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting with her phone, "what?"

"You invited her?" Quinn started.

"You two have been growing quite close," Mindy added, an all-too-knowing grin on her lips.

Tara had her lips hung open, being the last one to catch up on her sister's painfully obvious crush.

"We're… friends, she's nice," Sam shrugged, feeling herself grow self-conscious with the attention and involuntarily curling in on herself a little. She got up from the couch then, deciding to go make the call to order the pizza outside in the hallway as she figured she wouldn't have much peace inside right now.

She put on her house slippers and walked to the front door, hearing Mindy shout; "I've heard that before," right as she closed the door behind her.

Sam found herself slowly roaming to the lobby as she spoke on the phone, a cold air came from the entrance doors of her apartment building as she spoke on the phone, making her hug herself to preserve the warmth.

The pizza would be arriving in about thirty minutes, and just before Sam turned around to walk back inside to the coziness of her apartment, her cell phone dinged with a message from you letting her know you were here.

Sam saw herself smiling at the screen of her phone, at the small heart emoji you added beside the text.

The main doors of the entrance hall hinged as you walked in, and the first thing Sam noticed was that you were quite underdressed for the weather outside; only a thin jacket kept your body warm, your hair was all tousled from the wind and you had your hands buried in the pockets of your sweatpants. Still, you smiled brightly when you spotted Sam coming towards you.

"Aren't you cold?" Sam chuckled as she met you in the middle, coming to a stop a little closer to you than she should. Her eyes involuntarily roamed up and down your body, always engraving the image of you in her mind as if it was the first and last time she'd be seeing you; even if she has known you for nearly two months now.

"You bet I'm cold," without much of a warning, you brought one hand up and cupped Sam's cheek; the coldness of your skin contrasted with the warmth of hers.

Sam shivered from head to toe, and it wasn't because of the coldness of your fingers, for she could feel her cheeks warming up even more.

Unable to hold your gaze as she did so, Sam took hold of your freezing hand, "come on, let's get you warmed up. I ordered pizza."

You followed her willingly, nuzzling against her shoulder as you walked.

You're both not sure when this newfound intimacy happened. But you weren't complaining. Your heart was so full of Sam that you could hardly call it your own anymore. And Sam doesn't know what happiness means if it isn't written with the letters of your name.

Though it wasn't until a whole week later, that you did something about it.

This Friday was a rainy one, the skies had grey clouds looming over everyone on the streets as heavy raindrops fell steadily. Water splashed around people's shoes as they walked, holding their coats close to their bodies and their umbrellas above their heads.

Sam didn't have an umbrella. She'd given hers to Tara this morning because technically she wouldn't need it, she'd catch a ride with one of the nicer coworkers at the coffee shop when it was time to leave.

Sam was walking in the rain.

She never made it to 7 PM, which was usually the time she'd get off work. Her boss had dismissed her much earlier today; 'it doesn't look good to have a barista covered in coffee' was what he'd said.

Now, the huge coffee stain on her shirt was barely there, being replaced by the water falling from the sky. The pouring rain had already soaked through Sam's clothing; it trickled down her chin and made her hair stuck to her forehead. It was cold, she was shaking, and her fingers were becoming numb.

Today had been one of those unfortunate days. It was a group of teenagers, Sam can't exactly remember what they looked like; she had been the one to bring their orders to the table, and when their eyes met hers she could instantly see the hatred there. Various false accusations left their lips as one of them 'accidentally' spilled their coffee all over Sam. Today wasn't a good day.

Sam didn't know where she was going to, she was almost sure she was walking in the complete opposite direction of her apartment. She didn't stop, keeping her head low in hopes the rain would completely engulf her being.

"Sam?" The call of her name sounded like a hallucination at first. Too sweet, and too far away to be real.

"Sam!" Now it was closer, clearer between the heavy raindrops hitting the pavement.

It made Sam look up, one hand brushing over her eyes to clean the rain stuck to her lashes. Instantly, she forgot how to breathe.

You were coming towards her, one hand holding your coat and the other holding a faded pink umbrella above your head. You looked distressed, there was a frown on your eyebrows that Sam wanted to smooth away with her fingers.

Between the smell of coffee on her shirt and the rain on her skin, Sam had forgotten this was the time you usually came to the coffee shop.

Sam was suddenly shielded from the falling rain. You had to stay close so your umbrella would cover both of you. "Sam…" Your tone was sorrowful as your evident worry escaped you, "what are you doing out here like this? What happened?" You looked her up and down, taking in her purplish fingertips, her soaked clothes and hair, and the barely there coffee stain of her shirt.

The image of you in front of Sam started to blur over; she opened her lips to speak, tasting the raindrops there, yet the words were clogged up on the lump in her throat. A feeling of shame was crawling inside her guts, piercing through her heart for having you see her like this. Sam avoided your eyes, focusing on her boots instead.

Your sneakers inched closer and Sam felt your gentle fingers pushing away strands of her wet hair; the softness of your touch amidst all the harshness she was used to nearly made her crumble.

"Did someone do this to you?" You asked even softer.

Another beat of silence, and then; "I don't know why they hate me so much." Was all Sam told you, her voice nothing but a whisper that broke in the middle.

In the same heartbeat, with the hand that wasn't holding your umbrella, you took hold of Sam's waist, pulling her body close to yours in a warm embrace.

Sam clung to you as if you'd vanish into thin air any minute. Both her arms instantly came around your shoulders in a close-knit grip as she bunched the fabric of your coat between her fingers.

You adjusted your hold around her waist, mimicking the same strength she held you with. Part of you knew she needed to feel that kind of reassuring pressure, shielding her away from reality.

Her body was worryingly cold, the wetness of her clothes was seeping into your own but you couldn't find it in yourself to mind. Because Sam buried her head into the crook of your neck and you could feel steady wet drops falling into your skin, and you knew they weren't from the rain.

Sam's sobs were muffled against you. And as her body trembled in your hold, your heart shattered.

"Let me take you home," you whispered, your lips brushing the skin of her shoulder until you placed a kiss there.

Sam's grip on you tightened, bringing your bodies closer together if that was even possible. "Okay."

And you did take her home. Sam only didn't imagine that when you said home, you meant your apartment, not hers.

To say your place was better than Sam's would be an understatement. Your apartment wasn't overly luxurious, but it was evident that it was expensive.

Admittedly, Sam felt out of place. Not necessarily in a bad way; only in the way that you were clearly much better off in life than she was, and it made her feel a little self-conscious to think she'd been fantasizing about a chance with you, when, admittedly, you could do better.

You let go of your umbrella but kept holding onto Sam's hand, leading her to your bedroom, "come on, let's get you some dry clothes."

Your bedroom was the most 'you' room in the house. There was a double bed in the middle, a dresser, a desk with a computer and a whole lot of other things on top — books, a collection of pens, a couple of sketchbooks, small fantasy figures such as soldiers on horses and dragons — a mirror just beside the dresser, a bookshelf, and several pictures and fairy lights stuck to the walls. Everywhere Sam looked, there was a bit of you.

She hovered in the middle of it all, shaking from head to toe because of how cold her body was, and hyper-aware of the water still dripping from her soaked clothes and into the wooden floor.

You rummaged through your dresser until you found a comfy pair of purple sweatpants and a hoodie of the same color. You handed them to Sam, "the bathroom is just down the hall, feel free to take a shower and warm yourself up okay? I'll be in the kitchen."

Sam gulped down the lump still stuck in her throat, nodding along with your words, "thank you, you didn't have to do all this," her voice still held that same rawness to it, though the corner of her lips quirked up.

You let out a breathy chuckle, tilting your head to the side as if she just spoke a foreign language. "Yeah I did, that's what people do when they care about each other."

Under the warm orange glow of the fairy lights of your bedroom, Sam could count the specks of color in your eyes. She could drown in the ocean that was you and everything you made her feel.

Sometimes, you look at each other as if you're about to kiss.

Sam wondered if it was the same for you when she caught your eyes drifting to her lips. Before she could figure it out, you were sheepishly avoiding her eyes and walking off to the kitchen.

When Sam walked out of the bathroom, her skin now warm and her hair with the smell of your shampoo, you had just finished making two mugs of hot chocolate.

You heard her bare feet approaching you, felt her lingering gaze on your back. You could tell Sam wasn't allowing herself to be completely comfortable here yet. You hoped to change that.

Turning around, you were met with the endearing sight of Sam in your clothes, her hair still damp and cheeks now flushed from the hot water of the shower. She looked like your favorite dream.

You walked up to her, handing her one of the mugs, "now it's my turn to serve you," you winked.

Sam closed both hands around the mug, an inevitable chuckle escaping her.

You leaned back on the counter of your kitchen, hearing the rain that still poured outside hitting the windows. "Feeling better?"

Before answering, Sam took a sip of her hot chocolate, humming at the sweetness and warmth of it. "Much better."

"You can stay as long as you'd like," you told her, because you knew she needed to hear it.

Sam's thumb traced the rim of her mug. You could see her lips pulling thin, feel her uneasiness.

"I would like you to stay, Sam."

Thunder started rumbling in the distance as the rain picked up even more. Sam would be stuck with you for a while; maybe you should make the most of having her all to yourself.

You put down your mug and pushed yourself away from the kitchen counter. Sam could be fragile sometimes, you realized; there was a part of her that always remained guarded, waiting for the next blow to come. Yet you could almost feel the desperate calls of her lonely heart.

When you took a step closer to her, Sam didn't take one away from you, and it was all the confirmation you needed. She had a white-knuckled grip on her mug, though it relaxed immediately when your hand enveloped hers and you took the mug, putting it aside on the counter.

Sam was holding herself as stiff as a corpse; if you were anyone else, she would have taken her chance already, but you were you, and the fear that she might fuck it up spoke louder. Her eyes followed each of your movements though, her pupils blown wide and reflecting the vulnerability of a heart that started beating for you, for you, for you.

Both your hands eventually reached up to her cheeks, your fingers tracing her jaw and your thumbs brushing the skin beneath her eyes.

Inevitably, Sam melted in your hold, a breath leaving her lips as she closed her eyes for a beat. No one ever held her as if she was something precious. You always did.

First, your lips met her forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise. Then, your nose brushed hers when you leaned in; your breaths mingling as your hands found the back of her neck to pull her in.

You were gentle, so much so that Sam hardly felt your lips. You guided her into a chaste kiss, just a touch of your soft lips that fitted perfectly with hers. So perfectly, she'd dare say you were made just for her.

Small as it was, the gesture of affection got Sam grasping at your waist; her hands holding onto you with the same desperation as before. As if happiness, for her, was limited.

Sam didn't dare open her eyes when you pulled back. It was foolish, but she wanted to utter those three words just for the fact that you didn't go far, choosing to keep your forehead leaning against hers.

"Are you sure?" The words stumbled out of Sam's lips in an unsteady whisper as she took to memory what it felt like to have you this close.

You pulled away and she felt like crying.

It was only enough so you could look into her eyes, and there you saw everything she didn't want you to see. In those dark doe eyes that shone with the dim lights of your kitchen; you saw her fear, her loneliness; you saw the way she thought of herself as a person who doesn't deserve to be taken out of the rain, but who longs for someone to do so anyway.

"More than I've ever been in my life," you whispered back, pulling her in before you even finished speaking. You clashed your lips together, not holding back this time, because if she didn't believe your words, she would believe your touch; she would believe the way your hands tangled in her hair and how your tongue brushed over her bottom lip, tasting the lingering sweetness of hot chocolate there.

Yet, between each breathless kiss, you'd mumble, "I promise."

And Sam would hold you more firmly, her arms encircling your waist as she traced a path down your neck with her lips, confessions rolling off her tongue.

You had her at your mercy; she was yours. But you were hers too.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It's been fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes of Sam glaring at her phone as if it would relent and type the message for her.

"Sammy, this is getting sad," Mindy popped a popcorn in her mouth, side-eyeing Sam's figure; who was huddled in a blanket on the couch beside hers, "just ask her already."

"Yeah, I will," Sam groaned, hugging her blanket closer to her chest, "just… finding the right words."

"The words are: 'do you want to go on a date with me? Yes or no?' Simple." A popcorn flew in Sam's direction as Mindy explained, "stop making a big deal of it, it's not like you guys never went out together anyway."

Sam pursed her lips, staring at the little picture of you in her contacts. It's true, you've met for outings multiple times already; but there was something more now, an incessant swarm of butterflies in her stomach whenever Sam thought of you.

"It's different," she said quietly, "I don't wanna mess it up." Her vulnerability dripped from each syllable.

Mindy softened at that, forgetting about the movie playing on the TV and properly turning to look at her friend; "you won't mess it up, Sam. She likes you, everyone can see it."

It felt nice to hear the words out loud, it made them all the more real — as if your make-out session from a few days ago wasn't enough. Sam could feel her cheeks growing warmer by the minute as she finally typed her message and hit send before the small bit of courage went away.

Mindy had been right, after all.

That night, Sam took you out for dinner and a movie; classic, but she learned that you loved the classics. Especially when you pressed your lips to hers again before saying goodbye, in a kiss that Sam would be happy to live in forever.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The stairs that led up to her apartment weren't the most comfortable seat, but the empty hallways provided much-needed peace.

Sam buried her head in her hands, clawing at the roots of her hair. Her shirt was still damp, the smell becoming annoying. She could feel the back of her eyes stinging but she gulped back the feeling.

"You know you don't always have to wait for me down here."

It was almost magical, how your voice sent a wave of easiness through Sam's body. It was almost as if you carefully reached inside her chest and took away the burden there.

You were walking up to her, a smirk on your lips and a backpack hanging from your shoulder, "I know the way to your apartment."

Sam mimicked your smile, getting up with more haste than usual and meeting you halfway in the empty hallway. She didn't give you much of a warning before bringing you into a searing kiss, her hands cupped your cheeks and she had your bottom lip trapped between hers; chasing the feeling only you could give her.

A gasp escaped you when she collided with you. Your giggles got muffled by her lips and you took hold of her waist to steady yourself.

It's been four months since Sam started calling you hers. Four months since she's been able to gloat because you're her girlfriend. Four months in which she's been the happiest she's ever been in her life.

"I missed you," she spoke against your lips.

You kissed the words, frowning playfully, "you saw me this afternoon."

"Exactly," Sam's smile stretched further, "too long," and then she was leaning in again, and again, and again.

Sam could be intense sometimes, but you knew how to recognize when she was doing it for fun, or to forget about something else.

You took hold of one of her hands then, breaking the kiss she had you trapped in so you could place one to her knuckles, "is that cherry coke I smell on you?"

"Maybe," she dragged the word, her fingers intertwining with yours.

"Are you making a habit of having people throw drinks at you?" You raised an eyebrow at her before squeezing her hand reassuringly, "what happened?"

Sam let out a halfhearted groan, shrugging her shoulders as she avoided your eyes, "just some conspiracy psychos… and Tara is pissed at me."

"Did you guys have another fight?" You asked sympathetically.

"She was at this party and I tased a guy who was trying to take advantage of her, and now she's mad at me," Sam distracted herself by playing with your fingers as she spoke, "keeps telling me I should let her go."

In your four months with Sam, you learned how protective she could be of those she cares about, especially after what happened in Woodsboro. You learned that because you were now on that list too. You'd lost count of how many guys she threatened because of you already, each time you went out for drinks together and a strange dude decided to try his luck with you Sam would pull out her taser and aim it right where it hurts most.

In truth, you understood both sides. Yes, Sam could be overprotective sometimes; but she had her reasons.

"Family can be complicated, I would know," you pushed back strands of Sam's dark hair, never having enough of how she leaned into your touch, "but Tara will come around soon."

You felt the shape of Sam's smile on your palm right before she placed a kiss there. Part of you lived only for these sweet, precious moments.

"Hey guys," Chad's voice suddenly broke your peaceful bubble. You and Sam looked up to see him on the stairs, "come up here, quick."

Sam walked into her apartment holding onto your hand, and her grip only tightened when she saw what everyone was watching on the TV.

A student from Blackmore University had just been murdered, Mindy recognized him from their film studies class.

Tension lay heavy in the room, but especially, it radiated off Sam; you could feel it in the tremble of her hold on your hand when the reporter spoke about the several Ghostface costumes left at the scene of the crime.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sam’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @alexkolax

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #samcarpenteredit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #sam carpenter fanfic #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #my story

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coolshadowtwins · 9 days

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I have this au that just kinda… drops off half way through, which is why I haven’t posted it before. But I can’t think of anything else for it, so you get what little there is!

SXY manages to survive the poison when giving birth. Maybe it wasn’t as strong, maybe she managed to cut it off early enough, maybe LBH’s demon blood helped. Who knows. The point is, she is now half dead instead of fully dead, in a lot of pain, and has a newborn baby because she just gave birth! She’s just thinking about doing her original plan- sending LBH down the river- when a nice washer woman comes along and finds her.

I’m going to call her Ms Luo for this, since she doesn’t have a name in canon. Ms Luo is a kind woman! She’s kind of enough to take in a baby she has found in the wilderness, and she’s kind enough to take in this dying, half feral cultivator and her newborn baby as well!

SXY doesn’t trust it- obviously. But she doesn’t get much of a say when she falls unconscious, does she, hmmm? And she stays in and out of unconsciousness for the next few days, at least. The poi didn’t kill her, but it did mess her up. I imagine for this au it would limit her lower mobility, if it was trying to kill the baby. Some bad nerve damage there.

But Ms Luo is here! She doesn’t have much, but she does care for the baby as SXY is unconscious. She tries to get medication for SXY as well, but isn’t successful. Just as well- normal medication wouldn’t do much for what’s wrong anyway.

And this is the new normal that SXY wakes up to- a week plus later, her cultivation (which also would have taken a hit) having done its best at repairing the damage, her lover and the father of her child either dead or sealed away out of reach, and at the mercy of this random washerwoman.

She’s not getting any better until she could see a sect doctor, preferably one of the best ones. But that’s never going to happen- she’s wanted now, surely! Demonic sympathizers were never treated well. (The cultivation world thinks she’s dead, tragically killed by TJL. But she doesn’t know this yet.)

So she does the only thing she can- hang around and help Ms Luo out. She can’t leave, not with her mobility issues, nor would she be able to provide for her baby. But she can stay here, under the kindness of this woman, and try and help her out.

She starts to help wash the clothes- don’t have to be standing for parts of that! To save on food, she focuses her limited cultivation so she doesn’t have to eat the limited supplies they have. She’s terrifying, and she’s uses that to her advantage when intimidating Ms Luo’s shitty boss.

Ms Luo repays her by not only letting her live there, but also helping with LBH, giving SXY a new name to hide with, and her friendship. (SXY will never admit it, but she never had a lot of friends. Having one in Ms Luo was… nice)

LBH, meanwhile, is absolutely loving being raised by two moms. He’s learning to cook from Ms Luo, and learning cultivating from SXY. What else would a young boy need?

