#But if it feels like my life is over? I just. I just can't. I'll still scream and cry and pulp my legs bruised and hands bleeding
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i told my mum about dr ratio and she called him a cad. so i wrote a drabble about it.
“I told my mother about you,” you say, quietly watching Ratio work away at the papers he was marking. You watch as he circles a big, fat ‘0’ in red in the top right hand corner of the paper, before putting it aside. He looked up at you. “And what did she say?”
You pause, dropping your gaze to the table top, unsure of how to go about this. "...She called you a cad."
Silence. No scribbling pen, not even a sound of an inhale or exhale from the man sitting in front of you. The table top is the most interesting thing you've ever laid eyes on right now. Ratio is so still, you'd think he'd have turned into one of those sculptures he made and taunted enemies with.
"...We...I haven't even...met her." For the first time in all the years you've known the man, he's utterly unable to formulate a single coherent sentence. Looking up, you see him staring at you wide-eyed, slack-jawed, and he looks devastated. "What did you say?"
"I—! Nothing! Nothing incriminating! I just told her that your life's purpose is eradicating idiocy and that you..."
Okay, I did kind of tell her that you're massively self-assured and that you walk around with an alabaster mask on all the time. But you don't want to break his heart too much. And that I hated you so much I love you.
His eyes narrow into slits. "Let me guess. You told her I throw chalk at people."
The ceiling fan's patterned movement is suddenly very fascinating.
"Aeons, woman, are you trying to get your mother to break us up?" Ratio drops his pen and stands, his hands on his hips. "I can't believe it! You probably made me sound like some lunatic that impales his students with sticks of chalk when they get a question wrong!"
"You..." kind of do. But pointing that out probably wouldn't be wise. Fumbling for something to say, you come out with, "I just told her that you need to be humbled! And that I'm...in the process of humbling you! Nothing too bad."
He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation. "Darling, please don't tell me you told her I drop a pillar on my opponent when I'm in a battle."
"I..." Yes, I did. You probably should've kept your mouth shut. And then your mother exclaimed, 'so he murders people!' and you had to scramble to explain that he kills aliens and such, not people. She didn't have a bar of it.
"Wonderful! Now she thinks I go around crushing people with columns for fun!" You had a feeling Ratio's reaction wouldn't be good. But not this bad.
"It's okay, maybe you two can meet and you'll put on your best behaviour and won't call her an idiot." You get to your feet and pat his arm comfortingly. "Treat her with respect, and she'll like you."
He actually looks like he's about to cry. "It's hopeless. Your mother probably hates me now. She called me a cad! A cad! All because you told her I hate idiocy."
"You're not going to...leave me for this, right?" Your voice is small, and you're suddenly very afraid that you really took it too far. "I'm sorry..."
"No! I'm leaving you over this. I just...need to think of a way to convince her that I don't run around stabbing people with chalk." The papers he was marking are now forgotten and he begins pacing. "What does she like? Cookies? Macarons? Apple pie?"
"My mother likes wine and cheesecake," you respond, watching him walk back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in quite the tizz. "White wine. Likes champagne, too. Um...and she loves chocolate. She'll force you to marry me if you give her chocolate."
"Perfect! Well, then, ask your mother if she is alright with meeting me, and I'll come along with gifts of champagne, cheesecake and chocolate. How about it?"
Good thing my father wasn't in the room when I smack-talked Ratio to her. It would've been much, much worse. "Uh, yeah, alright. Just beware, though, you're going to have to woo my father, as well."
Ratio gave a long-suffering sigh. "What does he like?"
And suddenly the Doctor of Idiots was running around collecting all these gifts for your parents. Perhaps it did work out for the better, since now you're sure he's desperate to stay with you.
#hsr dr ratio#dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#hsr drabbles#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#star rail#honkai star rail dr ratio#dr ratio hsr#is this a self-insert? nah not really#but yes everything i wrote about my mother is real#i love her so much#she's so iconic omg#and wow 2 fics in one day im on a ROLL#and yes that dr ratio longfic is coming along. just wait a bit longer the chapter planning is almost done <3
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helen ; chapter five
be seeing you
Si vis pacem, para bellum.
Or, the choice.
series masterlist | my masterlist
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship, sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, tess cameo, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, bamf miller bros, smut, fingering, joel is an emotional munch, shower sex, unprotected PIV, handjob, male whimpering, conflicting emotions, orgasms aplenty, Big Angst and Big Sad but also Big Epiphanies, ambiguous ending, i'm getting emotional writing these tags, it feels so final, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika
word count: ~ 9.3k
a/n: hi, friends. i can't believe we're already at the end of the main story, and tbh if i think about it too much i'll probably cry. i want to thank @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter as always and giving me the guidance and support i need. we'll have an epilogue after this chapter, so there's still more to look forward to, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy and thank you so so much for reading. xoxo
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Her eyes are so sad, you think, stepping back to take in the full scope of the canvas. It’s doused in paint from corner to corner, still wet to the touch, the woman and her lover intertwined so thoroughly that it’s difficult to tell where they both end. It’s in shades of glum blue and flecks of angry red and brown where his eye watches you. But it’s her eyes that cannot lift to meet yours. It’s her lashes that fan across her cheeks as she casts her gaze toward the bottom edge where the canvas is wrapped taut around the wood.
The sun will soon rise, but you haven’t slept. The contours of the sky are washed in a haze of greys and pale blues and light pink and the air smells warm, heavy—a storm about to roll in. The clouds on the horizon are thick with a blackening rage. You sit in the alcove by the window and put your temple to the cool glass. You yawn. Joel does not come back.
“Do you think it's true,” you asked him one night, your head on his chest, hand on his heart, “that art makes nothing happen?”
Joel, drawing shapes on your back, dozing off in the golden light of the sunrise, frowned. “Someone tell you that?”
“It's something my art teacher used to say,” you told him. “No matter how much it moves people, it doesn't do anything.”
“Your art teacher sounds like a fuckin’ downer.”
You laughed, hiking your thigh up over his hip and playfully biting his jaw. “So it's bullshit?”
“I think,” said Joel, tucking his chin to kiss the top of your head, “that your art makes people feel. It brings ‘em together. It's important because it's yours.”
You propped your head up on his chest and threaded your fingers through his too-long hair, overdue for a trim. A curl draped over his forehead, his beard patchy and soft under the pads of your fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me,” you said. “I wonder why the universe brought you to me.”