And then LBH is ten, and Ms Luo gets sick. Like, really sick. Nothing SXY, in her limited medical knowledge, does helps her. The town doesn’t have a clinic, and the nearest one is a while away. Not only that, they don’t have the money to go. SXY can see only one way to help her friend- go to the one place that (probably) wouldn’t turn her away for being a criminal when there’s a life of the line. CQM.

Cue a travel montage of SXY (who has limited mobility), Ms Luo (who is deathly sick), and LBH (who is ten), trying to get to CQM before it is too late.

They do make it there- only to be stopped at the stairs. They aren’t stopped by an actual person! They are stopped by the actual stairs. SXY can’t walk them. Ms Luo can’t walk them.

That leaves LBH, ten and scruffy and probably looking too thin, to be the one to climb the giant staircase, up to the sect in the heavens.

The last thought I have of this au is the funny image of whoever happens to be at the top of the stairs that morning, being greeted by what looks to be a street urchin tell you that his mother is the long thought dead SXY and that she’s down the stairs, along with his other mother (by the way, he has two), and both are dying. Would you believe him?

(I have nothing after this. Please, tell me in reblogs and replies about how you would continue this)

#su xiyan #svsss #washer woman Luo #luo binghe

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kozmicmizuu · 21 days

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guys please PLEASE here me out on this kny au idea

————————————————————————

ok yall watched Puss in Boots the last wish?? and have seen the 2019 kny halloween costumes???

guys…. them as puss and death…

PLEASE

idk how this cooked in my head but i can’t get it out after rewatching the movie

so obviously the others would be in this- i’ll get there don’t worry let me cook

tengen would obviously be a bit of a cocky bastard because he’s never been caught or killed, being the successful pirate he is, he considers himself almost untouchable. but he’s avoided death too many times— he was supposed to be dead ages ago. and then giyuu comes in.

giyuu was of course pissed off and agitated that some albino lil pirate bitch kept avoiding his clutches, so he decided to take him himself

then this scene is probably gonna be the first scene of this au, just them meeting in a bar

and the sizes would, of course, be swapped. tengens a big guy who is currently sitting next to the embodiment of death and the purge of the sea and doesn’t suspect a thing— because no way he’s taller than death! he’s not looking up at death, he’s looking down

just like he has been for his whole life

giyuu didn’t say anything (typical) and simply drank with him until tengen got a bit suspicious and felt uneasy about him. giyuu then pulled the same thing death did and told tengen “i’m a big fan- could you sign this for me?”

then pulls out the “wanted- dead or alive” thing and points to dead. then the whole fight scene happens, but it’s a bit different. tengen did land a hit on giyuu, successfully cutting giyuu in half at the stomach. but nothing happened. giyuu just simply put himself back together and acted like nothing happened, he simply said “you do live up to the legends.”

of course, tengen was confused and a bit worried now, giyuu didn’t care, he had an objective and he would complete it

the famous scene of puss actually getting touched by a blade would be blue, a bright yet dark blue— like the seas tengen rules, he just didn’t know that they’d be ruled by someone else (giyuu). also another overall headcanon for giyuu is that he’s a scary guy when he really wants to be

as for the others, i do have some ideas for them

these two are giyuu’s angel and devil on his shoulders, throughout the au, these two are helping giyuu with his decisions and even with fights! they’re like giyuu’s lil summons

i had to add genya my beloved

but yes, giyuu’s lil hell hound babygi— i mean super tough and cool is sanemi ft. two other lil hounds. genya just came along because sanemi made him(he couldn’t find a babysitter). but genya is very determined to impress his big brother.

instead of death being alone i just thought it’d be cool to have a little team for death hehe

also just found out i have a limit of ten images so ima just let yall find the 2019 halloween pics for kny (can be found of pinterest and google!) sigh 😔

but yeah, the rest of the hashira are helping tengen! most of em at least. himejina, kyojuro and muichiro are spirits that are simply wondering around, kinda sorta avoiding being put in the underworld (giyuu is going insane because of that)

and shinobu is a witch! she’s a very talented (and scary) one at that, she’s more than willing to help(may or may not have questions for death about a certain sister of hers)

mitsuri and obanai come together DO NOT SEPARATE! mitsuri is a kitsune while obanai has a big old snake buddy (with kaburamaru) (long ass name for a snake) also obanai did NOT want to go.

the kamaboko squad id also here!! but they’re the comedic breaks for this au, god bless their souls for that

and yes, giyuu shall speak spanish in this too, cause why not

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wowzers this is long (that’s what she said)

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fushiglow · 5 months

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If JJK characters were in Non- Curse world, what would their job be if not become Jujutsu Sorcerer (in your opinion)? Why? Please pick your top 5 fav characters...

I love you for asking this, anon ♥ It's an opportunity to wax lyrical about something I've given a great deal of thought! These are my instinctive answers, although I could make arguments for a number of other professions for each of them depending on the life choices they made in this hypothetical non-curse world — but we don't need to get into that! So, here I go (in no particular order):

Yūta is an emergency paediatric surgeon

When he was young, he made the decision to become a trauma surgeon after losing his childhood friend in a car accident. He spent some time in hospital as a child and he knows what a scary place it can be for children, so he always does his best to make his patients smile when he's checking in on their progress.

He's brilliant at what he does — a once in a generation talent — but that doesn't mean he can save everyone. It's heartbreaking work on a good day, but when he's been at work for approaching 30 hours and he feels like he wants out, he looks at the photo of Rika in his locker and finds the strength to go on.

Kenjaku is a performer

If the average Japanese human enjoys at least 80 rotations around the sun, why waste them by playing the same role every time? That's Kenjaku's outlook on life — which is why they chose to go into acting. However, they quickly became bored by other people's narrow view of the world, dissatisfied by the limits of everyone else's imagination.

Nowadays, Kenjaku marches to the beat of their own drum in a one-person show. There are more than ten roles available, all of them played by Kenjaku — who is also the writer, producer, and director. Critics can't decide whether it's madness or sheer brilliance.

Megumi is a vet

He's grumpy with humans, especially if they're irresponsible pet owners. However, he's soft as anything with the animals, and his regular clients trust him implicitly with their beloved furry family members — because it's obvious how much they love him.

Megumi is really good at his job, but he's guilty of taking his work home with him and finds it difficult not to get emotionally attached to the animals he's treating, even after years in the profession. Although he'd never hesitate to make difficult decisions, the unique ethical dilemmas his job presents take a toll on his wellbeing — especially when human cruelty or indifference come into play.

Suguru is a school teacher

Teaching is neither recognised nor appreciated by most people. However, although Suguru had the brains to follow his friends into their highly respected fields, he couldn't imagine anything more rewarding than doing his part to ensure that the next generation have an easier time of things than he did at the same age.

He tries to be the person he needed when he was at school: a pillar of support for struggling children who have no one else on their side. Unfortunately, the school system seems determined to hurt the very children it's supposed to support, and some of the parents go out of their way to undermine any positive developments he makes with their child — not to mention the terrible pay and working conditions!

Satoru is a physicist

But he could have done anything he put his mind to. In fact, that's the only thing Satoru ever really found difficult in life: choosing one path to follow. Sometimes, he wishes he'd become a musician or a historian or an athlete, but in the end, nothing captured his imagination quite like the limitless bounds of the universe.

He's younger than most of his peers in the field, and his revolutionary ideas (alongside his casual disregard for traditional academic hierarchies) get him in trouble more often than not. However, he's a certified genius, and popular with the media, too. He's doing a lot to improve the image of physicists among the general public — which translates to more funding for research. That keeps them out of his hair, most of the time at least!

These are too obvious, but I thought I'd mention them anyway:

Yūji is a firefighter who remembers the names and faces of every single person he couldn't save.

Shōko is a pathologist who devotes herself to improving the diagnosis and treatment of disease, often at the expense of her own health and wellbeing.

Because they're *also* huge nerds, I imagine Sukuna and Yuki as physicists in slightly different fields to Gojō:*

Yuki is a brilliant mind, but she doesn't live up to her potential because she hates the oppressive nature of academia. In fact, she vocally criticises it and goes out of her way to undermine it, to the chagrin of all the old stuffy professors who try to discredit her at every opportunity.

Sukuna, like Gojō, is a genius who's fascinated by what he doesn't know, shaking up the field with his cutting edge (lol) ideas. I like to imagine the pair of them getting into heated arguments at conferences, though they both have enormous (albeit grudging) respect for each other.

*As long as Sukuna is, you know, ~normal~ in this hypothetical non-curse world. Otherwise, he'd be a chef that moonlights as a sadistic serial killer lol.

Thank you for the extremely fun question, I had the time of my life! I hope you enjoy my answers ♥

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yjano · 1 year

Text

Who I am now?

Part 19.

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Genre: Angst, comedy, dark romance.

Warnings: Strong language, angst scenes. 18+ content can be found.

Words: 6.2k

Author's note: This story contains mature topics and is not fully related to the duskwood game. A different parallel with different personalities. Thank you everyone for following and liking this! lly.♡

•

Mc focus.

"Alright, what's your question for me?" Nymos muttered, driving one-handedly as his other hand used a balled-up paper towel to clean up any traces of coca cola on his skin.

"I don't have anything in mind, to be honest." I coughed, adjusting my shirt. "Um, do you have any photographs on you of you and Jake when you were kids? Like the ones in your home?"

"...I'm giving you the most perfect opportunity for you to find out more about my brother through me but you just wanna waste the opportunity by looking at our baby photos?" Nymos tutted, shaking his head in disapproval, but still reaching inside his jacket pocket for his mobile phone.

"Like, I can tell you so many things about bro that he'll never bother to share with you. Things like the first time he had sex with someone. Wasn't a great experience for him I'm guessing since he accidentally knocked her out, because she squeezed his bud too hard. He woke me up at 3 am in the fucking morning and made me drive him home because his dick hurt too much to do it himself." Nymos concluded, laughing and handing his unlocked phone to me. I took it with my eyes widening at his words.

I glanced down at his phone screen to see I was in his photo album app, staring at a grainy photograph of young Jake and Kaden grinning so hard at the camera.

"Swipe right for more." Nymos smiled. I did that as he said, giggling at the next photo which happened to be of either a ten-year-old Jake or Kaden glaring viciously at the camera whilst being kitted out in a black turtleneck, black skinny jeans, several pieces of chunky silver jewelry, and boots studded with little spikes. Additionally, the boy's eyes were heavily lined with black, and his face was powdered a ghostly shade of white. In the background, I noticed an infuriated elderly lady lifting a sandal in the air, seeming to be in mid-warrior cry.

Nymos, noticing me laughing especially hard at this photo, grinned widely.

"Bro tried going to school like that one day but our grandma saw and beat his vampire-looking ass, telling him she wasn't gonna drive him to the hospital if he got heatstroke."

I laughed harder in reply, swiping right with my thumb to find yet another low-quality photograph of both the twins in their final year at high school, dressed in muddied football wear and looking a lot more like how they look now. Tanned by the sun, muscular, dark hair tousled, and wearing grins that left me a tad bit breathless.

Fuck, I bet they were super popular in high school. I wanted to send this specific photograph to my phone so I could privately drool over them in their red and black colored football uniform. I suppressed the urge to do so and instead forced myself to swipe right.

"Oh my god, oh my god! What is this?"

"Hmm?" Nymos took a peek at the photograph and grinned widely.

"Oh, those are my old high school nudes," He hummed, amusement evident in his voice as he studied the image depicted on his mobile phone screen.

"Man, I was tiny back then. Don't worry, I swear I'm way bigger now."

"Why would I fucking worry about your dick size?" I choked out, hurriedly throwing his phone back as if the phone casing could potentially burn a rectangular-shaped mark onto my palm.

"Because you know, you might think Jake's tiny too. Because we're identical twins." Nymos shrugged, chuckling. "Don't wanna have Jake hunting me down later for spreading false information about his dick size."

"Kaden, please stop talking."

"So it's your turn to ask a question now, screaming baby."

We've been playing twenty questions for quite a while now, probably passing the limit of twenty long ago.

I thought for a second, chewing contemplatively on my straw before glancing at Nymos.

"Why...Why did you believe Ikari instead of Lex and Jake?" I asked, almost kicking myself for my incapable brain-to-mouth filter because as soon as those words spilled out from my lips. I found myself wanting to swallow back a very single word.

But what happened? There was nothing I could do to redraw the flinch that Nymos reacted with.

"Damn, we're going for the big questions now, huh?" He coughed, and the hand that was not on the steering wheel reached upwards to cup the back of his neck as he laughed awkwardly. I thought that he might have a habit of touching his neck whenever he felt uncomfortable.

I cleared my throat now, looking down at the half-empty contents of my can of coke that I stirred silently with my straw.

"Um, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I mumbled, feeling like I crossed the line with my question.

"No, I'll tell you. It's just a question that people surprisingly haven't bothered to ask me," He replied quietly.

-a year and a half ago-

Nymos focus.

"Try not to hate me too much for making Lex work overtime on your birthday," Black shadow called over his shoulder as he walked away with a grin forming on his face when he heard me groan behind him.

"It's hard not to, fucker!" I yelled after him, watching the black shadow languidly draping his winter coat over his shoulders.

"But thanks for coming, bro." I grinned, lazily wiping the messily smeared buttercream icing off my cheek.

"We appreciate it."

"Of course, I'll come. You guys are family." He chuckled, walking towards the front door whilst reaching into the pockets of his coat in search of his lighter and the hand-sized box of cigarettes.

I was about to reply warmly back to my friend's statement when I was suddenly interrupted by someone flinging their entire, full weight into my side, throwing their heavy arms around me, and engulfing me whole in an overly tight bear hug.

My attention was immediately cast down on the mess in my arms.

"Kaden, your younger bro wishes you a happy birthday!" Jake exclaimed loudly against my neck as he clutched at my denim jacket. I almost instinctively wrapped my arms around my twin brother and laughed into his dark hair, responding with a muffled. "Happy birthday too, baby bro."

"No, happy birthday to you." Jake persisted in a croak before he started sniffling loudly and just as I had preconceived it, my baby brother broke down completely, sobbing and crying into my shoulder and weakly mumbling something along the lines of.

"Wish mom and dad were here to see us." And. "Fucking hell, aasshole, when did you get such a nice physique?"

Whilst Jake sobbed quietly and distractedly squeezed my left bicep, from his left, I heard Sam groans.

"Oh god, who the hell gave the sad drunk alcohol?"

"I'm not a sad drunk, asshole!" Jake protested tearfully, pulling away from me to glare at Sam through narrowed eyes before returning to my inviting arms and bawling like the sad drunk he is.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you aren't, dick." Sam smiled fondly, rolling his eyes when Jake mumbled a sequence of incomprehensible words directed at him. I, still laughing, comfortingly petted my baby brother's soft hair.

"Babe, come on, you're stifling Kaden." Ikari giggled, coming out from nowhere and resting her hand on Jake's back, patting him comfortingly.

The rather emotional Jake reluctantly shuffled away from me upon hearing Ikari's softly spoken words. But he doesn't let up at all on being a baby because the next thing he was doing, was crushing Ikari in a bear hug.

Making the startled, smaller girl stumble a few precarious steps backward as he tearfully choked out.

"I love you so so so much, Kari, you're the best."

Ikari, in reply, laughed softly, letting her emotional hulk of a boyfriend wrap his arms around her waist and draw her suffocatingly close to his chest.

"Love you." Jake hiccuped, "I love love love love you."

"Mm, I know you do," Is what she hummed to him as she reached up and soothingly ran her perfectly manicured fingers through Jake's tousled, jet-black locks. Glancing upwards, she met my warm eyes and she shivered under my gaze, smiling sweetly at me before mouthing.

"I'm gonna take him to the guest room and let him sleep it off. Is that okay?"

In response, I nodded and smiled gratefully at my baby brother's girlfriend before shifting my attention back onto a disgruntled Sam.

"There's something off about her today," Sam muttered, folding his arms over his chest as he followed Ikari's back with narrowed eyes.

"I mean, there's usually something off about her but today it's maximized a hundred times," Sam explained, flickering his calculative brown eyes onto me. "Hm, just be careful, Nym."

"Bro, you make it seem like she's a witch out to get me specifically." I laughed, shaking my head with disbelief.

"She is one," Sam muttered under his breath.

"Sam, Ikari's not gonna grow warts and green skin overnight and attack me in my sleep, okay? I think that is near impossible so stop worrying. She's a good person come on, you know that, you've seen her with Jake-she loves him with all her heart." I grinned, feeling happy about my baby brother's relationship.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Sam dismissed, relaxing his stance and shooting me a small smile. "Happy birthday, sexy, you've grown well."

"You've grown well and sexy? What the hell does that mean? Are you a simp for me? Lex's going to leak your nudes to the government if she finds out, and Asher is going to get jealous." I laughed, raising an eyebrow at Sam. He just simply smiled knowingly at me before glancing over his shoulder and calling his friend's name. Asher was currently strewn across my and Lex's couch, chugging down the celebratory vodka he had bought for me and Jake as a gift.

"Ash, for god's sake, quit drinking already. I don't wanna have to spend all night holding back your bangs whilst you throw up," Sam groaned out loud as he walked away from me and towards Asher who giggled at Sam, not-so-discreetly tucking the bottle of alcohol behind his back and chugging some more.

I tore my attention off the 'couple' when a small "ding!" emanated from the phone in my palm, indicating that I'd got a notification. Glancing down at my phone, I smiled at the instant heartwarming message sent to me by Lex.

Baby L.

I might've missed out on your birthday party but I'm determined! To! Finish! Hacking this godamn database within an hour so we can celebrate your birthday a little before midnight comes. ;) Save me some birthday cake and alcohol if the dickwhores haven't downed it already!

Baby L.

So see you in an hour! I love you, my dumb idiot. <3

Baby L.

Oh and if Jake's still there at the apartment, tell him I said happy birthday and I love him lots and that his birthday gift's in the back of our wardrobe!

I pocketed my phone, smiling at my petite girlfriend's message. I was still smiling to myself like an idiot when I waved goodbye to an annoyed Sam and his bumbling drunk of a friend or boyfriend, we will never know. I was still smiling when I locked the door after them and moved to my hideously untidy kitchenette, fumbling around with the now-empty takeaway boxes of greasy pizza and the stray, half-melted candles decorating the kitchen countertops.

"Hey, there."

I glanced upwards at the sound of Ikari's greeting, offering her a small smile.

"Is Jake asleep?"

"Mhm," She reassured, "He's off to dreamland and snoring the entire way."

"Yeah?" I chuckled, heading towards the kitchen's bin and dumping the pizza boxes by its side, setting it as a reminder for me to take the trash out tomorrow morning. Remembering her presence I glanced back up at her.

"Oh hey, if you're tired, feel free to stay the night here with Jake. There's no need for you to make the journey back to yours so late at night."

"Thanks." Ikari grinned.

"No worries."

"Oh, and, Kaden, honey? You're not meant to clean up on your birthday," She hummed disapprovingly, shaking her head as she fully walked into the kitchenette's small space, her cream-colored heels click-clacked against the tiled marble floor.

"It's the unwritten rule." She laughingly announced as she strode over to the steel beast of a refrigerator, opening the appliance up and procuring more of Asher's celebratory iced vodka. Her neatly painted, red fingernails encompassed the glass neck of the bottle, its hand waving the said item tauntingly at me.

"I don't think that rule applies to the boyfriend of my beautiful baby Lex," I chuckled to myself, rolling up the sleeves of my thrasher hoodie and dutifully resuming my self-assigned task of cleaning the kitchen.

"Better to clean this all up than have my baby whining my ear off tomorrow."

"Oh, I'm sure Lex could let this pass," Ikari assured, walking towards the kitchen island where I was situated and she leaned against the polished counter.

"Come on birthday boy, I haven't seen you drink at all during the party." Ikari coaxed. Softly, settling the bottle of vodka down on the countertop with a pleasant 'clink'.

In reply, I raised a dark eyebrow at her persistency-to which she fluttered her eyelashes in response, smiling innocently.

"I really shouldn't-"

"Have one sip as least."

I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Just one sip?"

"Just one sip." Ikari agreed, handing me the bottle of alcohol for me to pop open. I did it with a soft sigh before lifting the opened bottle to my lips, tipping my head back, and swallowing more iced alcohol than just a mere sip.

"Thanks, Ari, but I think I should finish up on-"

"Come on, Kaden," Ikari drawled, gazing at me through her lashes, "Don't make me drink all this by myself."

-present-

"Next thing I know I'm in the hospital for alcohol poisoning and my friends and family fucking hate me." I sighed, almost tiredly. I glanced at Mc, "Screaming baby, I never intended to drink that much, and I never intended to do anything with Ikari. That night, I had no fucking clue what I was doing, I wasn't moving off my own accord. The selfish bitch just kept pouring alcohol down my throat until I was so fucked I could barely think."

"For fucks sake, I didn't even realize, she had drugged me and manipulated me into her selfish game. I broke my brother's and Lex's hearts. But the worst thing is she had recorded something when I was unconscious, and she pretended that I was harassing her. She told me everything when visited me in the hospital and told me she'll post the video online if I tell Lex and Jake the truth."

"God she's so fucking disgusting," Mc stated quietly. She looked up at me. "Why haven't you tried to talk with them still?"

"As soon as I was discharged from the hospital, I tried to meet up with Jake and explain what'd happened but he didn't let me speak, didn't even bother opening the door when I went around to his apartment. And then Black shadow who took Lex in didn't allow me to speak to her. All of our friends stopped talking to me after they found out what I 'did' with Ikari. I didn't have anyone apart from fucking Sam who kept staying over at mine. Yeah, he's the only one who knew the truth and kept it to himself when I begged him to. I was an idiot, I should've found a way to tell them. Now they're just hating me."

"You're not an idiot. You were alone and hurt. I knew you weren't the bad guy and Ikari was the bitch in your story."

I looked momentarily startled by her words. I wasn't expecting Mc to believe my words so easily let alone console me.

"And Kaden," Mc mumbled, gnawing on her lower lip, "You didn't give consent. So what Ikari did to you is sexual assault. You, you need to explain this to Jake and-"

Mc focus.

"I know what she did," Nymos mumbled and I noticed his blunt nails digging into the soft leather of the steering wheel as he spoke softly.

"But I'm not gonna file a complaint because it's kinda unfair, don't you think? Me getting her charged with sexual assault when I've done so much worse? Screaming baby, for god's sake, I once worked for a fucking human trafficking ring when I was eighteen."

Swallowing hard, I looked away from him at that, feeling so fucking angered, disgusted even, by what he just claimed. Looking plenty disgusted himself, Nymos continued speaking with his nails burrowing crescents into the leather of the steering wheel.

"And, I've already thought about explaining it to Jake or Lex but after really thinking it through. I've decided not to tell them because I despise nonconsensual sex, and I don't even remember what I told them that night, yeah. But in a way, I've still cheated on my baby bro and Lex. It's, it's just pointless now to explain my situation back then and try to win them back. It's been a year and I don't want to open the old wound I caused especially to Lex."

I didn't reply to his words and Nymos made no effort in trying to change my response from me. We both sat in the car in heavy silence and air too thick to breathe in without feeling suffocated.

Isa's passive-aggressive growls can't even mask the tension within the car as she was sleeping peacefully in her carrier.

"Do you, do you love her?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," Nymos replied firmly without a second thought.

"Then why aren't you still with her? Why are you not trying to win her back?" I asked simplistically, staring at his side profile as he was driving. "Win her back already and make amends with your friends."

"It's-" Nymos sighed, "It's not that easy, screaming baby."

"You make it sound like Lex is nothing to you anymore. But she's indeed your life support." I turned away, mumbling, "Maybe she's mad and hurt but I know that she loves you too, she even trusted you with her pup."

Nymos didn't say anything for a few seconds and again, I didn't press him for a response. I rested my head against the headrest of my seat and stared out of my window at the scenery flitting by until Nymos spoke up.

"... I know that she loves me. But I am bad for her." Nymos murmured, not looking at me but keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "That's why I keep my distance from her. I pretend to be playful and we end up having one-night stands and all. I'd rather suffer instead of hurt her."

Furrowing my brows, I swiveled my head to face Nymos.

"What?

He sighed.

"I'm not a good person, screaming baby. I'm a bad guy, and bad guys never get the good things they don't deserve it. It's practically a written rule that they should never get the girl, or in this case, Lex. They don't get good friends or a nice, easy life. I don't deserve to have Jake or Lex, I deserve nothing, of course, I try to stick by them but-. Do you..." He exhaled tiredly, "Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"That has got to be the most idiotic ideology I've ever heard in my entire life."

Nymos frowned at my strong words.

"Screaming baby, I-"

"Yeah, you're a bad guy. But so is Jake. He does bad things for a living, but that doesn't stop me from loving him, does it? Kaden," I exhaled, "Love has no bounds." I started almost fiercely. "Just because you're bad, it doesn't mean you can't love and be loved."

He didn't say anything in response.

The two of us were quiet after that. He was driving silently and I was resting my elbow on the ledge of the window, cupping my palm and staring past the glass. The radio was still on, playing so softly that it was not soon before it lulled me to sleep.

Nymos focus.

I noticed her head tilting forwards and jerking back suddenly with her bleary eyes blinking in bewilderment at her surroundings before closing once more.

"Screaming baby, if you wanna lie down, you can sleep in the back with the rabid bitch." I suggested.

"I'm okay," It was what Mc replied softly but made no movement to climb into the back. I quirked an eyebrow at this but let her doze off, not bothering to wake her up.

Five minutes later, whilst in traffic, I reached into the back for my denim jacket that lied across the seats and picked it up, balling the item into a makeshift pillow for Mc to use. Unbuckling my seat belt, I leaned over to cup Mc's cheek, lifting her head slightly to shuffle my denim jacket under before letting her go.

I smiled when I noticed Mc cozying up to my makeshift pillow. Drawing the seatbelt over myself, I turned away, still smiling.

"Thanks screaming baby. Thanks for believing me." I murmured.

Isa decided to wake up at that moment, immediately starting her bout of incessant growling. I rolled my eyes and replied to her.

"Oh, fuck off."

Mc focus.

I stirred in my sleep at loud laughter coming from my left, the sound of persistently loud chatter made me reluctantly open my eyes and blearily study my surroundings.

Isa yippee excitedly behind me, causing me to tear my gaze away from the denim jacket sitting on my lap as a crumpled mess, at Isa's little barks. I looked over my shoulder to see the small pup looking up at me expectantly, pink tongue lolling out of her mouth.

I was surprised, to say the least when she started whining, nudging at the latch of her pet carrier dejectedly-so dejectedly, it pulled at my heartstrings and I immediately found myself reaching for the latch. I stopped myself short though, remembering this morning when she looked like she wanted to dismember me.

Isa whined again making me feel conflicted.

"Please don't bite my fingers off." I finally said, sighing before reaching for the pet carrier with shaky hands, unlatching it slowly, and allowing the pup to gingerly nose the front open. Delighted, she barked in what presumed its joy. Cute.

"Hey," I peered to my right when I heard Nymos by the car door opening. I sleepily watched him slide into the driver's seat, a packet of strawberry laces in his hand which he soon proffered to me.

Still half-asleep, I took the packet and simply held it in my hand, yawning.

"Are we nearly at my angry bird place?" I murmured, finally looking out of the window to see that we were currently parked at a busy petrol station and the cacophony that had woken me up and the smell of petrol that I now wrinkled my nose at. I wasn't one of those people who liked the smell of petrol.

"Yeah, we'll be at his in around thirty minutes." He hummed nonchalantly.

I, suddenly awakened, swiveling my head around to face Nymos with my eyes widened and jaw slackened with surprise.

"What? Thirty minutes?"

"Yeah, it's-"

Isa barked at Nymos. He glanced at the pup through the rearview mirror and immediately sharply inhaled at the sight of her proudly parading around atop the backseats of his car.

"Who the hell let the rabid bitch out?"

"I did," I muttered, distracted with tearing open my packet of strawberry laces, "She looked sad."

"Oh god, oh god, don't make eye contact with her," Nymos told to himself, "Don't make eye contact. Making eye contact with her is like challenging her to pee all over the seats. Or worse she's gonna claw the leather upholstery apart-"

"She seems sorta sweet," I said, chewing on a strawberry lace. "Come here, isa," I said, setting my gifted confectionary down on my lap and reaching carefully for the elated ball of caramel-colored fluff that practically jumped into my arms.

Giggling, I pulled her close to my chest before turning around to beam at scared Nymos.

"Fuck, screaming baby. She turned you over to the dark side-"

I burrowed my cheek against her soft fur and rolled my eyes at his words.

"Oh, don't be dramatic, Kaden."

Isa glanced up then and Nymos could swear the puppy was smirking at him.

Thirty minutes passed by in a flash.

Panicked I scarf down my strawberry laces, hurriedly shoveling them into my mouth and only slightly choking on them. I dismissed the concerned expression Nymos was wearing on his face when he glances over at me.

I climbed haphazardly into the back, taking isa with me and settling in the back seats with her. Nymos frowned at me through the rearview mirror, wordlessly questioning my actions with furrowed brows.

Completely oblivious to his quizzical eyes on me. I set isa on the leather seat beside me and once she was comfortable, I moved quickly to work on my appearance. I re-tucked my white tee back under the waistband of my jeans, throwing it atop the striped sweater I'd taken off earlier when it got too stuffy in the car, and carefully retied the laces of my sneakers.

I felt a little shy though when I unzipped my backpack and draw out my small vanity bag-feeling a tad bit self-conscious about the possibility of Nymos playfully teasing me for trying to look my best for Jake. But all Nymos said when I applied my moisturizing face cream was.

"Damn, that smells like fucking roses."

I smiled at his words.

Satisfied with my efforts, I climbed back into the passenger seat, not bothering to take isa this time as she was too busy gnawing away at one of the seatbelts much to Nymos' chagrin.

I draw my seatbelt over my chest, settling against the leather upholstery and sigh softly as my lidded eyes study the slow sunset taking place outside, the grey winter sky now consumed with soft pinks and delicate purples that had me smiling subconsciously.

"Excited?" Nymos asked, smiling.

"Mhm. Nervous too."

"I'm excited too," Nymos grinned. "I don't have to deal with you and Jake moping around me anymore."

"Oh, shut up," I laughed. "I know you've enjoyed this."

"I have, I have." Nymos agreed, chuckling.

I started biting my nails distractedly, staring at the sunset absconding behind silhouetted skyscrapers that tower overhead, resembling large, black, ugly shapes. I swallowed nervously.

Nauseating nerves overwhelmed me, easily outweighed my excitement from before.

I feared I was going to throw up. There are two minutes left.

There is one-

"Alright, we're here."

"What?" I choked out, straightening up in my seat and watching Nymos unbuckle his seatbelt with a grin on his face.

Busy with overthinking the idea of Jake casting me away with a look of distaste and a new partner on his arm, I hadn't even realized Nymos had pulled up to a six-story apartment that exuded the amount of wealth invested into the building.

What was stunning about the apartment was its sleek, smoked glass that covered a good two-thirds of the entirety of the building, the glass easily reflecting the city's bright lights and creating a kaleidoscopic effect of a thousand differently colored lights playing on the glass.

"Oh fuck," I cursed, turning away to face Nymos who already had opened his car door, slipping out without a word to me.

Panicking, I hurriedly opened my door and stumbled out, swearing under my breath when I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"Fuck, fuck. Kaden, I can't do this." I breathed, locking eyes with Nymos over the roof of the car.

"Yes, you can, screaming baby," Nymos replied, leaving his car door slightly to check on isa.

"But, I- Wait! How do I punch someone?"

Nymos quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at me.

"Is this necessary to know right now?"

"I swear this is necessary." I quickly said, resulting in Nymos. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Make a fist like this- Not with your thumb tucked away, okay? Because, like I don't know? Some bad shit could happen to your thumb?" Nymos sighed sounding resigned.

"Screaming baby, you really shouldn't ask me this since I've dislocated my thumbs, fractured my hands, and bruised up my fingers way too many times to count."

I was oblivious to his warning and only focused on balling my hand into a fist like how he had demonstrated it. Nymos rolled his eyes at this.

"Alright. You practice, making a fist while I call up Jake and make sure he's at home."

"Wait, what?" I halted my ministrations, frowning at Nymos. "You drove us out here and you don't even know if he's at home??"

"He will be, he will be. Don't worry."

Jake focus.

I regretted not bringing my leather jacket with me to the convenience store opposite my apartment complex. Because now I was shivering in the winter weather, my nose and cheeks colored a soft red courtesy of the wind.

I sighed at my stupidity, lifting my lit cigarette to my mouth, inhaling the grey tendrils that creep down my throat and burn in its wake, at least now I had my cheap cigarettes to warm me.

Exhaling softly, I crossed the road, haphazardly. Ignoring the angered drivers I left behind, pressing their horns aggressively and spitting harsh insults in my direction. I didn't bother replying, just lifted my cigarette to my mouth and breathed in its dangerous fumes, continuing walking.

I was in one of those moods. One where you're oblivious not passive to almost everything. You just don't care about anything. I didn't care for the winter weather biting my fingertips numb. I didn't care for reporting that twelve-year-old kid who stole a packet of strawberry-flavored bubble gum. I didn't care what brand of cigarettes I wanted to smoke. I didn't care now for the crude words a middle-aged man threw at me from his cruddy-looking ford fiesta.

I continued walking, walking down the pavement towards my apartment complex, smoking my cigarette distracted. However soon I was broken away from the trance I seemed to have fallen into when my phone vibrated quietly in my pocket.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I swiped a thumb over the damaged screen. Courtesy of when I was in one of those moods, angry, frustrated, and desperately needing an outlet to vent my rage into. I placed my phone against my ear, listening and smoking.

"Hey, bro? Are you at home right now?"

Nymos said at once, almost excitedly. Rolling my eyes at the realization that Nymos was calling me. I sighed, replying with.

"Why do you wanna know? Are you coming over again with another one of your shitty mixtapes?"

"Shitty? Excuse me, you fucking love that mixtape, and no. Unfortunately for you, I'm not here with another one of those mixtapes."

"Then why the fuck are you coming over?" I grunted, stepping into the private parking lot allocated beside my apartment complex, walking past parked cars, and smoking.

"Wow, I'm hurt. Can I not visit my favorite brother without an ulterior motive?"

"First of all, you only have one brother, fuckass."

"And that's you! What a lucky boy."

"Kaden, I'm not in the mood to deal with you today so-"

"But I brought you something!"

"If it's not food, you're not coming in."

"Well... I guess you could consider it to be food."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I snorted.

"Because you could eat her between her le-Ow! What the fuck, screaming baby?"

I frowned, hearing indistinct, angry muttering over the phone but waited impatiently for Nymos to return to our conversation. Whilst waiting, I placed my cigarette between my lips, using my now free hand to run it through my tousled hair. Contemplating distractedly whether or not I should cut my overgrown mess of hair.

"Sorry, so sorry about that." Nymos wheezed, sounding ready to burst into a bout of laughter. I raised an unimpressed eyebrow despite him not being able to see me.

"Kaden, if you've seriously bought me a prostitute, I'm gonna-"

"Hahahaha, he thinks you're a prostitute-Ow! Fuck! Screaming baby quit it!" More angry muttering ensued, causing me to sigh. I was tired already of this conversation.

"Kaden, I'm hanging up."

"No, bro wait! I gotta- Hey, is that you?"

"Huh?" I frowned, glancing at my surroundings but I was utterly unable to identify if there was anyone around what with the weak, artificial light of the streetlamps limiting my sight to only my nearby surroundings.

"Shit, hold on." With that, Nymos hung up abruptly, without another word.

Furrowing my brow at the rather crude conversation I just had with my twin brother, I slid my phone back into my jeans pocket and with a sigh, I dropped my cigarette to the cemented ground below, purposefully crushing the cigarette to a stub underfoot.

I walked my way towards the entrance of my apartment, praying that there wasn't a- God save Nymos if more than one prostitute was warming my bed for tonight.

Shaking my head at the rather absurd thought, I was about to climb up the few steps leading up to the entrance of the building when someone timidly tapped me on the back, causing me to glance over my shoulder and- And abruptly get hit in the face by a fist.

Somewhere to the far left of me, I swore I could hear Nymos choke out an

"Oh, shit!"

Almost at once, pain pulsated throughout my nose, causing me to cry out, alarmed. Stumbling back and nearly tripping on the steps behind me, instinctively, my hands fly to my face, protectively cupping my nose, seething with both blinding pain and rage.

Who the hell dares to attack someone from behind? A coward, that's who.

My eyes blazed with fury, I looked upwards with pure anger thrumming through my veins, looking ready to swing my fist at my attacker when-

"Mc?" I breathed, with my eyes widening.

Mc fucking Estrada was standing a couple of steps before me with her tiny balled-up hands trembling by her sides, her shoulders were shaking with sobs she failed to suppress and her eyes were shiny with tears. That fell steadfastly down her cheeks, staining them. My breath instantaneously got caught in my throat.

"M-Mc? What-What the?" I choked out, all of sudden incapable of making eligible sentences for myself. Out of shock, my hands fell from my face, causing Mc tearfully wince at my now bloodied nose.

"Y-you! You were supposed to come back for me, you asshole!" Mc cried out, "Y-you were supposed to come back! I waited so many months for you!"