Joel shook his head, guiding his rough, callused fingers up your arm, curling them around your wrist, gently prodding your veins. “Wasn't the universe,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t a choice. I was yours the second I saw you. So, I guess it's your fault.”
You just rolled your eyes and kissed him, mouth to smiling mouth.
Your paintings may be yours, made with life and energy and colour, but when they are finished, they don’t move. They are stagnant as a heavy rock beneath a cliffside, washed over and over again by the cresting waves, its salt stolen for the water, eternal damnation to a fate of non-movement. And sometimes an artist will walk under the cliff, shove their easel into the fleshy ground the way a man erects his country’s flag in the earth he has stolen, and paint the rock. The artist is moved by the breathtaking colours of the shore and the way the wind flutters through the grass. But the rock does not budge. It never will.
Your art will never erupt from the boundaries of the canvas and tell you what it means. The lovers in your painting will not tear open their mouths like the seams holding a wound together. They will not tell you what they want, need, crave. They are you, and that is what you hate—because dimpled flesh and lustful fingers and the press of his mouth to her throat cannot tell you what you’re supposed to do.
You had become complacent in his love for you. You had let him press his worn hands to your body and pull your soul out through his mouth and you had been a wife, while all the time there was a stranger who occupied his heart, a spirit in an abandoned body. All the time, he'd been haunted. And although you had loved him, your love had not been enough to exorcise the guilt and trauma, pecking at him, an eagle at his liver.
Crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the easel, you press your fingers to the corner of the canvas. The paint is cool to the touch, and you leave behind fingerprints where your signature should be. Pulling your hand back, you examine the accumulation of colour, the blues and reds swirling into the deep purple of a bruise, the bodies on a canvas that may only ever mean something to you, and you wonder, Is this all I am? A cautionary tale, a love lost? A fucking footnote at the end of a clause that reads: “See, for example, the one who never loved deeply enough to make it count”?
You bring your hand to your face to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes and blink hard at the sting, realising you’ve smeared paint across your cheekbones.
In the bathroom, you scrub furiously, the cloying scent of it clinging to your throat and your tear ducts, washing away the evidence of their entwined bodies, their love, your pain.
Once, you tried to get Joel to paint. You sat behind him on your bench, your legs bracketing his hips, your paintbrush in his hand.
“I don’t know where to start,” he said.
Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. “There’s no rulebook.”
He tried to turn his head and kiss you, but you nipped his ear in reproach. “Remember when you took me out driving at the airstrip because you wanted me to feel the road? Think of this like feeling the canvas. Go on, cowboy. Make nothing happen.”
Joel’s painting still hangs over your shared bed. The intruders never found it, or never cared enough to destroy it. It’s a candle, just a candle, its lines imprecise, the paint unevenly applied in places, the shine of the flame more orange than yellow. But it’s a painting, so the candle always burns. He titled it Love.
The pain still sits low in your chest, pulling down your heart as if tied to it by a string. But Joel is still out there, fighting his way back to you, the way he always has, always will. You look down at your left hand, clutching the edge of the marble vanity, and decide to clean your wedding ring.
“I’m sorry, brother,” says Tommy, turning the gun on Joel.
“What the fuck are you doing?” growls Joel, struggling against his bonds. The clip rattles faintly in his brother’s hand as a tremor courses through him.
“He’s following my orders,” says Cabrera, clapping his hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Fascinating what a man will do when he must consider his family’s well-being.”
Joel sucks on his teeth, his eyes not once leaving his brother.
“It's my son,” Tommy says through his teeth. “It's Maria. If I don't do this—”
“Yeah? You gonna kill me, Tommy? Is that why your hand’s shakin’?”
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” his brother snaps. “You think I want to do this? I gotta save my family, Joel. You know what that's like.”
“All I’ve done for you,” says Joel, his hands curling into fists behind his back, “and you put a bullet in my head?”
“Not just your head, Joel,” says Cabrera. “When we're done with you, we’ll take your pretty girl as payment for my son’s life.”
Joel growls like a dog, blood roaring in his ears. “Kill me yourself, you goddamned coward. Kill me yourself and don’t you mention my wife again, or I swear to Christ—”
“You take His name in vain a lot for a nonbeliever,” says Cabrera, pulling his sleeves through his coat and setting his teeth as he looks toward Tommy once more. “Do it.”
“Yeah, brother,” Joel says darkly, “do it.”
Tommy nods once, planting his foot and pivoting. Five distinct sounds of handguns cocking echo throughout the warehouse as Tommy points the barrel between Manuel Cabrera’s eyes.
“Now that I’ve got a gun to your head,” he says evenly, “you can go ahead and pull that contract.”
Joel at last twists his wrists free of the ropes that bind them and shucks down the sleeves of his jacket to rub the raw skin. Not one soul does a goddamn thing to stop him as he rises to his feet. His chest heaves, his open lungs coarse and wet with a brittle rage, his exposed heart throbbing red, transparent as the stained glass windows of the church.
God does not tolerate anger, said the Sisters, again and again, bringing down the whip across his back. Sinew and bone and skin peeling back to lay bare some tender part of him they sought to rot out. Put your energy into His worship.
Slowly, Cabrera lifts his hands, sneering. “Your wife,” he warns, “and your unborn son—”
“Are family,” says Tommy. “Just like my brother. Now tell your guys to put down their guns and I won't kill you where you stand.”
Joel joins Tommy at his side. “Took you long enough,” he says under his breath.
“Got held up,” he says. “Your wife’s a good artist.”
“Yeah, whatever. You bring me a gun?”
“I’m sure you can find one yourself.”
“Jesus, Tommy. I’m too old for this.” Joel turns to Cabrera and glares at the same stubborn arrogance that once gleamed in his son’s eye. “You pull the contract, and I’ll leave for good.”
Cabrera’s laugh weans out in the air like rings of smoke. “You think you can really leave, Joel? You think that there won't be consequences for what you've done to my son?”
“Yeah,” says Joel, “I think I’ll take my chances.”
“And you?” Cabrera’s lip curls up at Tommy, whose gun no longer wavers in his grasp. “I promised your wife and child security. You’re willing to throw that away?”
“My wife and child are safe because I don’t take deals from men like you,” says Tommy. “You trusted a Miller to turn on his own blood, Manuel. That was stupid. Now pull the contract.”