"Mc, fuck. Mc, I'm so- I'm so sorry." I breathed with tears prickling my eyes, "I'm so sorry for leaving you alone. I- fuck, I'm sorry. So sorry, baby."

Mc cried harder at my words, stumbling blindly towards me and reaching out for me. Her hands found purchase on my white tee and used her grasp on the soft cotton. Mc drew herself into my inviting arms. I wrapped my arms around her almost instinctively.

Now, I almost sobbed when I ducked my head slightly, burying my face in the junction of Mc's shoulder and inhaling vanilla and freshly washed cotton sheets. A scent I've missed sorely over these past few months.

"Fuck, baby. I missed you so much." I croaked out with tears falling freely from my eyes.

"I missed you too, angry bird."

I can't tell if I was laughing or crying at her words but I pulled away from her neck a little reluctantly though and lifted a hand to Mc's cheek. Cradling my face when I caught her tears with my thumb.

"Sorry for punching you on the nose." Mc breathed out shakily, her eyes flickered downwards with evident embarrassment on her face.

I chuckled softly in reply, tilting Mc's chin upwards so I could meet her gaze.

"It's okay, baby. I deserved it."

"Hmm," Mc nestled her head against my neck, finding relief in my touch and the slight warmth I emanated. I murmured something softly in her ear and noticed in the corner of my eye, Nymos leaning against the side of his car with arms folded over his chest and smiling at the two fondly.

I had caught his eye and mouthed a "Thank you. Thank you so much." To him. He simply chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly when Mc started crying again.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #jake x mc #mc and jake #duskwood family #duskwood fandom #duskwood fanfiction

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izacore · 1 year

Note

Will you do a reading on all of this when you have time? Maybe also on how HL are doing? I’m so fascinated by your readings!

I did a few readings for my friends yesterday!

Harry's feelings about the stunt with the child bride:

eight of pentacles reversed - lack of quality, rushed job, bad reputation, lack of motivation, mediocrity, laziness, low skill, dead-end job, careless about finances, overspending, you need to execute swiftly and with great care if you want to be happy and successful with this outcome, importance of impressing your employer through your diligence, dedication and intelligence

the devil - oppression, addiction, obsession, dependency, excess, powerlessness, limitations, feelings of entrapment, emptiness and lack of fulfillment in your life, feeling trapped in job, blaming colleagues, self-sabotage, lust, hedonism, selfish disregard for lover’s feelings, obsession

judgement - self-evaluation, awakening, renewal, purpose, reflection, reckoning.

The Judgement card reminds us that we all will be faced with choices that will have an astounding effect for your entire life. The card brings to mind moments where actions you have taken have changed the course of your path for good. There may have been a moment where there is no looking back. The consequences of those actions eventually will catch up to you, and this card seems to indicate that this is the time. You may have to let go of the past, so you can move forward with your plans to have a new life.

back of the deck: page of cups reversed - emotional vulnerability, immaturity, neglecting inner child, escapism, insecurity, a shy, vulnerable partner, emotionally immature partner, insecurity in romance, troubled person, afraid of reality whether it’s emotional, financial, illness or something else. They find these issues difficult to face, perhaps leading to abuse of alcohol or drugs to escape. It could be an image of you or a loved one who is struggling with self-acceptance.

Welp, I think it's pretty explanatory that he seems "thrilled" about it and spiraling as always (the devil card). We have always known he had those tendencies 🥴 It looks like he just hates it and considers it a poor decision. And if the rumors about him soundchecking Woman are true and he will bring it back now I will take it as a confirmation for this reading. Which also, you know, poses a question, what is the point but alas

•••••

Louis' feelings:

ten of swords reversed - survival, improvement, healing, lessons learned, despair, relapse, healing from past, putting relationship back together, changed jobs, found less stressful work, no way to avoid this tragedy - it has happened over a long course of events that have been a long time coming. recognition that you have hit rock bottom, an opportunity being presented here to correct what has hurt you, but you must make the effort to climb out yourself. What has happened was terrible, but everyone has a part in the responsibility.

wheel of fortune - change, cycles, fate, decisive moments, luck, fortune, unexpected events, relationship changes, navigating change with partner, making adjustments, luck in career, opportunities present, adapting to changes at work

two of pentacles - balancing resources, adaptation, resourcefulness, flexibility, stretching resources, inability to provide the energy and time required to make your partner happy. Your partnership should be your main priority, but with all the madness in other areas of your life, you are finding it hard to devote your attention to your loved ones.

back of the deck: ten of pentacles - legacy, roots, family, ancestry, inheritance, windfall, foundations, privilege, affluence, stability, tradition, creating lasting career, stable future

In this case, I feel like I am able to interpret it in two ways, depending on some variables.

1. He could have realized what a fucking poor choice it was, come to terms with the fact that he hit a rock bottom with it and will now try to look for ways to improve his situation without continuing the stunt.

2. If the stunt is to continue, he lost his fucking mind and must be delusional or something 🤣🤣🤣 He truly thinks that this will bring him success and fortune and legacy (or that it's a step towards that legacy), even if in the back of his mind he may be aware that it's really embarrassing. He also seems to be stressed about juggling seeing Harry in the middle of it all (two of pentacles) and spirits are trying to advise him to pay more attention to him - which would confirm Harry spiraling again lmao. But like I said, in some twisted way he thinks it's necessary.

•••••

Now is the actual fun part tho, that made me want to fight my cards agshsj bro I'm so fucking confused.

I asked about the general results of this stunt, 4 cards fell out:

five of pentacles reversed - positive changes, recovery from loss, overcoming adversity, forgiveness, feeling welcomed, improved love life, opening yourself to others, friendship at work, end of work hardships, brightness coming into your life, light at the end of the tunnel. The reversed Five of Pentacles means change is coming.

nine of cups - wishes coming true, contentment, satisfaction, success, achievements, recognition, pleasure, appreciating current love life, positivity leading to romance, cheerful romance, satisfying career, recognition and respect at work, avoid being overconfident, a good change that something wonderful will happen in your workplace. It is time for you to push on your stalled project or if you have a something that you desire greatly, there is a possibility that you will finally achieve it. It also holds a positive meaning when it comes to love. Your romantic relationship with someone is destined to reach a new level.

ace of cups reversed - coldness, emptiness, emotional loss, blocked creativity, feeling unloved, gloominess, you have been enduring emotional instability or pain for some time.

four of cups - apathy, contemplation, feeling disconnected, melancholy, boredom, indifference, discontent, feeling discouraged and unmotivated, You may feel as if there is no solution or way forward in your situation. Life has become stagnant, and nothing seems to make you happy or passionate. You are feeling apathetic - regardless of what happens, whether the day is good or bad, none of it matters to you.

back of the deck: queen of cups - compassion, warmth, kindness, intuition, healer, counsellor, supportive. You may be the emotionally strong rock that serves as an anchor for someone else. The Queen of Cups normally thinks with her heart, instead of her mind. She can lack rationality and common sense, but she can also be intuitive, dreamy and almost psychic at times. The Queen of Cups could be the answer to your problems when a logical approach is not working.

This outcome actually made me so angry because 1. How can this stunt bring good results. 2. It confirms readings my friends did and got the same positive answer agshdj.

If I were to guess, and interpret it the way I'm feeling it, is that the mess it created could actually serve as a wake up call of some sorts for them and will get them to think with their hearts instead of trying to follow the option they were made to believe is the most logical? That they'll realize they're miserable being stuck in those patterns and life simply cannot go on like this? This is just the vibe I'm getting. I'm not sure if I trust it tho as the circus really put me in a very pessimistic mood, but we'll see. Of course, this only works if we assume that they'd want the things we do for them. If they're okay with their situations now, it will strengthen them too and they'll achieve what they wanted with it but in the end they won't feel happy about that.

Anyway I think it's interesting nonetheless and I'm gonna also wait and see what my friends will get in their readings to compare. I'm tired and confused and simply don't know anymore.

#✨️#ask #anonymous #hope it answers your question!

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four-loose-screws · 1 year

Text

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 8 Section 6

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

Chapter 8: Noble Lady of Caelin (Section 6)

Several hours after they had confirmed Marquess Caelin was safe, Eliwood’s army moved into one of the guest rooms inside the castle to listen to everything Leila had to say. Now that she was here, there was a lot they wanted to ask her.

Lyn joined them after she was finished checking on her grandfather.

Hector got the conversation started. "Leila, what have you been doing here?"

"...At Lord Uther's order, I have been searching alone for information into the mystery of Marquess Pherae's disappearance."

"My father?! Did you find anything out?!" The look in Eliwood's eye changed completely.

"Yes. I will tell you everything." Leila stared straight at Eliwood and stated, "...I will start my report with my conclusion. Marquess Pherae is alive."

"That's great news, Eliwood!!" Hector shouted.

"Thank goodness!" Lyn breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you sure…?!"

Leila nodded to further put Eliwood’s mind at ease. "Over the past several months, I have been a member of the Black Fang. This is information I have obtained directly from them, so it cannot be wrong…"

"The Black Fang… The assassins guild Erik spoke of?"

"Yes. We have known of their existence for some time now."

"....Explain."

Leila did as Hector asked and started her explanation. "The Black Fang is an assassins guild founded by a man named Brendan Reed. Their operation, based in Bern, began over ten years ago, then gradually spread to each of the other countries. …Their ideology was to target only nobles who prey on the weak, so the people saw them as chivalrous thieves and highly supported their work."

"...Chivalrous thieves, huh?"

For a league of assassins to be chivalrous thieves… Hector was puzzled by that strange combination. Normally, when one heard the word "chivalrous thief," the image of a person who stole money from nobility and wealthy merchants to redistribute to the poor came to mind. But this Black Fang seemed to be a bit different from that.

"However, about one year ago, Brendan remarried, and that event was the trigger that gradually changed their operations. …For anyone who would pay, they would take on any assassination job, no matter how difficult, and now their targets were not limited to evil people, but also began to include the innocent…"

"And the people who caused my grandfather's pain are this Black Fang group?"

"That is correct. …I know for a fact that in his new wife’s shadow is a mysterious man named Nergal. The Black Fang is currently operating in secret in Lycia by Nergal's orders. Nergals’ right-hand man, Ephidel, enticed Marquess Laus and caused him to plot the rebellion against Ostia. The first to answer Marquess Laus’ call for rebellion… was Marquess Santaruz.”

"Lord Helman…? Why would he…?"

Why would such a good-natured man like Marquess Santruz accept Darin’s invitation? Eliwood could not help but be filled with doubt, but since Helman was gone from this world, his reasons could never be known.

"Next was Marquess Elbert of Pherae."

"...So you're saying that my father really was on the side of the rebellion?" As soon as he heard the part of Leila's story that he was most interested in, Eliwood asked his question.

Leila quietly shook her head. "...That, I do not know. However, it is true that he is with Marquess Laus. At a place called… the 'Dragon’s Gate.'"

"The 'Dragon's Gate?!' Where is that?!"

"It is on Valor… I am sorry. That is all I know."

"It's in Valor Island of all places…? Dammit!" Hector knew about the location of the Dragon’s Gate, and clicked his tongue, implying that it was a bad place to be.

Meanwhile, Lyn, who knew little about geography, couldn't guess at all about what kind of place it was, and cocked her head. "What kind of place is it?" She asked.

Eliwood answered her.

Valor was an isle located in the seas to the south of Lycia.

Supposedly, those who stepped foot upon it never came back alive… That reason was why it was also known and feared as the Dread Isle.

Few ever went there, which made it the ideal location for someone to hide themself and carry out their actions in secret.

"If it is where Father is, then we must make our way there and find him. To the Dragon’s Gate!"

At Eliwood’s unyielding determination, Hector immediately voiced his words of support. "I'm going too. …I'd tell you to do otherwise, but even if I try to stop you, my efforts would all be in vain."

"I will join you as well."

"Lyndis, I am happy to accept such feelings from you, but will it be alright for you to be away from Lord Hausen?"

Because they had both retaken Castle Caelin and saved Hausen, she would say goodbye to them here. Or so Eliwood thought, and that was why her offer surprised him.

"...If we don’t do something about Marquess Laus and his army, then they might target my grandfather again. And I want to save Eliwood’s father as well. Losing a parent… is unbearably painful… I do not want you to experience that pain as well."

"Lyndis… you too, Hector. Thank you. You both put my heart at ease."

Knowing full-well of the dangers, they both swore to help him. Eliwood was grateful for that sentiment from the very bottom of his heart. He could not help but feel that he was currently with friends who could never be replaced.

"Don’t worry about it!”

“We’re friends! Of course we’d do things like this for each other, right, Eliwood?”

Hector and Lyn both said as cheerfully as they could, attempting to dispel the ominous shadow, this league of assassins… the Black Fang… that they had begun to see looming in their future.

“...I’m going to be investigating for a while longer. Lady Lyndis, I think it would be wise to act as if Marquess Caelin is dead for the time being.” Leila proposed.

Considering the order Ephidel had given Leila, that was an obvious precaution. If he knew that Hausen was still alive, then he would pursue Hausen’s life once again.

Lyn, understanding what Leila meant, vowed to do as she said.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Leila!”

The moment Leila turned to return to her work, Hector called out to stop her. “Nergal… and Ephidel. What are they like?”

“...I have not seen Nergal yet. …But I have had several opportunities to speak with Ephidel. He is… uncanny… He always wears his cloak low over his eyes, so I have never been able to see his face. And yet…”

Though it was only for a moment, Leila stopped moving. An image of Ephidel’s face flashed through the back of her mind, causing her to freeze up. However, it was truly only for a moment, then she immediately continued speaking. She used her words to drive away her fear.

“...in just the golden light of his eyes alone… You can see clearly… that he is something not human.”

With those words from Leila, Eliwood and the others felt ever more certain that he was an ominous being.

ー

“Hey, if it isn’t Leila!”

As she walked out of the castle, she stopped when a man called out her name. “Matthew. …It’s been a while.”

The fellow spy approached her with a friendly smile on his face.

Though Leila’s expression was indifferent as always, it did soften a bit, and that was obviously thanks to the man in front of her.

“What’ve you been up to? Been assigned to some dirty work again?”

“There’s no such thing as ‘dirty work’ in our line of profession, is there?” Leila responded as if it were the obvious answer.

Matthew nodded to say, 'You aren't wrong.'

“...So, how much longer is this job going to take?”

“My end goal is the same as yours. Rescuing Marquess Pherae. So… if all goes well, I might be able to return to Ostia at around the same time as you.”

Her words made him visibly happy. "Really?! Then come to my hometown!"

"To where you were born? Why?"

"...To introduce you to my family."

Leila gasped. "Matthew…"

The smile disappeared from his face, and his normally aloof demeanor vanished, his gaze upon her also becoming serious and passionate.

Matthew's sudden marriage proposal surprised her, but she also felt warmth spread through her heart.

They looked into each other's eyes for one moment, one second… a mere tiny sliver of time.

But the two spies had no more time than that to spare.

"Ha ha, well, that's all I had to say! See you!" Matthew's serious face softened back into his usual lighthearted expression, and he turned around and walked off.

Leila, now left all alone, kept her gaze on his back for a brief moment, then finally let out a chuckle. Not as a spy of Ostia, but as just a woman.

"...He's just like always! Doing whatever he pleases! Doesn't even wait to hear a reply."

☆

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ask-de-writer · 2 years

Text

SULA’S SONG : Part 67 : PREPARATION FOR WAR : A World of Sea tale (Work In Progress)

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SULA’S SONG : PREPARATION FOR WAR

Part 67

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

155297 words presently written, WORK IN PROGRESS

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

///////////////////////

NEW TO SULA’S SONG? READ FROM THE BEGINNING.

PART 1 is HERE

//////////////////////

With the fleet largely gathered, even if there was no raft to set up on, the merchant life of the fleet had found a way. A dozen of the largest ships of the fleet were riding together, bound ship to ship by bindings easily cast loose in an emergency. Even with the decks of a dozen ships to set up on, space was limited. In spite of that, goods and samples were being shown in plenty.

Captain Allison was working his way through the tightly packed narrow aisles between the many small booths. He paused here and there to examine the samples on display. As he was looking over some well made cable samples, the booth keeper accosted him.

“What's this I heard about you, Aril, Hulden and Mogar signing our Gathering Log as VISITORS? You were all born and raised in this fleet!”

Captain Allison snorted and replied, “Yep. Right up until that Moonsless Night raid. When we were leaving with the Dark Dragon to attack that building raft, they drummed and later backed up in writing, a renunciation, severing us from the Corlis fleet for abandoning them in their time of need. Somehow, they have never got around to rescinding it.

“Technically, in spite of the loot that we brought back and shared out, and that we are allowed Courtesy Voices, we are all four fleetless ships. It was us four and our ships that did the salvage and our crews that built the Corlis Avenger.” He chuckled and went on, “The Council was really upset when we pointed out that WE own that ship, not the fleet.”

The booth keeper nodded, “I can see how that could be. Why don't they just rescind that stupid order? That would put you all back into the fleet and make the Avenger a part of it too.”

Examining the cable sample, Captain Allison replied, “Embarrassment. They have bungled everything about this war so far. Don't want to admit to another. Give them their due, they are trying to sort out better and more flexible defenses and a solid fraction of them are thinking over ways to attack the Boren fleet.

“This cable appears to be exactly what the Carlyle needs. Can you deliver two hundred meters of it to us and how long will it take?”

The booth man replied with a big smile, “I know that we have a hundred meter roll. You can have it almost immediately. I will have to send for Master Willard, of our Rope Walk to see about the rest.”

He made a fast note on a tallow-slate and sent it by a runner. It took Master Willard about a half hour to show up. He was somewhat short and not at all imposing, until you looked past his brown thatch of hair and saw his eyes. There was nothing uncertain about his brown eyed stare.

“We can make your cable in only about two days except that we don't have the materials. If you can get the fiber to the Gull, we can begin at once.”

“What do you need?” inquired Captain Allison. “We got quite a lot of gauged fibers on five hundred meter spools when we sank that building raft. The Council didn't want it when we did the loot sharing.”

The Master brightened, “You do? I will need six thousand meters of number six fiber for the core and fourteen and a half thousand of number two for the sheathing.”

“Not a problem. I will send a requisition to the Carlyle. You should have it within the day.”

“What can you possibly need with that many meters of as stout a cable as this?” inquired Master Willard.

“We expect to be towing a fairly big and unwieldy craft. 'Fraid that I can't say more. Ship's Business, you know.”

“Indeed I do. May your business go well.”

“And yours too, Master.”

Shortly he had his requisition sent. He found Captains Mogar and Aril at table, where the enterprising “Gathering Ship's” galley had set out a fine spread at reasonable prices.

Over snacks and distilled water, he told them what he had done, getting them tow cables.

Aril nodded, speaking around a mouthful of fish cake, “Neatly done. I know the Gull's cable and rope. Good stuff.

“The Dark Dragon is going to be tied up here for a while. Battle Mistress Dorac, Warrior Lora and Sula are sitting in on the prisoner trials to be sure that the fleet understands that they are serious about restoring the Great Laws. A lot of the fleet's Captains are unhappy about the number of common seamen who are being let off with only imprisonment until the war's end.”

Captain Hulden quietly joined them. “I have been looking for you. Just had a word with Captain Sanch, Gathering Log Keeper. He took the trouble to check the log. While we are still being allowed a Voice in the Council, they have not yet bothered to re admit us to the fleet.”

Captain Mogar simply pointed out, “That means that when we leave, they can't even try to make us stay to 'defend the fleet.' They are going to be really unhappy when we take the Avenger with us, too.”

Captain Allison nodded while chewing and swallowing a mouthful of a nice seaweed salad. “Yep. Should be fun, listening to them try, though. The Avenger is OURS and even though they have seen her sea trials, she has not been enrolled in the fleet.”

Captain Hulden pushed back his stool and told them, “I need to go supervise Mistress Culark. She and Master Guliard want to examine the Avenger, before we set out.”

Captain Aril snickered, “Don't let her take anything apart! You know that she will, if we let her!”

“I won't! For the next two nights, the Avenger will be making anti spy sweeps to catch any more like that one, Petrel, was it called? That will also lull the fleet so that our leaving will be the surprise that it needs to be.”

Over the next two days, the Avenger made her nightly anti spy sweeps. All four of her mother ships were busy, between taking provisions onboard and their shops working furiously and in secret. They were turning out catapult weapons as fast as materials allowed.

Their larger gigs and other craft were working too. Every diver from the four ships were stripping the wrecks from the battle with Mikot's fleet to provide the busy shops of the Carlyle, Moonsrise, Cloud Raker, and Dorac's Dream with the materials to return war to those who began it.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==Previous Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SULA'S SONG #Part 67 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer #WORK IN PROGRESS

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aerialsquid · 2 years

Text

FFXIVWrite Day 22

Day 22: Veracity

Spoilers for Heavensward and post-Heavensward content, reference to unwanted erotic dreams. Also this is a chunk that I think will be part of a larger fic later so don't read it if you want to wait for the full thing.

---

The last time he'd been to the high floating rocks above the Dravanian Forelands, ascending the peak of Sohm Al to lay flowers for Ratatoskr, the silence inside him had been deafening. Nidhogg's rage had been all-compassing and the void left when it departed took time to fill again. Estinien had found all his emotions to be numbed, a peace that would have brought him bliss were bliss not itself also an emotion. Later, other feelings had begun to return to him, like wary animals in the wake of a hunter's passing.

The next time he entered the Churning Mists and the delicate scent of mist lilies wafted past him, Estinien found his eyes brimming with tears. He fell to his knees, unable to understand why a mere flower wrought havoc upon his emotions, barely noticing the sound of rushing wind and a 'thump' behind him.

When he finally wiped his eyes clear, he raised his head to see a pale dragon sitting before him, staring at him with its head cocked. Her head cocked - after a moment he recognized her as Vidofnir, child of Hraesvalgr and resident of Anyx Trine. One of Ysayle's friends, and one of the first to reach out and take Aymeric's extended offer of peace.

"Are you all right, Azure Dragoon?" "I am–it is fine. Some strange miasma, perhaps." Estinien unsteadily picked himself up off the ground, finding a rock to lean against. "Did you know I was here?"

"The moogles do love to gossip, I was in the area by chance."

Vidofnir craned her neck to look at the mist lilies. In a way he could not name, nor point out where on her bestial face the change occured, her expression seemed to grow sadder.

"Mist lilies were his favorite, you know. Nidhogg's, I mean. I wonder if…" She ducked her head again, as if embarrassed to speak.

"If some dreg of him remains in me?" Estinien made a show of turning his lance aside, to demonstrate he would not make a repeat performance of turning her lungs into miq'abob. "There is no malice in me against you, not from my heart or his."

Vidofnir tilted her head back and forth, the draconic version of an awkward shrug. "No, not that. Nidhogg was my - ah, you call them uncles? The broodmate of my sire. I knew him, briefly, in the moments when rage did not take him entirely."

Estinien tried to picture Vidofnir as her own kind would see her, not a beast but a woman.

His mind wafed forth an image born of Ishgard rather than Dravania - pale-haired and slender, an Elezen maiden newly out of her youth. She would have her hair back in two braids, and likely wear trousers like the more liberal young people did. Perhaps attend the Scholasticate, with books clasped to her chest, and flush pink when a man she fancied turned his eye to her but speak fiercely when he chose to draw near. A daughter eager to fight both alongside and against her father, a sage elder whose hair and beard had grown white with age even as his armor remained glistening–

Estinien shook his head to snap himself out of the moment. How strange, to picture a creature older than his grandfather's grandfather as a mere idealistic youth. (What was it within him that yearned to admonish her, to protect her, when she was ten times his size?)

"You say the rage of Nidhogg has vanished. But has…ser knight, I do not think that the mist lilies would have moved you so if there was nothing of him remaining." The dragon tried to gather her words, shifting from foot to foot. She was even using the phrasing of Ishgard, not referring to him condescendingly as 'mortal'.

Estinien considered just leaving - but the range of places he could go that she could not follow were limited in the Churning Mists, and most of them were infested with moogles. He really did not need to deal with moogles today.

"Some echoes remain, aye." He made a show of inspecting his lance, so he would not have to look Vidofnir in the face. "Flickers of things I cannot identify. Urges, desires. When I chanced to visit Azys Lla again and spoke with Tiamat, there came within me a need to reach out and comfort her in her grief. And there are…there are dreams. Ones that I cannot see as anything but the final cruelty that Nidhogg can direct at me, if he wills them directly."

Vidofnir cautiously came closer. The sight was almost comedic, seeing a creature that big try to sidle in as if it could be done unnoticed. Her head, over half the size of him, was close enough to touch.

"Tell me of the dreams?" she asked, her low voice thrumming through him. "When we dragons sleep, we do not sleep as men do, and our dreams are not as yours. What is it that he makes you see?"

She was close enough that he wanted to rest his face against hers and breathe in the warmth of her aether, this foolish child. Estinien found his hand halfway raised before he forced it to settle again.

"I dream of…" The words were bitter in his throat and yet ached to escape, to have someone validate them. To tell him that he was neither crazy nor cursed. His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he pulled his lance closer to his body. "I dream of…being conquered by Nidhogg. Of being claimed."

"Claimed?"

"As…as one is claimed on their wedding night."

Hot breath abruptly gushed over him as Vidofnir laughed, and he prepared to spit some bitter retort before she interrupted, words gushing over like an overfilled ale tankard.

"No, no, I do not - I am sure it is very unpleasant for you, but it is - that it is not a thing dragons do, if you understand me. That is not how we work. Ah, but perhaps it is what happens when dragon and man merge. I believe the transformed heretics still maintain such needs, I have heard them speak of it. If it is Nidhogg it is not Nidhogg entirely."

"What, you're saying I personally want Nidhogg to fuck me?" Estinien spat.

Vidofnir shook her head so violently he felt the wind of it. "What I am told of dreams is that they are metaphors, yes? Like stories, told by your soul to itself as if from parent to child. The truth is there but cloaked, wrapped in other urges and memories." She did the little shifting from foot to foot again, like a baker kneading bread, a gesture he'd come to understand as a dragon's sign of social awkwardness. "As I said, those who you call the 'heretics' had such drives, and found ways to, ah. Couple, where they could. It may be quite normal? Perhaps that urge, and then the remaining embers–"

"I have no interest in being some hybrid monster!" Estinien shouted, drawing up to his full height above the cowering dragon. " Whatever traces of Nidhogg remain in me I want them exorcized, not endorsed!"

Vidofnir bent her head so low her chin grazed the ground. Trying to get her gaze lower than his, he realized, a physical impossibility given their size differences.

"Is it so bad," she said in a whisper, a tone so low the gravel beneath her quivered from its vibrations. "That a part of one of the first brood remains in this world? Must you be so swift to extinguish his embers?"

There was pleading in those huge gray eyes. A softness he had never seen in a dragon before. This time he did not stop his hand when it reached out and made contact with her leathery cheek. Vidofnir crouched and he lay against her head, cheek pressed to the rough ridges of her scales and horns. Skin to skin, though one false movement from her could crush him like an insect.

"I feel something of his essence," Vidofnir whispered. "So faint. Flickering in and out like a firefly. What does he feel like to you? Does he speak?"

"It is hard to describe. He feels as if he is me - I feel emotions with no source, desires and drives that could not have come from my own mind, but they are as if they are my own mind. The way holy men talk about Halone moving through them, when it is her will but their hand." Estinien's hand smoothed down Vidofnir's neck, and there was another puff of warm at her sigh. "The rage that smothered all else is gone. What was beneath it, crushed nearly to death all these years…I think that is what is left in me."

He looked up at the miasma-tinged skies of the Churning Mists, and to the mountains stretching out far below.

"I would ask you a favor, Vidofnir."

"Hm?" asked the dragon, her eyes half-lidded.

"Let me feel the winds around me as he would. Take me aloft."

"Oh!" Vidofnir's eyes flashed open. Slowly she got to her feet, neck bending down to let Estinien climb on. "Please grip tightly. If you fall, the ground will be closer than you think."

"Ha! Only a dragon would find that comforting."

#ffxivwrite2022 #estinien wyrmblood

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unloneliest · 2 years

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I posted 13,683 times in 2022

That's 13,180 more posts than 2021!

289 posts created (2%)

13,394 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@milfygerard

@lesdienne

@asterlark

@elytrians

@hoob-gooblin

I tagged 7,161 of my posts in 2022

Only 48% of my posts had no tags

#tmg - 408 posts

#mcr - 376 posts

#jam posts - 306 posts

#leverage - 302 posts

#trc - 281 posts

#q - 208 posts

#yell - 195 posts

#queer tag - 156 posts

#omgcp - 136 posts

#scream - 113 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#w last limit of bhakti i know my listening experience isn't the average i just have permanent brain worms about eliot spencer from leverage

My Top Posts in 2022:

have any tumblr tmg fans seen the sanguinare speculation? i’ve seen discussion on the subreddit - apparently there were postcards given out at the merch table last night with a qr code leading to this website (front of the postcard was the image from the website). folks on the subreddit are thinking it might be a surprise album drop, especially considering how long it’s been since they last released new music & the original plan for dark in here.

246 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

season 2 eliot..... they put gender in him

285 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

rewatching s3 e1 of leverage is like. top ten pictures taken moments before a disaster (eliot realizing he hasn't escaped moreau's influence over his life and that from here on out he will be living with either the inevitability of the team finding out about his past or the reality of them having found out). rewatching the rest of season 3 is like watching him be put through a slow motion hydraulic press. it's soooooooooooooooo

376 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

listen. i always liked werewolves more than vampires, and that’s because i just never really got the appeal of vampires - i was like, vampire-neutral. happy they existed because i know how much my friends love them. so i’m fairly certain the absolute first thing i said when i surfaced from reading @thebibliosphere‘s hunger pangs: true love bites is “i get it about vampires now.”

i absolutely did not go into reading expecting to adore vlad as much as i do, but oh my god, is this what enjoying vampires has been like for the rest of you this entire time????? why did nobody tell me! seriously!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i cannot recommend reading this enough, i’m never going to shut up about how much i love this book, & yes, that’s fully with the intent of being a fandom pied piper & dragging you all into this interest with me.

611 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

for anyone who was missing it: the annotated mountain goats is back online!

for any tmg fans who haven’t heard of the annotated mountain goats before: it’s an awesome resource for lyrics & info on songs, and it’s been an absolute cornerstone of my goats listening experience since i started listening - check it out!

736 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #jam posts #YELLING. here's how my blog can still be about the leverage wip i started in 2017

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amilst · 3 months

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Daffodils, Narcissus. Now come the big boys. We literally have 500 large daffodils blooming and they always put on a show. Daffodils have been known to survive in the ground for more than a century, blooming year after year.

While nature and the breeders have produced 27,000 different varieties and color combinations, the best are are still all yellow except for the white petaled Narcissus poeticus.

Daffodils were first brought to England by the Romans who planted them to honor fallen comrades. They are thought to originate in Spain and Portugal where the largest variety of daffodils can be found.

The origin story of Narcissus captivated by his own image is well known. But there is more to the tale. At his birth, a prophet told his mother Liriope he would live long “if he does not discover himself,” so she hid all the reflecting surfaces from him. By 16, he spent most of his time hunting deer and then one day saw the beautiful Echo in the woods, not knowing that Juno, Queen of the gods, had limited her voice to repeating what she heard as punishment for distracting her husband with her beauty. Narcissus tells her “Let us meet together,” and hears in response just “together.” She goes to him and lovingly puts her hands around his neck. A social misfit, he runs away and tells her “May I die before what’s mine is yours.” Only then does Narcissus lie down beside the pool to drink and is so consumed by the beauty of his own image he dies of starvation. When they come to bury him, all that is left are flowers with white petals and a yellow heart, Narcissus poeticus. The author Ovid writes: “Fool. Why try to catch a fleeting image, in vain. What you search for is nowhere: turning away, what you love is lost.”

Since Ovid, Daffodils have been the welcome subject of poets. The most famous of these writings is by Wordsworth and is considered one his most famous poems:

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Then there is the one of A.A. Milne, of Winnie the Pooh fame, called “Daffodowndilly”:

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet, She wore her greenest gown; She turned to the south wind And curtsied up and down. She turned to the sunlight And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbour: "Winter is dead."

That last line is a bit dark for me. Winter doesn’t die. It just rests til next year.

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lazyleafeon · 2 years

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[image description: a ten page comic starring saiki kusuo from the disastrous life of saiki k and anya forger from spy x family.

1: a shot of the both of them walking. They are talking with telepathy.

2: anya, telepathically: do all telepaths have pink hair?

saiki, telepathically: no

anya: oh… are you a spy?! (Next to this thought is a drawing of loid forger)

saiki: no.

anya: an assassin?! (next to this thought is a drawing of yor forger)

saiki: hey, aren’t these your parents?

anya hesitates to answer.

3: saiki: I… am a normal high school student.

anya: what?! how?! You have telepathy! your life has to be exciting!

saiki: I prefer when it’s not. I don’t like telling people that I’m an esper.

4: anya think about this for a moment, before going wide eyed.

anya: does that mean you have to kill me?!

saiki: what? no?

5: saiki: why would I have to kill you.

anya: because i know about your telepathy?

saiki: watch other cartoons

anya, looking shocked: How- it’s not from a cartoon. (She is thinking of a cartoon, where someone says “you found out my secret! Die!”)

saiki: you’re replaying the episode in your head right now.

6: saiki: it seems like a better show than cyborg ciderman no. 2 at least.

anya: cyborg ciderman?

saiki: don’t watch that either.

anya: if you don’t like telling people about it (his telepathy)… do some people already know?

7: saiki thinks of his mom, aiura, toritsuka, and akechi.

saiki: a couple classmates, my family. some found out on their own.

Anya: how did it go?

8: saiki: maybe a little too well. they never stop bugging me now.

anya: really?

saiki: really.

anya looks shocked, then says: I haven’t told anyone.

saiki: you don’t have to

anya: i know, but…

9: a shot of both of them walking, this time in silence.

10: saiki: hey, if you haven’t told anyone, did you make your psychic limiters yourself?

anya: what are psychic limiters?

saiki: the cones one your head?

anya: heh. ive fooled you. These are just hair pins!

saiki: why do they look like that.

anya: I don’t know

End ID]

psiprise encounter

#saiki kusuo #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #spy x family #anya forger #comics #my art #long post

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ms-demeanor · 2 years

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Okay so you know how I'm constitutionally incapable of letting things go?

I'm still on about the Jake Parker Alphonso Dunn thing and I finally cracked and created a pacer account and downloaded the initial filing of the lawsuit. Here's my favorite quote from it:

"Pen and ink drawing, however, is not as inviting a drawing medium as pencil, especially for beginners or anyone new to drawing, for several reasons [...] This explains why there is a drastically limited number of comprehensive ink drawing instruction books and learning resources available today as compared to the hundreds, if not thousands, of pencil drawing books.

Upon information and belief, there are less than 10 widely known comprehensive ink drawing instruction books in the art community."

Every single link in that quote is a link to a comprehensive ink drawing book that is/was widely available. Even if you don't count the ones that are out of print (but are in libraries, art classrooms, and are available online) you're still looking at *at least* ten, one of which has been in continuous publication for 100 years and two of which are different books written by one author. Also I own two books that aren't even directly linked here (both about cartooning) that include comprehensive pen and ink techniques as part of a larger whole and cover materials materially similar to what Dunn is saying was plagiarized, and that's not even getting into the really specific and narrow "pen and ink animals" "drawing in ballpoint pen" "pen and ink landscape" "pen and ink for comics" "pen and ink and watercolor" "pen and ink and charcoal" books that are out there that also cover basic pen and ink technique in a pretty comprehensive way. There are so many pen and ink instruction books that attempting to open links to all of them in the various places that I found them crashed my browser.

He also really, really doubles down on "there is no functional difference between these sections and the layouts are identical" when A) there is a functional difference because Dunn wrote a technical instruction guide and Parker wrote a low-key how-to book for casuals that is primarily about motivation and mindset and B) Dunn's book has a strong vertical layout and Parker's is square.

It is making me bugfuck crazy that he's claiming these two layouts are duplicates.

One of these pages is twice as tall as the other. One has a centered brushstroke font as the header with descriptions under each of four tools; One has left-aligned text with a sans serif header and single-word descriptions next to nine tools. One has tools that are presented illustrated at an angle that points to the gutter of the layout, one has tools that point to the center of the page. We are, literally, not the same.

My second favorite quote from the lawsuit is this:

"Dunn has found many supporters online, who believe that Parker has committed plagiarism and infringed on Dunn's copyrighted works."

Friend, what your twitter followers think isn't legally actionable.

The suit claims that the uses of Dunn's work were numerous and far reaching, but looking at the images used in the filing it kind of looks like Dunn hasn't gotten a copy of the book and is still screencapping from the ten images on Amazon. Shoutout to this absolute maniac on Pinterest who not only did a side-by-side comparison of Inktober All Year and Pen & Ink Drawing but also compared Pen & Ink Drawing to a bunch of other ink illustration books. Also I'm pretty sure Inktober All Year Long is unreleased and the lawsuit is based on sales continuing until December 2020 but I can't find the book anywhere new or used and the few people who have reviewed it have claimed they got it because Amazon sent it to them on accident after delivery was cancelled and every seller that I can find that had links to it lists it as backordered or now has a 404 error for the book.