“So this is your great suicide mission.” Cabrera smiles, a man who knows he has lost or a man who still expects not to. “A man who has seen Hell does not willingly descend back into its depths—not unless he likes the taste.”
Joel feels the corner of his mouth twitch, a wound on his cheek reopening. “Maybe I do,” he says plainly. “Maybe it’ll taste even better when I take you down with me.”
The gleam in Cabrera’s eye shifts as his gaze flickers behind Tommy. Night has since descended, and yet the predator’s eye glints in anticipation of the hunt. Joel turns and shoves his brother out of the way—just as the shot rings out.
He hears Tommy’s breath punch out of him as they both hit the concrete hard. Joel tears the handgun from his brother’s grasp and puts a bullet between each of the two men behind them. He rolls behind one of the hulking bodies and holds up his weight as a shield against the incoming bullets. Tommy takes the dead man’s gun and fires at the remaining three assailants. Only one shot misses, but Joel sends his brother a look anyway and finishes the job.
“Rusty,” grunts Tommy, pushing himself to his feet.
Joel grimaces as he accepts his brother’s outstretched hand, his wrists bleeding from the relentless rub of the ropes. “He ran,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Goddamn coward. Just like his son.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way,” says Tommy, giving Joel the dead man’s gun and snatching back his own. “Saved your ass.”
“And he got away.” Joel kicks his chair, and the clattering echo of metal reverberates like a choir off the cavernous walls. His hands flex, open, closed, open, closed, until they make tight fists and he can see nothing but red and the silver moon mocking him through the broken windows high above.
“Joel…”
For a moment, he hears the young boy his brother once was, whispering across their shared bedroom to him in the middle of the night when they were both meant to be asleep.
Joel… Are we going to be okay?
“I gotta finish it, Tommy,” he says quietly, his hands shaking loose. Parts of him bite and sting, touched by new and old wounds alike, and he wants to come crawling home to you. He wants to curl into your side and wash away the blood in your cleansing pool, daisy and honeysuckle, some faraway field where you are the warden, where he knocks on the door to be let in, to be gathered, covered in white, buried, unearthed.
“Was he right?” asks Tommy. “Do you… enjoy this?”
Joel casts his eyes toward the ground, his trembling hand, the gleaming band on his ring finger, his skin speckled with blood but the metal pristine. “I don’t know,” he says.
This is who you are, Cabrera would tell him. The Sisters: Your place is here, under God, under His word. And God Himself, silent as the air, the ringing in his ears only ever quieted by the soft brush of your knuckle across his cheek, the whisper of My Joel in his ear.
“Think hard on it,” says Tommy, “because you may like it, but you’ve gotta consider if your revenge is worth more than what you’ve already got. And if you choose wrong, Joel, you’re gonna lose no matter what.”
A figure leans stone-still against the wall by the hotel room door, the gleam of a blade in the soft light the only indication that it is not a mere shadow.
“Hey, kid,” says the apparition.
Joel nods in greeting. “Tess. Could get in trouble with that knife out in the open.”
“You expect me to keep your girl safe with just my fists?”
“You make it sound like you couldn’t.” Tess snorts, and Joel places fifteen gold coins in her waiting palm. “I appreciate you doing this.”
Tess peels away from the wall. “You and your brother are paying me good money to babysit a door. I think I can live without the thanks.”
“Still,” he says, “you did us a solid.”
Tess, who itches at the prospect of gratitude as much as any other gun-for-hire, shrugs. “Everyone’s saying you’re coming back. That true?”
“Just visiting,” says Joel. “On my way out soon.”
Tess flips one of the coins and turns it over and over across her knuckles, evidence of a restless energy that’s always made Joel’s eye twitch. “One way or another, huh?” she says.
“One way or another.” He shakes her hand and watches her retreat down the hall, still twirling the godforsaken coin, before he turns toward the door. Joel presses his forehead briefly to the cool wood and turns the key to seek the field that awaits him.
A key rustles in the door and Joel steps through, closing it gently behind him. Judging by the quiet click of the lock, he expects you to be asleep, but you jolt upright from your seat in the alcove and cross the room toward him.
He meets you halfway, his right hand flexing at his side. You inspect him: the gash on his cheek, the bruise on his jaw, the blood splattered on his white shirt. He makes no footfalls as he walks but you can hear every stride like thunder between your ears. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, cool from the night air, rough as the underside of a shark’s belly.
The moment coils taut between you as your hand reaches up to grab the lapel of his jacket, and he smells of iron, cologne, Joel, some paint. Maybe that smell is you, stuck underneath your fingernails, embedded in your blood. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe you could never help but fall, maybe it never mattered anyway, and you’re already snipping the final thread, unwinding the spool, and kissing Joel Miller like it’s the first time.
He let out a small groan, tasting the first drop of water in a drought, steadying you with his arm around your waist, his hand cradling your head. He’s gentle, exploratory, careful not to jostle, to shock you out of it. You feel his heartbeat thud, strong, calm, steady behind his clothing and skin and muscle, and your body caves.
It’s coming home, you realise, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers tousling the messy curls on his head. It's the warm press of his hand to your spine where it begins to curve inward. It's a soft mouth, a plush lower lip, made for slow mornings and black coffee, for the aching release of a thumb pressing deep into a muscle knot, a wound. Old aches soothed in the space where bodies meet, beginning to colour the slate-grey world.
It’s the exchange of gasping breaths when you pull apart, his mouth still vaguely chasing yours, opposite charge.
You hold him tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat, your hands squeezing his shoulders. "Are you…"
Joel inclines his head. "Yeah."
"Did he..."
"Yeah."
Need pulses. Supernova. Bright as the moment of obliteration. "Can you—"
He nods vigorously. "Yeah."
Joel’s kisses are like raindrops: velvet-soft to the touch—his hands bringing the hem of your shirt up over your head, his fingertips scorching, branding, grazing the supple swells of your breasts—before the crescendo roars in your ears and he loses himself to the storm. He always does.
There is nothing reserved about the way he shows his love. Lightning crackles across your skin where he touches you, baring you to him, his lips making a map of you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat. You hear yourself hum at the press of his lips to the spot beneath your ear, detaching from your own body, absconding with the pleasure of being close to him and leaving the fucking world behind.