Here's another pertinent quote from the suit:

Authors instruct on pen and ink drawings in multiple ways. Dunn's work, however, is not the result of restating standard methods or formulae, but is his original expression born from his creativity.

I do continue to feel really, really bad for Alphonso Dunn, because it really seems like he spent a lot of time reinventing the wheel and is upset that a similarly popular artist is also making a wheel. Like, in the original video he REALLY fixates on the idea of "varying" strokes, and insists that the use of the word "varied" or "variable" must be plagiarized from him because he spent so long coming up with the right word to use for that technique - but the 100-year-old pen and ink instruction book I discussed earlier has a multi-page layout about varied strokes.

Anyway the lawsuit was filed in September of 2021 and so far it's been just a shitload of extensions to serve papers and motions to dismiss and motions to extend the time to respond to the motion to dismiss.

I don't think that Parker is perfect (I actually find him pretty annoying and I do agree that it is very questionable to claim exclusive ownership of an event that became popular because of millions of participants) and I don't think that Dunn is malicious, but in this case I do think that Dunn is wrong. This guy has a take on it that pretty much aligns with my opinion.

And I'm interested in the outcome of the case because a lot of the claims that Dunn made in his video and appears to reiterate in the case have to do with attempting to claim exclusive rights to teach art fundamentals using extant language, so that's actually pretty important!

Anyway I am going to continue to Be Weird about it.

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kiridarling · 3 years

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𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓.

— 3.0k words

eijirou kirishima | hard dom + dubcon jic + f!reader + exhibitonism + face-fucking + dumbification + car sex + more! minors dni.

"Made me come all this way...it’d be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it."

"No, no, no, no, no—c'mon," you cry as your car engine spits and sputters to a stop in the road, coughing like an old man with asthma before it's dead for good. Jamming your heel on the gas pedal, you twist your key in the ignition, but there's no use. You're fucking stuck.

You sigh, before slamming your forehead against the steering wheel. It's hard enough to sting, and the blaring horn startles all unsuspecting birds in a five-mile radius, but you could care less. Stuck in the middle of the woods at one in the morning, AAA membership-less with nothing but the clothes on your back and the vehicle you came with. Short cuts are a fucking myth.

Mina's the only person you can think of calling—because frankly, she's the only one who'd know a mechanic who could help at this time of night if one exists. Which you doubt. Severely.

"[Y/N]?" Mina answers, semi-urgently. You wonder if you startled her out of a good sleep, but knowing the night owl, her evening is just beginning. "What's up?"

"I'm fucking stuck in the middle of nowhere," you groan, banging your head against the back of the seat though you know she can't see you. "Car's not working."

"Oh no," she coos, and her pity is useless. "Do you have AAA?"

"No. Do you have a mechanic?"

"A mechanic...at one am? I don—wait," she interrupts before you hear something akin to rustling sheets. "I might have a friend who could help! But don't get your hopes up girlie, he's a heavy sleeper."

You shrug, shaking your head. "At this point, I'm desperate."

"Alrighty!" Mina confirms, and now all you can do is fucking hope her friend pulls through. "I'll give him a quick buzz and then send his number over, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you breathe, relaxing (somewhat) with your chin against the steering wheel. "Thanks, girl."

"Of course!" she cheers, and you wonder how someone could have so much energy at this time of night. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," you snort. "I might need it."

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Eijirou's had a long day.

A pipe busted at the auto shop today, resulting in an immediate flood—meaning they had to get everything that could possibly rust out as quickly as possible, aka everything in the goddamn shop.

So, yeah. He's had a long day, and when he's finally able to get under the covers and go the fuck to sleep, Mina calls him with this.

"Hey...Eijirou, buddy, best friend—"

"Mina, I love you, but what do you want?" Eijirou grunts into the phone, voice worn and ragged from limited sleep and his terribly long day. One am is never an appropriate time to call anybody, but he figures something has to be up—Mina's not the type to call in the middle of the night.

"Um, well. My homegirl’s kinda stuck in the woods with car troubles—"

"The woods."

It takes Mina a second but she hums in confirmation, and Eijirou can see her head nodding from where he lays. He sighs, rolling on his back to blink up at the ceiling. "Yep!"

"What is she doing in the woods at midnight?"

"I don't know!" Mina exclaims. Eijirou runs a hand over his face. "I just—please, Ei? She doesn't have AAA or anything and it's really, really late. All you have to do is hotwire her car or something, right? It's not like she totaled it or anything."

And dammit. Eijirou hates being a nice person.

"Just give me ten."

Mina practically gasps out a thank you, "You're a lifesaver Ei! Really! I—"

She's interrupted by the buzz of his phone—this time, from an unknown number. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, "That her?"

"Should be!" The pinkette says. Eijirou's feet finally touch the floor and it's painfully cold. His bed has never looked more appealing, and that's counting all those instances in high school. "Thanks again, Ei!"

"Yep," Eijirou says, popping the 'p,' before clearing his voice and switching the line. Customer Service at one am, here he comes.

"Red Riot Auto Repair and Services, how may I help you?"

All he receives is a grunt on the other end of the phone: "My car won't turn on."

Eijirou waits for you to give him a little more to work with, but it's clear that's all you have to say when you ask hello to ensure he's still on the other end of the line. Runs his hands through his hair, he silently prays he won't have to leave the house to get your car to work.

"Did you try jiggling the key?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid," you huff, and Eijirou's eyebrows fold in exasperation. He insists you do it again though, and hears the weak splutter of your engine through the phone with a heavy heart. "'S fucking useless."

"Did you try tapping the battery terminals?"

"The battery whatsitals?" You say, too loud and smart-mouthed for the very thin amount of patience Eijirou harbors. He reaches for his hair tie, satisfied enough with the messy bun he makes on the first try.

"Just send me your location," Eijirou sighs, moving for a jacket before snatching the keys to the shed. He'd rather just get this over with than beat around the bush.

Luckily, you're not far.

"You drive that thing?" is your first comment, and Eijirou can't even appreciate your beauty before your first words shatter your image completely, and he's slamming the door to his truck with rolling eyes, rusted toolbox heavy in his hand. "It looks like Mater from Lightning McQueen."

Eijirou just stares at you for a second, just to see if you're really serious, and resists the urge to scoff when it seems like you are.

"It's a truck," is all he says, before marching around you and to the task at hand—your car. "Pop the hood."

You huff, but you listen, and Eijirou wastes no time in getting to work. You watch with your elbows balanced on the rim, curious but quiet, and that allows him to get in the zone enough to realize there are countless problems with your car.

"When was the last time you took this thing into the shop?" He probes. You click your tongue, eyes tracing the outlines of the trees as you search for an answer. That's never a good sign.

"Um...never?"

"And how long have you had it?"

"A few years," you nod, and Eijirou drops his head.

"It's a miracle you made it this far in the first place," he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. What the hell is he going to do now? There's no way your car is moving anywhere tonight. You frown, jamming your hands on your hips.

"Well? Are you going to fix it or what?"

"I can fix it," Eijirou says with a shrug, closing your hood. "But not tonight."

"What do you mean not tonight?" You badger, breathing down his neck as he hikes back to his truck to set the toolbox down. There's no reason to carry it if he's not going to need it.

"I mean, your car's going to need a solid six months before it can run again, Sweetheart."

When Eijirou turns, you're much too in his face for his liking. He can practically feel your breath against his chest, and it has him rolling his eyes, leaning against his truck with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, but I need it to run tonight," you explain, gesticulating so wildly Eijirou fears his own chest may fall in the cross-fire. "Like, I need to get home tonight."

"I can't—" the redhead sighs, running his hand over his face. You're terribly difficult, and if Mina had given him a proper warning he probably wouldn't be here in the fucking first place. "Listen. My shop is out of commission for the next few days 'cause of a flood. I can work on your car or whatever, but it'll take a sec, so the most I can do is drop you at a hotel down the road or somethin'. Sound like a plan?"

"No," you growl, claws and all, and Eijirou wishes for nothing but death. "That doesn't sound like a plan! I don't know you, what makes you think I'll get in a car with you?"

Oh. My. God.

"Then you can spend the night in your car and have Mina come get you in the morning," he huffs, stomping over to the driver's side of his truck. "So it's either you're gettin' in, or I'm leaving ya."

With that, he slams the car door shut, shoves his key in the ignition, and counts to fucking ten, and on nine and a half you're flinging open the passenger door and bouncing in the seat, arms crossed over your chest in indignance. You don't even look him in the eye.

"Seatbelt," he warns. You tut.

"I don't need a fucki—"

"Put on the goddamn seatbelt."

You don't say anything, but he's satisfied by the click that follows. Eijirou shifts into drive and you two take off.

"The seat's so uncomfortable."

Not even twenty feet.

"Suck it up," is all the pity Eijirou has to offer. He's preoccupied with trying to get from this side road to a main road with, you know, actual civilization. The road is unsteady—unsteady enough that a bump sends the both of you flying towards the roof of his car, and naturally, you have something to say about it.

"Y'know, for a mechanic, you're not a very good driver," you say, and it has Eijirou's fists tightening around his steering wheel. His patience wears down until it has the height of a penny, and Eijirou worries for when it shatters because he has no clue what he'll do if it does.

"And it smells a little funky," you continue anyway, eyes wandering around the cabin aimlessly."Kinda like cheese. No offense."

Eijirou pulls over at that, teeth grinding. Is he really going to snap over cheese comment?

“Is this a condom?”

Yes. Yes, the fuck he is.

"Get out."

"Um—excuse me?" You blink, eyebrows raising in offense. "You're kicking me out. Because I found a fucking rubber?”

Eijirou glares your way and he's sure you can feel him radiating fury, and that's enough to convince you to hop out of the car without another word. He follows, slamming the door behind him.

"Okay? Now what?" You growl, and Eijirou loves it—the false display of confidence. Because he knows it won't take much to break you once he gets you under his thumb, and you'll look so pretty once he does. Cocking his head to his side, he tells you to come here without having to open his mouth. You follow.

"Now, on your knees."

You splutter at his request, rolling your eyes as if he wasn't being serious. Though you shut up once you hear the clink of his belt, lips widening in revelation, and Eijirou thinks you'd look much prettier with your mouth full.

"You made me come all this way—it'd be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it," Eijirou says, and the way you shiver implies that you like this more than you let on. He coos when you say nothing, "And for the first time today she's got nothin' to say. See? You're improving already."

He gives you a second to move. When you don't, he lifts an eyebrow. "Knees, Princess."

You do and Eijirou groans at the view, palming his hardening cock at the sight of your bambi eyes blinking up at him—and it's a pretty one, at that. Leaning against the door of his truck, he grunts, "Take it out."

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and Eijirou shivers upon contact with the cool air, but the warmth of your palm makes up for it. You spit on his cock with a curled lip and it's nothing short of crude, before you're swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as far as you can possibly go.

"Uh-uh," Eijirou tuts, grabbing you by the hair to pull your mouth off his cock. "We got at my pace, Sweetheart."

"Why?" You pout with a curled lip. Eijirou scowls.

"Because," he says, before stuffing half of his cock down your throat, "I'm gonna put that big fuckin' mouth to use at my pace."

With that, Eijirou thrusts into your mouth, using the grip he has around your hair as leverage. Your throat is impossibly warm and the way you choke has him keening, and that's enough for his hips to start picking up mindlessly.

"Shit—what a dirty fuckin' girl," he says, smirking when you moan around his cock. "You like this? You like sucking off a guy you just met?"

Your eyes flutter at that, nails digging into his thighs, and it nearly has him cooing. When you swallow around him Eijirou's hips stutter and he grunts, "In public, no less. Anyone could drive by and see you taking my dick down your throat...but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want the world to know how much of a slut you are."

Your hand falls between your thighs and Eijirou grins like the devil as he watches you touch yourself on the dirty road, desperate just because knows how to push the right buttons. That's enough to have him caving, demanding you rise to your feet and get in the backseat of his car.

"Hands and knees," Eijirou urges, his body towering over yours from behind. It's not long before he's pinning your wrists to the windshield with one hand and using the other to land a harsh slap on your ass; harsh enough to make you jolt forwards from the force.

"Such a pretty ass," he coos before slapping it again, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to muffle the sound. "And it's all for me, ain't it, Princess?"

You nod, but Eijirou spanks you again—he's looking for an answer.

"Y-Yeah, yes, all yours just—" your hips wiggle in search of his cock. Eijirou chuckles, leveling his lips with your ear.

"Want me to fill you up, Princess?"

You gasp out a yes, nodding vehemently. The redhead finds he likes you like this much better, chest rumbling with arousal. "Yeah? How bad?"

"B-Bad, please, I need t—fuck!"

Eijirou stuffs you full with one thrust, and even he needs a moment, freehand searching to hold onto your hip while his grip tightens around your wrists. You quiver under him, and he swears he can feel your gut contract around his cock, eyelids fluttering when you grind against him.

"Holy shit," Eijirou finds himself wheezing, not expecting you to be so tight. You drop your head against the cool windshield, whimpering like the pretty little thing you are, shuddering as he pulls out before ramming himself in again until he's balls deep. You scream, back arching from the angle.

And fuck. It's impossible for him to stop after that.

"Fuckin' look at you," Eijirou chuckles, body practically caging you against the seat, "Drooling all over my window like a slut. Fuck, you really know how to get a guy goin' huh?"

“Pull—pull my hair,” you request, words from his pistoning hips. Eijirou tuts and rips your hands off the window in favor of pushing your head into the seat, not making a move to yank on your hair once.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making demands, Princess," he growls before his hot palm cracks against your ass, hissing from the way you tighten around him when he does.

You whine at that, pushing into him the best you can. It only spurs his hips on faster, and Eijirou lets go of your hands in favor of grabbing your face instead, groaning at the sight of the tears shining silver from the moonlight. He likes the fact that you can't do much but gasp and rock against him, your hands falling to clit to finally push yourself off the edge.

He looks at you and all he sees is his dumb little thing, who can't do anything, let alone get her car to work, and that's when Eijirou realizes he doesn't want this to be as much of a one-time thing as he initially thought.

"Gonna...gonna cum," you slur, cheek mashed flat against his window. Eijirou fucks you into the door of his truck, pace quick and bruising, as his mind thinks of all the fun you two could have together—all the fun he wants to have with you.

"Cum, Sweetheart. Make a mess of my cock and my leather seats, yeah? Show me how good I make you feel."

You tighten around his cock, tight, and that's enough to send him spiraling into an orgasm of his own, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills you up. Though his hips never stop, not until you're coming around his cock with a broken moan, curled toes digging into his car floor. He watches you catch your breath, splayed across the seat, with a sudden realization that he feels much lighter, but doubts it was the sex that did the trick.

"You fucked your anger out now?" You wheeze, breaking the silence, and Eijirou snorts.

"I—yes," he says before his eyes trail to the scratch marks around your hips and thighs. "Are you...okay?"

"Never been better," you toss your arms in the air like you're on a rollercoaster but lack the energy to scream. It's cute and it had the redhead re-evaluating everything, wondering how the day could start so shitty and yet, end so well. "Are you okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you shrug, and Eijirou finds it hard to stay focused when you look like that. "You asked me, so. Everyone needs a post-sex check-in, ya know?"

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah he's definitely keeping you.

#— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #tw.dubcon #kirishima smut #bnha smut #mha smut #kirishima x reader

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marvellovegalore · 3 years

Text

Death in the Afternoon

Chris Evans

Parte trois - Breaking You

Synopsis: You're having what seems to be withdrawal symptoms and you're dying to see the love of your life - and be with him once and for all.

Word Count: 4,416

Warning: Explicit Language, Extremely Sensitive Issues, Gore, Sexual Content

Author's Note: Refer to previous parts before reading this one. Thanks for making writing so enjoyable - I really love + appreciate reading your comments + opinions! I really hope you guys enjoy this and let me know what you think!

Finale

His letter sits crumpled in your desk drawer, your glance stains its words, the page yellowed by its exposure to the sun.

Every single day that has passed since you last saw him, you have cried.

You forced yourself back to work just to finish the film that you were filming for the past five months; now that it is done you have all the time in the world to stay lying down on your cold bathroom floor - until tomorrow. The contents of your stomach lying at the bottom of the toilet bowl. The world is spinning, and your breathing is ragged and deep.

The email you sent him is still open on your laptop screen, the screen now dim from being inactive for twenty minutes. You can barely see the words you typed out to him through the tears in your eyes.

You hesitantly lift yourself from the tiled floor, your shaky legs threaten to collapse beneath you and leave you in a heap on the ground. The walk back to your bed is tremulous and slow. Your heavy eyes are stuck to the bed, willing your brain to lead you there. You lose track of the time it takes you get to your bed.

The notification sound comes from your laptop, you slowly sit up towards your laptop. You summon the strength to open your eyes wider, he’s replied.

‘I’ll be there soon.’

Your body feels lighter, his acknowledgement and acceptance makes your body float softly.

You don’t know how you’ll go on without him, the sensation makes you sick. You’ve never wanted to depend on another person for your happiness. You’ve been okay being alone as long as you can remember.

The day he left you made you spiral. You sought help from a hotel guest that managed to hear your small pleas for help from the other side of the door. You begged her not to call an ambulance, you asked for her to help to get you into a taxi and you were on your way to a private doctor. You needed utmost privacy. Your doctor saw some small health concerns that affected your heart, he requested you majorly decrease your cigarette and alcohol intake and that you visit him once a month so he could come to a certain conclusion.

On your second visit you received your earth-shattering news.

Pregnant, four weeks along.

It had been four weeks exactly since you had seen him. The devastation that afflicted you made you sick all over again. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t go back to your doctor. You chose to let life go on as normal for three weeks, but the agony was breaking your heart further the more you did that. You considered several things before emailing him. You could go on to give birth and never tell him that it is his and it could grow without a father; or you could abort it. The last option makes you feel unsettled, though you don’t know why. It’s what your brain immediately went to when you learnt about it.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

He just read that you really need him, and you miss him in your email. He didn’t have to read it, let alone let you know he’ll be here.

The tightness in your chest is back. Your fingers flit against your tender breasts and you touch the part where your heart is, it beats lightly.

He doesn’t come that night. You spend the whole night watching the dark, rainy streets of New York, alone. You fall asleep to the sounds of sirens and cars, alone.

You wake up on the floor of your room, in front of the floor to ceiling windows.

Your body feels like it’s made out of limestone and that your tears have caused the material on your face to deteriorate. It takes you half an hour to get the strength to stand up from the floor. You try to stretch but every joint feels like it’s screaming. You manage to walk into your bathroom without swaying, the sight of your vomit and its stench greets you as you walk through the glass door. You hold your breath as you pee, and then brush your teeth. You think about the fact that he stood you up once you’ve found the courage to shower. The water feels like its scalding your skin as you let it water you.

You lay on your bed naked, waiting for an hour for a notification from him. He’s forgotten you.