Joel staggers forward so he can press you to the wall and begins to sink to his knees. Your breath catches as he pulls down your ratty bottoms, your cotton panties, his mouth burning into your hips and your belly and the ring on your finger.
“Joel,” you say brokenly as he clutches your fingers. Tears prickle, pressure building behind your nose, and he shakes his head, unfurling your palm like a bud in bloom and kissing its heel. Wordlessly, you watch him, your eyes shuttering, blood singing.
Don't hurt me again.
He understands even though the words cannot come alive on your tongue. He squeezes your hips, his thumbs dumpling your flesh, his forehead falling to your belly.
“I’m yours,” he says. “I’m whatever you want.”
Your legs haven't forgotten the way they part so easily for him, one thigh on his shoulder, opening the core of you to his waiting mouth. His lips part, his tongue wetting them, glistening, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes so black.
You could easily cower. His hands are stained with blood. His knuckles are split. But your terror has become an arid thing, no kindling to burn, no oil to ignite. Watching him now, as eager to please as he always has been or maybe more so, on his knees like a supplicant, the hairs on your arms do not rise in apprehension. Your body does not squirm in fear. You see a broad horizon, the sun outside spilling its golden blood over the city, and you see all of him in a way you never did before.
He’s Joel, who grew up in darkness, lashed and beaten for not believing in a false god. He’s a man who has lied and killed and yet he is no liar, no killer. He holds you as he always has, your body liquid in his hands, your mouth proclaiming the word he will follow. You're the truth he's always told.
It still unsettles you to see the dark eclipse that warm brown, to watch his desire consume the hypnotic shapes in his irises, and wonder if that cavernous black was the last thing so many men saw before he snuffed out their lives. But there's nothing of the death shudder in the way you guide your fingers through his hair and beg him—
“Please.”
He brings his mouth to your core and parts your folds with his thumbs, slowly gliding his warm, wet tongue through your slit. You die a hundred little deaths in the split-second of that first touch, that first agony.
You sigh, your head thudding against the wall as he licks through you, his hands holding your hips in place, keeping you from writhing. Joel flicks his tongue over the sensitive pearl of your clit, the pleasure searing, and you tug at his curls to push him away even as you cry out, More, please, please. God, I need more.
He obeys you as easily as breathing, though you suspect he can barely hear your pleas, opening his mouth and flattening his hot tongue to your clit. You gasp, your core pulling taut, your eyes locking with his as the muscle undulates over, over, and over again.
“Oh,” you whimper, your hips bucking to meet his face. He groans, his mouth working your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking. You cry out, your leg kicking, the sounds of the world muffled in his stifling closeness. Your thighs begin to ache, tensing and relaxing a hundred times over in the throes of his attention.
And his fingers are gliding across your hip, seeking the warmth between your legs. You gasp his name, your hips flexing, as he collects your wetness on two fingers.
“Let me in, baby,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit. It relaxes you enough to welcome the press of his fingers inside you, sinking to the knuckle, curling up against the spot he would know in his sleep.
You whine, your body keening toward him, tugging his face back toward your pussy. He obliges with a quiet moan, and you think he needs this just as badly.
The obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rings in your ears as he licks and sucks at your clit, his free hand grabbing desperately at your ass to keep you fixed to him. You’re crying, “Yesyesyes, Joel, please—fuck, that's it,” the pleasure stuck in the grooves of your brain. Absentmindedly, you reach for his hand and clasp it tight, your engagement ring digging into his palm. He holds you with the same fervour as he coaxes you higher, his face buried in your pussy. He grunts and groans like it's his own pleasure he seeks, his battered knuckles stinging.
“Joel… Joel, oh, I’m…”
He knows, of course, from the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his head, the relentless crushing of his fingers in your own, your body tightening for him, cavitating, unwinding—
You come with a shout, your throat raw, writhing in his grasp as he keeps sucking, keeps licking, rubbing, pressing. You're dizzy by the time your head lolls to the side, your muscles twitching, eyes glazed, and Joel is there, pulling his fingers out just to place them on his tongue and swallow you down.
Your breath rattles through your lungs. Joel presses his lips to your inner thigh, beard soaked in your arousal, moustache glistening. His mouth soothes your sore muscles and your eyes begin to droop.
“You need a shower,” you say, your tongue like lead in your mouth. You gently pass your thumb over a cut on his cheek and frown. “You're all bloody.”
He nuzzles his face against your thigh, inhaling you. “I know.”
“You were gone so long.” Your voice quivers, pressure prickling behind the bridge of your nose. “I thought…”
Joel rises to his feet, his hands cradling your face. “I’m all right,” he says. “I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m so goddamn sorry.”
You shake your head, pressing your lips together so the sob will not escape. Tracing his face with your fingers, broken in places, healing in others, you see the echo of a boy who didn't know his place in the world. You see the haunt of days gone by. A ghost still occupies the cage of his ribs.
“I think you should tell the little boy that still lives here,” you say, putting your hand on his chest. “Tell him he’s alive. Tell him that he made it.”
Joel lowers his head, watching the way your fingers splay over his heart. He puts his hand on yours and pushes, and you feel the strong thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat.
“He knows.”
You lean forward and put your mouth to his temple. “Shower, Joel,” comes your whisper in his ear.
He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the bathroom. The water hits you both true, scalding, the drain circled with red. He’s naked, his back to you as he sets his hair and lets his wounds bleed what they need to.
You lift your hands and trail them down his broad shoulders, your forehead dropping between his shoulder blades where your name is inked into his back. Joel’s muscles idly flex, his palm flat against the shower wall. His body shudders when you press your lips to the name on his back.
Wordlessly, you bring your arms around him, caressing his side, careful of the new bruises. Your other hand drops to his steel-hard cock and you begin to slowly stroke him. The noise that wrenches free from his throat is half pleasure, half agony, his hips bucking into your fist. You bump your nose against his back, your years-old sign to Just relax, and Joel hides his face in his bicep as you work your hand over him.
“G—fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn… honey, I—”
You squeeze him at the base and twist your hand up and down the length of him, the weight warm and heavy, your thumb coaxing out a bead of precum. Your cheek is warm on his back, your arm struggling to reach around the width of him, your chest humming at the sound of his gruff moans.
“Let me…” He cuts himself off as you speed up your strokes, and you can feel his abdomen tense. “Fuck, let me make you feel good. Shit… let me…”
“Joel,” you say, “for once, stop trying to be my hero.”
His head falls back and you press your lips to his throat, nibbling the sensitive spot behind his ear: the old scar, that tiny circle, that hairless patch. He groans your name, and you’re smiling despite yourself, your mouth curling against his warm, tender skin.
“Inside me,” you whisper, the pace of your fingers over his length slowing to a crawl. “Remind me how it feels.”
He turns his head to look into your eyes, his lashes dewy, blinking hard to flick away the water, brow furrowed. His moustache bristles as his lips part in a question he does not (or maybe cannot) articulate, and you’re fractured into pieces by the intricate curve of his nose, the freckles on his jaw, the silver strands in his beard. A rough hand cups the back of your neck and another takes you by the waist, and you’re flattened to the wall, your hand braced on the glass next to you as he kisses you deeply.
Consuming, heady, warm—you give in, your hands avoiding the delicate skin of his wrists where he’s been bound, helpless. Sighing softly into his mouth, you let his kiss humble the part of you that still needs the walls you’ve built from the marrow of your anger. It circles the drain, lead-filled paint, as you remember under his hands how it feels to live.
You reach between your bodies, your leg wrapping around his waist, and slide the head of his cock through your weeping slit. Joel sucks in air through his teeth, the water lashing his back like a whip, and he surges forward, grasping you by the waist and sinking his cock into your tight hole.
You cry out his name, burying your face in his throat and baring your teeth. Your name leaves his mouth in kind, an apparition, sounds you barely recognise anymore. As you take him inside you, the memory of who you were with him pounds at your ribcage, begging to be let out. And you covet them, selfish as you are now for fucking him this way, needy and impatient, your fingers tugging his wet locks.
You see no point in scooping out the marrow; there is still sweetness stuck to the bones of your old life with him. Instead, you coat your teeth in this, the slow drag of his cock, the depths he reaches so easily, so knowingly. His fingers prod the bruised flesh of your hurt and yet you still guide him inside. You still pull his hair and kiss his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and you still let him hold you close enough to splinter.
He’s grabbing fistfuls of your ass and sucking on your throat, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold back, to make you come first, but you tighten, clenching down on him, making his groans pitch up into whines.
“Joel,” you gasp, your needy fingers prickling his scalp where you pull his hair. His teeth graze your throat and you want him to bite, you want him to sink in deep, you want his jaws to latch onto your skin. You want him never to leave again.
He comes hard. His hips buck, pushing so deep he disappears into your body, and you see the blues, browns, reds of your painting as he empties all he has left inside you.
Panting, he drops his head to your breast, his open mouth still scattering weak, worn kisses over your skin. Your lungs expand under his palms, fingers stuck in the grooves between your ribs, his body an offshoot of yours, not the other way around. In the ringing afterlife of your pleasure, you vaguely feel him mouthing words you cannot hear. You run your fingers through his hair and enjoy the battering of the scorching water as it melts you both into one.
Later, in the sticky, humid silence of the bathroom, steam still swirling around your heads, fogging the glass, you trim Joel’s hair.
"Do you ever get scared?" you ask him, the shhhick of the scissors gliding across a chunk of his hair. "Do you ever go out on a job and think to yourself, What if I slip? What if this is it?"
Joel huffs. "It's not so much about myself as making sure the other guy goes down first."
“I think I’d be scared.” You twirl a lock of hair around your finger and let it fall over his forehead. “I don’t think I’d be able to look into someone’s eyes and take their life.”
He casts his eyes to his lap, flicking off some hair from his thigh. “One time, I thought it was over. I wasn’t quite seventeen yet, runnin’ drugs for some gangster. He sent me to El Sauzal to discreetly transport a couple kilos out of the city; someone had snitched and he didn’t want any rival gangs to find his stash. But the people there, they… They didn’t know any better. There were mothers, kids. Innocent people, y’know? Just strays. I decided I’d come back for ‘em.”
Your stomach twists. “What happened?”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I was too late. By the time I got back, the whole goddamn city was on fire. The people were either dead in the streets or close to it. They didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They didn’t ask for any of it. But they were weaker, slower. I couldn’t walk ten feet without seein’ some kid wrapped up his mother’s arms, burned to a fucking crisp. So, I came back with weapons, marched into the gang’s territory, and I killed ‘em all.”
Days ago, you’d be afraid of the man whose back warms your belly where you stand just behind him. You would hesitate to reach out and put your hand on his shoulder the way you do now. But you curl your fingers over the muscled curve of his arm and his head falls back against you, spidering open, his gooey molten centre bared for you.
Joel. Just Joel.
“Did you see the painting?” you ask him quietly.
“I see everything you do,” he says. “It's beautiful, baby.”
You drop your gaze from his face in the mirror and set down the scissors on the vanity. “I can't pretend to understand what you've been through, Joel, and that makes things even harder. All I've ever wanted is to love you, to take your pain, and all this time there's been so much I never even knew about. And I’m sorry.”
Joel’s hand comes to cover yours, clasping your fingers. They’re warm, rough, but you do not sense the phantom blood. “If I’d told you from the beginning,” he says, “maybe I never would've hurt you in the first place. All those years I thought I was protecting you from myself, I was hurting you—the one thing I swore I would never fuckin’ do.”
“Joel…”
“Baby, don't apologise to me,” he says firmly, putting his lips to your knuckles. “Never apologise to me. And don't you let me off easy.”
“Have I ever?” you say with a halfhearted smile.
“Yeah,” he says, “the day you let me marry you.”
You scoff. “Oh, please. Wedding planning was hell on earth for you.”
“Just because I didn't like the photographer—”
“You didn't not like the photographer, Joel. You wanted to draw and quarter the photographer.”
He huffs like an angry dog, frowning at you in the mirror. “He kept puttin’ his goddamn hands on you.”
You laugh, brushing your thumb over the patch in his beard to indicate you're finished. “He was posing us, cowboy.”
Joel rises to his feet and closes the scissors away inside the drawer. “Posin’ you, sure.”
“He was afraid to touch you. Probably thought you’d take off his hand. And the pictures turned out great.”
“Yeah,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Way the sunlight caught in your hair, your eyes… I don't know. Beautiful.”