Your brain loops around the image of him laughing at you with the brunette as they sit on the bed you bought for him; their eyes crinkling in mockery, disbelief lacing their laughter. A tear slips from your eye, you barely manage to wipe it away. You can smell the scent of your decaying heart through your skin, its stench burning a hole in your chest, rotting your ribs in the process.

You need to get up, you have stuff to do. Though you feel numbed, you will yourself to get up.

You forgo eating, simply choosing to indulge in an espresso and two cigarettes for breakfast. You allow the tiniest desire you have to simply let it be repulsed by your body and expel itself from inside - come to the forefront of your mind.

You spend the day working like a dog, you push yourself to limits that make your assistant raise her eyebrows high and ask you to calm down. You ignore any concerned glances as you push yourself ten times more than usual at the gym, drawing praise from your companions. You take a moment to yourself in the gym toilet and check your stomach, you glare at the slightest bump on the bottom of your torso. As you fight the temptation to punch your stomach, your phone brightens with a new notification - from him.

‘Meet you at the restaurant round the corner from your place. Booked a table for 9pm.’

You gulp, an uneasy feeling setting into the depths of your stomach. You’d rather be sent an anonymous letter to meet at a hotel restaurant, it had a touch of romance to it. Exchanging emails is what you’ve had to resort to, you are both blocked from contacting each other in any other manner; sometimes you think to yourself that you’re like forbidden lovers - by choice.

You finish working around eight o’clock, you ready yourself by half eight and you hang around the restaurant. Suddenly having picked up the habit of biting at your nail, you watch the patrons of the restaurants and recognise some television big wigs and political journalists. You breathe in deeply, your eyes flitting around the somewhat busy street, you can feel your bladder ready to give way. You rush into the restaurant at nine on the dot and are escorted by the restaurant manager to a toilet. You ease yourself and wash your hands, your morose face plastered with magazine worthy makeup stares back you. Your pupils are shrunken and your eyes that are practically unresponsive to the light stare at you, the sight of yourself makes them well with tears of disappointment.

You leave the toilets; you saunter back to the door and spot him being led to the table by a waiter. Your feet lead you back outside to the street.

You feel like vomiting, your breaths become shallow and limited. Pressing a hand to your chest you feel your heart hammering mercilessly against your ribs. It feels like death. You shakily reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette pack, you stare at it and your mind wanders to the feeling in the pit of your abdomen. You decide you’re not strong enough to fight the temptation, you pull a cigarette to your lips and go to light it. Your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘Where are you?’

It’s been five minutes, you exhale. You put the unlit cigarette with a lipstick mark back in your bag and take two deep breaths. You slowly walk into the restaurant, you raise your head, desperately trying to find the assurance you’re so well known for. You’re an actress, you’re an expert at façades.

You’re led to his table, your strut attracting the attention of most everyone in the room.

His hair is grown out, his stubble creating a flattering shadow on his lower face. You sit wordlessly, the waiter asks for your drink order and you ask for a ‘Death in the Afternoon’. The waiter smiles, you hear him sigh. You turn to him, avoiding his eyes.

You’re pregnant - with his baby. You’re both having a baby.

The sobering thought almost makes your voice shake. “Thanks for meeting with me. Even though you vowed to never see me again.” Your tone is almost mocking, a tinge of pride filling you. The bitter memory of writing that letter stings him - more so because he’s succumbed to seeing you after having written it.

He tries to sense any revealing signs that you miss him, had he not received your email he would have been hurt to believe that you were thriving without him. You’re still so put together, too beautiful for you to be needing him. Your makeup is done flawlessly, you’re dressed perfectly elegantly. He can’t understand why you would send him an email at ten in the night asking for him if you seem to be good. It made him joyful to receive it, and he hates that. Why do you have this hold over him? Why can’t he just leave you and forget you.

“I couldn’t ignore the possibility that you weren’t okay.” He takes a sip of his cold beer; the taste of wheat makes him relax somewhat.

“You said you’d be there soon, what happened last night?” The embarrassment immediately clambers up your system and makes you avert your eyes to one table over. You hate seeking answers from others that make you feel dependent and make you more human - you despise it.

How can he begin to explain that he stood in the lobby of your building for forty-five minutes trying to fight his anxiety? How can he begin to explain that his fingers trembled so badly that he couldn’t get his phone out of his pocket to let you know that you couldn’t be there for you? How can he begin to explain to you that he loves you so much that the thought of going up to your apartment and failing to comfort you filled him with unending fright? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t allow you to ridicule him? He’s failed you twice now.

He can’t really put himself in the mindset he was in when he left you that letter, letting you know how much you let him down. He didn’t leave the hotel until after you did, he instantly regretted leaving you when he saw you doubled over in pain being helped into a taxi.

He’s got so many questions, why is it you need him? What happened to you in Portofino? “Got side-tracked with something.” He gives you a non-committal shrug and takes another swig of his drink, his leg shaking noticeably under the table.

Your heart falls to the bottom of your stomach, your entire torso feels like it made of limestone and your throat tightens. You feel like you’re choking, your drink couldn’t be here any sooner. “You in a rush to be somewhere?” You look at him questioningly, noticing his leg movements, you try to hide the sadness that’s padding your body like sponge.

He shrugs, “Kinda,” the disillusionment is almost impossible to disguise on your face, he feels some satisfaction from it. “But it can wait.” He watches the waiter approach with two glasses, he places your drink in front of you motions the beer towards him. Accepting it gratefully he continues once the waiter has left. “I thought we weren’t to speak to each other anymore, what made you contact me?” He narrows his eyes, the blue of his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of curiosity.

Your body shivers and you glance away from him, you attempt to will your waiter back towards you. “We can talk about that later, no?” You motion towards him and he rushes over, you ask for two dry martinis. You both wait in silence.

The words that could release all the tension from your body spindle over your tongue incessantly, they almost materialise but you choose to rope him into small talk and pull updates about his life from him. He lets slip that he’s considering the possibility of being serious with the brunette; you remember her sweet features that harshly contrast your own. You make a biting remark that he’s always liked a plain Jane over your third glass; it’s met with a biting remark regarding your character.

You refuse his request to eat dinner with him after his comment; but you do ask him to accompany you to your building.

“I’ll walk you to your elevator.” He mumbles as you exit the restaurant. You nod in agreement; he lights a cigarette and offers you a drag. You smother your temptation, “It’s okay, actually.” You shiver as light pelts of rain shower you. The city is vibrant and lively, but the small bubble you find yourself encased in with him is dark and tempestuous; an unspoken tragedy clouding your day.

The contemplation of being in your apartment alone another night stabs you deep in the back.

You reach the lift of your lobby and you turn to each other. “Please come up with me,” your lip trembles with the weight of the unspoken truth. His eyes flash with concern and surprise. You make your way up to your apartment wordlessly, his hand brushing against you every time you move next to him.

Finding yourself with him in your bedroom, you lay on your bed, taking your shoes off with him watching silently at the end of your bed. He’s highlighted by the setting sun, orange hues paint him golden and blush. He invites himself onto your bed, sensing the melancholy in the air. There’s an odour of cigarettes that permeates the air near your bedside table.

Your back is to him, you feel his arms slink themselves around your waist. His chest presses against your back and you melt slightly into his touch. You missed him so much and the smell of him hauls you to the doors of paradise. How could you have possibly messed this up so much? Two tears slip from your eyes and you sniffle, his arms tighten around you and he comes impossibly closer. His face inches on top of yours, “Tell me what’s wrong?” His whisper is as tender as the wind and the soft touch of his voice makes you moan quietly.

You stare of into the horizon, your eyes being overwhelmed by the rays of sun. “I—” you hesitate. Your breath leaving your body, you pay attention to the movements of his hands, they stroke your stomach making you tremble. You stop in your tracks, alarm setting into your bones.

You turn to him; you can see the questioning look in his eyes. He doesn’t know.

You crash your lips into his, he barely has time to register your passion before he’s responding with his own heated response. His hands mould around your body with a newfound purpose. You want deep down to breathe him in and keep him with you forever. You roll on top of him, and your hands memorise every fibre of his face, his skin is smooth underneath your palms. He slips your dress off of your body, his fingers dance with your skin as he caresses your back.

He wants to stay like this forever. You tear his clothes off of him with an eager gentleness, his hands enclose your hips as you begin to ride him, your hips dance over him, your fingers slip in between his lips and he sucks on them. He pulls you closer to him, hugging you as you ride him. He thrusts into you from beneath and you almost crumble in his arms. “I love you so much—” you hear the words slip from in between his ajar lips, you lift your head and kiss him. Your martini saturated tongues waltz with each other in a feverish heat that leaves you both lightheaded.

You two play with each other’s bodies slowly, untangling each layer of each other’s guard. He slips on top of you with the grace of a gymnast. He nestles himself inside and you your noses rub together as he drives into you slowly, and deeply, with his hand clutching at your throat. You feel your insides liquifying with pleasure, your hands clasp onto his arms for help to grip onto reality. He’s here. Just here - with you.

“I love you, so, so much, Christopher.” You cry out as he increases his speed, the intensity of his movements making his hips meld with your clitoris. His spare hand moves from your breast to your face, he grips onto your throat with more firmness and you let out a sigh of content. Your eyes don’t leave his and he refuses to slow down, you feel yourself go into sensory overload. You feel waves of pleasure shower your body, stars ripple in between your fingers and toes and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your body is floating above your bed.

Chris pants as he maintains his speed, chasing his own maddening orgasm. “You’re so beautiful when you cum.” He breathes out as he lets go of himself inside you. His thumb traces over your bottom lip, he lowers himself down and plants a kiss on your lips. He breathes in your air and gives you a tight hug.

“I have to tell you something.” You whisper into the room. He’s laying next you, his arm draped over your waist. His lack of response for ten seconds is explained by the soft snores leaving him. You purse your lips, “I’m pregnant.” You utter into the atmosphere and turn away from him, you pray that maybe he can hear you; you pray in vain.

A newfound determination settles into your aching chest. You’ll let him know, for real - you’ll work something out; you’ll have your baby and be parents. You’ll be better than your own parents, you’re sure of it. Your hands settle over your stomach, you give your baby a silent apology for mistreating your body - your baby’s temple.

You’re lulled to sleep by the silence.

You wake with a start; the world is dark outside. You can’t feel his arm anymore, dread fills you to the brim as you sit up, your back towards the side he was sleeping on. You feel your heart hurting, you feel weak. You swallow your tears as you look out at the skyscrapers outside your room. Taking a deep breath, you turn slowly to the other side.

He’s still there.

You let out a deep sigh of relief, tears welling into your eyes and dropping out without caution. You let out a soft sob, you throw your arms around him and hold him tightly. He stirs as your tears fall onto his pectoral.

“Hey, everything okay?” He grumbles, worry saturating his voice. “Yes,” you breathe out slowly. He pulls you up to him and his eyes caress yours. You refuse to let him know what’s bothering you, there’s a silent understanding that you need him more than anything right now. You cover yourselves in a blanket, your half naked bodies are melded together as you walk across your apartment towards your terrace.

Chris lights the fire pit, you let your eyes roam his body freely. He sits down next you and you cover yourselves with the large blanket, his hand rests on your thigh.

“Why did you just leave me in Portofino?” Your whisper is carried by the wind and the noise of the three am traffic.

Chris sighs, his eyes lowering down to the fire pit in front of you. “I couldn’t bare the fact that after what you did to me, I still reached out to you, I invited you back into my life.” Your eyes well up with tears again, you want to be swallowed into the ground and dragged to the pits of hell. He looks back at you, his eyes searching for what’s in your own. “I know you’re sorry. But I just couldn’t understand why you did what you did; until I came across this quote that reminded me that hurt people, hurt people. I figured some digging into your past couldn’t hurt at that point. I’m sorry about what you had to go through.” His fingers leave whispered touches on your thigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You interject tearfully, he pulls you in, your head resting on his chest. The sound of his fast-beating heart grounds you into this moment.

“I know, I know.” He coos softly. His fingers stroke your cheek, simultaneously wiping away your tears. “I just wish you trusted me enough to let me into your little world. I wanted to know all of you, even the tiniest parts you didn’t even know, I guess you sensed it and you left me. So, I’m sorry for that, too.” You sniffle and let your head fall onto his lap. You look up at him with tears flowing out of your eyes slowly.

“You’re my everything. You’re— you’re my moon and my stars, I—, I—, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live without you.” He chokes over his own unshed tears.

“I love you.” Your words make a tear slip out of his eye.

“I love you too.” He thumb traces your lips softly, his touch gentle as if he were afraid you would turn into mist if he were not tender enough.

You slip into a dreamless sleep, the noise of the world encasing you into carnival of relaxation.

You open your eyes to the ceiling of your bedroom, illuminated by the afternoon sun. A cramp numbs the bottom half of your body. You clench your teeth and sit up, the sharp agony whirling around your system. Something’s not right. You clasp weakly at your stomach; you fail to ignore the pool you feel forming underneath your legs. You lower your fingers slowly, dread thickening in your heart, red darkens your fingertips. You choke back on a sob as another cramp solidifies itself in your stomach, you crumple over, tears streaming out of your eyes. “Chris…” you choke out. Fear paralyses you in your bed.

Chris is nowhere in sight. You gather the little strength you have left in your arms and will yourself towards your bathroom. You drag your bleeding body towards your toilet, blood smears trailing behind you. Small whimpers leave your body as you finally reach the toilet, you pull some tissue towards you and pat the blood away. More leaves you, a heavy flow that makes your insides feel like they’re being pulverised. You’ve gone and done it; you have killed your baby.

You sob loudly, blood smearing over your half-covered body, “My baby—". Your body is racked with the undulating guilt that attacks your system. Tears pour uncontrollably from your eyes; you fight to take in breaths. Your heart feels like it’s breaking - literally. The stiffness in your chest spreads across your ribs and constricts your airflow.

You desperately clutch at your chest, wanting your fingers to tear into your skin and fix your heart. It feels like you’re on fire.

You’re dying.

Darkness blankets your vision; spots of clarity allow you to merely reach the door of your bathroom.

Chris sits at your desk, his phone pressed to your ear. Your doctor’s words feeling like stones in his stomach - he’s diagnosed you with severe depression and fears that a mildly stressful event may be enough to cause an onset of more severe physical problems. You entrusted Chris as your next of kin, in case your doctor believed something awful had happened to you. He listens intently to the information that is relayed to him - you have an inflamed artery. It could lead to your death. The doctor’s words make his stomach sink.

The call ends with Chris promising to accompany you to your appointments and he notes down the number of the referred psychiatrist.

A small wail comes from far away in the apartment, Chris sighs and stands up. He strides quickly to your room, the sight that greets him almost makes him retch. Your blood soils the room. Your body is still, your breaths are shallow and fast. Your hand is clutched over chest, your face distorted with pain riddled in the pores of your skin.

“Baby,” he calls out immediately and crouches down towards you. He feels for your pulse and panic lines his stomach; he grabs for your phone quickly and calls for help. He barely registers what he does in the next two minutes but all he can do is clutch onto you with all his might.

“Tell me what’s wrong, huh?” he whimpers, he pulls you onto his arm. He cradles you, his face pressed against yours. “Come on, you’re supposed to be my favourite girl, you can’t play with me like this…” he chokes out a frantic chuckle.

You’re barely responsive. “B—Baby, stay with me. Stay with me, okay,” he taps your face as his tears roll onto your skin, “don’t leave me.” He begs as his hands tremble. “What am I going to do without my moon and my stars, huh? How can my world go on without you?” His sobs shaking you lightly, your eyes flicker. “Don’t leave me.” He implores, sobs ripping his throat apart.

He can hear the door opening, the flurry of movements that happens around you two separates your bodies away from each other. He grips onto your limp hand desperately, tears blinding him as the paramedics rush you away from him.

He can’t feel his body as he falls to ground, watching your limp hand hanging from the side of the gurney.

The lift doors shut behind the paramedics.

He never sees you again.

Nevertheless, he still loves you, he'll always love you.

Fin.

@chvntelle-99,@harrysthiccthighss,@tessa-bl

#chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans series #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers #andy barber #andy barber imagine #andy barber fluff #chris evans fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Eventual Osamu x Reader

Rating: E for fucking Samu in the car :-)

Word Count: 4.4k of Miya twin shenanigans, fluff, then eventual smut

Summary: A hopeful love and a blossomed love; years of wishing on candles and they’re both content.

a/n: @powderblew ur the hopeful love my beloved

Contrary to popular belief, Miya Atsumu does not speed. Yes, he nearly loses his mind on the interstate every other day but his road rage is completely contained to cursing in the confines of his car. Most people think Atsumu’s the reckless driver with his loud personality and penchant for pulling off risky moves on the court, but surprisingly, it’s his counterpart who fully believes that the actual speed limit is at least ten above the posted signage and weaves through lanes with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh.

Atsumu got Osamu the car as a birthday gift—black, sleek, and quiet. He had been dropping hints for weeks but Osamu had brushed them off, figuring his brother was spewing incoherent nonsense.

It was the weekend before their birthday. They decided to take a trip to the mountains—it was rare at this point in their young adult lives to have the free time to spend with each other. Osamu was busy with the shop: serving customers, preparing food, and trying new dishes. Getting Onigiri Miya off the ground was a seven day work week with early mornings and late nights. Atsumu on the other hand, had regularly scheduled practices and travel matches with the team. Although his schedule was incredibly hectic, there was a sort of rhythmic regularity to it.

So, for the first weekend in a long time where it would be just them, Atsumu wanted it to be special. Afterall, it was their birthday. Atsumu was the one who drove them to the campsite, taking in the scenery with appreciation, going slowly on the winding roads while mindlessly tapping a beat on the steering wheel. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Osamu could tell his brother was antsy.

His eyes would flicker from the road, to Osamu, then back again. His mindless tapping to the music turned into an incessant drilling and he kept readjusting his legs and changing his hand position on the wheel, fidgeting in his seat.

“Wouldya’ quit that, yer gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Osamu said, exaggeratingly clutching to the grab handle at the top of his window.

“Yer really gonna yell at me on ma’ birthday that’s jus’ like ya’ Samu—”

“It’s ma’ birthday too ya’ idiot!”

The sound of his brother’s bickering quelled Atsumu’s nerves and he settled in the driver’s seat, humming along to the song playing on the speakers. In response, Osamu turned up the volume, but Atsumu just grinned.

“You will arrive at your destination in .2 miles,” the smooth voice of the GPS chimed.

Atsumu began fidgeting again and Osamu swore he was gonna punch him the moment they made it out of the death trap.

They pulled into the winding driveway and Osamu banged his head against the dashboard.

“Please tell me ya’ didn’t screw up the reservation,” he said quietly.

“What kinda idiot, do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined. Although Osamu couldn’t see with his forehead pressed against the polished wood interior, Atsumu was smiling.