He was so shy the first time you kissed him. Cheeks flushed, eyes cast toward the ground, the wind ruffling his curls where it blew over the water. He was made in an artist’s image, you thought that night, the details pored over like paperwork, the sparkle in his eyes something the painter covets. But the portrait has never wilted in the years you've known him. It's grown older, sure, but it is not old. He's still shy sometimes; he still looks down when he smiles, and he still turns his cheek when you tell him he's beautiful.
“Do you…” He rubs his palms over his thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “Do you wish you could go back?”
It's your turn to sit. You drop into his chair, your arms curling over the back of the seat, and watch him on his journey to his knees. “I don't know, Joel,” you tell him. “I think about that day and part of me wants the magic of it back. I want the breeze and the sun and the white canopy and I want you sliding this ring on my finger. But knowing what I know now…”
“You wouldn't have married me,” he says like it's the only answer. His eyes are wet and sad and they sparkle so bright in the day.
“I wish I’d known,” you say plainly, bringing his hand to your cheek and resting it over the cool wedding band. “I wish you would have told me everything. I wish you didn't make me question your love, even for a second. I wish you could have spared me all this anger I have—all this pain.”
He’s stone-still, a figure in a portrait, and you brush your fingers across his cheek. “But killing isn't what you are, Joel. It’s what you do. And I’m so tired of being angry.”
You say it fiercely, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, your throat tightening. You swipe your thumbs under your eyes and meet your husband’s eye. “I love you more than my anger and my hurt have room for. And if I can love you this hard, if I can feel all this pain and still be that same girl who fell for the guy from the restaurant, then I can let myself get hurt all over again.”
Joel shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, baby…”
“I know it's never been an easy marriage,” you say, your voice breaking, “and I’m always travelling, and I know that I can get snippy and we bicker, but I wouldn't go back to that day, Joel, because I wouldn't change anything. Even if I have to feel all of this again, I wouldn't take it all back.”
His inhale shudders through him and your heart lurches out of your chest. “I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that falls. “I’ve hurt you too much to ever be worthy of what you've given me, sweetheart. I ain't a good man, or even a decent one. But fuck, if I can be good for you, I’ll pray to whatever God they want me to. I’ll scrape my knees and put my hands together and fake it ‘til I’m someone you want. I swear it, baby.”
“Joel.” You gently pry his hands away. “The life you've lived, the things you've been through… I can't change any of it. I can't be what you need all the time, and fuck, I want to be. I do, Joel. But this life is something you have to figure out yourself. Nobody should force you to believe in something that's only ever caused you pain.”
He never told you about the tattoo; you had to find it yourself. Shucking the hem of his shirt up over his head, two weeks separating the last time you’d been able to indulge in his body, you trailed your fingers up his back and paused at the sound of him hissing through his teeth.
“Easy, cowboy,” you cooed. “Are you all right?”
Wordlessly, he turned, taking your hand and lifting it to the reddish skin around the black ink. You gasped, your fingers jolting backward as if struck by a feeler of lightning.
“Joel,” you said tremulously, “please don't tell me you were drunk and this was an impulse decision.”
“Guys in the Marines would get tattoos that meant somethin’ to them. Easier to carry around with you when you're away.” Joel met your gaze again, your tearful eyes, and brought your knuckles to his mouth. “Tell me you want it gone, and it's gone.”
You shook your head, a laugh snaking past the lump in your throat. “Selfishly, I think it’s very sexy.”
He chuckled, kissing the breath from your lungs.
The memory is heavy in your stomach. It's something you'll have to roll around in your mouth a thousand times before the taste begins to dissolve.
“I need time, Joel,” you tell him. “I need to wrap my head around things. I… I can't be the girl you want right now.”
Joel brushes his thumb over your chin. “You have always been the girl I want,” he says. “If you need time, you have it. If you need a warm body, you have it. I’m whoever you want me to be. And if it ain't a husband, then… then that's okay. But I can’t promise you that I won't stop tryin’ to get my wife back. That’s not who I am.”
You sniffle, twirling the ring on his finger. “You’ll get sick of it. The waiting.”
He smiles so softly that you can feel a bud begin to bloom in the core of you, nourished by the way he keeps his hand on your thigh, absently rubbing the sore muscles there. “I waited my whole life for someone like you to come along—someone who could give me the purpose I’d been lookin’ for. I can wait another lifetime. I can wait a thousand.”
“You’ll resent me. You’ll start to hate me.” You don't know why it comes pouring out of you, but the gates are brittle wood and they snapped in the torrent. “I’m an angry drunk. I smell like paint half the time. I travel for work.”
Joel just studies your face, some inexplicable calm etching out the agony. “You take your coffee with milk and sugar and you can't stand it black, but you make it that way for me anyway. You sleep until noon when you're jet lagged and I sit up in bed just to watch you dream. You lie in my arms on the couch at home and ask me about my day even when you're noddin’ off. You dreamed about love when you were a little girl, the way it happens in books. You told me in your wedding vows that you'd found it with me. You think I could resent a girl like that?”
He smiles like it hurts and heals all at once, like it's a foregone conclusion, like you were meant to be loved by him.
“Time doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I know the girl I see in front of me now. Time won't change how much I love her.”
Flipping through the list of potential venues, Joel tucked into your side, you said, “We’ll have an outdoor ceremony. No churches.”
“Baby, I won't burst into flames if I step inside a church.” Joel playfully flicked his tongue over your nipple, obscured by his T-shirt. “Tommy, on the other hand… things he's done…”
You laughed, gently pushing at his head. “No churches,” you said again. “I don't care how much more we’ll have to pay or travel to get around it. You're my husband. You're my comfort, and I want to be what's comfortable for you. Understood?”
He looked up at you, his lips parted as if on the precipice of speech. You beamed, bringing his face to yours and kissing him deeply.
“But if the wind knocks over the gazebo, you're not getting your dick inside me on our wedding night,” you said against his mouth. Joel shook his head, yanking you on top of him and tearing the shirt from your body. Your binder landed with a flutter of loose pages to the floor.
“You didn't kill Cabrera.”
Joel lowers his eyes. “No. He got away.”
“So there's still a contract on your head.”
“For now.”
“So,” you say with a sigh, crossing the room and digging through your bag, “you have to go.”
“I have to go,” he echoes, following you like a shadow. “No matter what… I’m finishing it. Tonight.”
You pull the switchblade from your bag, open Joel’s fist, and place the cool wood hilt in his palm.
“Goddammit, Tommy,” he says under his breath. “He shouldn't have…”
“But he did,” you say. “He said I should be the one to have it. I think it should be yours.”
He curls his fingers over the hilt and flicks open the blade. It's light, but it seems to weigh him down. You rest your hand over his.
“Do what you need to do.”
He drops his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, soaking in this final breath exchanged between your silent bodies, dipping his fingers in the sanctified waters and coming out unscalded.
Bill calls Joel not a moment after he steps onto the street outside the Continental.
“That's a heavy price on your head.”
“Yeah, Bill, I know.” He breathes in the cool air, like cigarette smoke, his nostrils stinging. Trash and a new, fresh breeze carried into the city. Nothing that stays here ever thrives. “Stayed alive so far.”
“So I hear,” grunts the Manager, “and leaving behind a hell of a lot of cleanup.”
“I won't stick you with the check,” says Joel. “It's my business.”
“I don't conduct business inside this hotel,” says Bill, “which is why I won't tell you that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is refuelling as we speak.”
Joel smirks, flicking out his cuff to check the time. “Any reason why you aren't tellin’ me this?”
“I like you, Joel. Despite myself.”
Silent, he waits for more.
“Besides,” Bill continues, “we live and die by honour. And you've saved my ass more than once.”
Joel snorts. “Which time are you thankin’ me for?”
“Just take my goddamn advice and leave this world. For good this time.”
“I will,” says Joel. “One way or another. Thanks, Bill.”
High above the ground, sitting in the alcove by the window, you watch storm clouds gather over the city, darkening the sky, the sun, and your Joel, so far away, slouching calmly toward whatever end he will choose.
It's raining.
The first time you kissed him, a downpour suddenly swept up the both of you and you'd scrambled underneath a bridge by the water. You both laughed until your ribs were sore, holding hands as you ran, a soaking wet playbill above each of your heads for cover.
“At least the show was good,” you shouted over the roar of the rainfall.
Joel was mesmerised into stillness by the colours of the traffic lights in your eyes, how they shifted over the planes of your face. Starting to think like an artist, you'd tease, and he'd lean into it, a planet circling its sun.
“It was all right,” he said, taking the playbill from your hand. “You could catch a cold. We should get a cab.”
“Always my hero.” You grinned up at him, your eyes scanning his face in that particular way they did, as if ingesting the sight of him to later put the lines to a canvas. “Did you have a good time, Joel? I mean, really. You won't offend me.”
He grimaced. “I, uh… well, see, I’m not the best judge, and… I guess—”
“Joel.”
There was a gleam in your eyes that could have been amusement or could have been hunger. He doesn't remember. He only saw you tilt your chin and lower your eyes to his mouth, to that one place the Sisters always called vulgar, obscene, a place meant only for His word—
“Can I kiss you, Joel Miller, or will you keep being all heroic?”
It was soft, gentle, exploratory. Your mouth opened his like a wound, setting the scorching blade of your lips to the gash, staunching the blood. You healed and burned him, one hand on his back beneath his jacket, the other cupping his face. It reminded him of the statue that lived in the theatre underneath the church where all the boys and girls trained. An angel cast in white marble, cradling the face of Saint Eustace. The statue was chipped where his eye was meant to be.
He remembers the way he shuddered when you touched him like that. He remembers the chill that started in his feet and crept up his spine. Something like coming alive, settling back into his own body—no longer a spirit haunting the shell of a home but a man.
You pulled back, but Joel curled his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you again, deeper, maybe a little too eager, too inexperienced—but you gasped, fingers curling in his hair, your body curving into his. Your noses bumped when you separated, and he remembers laughing.
The rain is nothing like that night. It's the lash of a whip across his face, seeping colour from the world instead of infusing it with light and movement. The water by the docks slaps against the concrete and boats rock and groan against their mooring. The lights of the city are distant now.
Joel steps out of the car.
He marches toward his target, cocking the pistol in his hand, and calls out a name. It gets lost in the roll of thunder across the sky and lodges in his chest.
Cabrera waits on the landing pad, looking wraithlike in a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His pilot fuels the helicopter nearby. Neither of them hear Joel’s voice in the air. The rising sun is what gives him away—or maybe the gunshot, as he lifts his arm and pulls the trigger.
It does not pierce flesh. It ricochets off one of the rotor blades. He had aimed slightly to the left.
The pilot scampers off into hiding, but the slash of the bullet through the rainfall is enough to get the attention Joel wants. Cabrera reaches inside the lining of his jacket and fires a single shot. Joel can feel it tear through skin and muscle, but it doesn't hurt.
“Joel,” greets Cabrera.
“Manuel.”
His chest heaves, his jacket soaked through, the cold sinking bone-deep.
“Let's finish this.”
The glimmer in those depthless black eyes is the panther at the hunt, relentless in its hunger, licking its chops at the sight of a challenge. For all the coward’s blood in his veins, it still pulses at the prospect of winning.
“Like men,” says Cabrera, tossing his gun aside at the same time Joel does. “With honour. No more guns.”
And it's laughable: the thought that there is any honour left in a world like this. A world where children are beaten and lashed and trained to hold a weapon too big for their hands. A world that burns villages, butchers families, and still claims that without rules, we live with the animals.
A world as unruly as this cannot be ruled. He never truly considered it until he saw the sad gleam in your eye, felt the empathetic touch of your hand on his face, and began to realise that maybe he should be furious.
But because he already knows he's going to win, Joel lets his opponent land the first blow.
The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it.
Cabrera hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, Cabrera stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears.
Cabrera drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's come to take his life.
And fuck, Joel wants to make it last.
But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of Cabrera’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.
Yowling, Cabrera drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.
His name leaves Cabrera’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet.
“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”
He could. He has done far worse. He has spilled blood for gold coins and superficial alliances and someone else's revenge. He has stalked, stolen, lied, killed, and he could finish this now, so easily, with the flick of a blade.
But the song of death does not call to him now.
For so long he had trudged, unmoored, through heavy crimson blood. Like pulling at the seams of velvet, he'd sewn more lives into the sea of red and he never looked behind him to see the souls trying to pull him down at the ankles. He didn't know purpose until he saw the way the candlelight flickered in your eyes, until he tilted his head to the side and realised your smile was a new kind of beautiful from each angle.