“Then why is there another car parked in our spot?” Osamu deadpanned, turning his head to his brother, still pressed into the dash.

“Look again an’ eat yer words ya’ scrub.”

Driving slowly forward towards the car and parking next to it, Osamu realized that a bright red bow was tied to the hood. He stilled in his seat and stared dumbly out his window, slowly turning towards his brother.

“Do ya’ like it, Samu?” Atsumu nearly whispered, leaning in close to his brother, eyes wide, committing every micro reaction to memory.

Osamu blinked once. Twice. Then turned back to the car.

“Yeah, Tsumu,” he said shakily, “I really do.”

Against the burning in his throat and the tightening of his eyes, Osamu willed himself to remain composed when he heard rustling. Atsumu took out a crumpled and worn piece of notebook paper, its edges frayed and torn and began to smooth it out in his palms.

He cleared his throat and stared at the empty space across Osamu’s shoulder.

“So, uh…” he began, uncharacteristically shy and Osamu sent a prayer that this wasn’t a speech about how Tsumu had somehow accidentally razed Onigiri Miya to the ground in the short period that he wasn’t there and this was all an elaborate apology.

“I know that this year’s been tough with Onigiri Miya jus’ startin’ out an’ everythin’ but I jus’ wanted to say,” Atsumu trailed off and scratched his ear before suddenly, startling Osamu, squaring his shoulders and directing a piercing stare into his brother’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you Samu!” he nearly yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Osamu felt the heat prickle against his neck and all he could do was blink owlishly at his twin.

“What on Earth are ya’ goin’ on about?” he questioned incredulously.

“Okay, okay, wait I wrote it all down,” Atsumu said quickly, smoothing the worn paper once again. He cleared his throat a few times before reading.

“Osamu—”

“Oh my god is this a proposal, why is this so formal?” Osamu asked out loud.

“God, shut yer big ol’ trap wouldya I am tryin’ here,” Atsumu bit back to the amusement of his twin. “Anyways,” he grumbled. “Samu. I’ve been thinkin’ for a while and I jus’ wanted to say thank ya’ for always bein’ there for me.”

Osamu did not often feel stupid. Well, that’s a lie, he thought. It’s been a year since Onigiri Miya’s opening and he was only just beginning to feel as if he was able to call his job stable and that he had a solid understanding of how things should be ran. However, it was not often that his brother made him feel stupid, but here he was, at a loss for words at this uncharacteristic show of appreciation.

Yes, high fives and hugs had always come easily after a particularly clean hit or a perfectly executed pass, but they never sat down like this and talked about how much they appreciated each other. Osamu figured it was unsaid in the little things—how the clothes Atsumu stole in high school always ended back clean in Osamu’s closet, how Osamu usually ended up making two bentos when they still lived together, or how Atsumu had always tried to include Osamu in team bonding even when Osamu was in college.

“I think,” Atsumu said, breaking Osamu out of his thoughts. “That you were what made me work so hard at volleyball. Not because you were the only one that could challenge me,” Osamu scoffed at this. “But because you were the only one I cared to play with for a long time.”

Tears pricked at his eyes and Osamu nodded at his brother to continue.

“An’ thinkin’ back, yer probably the only reason why ma’ teammates didn’t excommunicate me like they did to Tobio-kun,” Atsumu joked and Osamu cracked a smile despite the burning of his throat.

“An’ I know we’ve talked about this before, but I am still really sorry when I went off on ya’ when ya’ told me you were quittin’ volleyball. I don’t mean to beat a dead horse or anything—”

“You sound like Baa-chan,” Samu choked out, still trying to hold back tears, hands balled into fists on his lap.

Undeterred, Atsumu continued to read. “But the fact that fer the first time, ya’ wouldn’t be by my side on the court was jus’ never a possibility I’d considered. So ‘m sorry ‘bout the fuss I made even though I know that’s all old news.” He paused and nodded at Osamu, noting his fists and drew in a shaky breath.

“’Samu, I jus’ want to let ya’ know that I am so endlessly proud to be yer brother and all the work ya’ put in in college and startin’ Miya Onigiri honestly scared me a little,” he said chuckling. “The way you really focus in on somethin’ when yer concentrating was always so intense, but I’d only really seen it with volleyball. But ever since you went to college, and especially with this past year, I can’t believe I fought you to go pro with me because I’d never seen ya’ more fired up or intense than ya’ have been this past year.”

The sides of Atsumu’s paper begin to tear with the force of his grip, and both twins are mirror images of each other. Red in the face, hands in fists, and willing the other to cry first.

“Basically,” Atsumu drawled on, hands slightly shaking, “thank ya’ for bein’ the best brother and teammate I coulda’ ever asked for and I’m so, so, proud to be the brother of the founder of Onigiri Miya.” He lowered the paper from his line of vision and accidentally crumbled it with his hand as he blurt out, “And I love you!” turning even redder in embarrassment. “Even though ya’ never respond to my texts and make fun a’ me when I bring my teammates ‘round,” he quickly added in.

Osamu undid his seatbelt and forcefully opened his door. He heard Atsumu’s confused “huh” and watched as he fumbled with his seatbelt through the windshield as he crossed to the other side. Atsumu stumbled out of the driver’s seat and Osamu captured him in a bone crushing hug. One hand wrapped around his back and the other held Atsumu’s head as he cried into his neck.

He thought back to the first semester of culinary school when he questioned himself every single day if it was the right choice to have made. Learning and practicing different techniques that felt foreign was a hurdle that had seemed impossible at the time. Then, when he graduated and he figured he knew almost everything there was to know about the food industry after hours and hours of lab, internships, and class and began preparations for opening Miya Onigiri, he realized once again that he knew nothing. Even a year after founding Miya Onigiri and he still found himself doubting his success.

But, hearing his idiot brother tell him he was proud—was all he needed. Because Miya Osamu also pushed himself to the upper limits of his physical and mental abilities because his brother was the only one he wanted to compete with. It didn’t matter who else might try and challenge them, at the end of their finish lines, the only person they wanted to see was each other.

The autumnal air was incredibly crisp and although the forest surrounding their luxury cabin was teeming with life, time around them seemed to still as they both cried.

“This is too much, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sniffled out. “My gift ta’ ya’ was literally like, two hundred dollars.”

“It’s okay,” sniffled Atsumu. He paused. “What’d ya’ get me?”

Osamu pulled away and wiped his face with the bottom hem of his sweater.

“I got ya’ a signed copy of that book you were yappin’ on about with yer favorite author and I got her to make a video for ya’ sayin’ happy birthday and all that—”

“Oh my god,” Atsumu said excitedly, “Yer tellin’ me ya’ got Sonia Barnes to write me a handwritten message and a private video!?”

Osamu grimaced at the snot Atsumu had dripping down his chin. “First of all don’t say it like that, an’ second of all, wipe yer nose or somethin’ ya’ scrub.”

Completley ignoring his brother’s complaints, Atsumu lunged at Osamu, begging him to show him the video. Osamu tapped at his phone, opened up the email attachment, and watched the myriad expressions of surprise, admiration, love, and happiness flicker across Atsumu’s face during a 20 second video while red eyed and swollen. He mused that this was possibly the best birthday they ever had.

“Let’s take this baby on a test drive,” Osamu said, eagerly waiting by the door as Atsumu watched his birthday video for the umpteenth time.

That Sonia Barnes was a very pretty lady, Osamu reasoned, but if he had to hear her chirp, “Happy Birthday Tsumu!” one more time, she was going to be the cause of fratricide.

Settling into the leather seat, Osamu pressed the start button and nearly cooed at the soft rumble of the engine.

Throwing himself into the passenger’s seat Atsumu said, “Let’s figure out how ta’ connect to Bluetooth so I can hear ma’ angel on speaker,” fiddling with the touch screen.

Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s phone and threw it in the backseat and put the car in drive just as Atsumu started to clamber in the back for it. He peeled down the driveway as Atsumu screamed and picked up speed down the secluded road as Atsumu managed to get back in his seat and secure the seat belt.

The pretty autumn foliage was a blur of orange and reds and Osamu breathed in the smell of new leather and wood polish.

“S-slow down!” Atsumu yelled, quickly activating the lock function on the seatbelt and gripping the grab handle with both hands. “I-is this b-because I told the whole team you’d giv’ em’ free food if they said they were my teammate,” he screamed, “I’ll tell ‘em nevermind!”

Osamu rolled down the windows and the sun roof and laughed as the wind ran through his hair while his brother cried for the second time that day.

A year later and Osamu’s still in the driver’s seat of his car, but this time, she’s in the passenger’s seat. They have all the windows down and he’s speeding along the coast of Hyogo, sea breeze whipping through their hair and the sound of waves breaking in the distance.

She had planned a full day for his birthday: brunch at their favorite restaurant, a walk through the shopping district, and a homemade dinner with a fruit tart from his favorite bakery. Now that he had two years of experience running Onigiri Miya, he could afford to step away from the shop every so often. Unfortunately, his counterpart was on the other side of the world for a match, but they managed to squeeze in a short videocall despite the time difference.

“’Samu!” Atsumu screamed from the other line, “Happy Birthday!”

Wincing, Osamu turned the volume of his phone down as she giggled and wished his brother a Happy Birthday.

“What’d ya’ plan for Samu’s birthday,” Atsumu asked her, “good luck beatin’ ma’ gift from last year—”

“Tsumu!” Osamu berated.

“Unfortunately, my research job doesn’t pay as much as being a pro-volleyballer,” she rolled her eyes, “but I do have some fun things lined up,” she said, smiling softly at Osamu to which Atsumu gagged.

“Ya’ scrub, just ‘cause yer jealous—”

“Tsumu!” she interrupted, “did you get our gift? We were a little nervous about the international shipping but your hotel said they got it so—”

“Yes!” Atsumu exclaimed, screen blurry as he shuffled around his hotel room. He set his phone down and propped it up, showing them the neatly packaged box. “I can’t believe ya’ got me another signed copy of Sonia Barnes’s book—I couldn’t even get this one off preorder, it was so popular—”

“Did ya’ open the envelope yet?” Osamu asked impatiently.

“Of course I did! I always open the letter before the present, what do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined, but the duo noticed how Atusmu’s hands were off screen and they could hear quiet tearing noises in between pauses.

Rolling their eyes, they patiently waited for Atsumu to unsubtly open their envelope. They watched as Atsumu quickly scanned the contents of the letter and Osamu hit screen record as his brother’s mouth dropped open.

“T-tickets to a live reading and meet and greet?” Atsumu whispered to himself. He pulled the letter closer to his face and read it over and over again before gingerly setting the cardstock down and gently looking into the envelope to produce two ticket stubs. Carefully placing the tickets back into the envelope, Osamu failed to cover his snickers as Atsumu’s lower lip trembled.

“I know it’s no car,” she said, “but I do happen to know people who know people, so I hope you like your gift, ‘Tsumu” she said kindly.

Atsumu suddenly held the phone close to his face and Osamu could see his brother’s ears turn pink.

“Yer the best sister in law I coulda’ ever asked for, I don’t know why yer with that good fer nothin’ scrub—yer not married yet, so ya’ still have time to run away, but ‘Samu, ya’ better not mess it up,” he rambled, roughly wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Osamu scoffed and she placed a placating hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe I get ta’ meet ma’ angel,” Atsumu mumbled to himself in disbelief, pacing in his hotel room, running his hands through his hair. “Angel, angel, angel—I gotta bring ma’ copy of her books with ma’ notes! I have so many questions for her, like how she came up with the storyline—didya know she went to school in New York City? Isn’t that the coolest? And she made a video for me for ma’ birthday last year,” he broke his monologue to gasp. “Do ya’ think she’ll remember me—”

Osamu put him on mute and groaned.

“Maybe we shoulda jus’ gotten him those fancy mugs,” he complained, leaning heavily into her side.

She rubbed the sides of his neck as she watched with amusement as Atsumu continued his ramblings, completely unaware that she and Osamu were having a side conversation.

“But look how happy he is, Samu,” she crooned, giggling as Osamu pinched his nose bridge. But she knew that Osamu was the one who spent hours scouring the web for those tickets and sent several emails to Sonia Barnes’s manager for a signed copy.

Watching his brother run his mouth with no regard to himself or his girlfriend, Osamu clicked the unmute button and nearly yelled, “We get it ya’ scrub, we get it!”

“Let me be happy why dontcha!” Atsumu retorted.

“Alright well I’m gonna spend ma’ birthday with ma’ real girlfriend,” Osamu taunted, finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button.

“Once Sonia meets me she’s gonna fall in love, just ya’ wait!”

She yelled one last, “Happy Birthday!” before Osamu disconnected the call and tackled her into the bed.

For the end of his birthday, Osamu requested a car ride. It was just past sunset; the sky’s vibrant pinks and oranges faded into a cool indigo and the stars were extra bright in the rural area they were driving through.

They rode in comfortable silence, listening to seagulls call their good nights and the wind beating against the car. The supple leather of the seat underneath her contrasted with the rough pads of Osamu’s fingertips on her thigh and she stared out at the horizon, perpetually in awe of the beauty of the coast line. Here, twinkling city lights were hardly discernible specks in the distance and the only tall structures were the trees dotting the cliffside.

They rose higher in altitude until they were surrounded by lush forest—rustling underbush and singing cicadas took over the sound crashing waves. He pulled into a secluded nook that overlooked a cliff and she couldn’t believe they were only a forty minute drive from the main city.

He killed the engine and unbuckled her seat belt while she was still leaning forward, face close to the windshield, taking in the scenery.

“I’m feelin’ a bit neglected over here,” Osamu said, soft grin taking over his face as he watched her, lips parted and eyes wide.

“Sorry Samu,” she said, still looking out the glass, “it’s just so incredible here.”

“I told ya’ I knew a spot,” he teased and she intertwined her hand with his.

He pulled her arm towards him as leaned over the middle console so his lips caught her neck when she lurched towards him. Her surprised chuckle turned into a content hum, fluttering her eyes closed as he kissed the pulse point of her throat, her exposed shoulder, then where her neck met her clavicle. From there, he dragged his lips slowly to her ear and grinned when he felt her clutch at his sweater.

Nipping her ear and tracing the shell with his tongue, rough palms kneaded her thighs and his fingers played with the hem of her skirt. He let out a heavy breath when she brushed against his tightening pants and he smirked when she involuntarily shivered.

“Do ya’ like this?” he asked, mouth kissing down the expanse of her chest, pulling the hem of her shirt low.

She arched her back into him and guided his hand under her shirt and he grinned when she impatiently unhooked her bra and took it and her shirt off in one swift motion.

“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes half lidded, lips slick with spit and plump from his repeated ministrations, she had one leg folded under her and the other anchored to the floor. Fully facing him, she cocked her head to the side and dragged her eyes down his body, lingering for a moment before directing her heavy gaze at him. She leaned back against the door as he leaned forward on the middle console and she ran a hand slowly from her knee, teasing a peek under her skirt, tracing a finger around her navel, then making her way upwards, rolling a nipple with two fingers while slowly rocking her hips.

Osamu’s lips parted and his eyes flickered from her hands to her face as she brought her other hand to rub at the cotton beneath her legs. Gaze hungry, he licked his lips and rolled his neck, languidly leaning back against his door, mirroring her.

“Gonna give me a birthday show?” He rasped, slowly unbuttoning his pants and palming his length through his boxers.

Skirt bunched at the waist giving him an unhindered view of the growing wet stain between her legs and Osamu felt himself tighten at the sight. He wanted to press his nose against the ruined fabric and lap at her through her pink panties, he wanted to curl a finger in her and listen to her keel for him, he wanted to—

“Take your shirt off,” she demanded.

“I thought it was ma’ birthday,” he chuckled but does as she asks, pulling the fabric from the back of his neck. He tossed the garment to the backseat and lazily looked back at her.

The tops of her cheeks are flushed and her breasts shake with each pant. She’s worked two slender fingers from the side of her underwear and Osamu watches with rapt attention as her pretty folds are presented to him.

“Touch yourself, Samu.”

“Again with the demands,” he complained but freed himself from the confines of his boxers and matches the pace she’s set on herself.

“Fuck,” she whined, moving faster. The hand teasing her nipples moved south to pinch at her clit and Osamu couldn’t wait anymore.

He nearly launched himself to her, abdomen uncomfortably resting on top of the center console and she seemed all too satisfied with the result. He buried his face between her legs and groaned with her as he sucked and lapped at her overstimulated bundle of nerves through soaked cotton.

“Itadakimasu,” he growled and she rolled her eyes at the line.

Long languid licks interspersed with quick flicks of his tongue, he took her right to the edge of her orgasm. Her thighs clenched around his head while her nails dragged through his gray hair and she rocked her hips against his mouth. Toe curling heat had her buck helplessly against his tongue, rough hands gripping her in place as she reached her peak, but at the last second, he pulled away.

Her gasp was lost with the loud bang his head made as it slammed against the car ceiling and he let out a string of curses as he tried to fit in the passenger’s seat with her. She half stands, leaning back on the glove department as he sat down and she couldn’t help but giggle when he cursed at how slowly the seat was reclining back.

But just as quick, he grabbed her by the hands and has her straddle him. The seat is narrow but neither of them mind as he slowly entered her. She gripped at the back of his head as he teased a nipple and sucked constellations across her chest while her other hand gripped the grab handle, giving her more leverage.

Osamu slowly rocked into her and he captured her moans in a kiss. He gave her a second to adjust to his length before slamming into her, head falling back into the headrest as he watched her bounce above him.

Beautiful, was all he could think. Hair wild around her shoulders, a glistening sheen of perspiration across her forehead and chest, and the incredible sound of her slick around him. He was in heaven.

He slid his thumb between her parted lips and she immediately began to suck. She bobbed her head back and forth while giving kitten licks at the tip and nipping the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he pressed his finger further back in her throat and watched as her eyes rolled back and she rocked her hips even faster against his.

Removing his thumb and making a show of putting it in his mouth, he pressed the wet digit against her clit and grinned as her moans became louder.

The sweet call of his name as she begged him to make her finish led him to snap his hips up, rubbing against the spongy bit of her inner walls and he held her close to his chest as they came undone together.

Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and watched as a rivulet of sweat ran down the valley of her breasts and he shifted his hips forward, just now noticing the dull ache in his thighs. She shuddered against him and he kissed her shoulder, her cheek, then her other cheek.

“We really have to thank Tsumu for the car,” she said, chuckling.

“Yeah?” he questioned, running his blunt nails across her back, “should we tell him what we used it for?”

She scrunched her nose and Osamu’s heart clenched too. Wrapping her arms around his neck, soaking in the warmth of his warm body, her lips ghosted the side of his cheek and he shuddered at the tingles running down his back with the contact.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Samu,” she whispered sweetly.

Rocking into her again just to hear her breath tick, he nestled his head into her neck and smiled.

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