The rain sticks to his lashes and he thinks of an old song of prayer the Sisters used to chant. He remembers curling his fingers around one of the rosaries that hung from the large cross in the cathedral and wincing in anticipation. He thought he would burn—that the metal would leave a red stain on his palm. It never did.
Maybe that's why he never believed. Surely, if there was a God, Joel Miller would have burned by now.
He thinks of shopping for furniture and date nights and lazy mornings, tangled in bedsheets. Your mouth, smiling against his, whispering I love you across the breakfast table. Dancing—or swaying, more like—under the kitchen light. Loving easily, never feeling as if he must grab hold of the cross and burn himself upon it just to feel.
Joel turns the switchblade in his hand, lurches forward, and plunges the knife into Cabrera’s chest.
There is no noise but a faint gurgle from his mouth, his hand weakly rising to grasp the hilt. Joel drops to his knees and fishes Cabrera’s cell phone from his pocket.
“The blade is stuck in your aorta,” he says. “If you pull it out, you’ll bleed out and die.” He puts the rain-slick screen in front of Cabrera’s face. “Pull the contract.”
A few feeble taps are all it takes, and Joel Miller is no longer a target. His name glares back at him on the screen, from two million to nothing, not the boogeyman any longer but something akin to a civilian. Joel tosses the phone into the water and turns to leave.
“See you in hell, Joel,” Cabrera chokes, still grasping the shiny wooden hilt of the blade.
He barely hauls himself into the car, which chokes to a rumbling start. There's blood seeping through his shirt where Cabrera shot him, and his fingers shake as they pull away from the wound, the red so bright, so alive. Joel grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut.
If there’s a God, he thinks, I hope you fucking hear me now.
Tell me that we don’t get what we deserve. Because there is nothing I deserve in this world if I cannot keep what I’ve found.
His fingers trembling, smearing blood across the screen, he makes a call.
And your voice on the line, soft, sticky with sleep, whispering his name—just his name: Joel?—is what wrenches the first sob from his throat.
Joel, you say, like it means something, like it's precious. A jewel pressed from dusty black coal. Come back to me. Come home.
So he does.
#fic: helen#kiwisbell's fics#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#the last of us#the last of us hbo#tlou fic#joel miller angst#joel miller au#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#john wick au
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★ . . . 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐁𝐅 , 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐
summary , it's yuki's birthday and his girlfriend just had to make every single person in the world feel even more single than normal
pairing , yuki tsunoda x fem! gf! bookworm! reader
main masterlist | f1 masterlist | yuki tsunoda masterlist
yourinstagram . 4hr ago
seen by landonorris pierregasly and 10,990,974 others
yourinstagram
liked by yukitsunoda0511 pierregasly 12,667,378 others
yourinstagram Dear yukitsunoda0511, happy birthday I can't believe that you have been mine for three years now. It feels like yesterday that we met at that bookstore in Paris, where you spilt your coffee all over my favourite hoodie. And now with confidence I can say with confidence that it was worth it, you make me feel peaceful and whole. I hope you get everything your heart desires today. And that includes me. Your girl, Y/N L/N.
親愛なるユキ、お誕生日おめでとう。あなたがもう 3 年も私のものだなんて信じられません。パリの本屋で会ったとき、あなたが私のお気に入りのパーカーにコーヒーをこぼしてしまったことが昨日のことのように感じられます。そして今、私は自信を持って、その価値があったと自信を持って言えます。あなたは私を平和で健全な気分にさせてくれます。今日、あなたが心から望むすべてを手に入れられることを願っています。そしてそれには私も含まれます。あなたの彼女、Y/N L/N。
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user yuki is the only driver who’s enjoying life to the fullest with his hot gf - eating all the good food traveling around the world love that for him
yukitsunoda0511 I'm sorry about hoodie I'll buy you a new one
⤷ yourinstagram a new hoodie? no. I want one of your's please 😊
⤷ yukitsunoda0511 okay baby now come cuddle with me
⤷ yourinstagram on my way 🏃🏻♀️💨
user pov the second pic is your dream
⤷ user Y/N FR LIVING MY DREAM
user happy birthday short king
user they are both barbie neither of them are ken 😭😭😭
user "liked by pierre gasly"
⤷ yourinstagram lurking as always 🙄
⤷ pierregasly got a problem?
⤷ yourinstagram yeah with your face
⤷ pierregasly wow what a creative insult what are you 5
⤷ yourinstagram listen here fuck french fuck I would smoke you in a fight now shut the fuck up and eat a baggette
⤷ pierregasly your mean...go play monopoly
⤷ yourinstagram esteban is my fav french
⤷ pierregasly you have gone to far
⤷ estebanocon thank you Y/N 😊
user So pretty yuki 🔥🔥🔥
user STOP THEY ARE SO CUTE
user brb I'm gonna go sleep with me on the highway
⤷ user gonna go take a bath with my toaster
⤷ user I feel like having a nice big tall glass of bleech
⤷ user suddenly I wanna skydive without a parachute
⤷ user I'm gonna jump off a moving train
⤷ yourinstagram mom pick me up I'm scared 😭😭😭
user So beautiful 💓🤩
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yourinstagram . 2hr ago
seen by landonorris pierregasly and 18,950,224 others
#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ lola's works ˚₊· ꒱꒱#yuki tsunoda x reader#yuki tsunoda#alpha tauri f1#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic#f1 fandom#f1 fanfiction#f1#f1 instagram au#f1 one shot#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1 smut#formula one smut#formula one imagine#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula one#formula one x y/n#formula one x oc#formula one fluff#formula 1#f1 2023#yuki tsunoda imagine#yt22#pg10
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Hi! This is very very specific, but…I've had a rough start to my day today, kinda relating to the topic of my request…
So I was wondering, would it be alright to request HCs of Jamil, Ruggie, Leona, Floyd and Rollo with a Reader who runs into an emotionally abusive/manipulative parent they haven't seen in a long time? The kind of subtle abuse that's hard to tell (from the inside, at least) is even abuse at all, and makes you doubt yourself a lot. Kinda narcissistic abuse
Kind of a hurt/comfort thing? Like how they'd deal with the bad parent and the Reader opening up a bit about it. Romantic or platonic, either one is good
Feel more than free to ignore if this kind of request isn't your thing: that's totally fine, I understand it's a bit heavy, not to mention very specific, so please do what makes you feel best. I hope you have a good day!
ahhh of course! I relate to this sort of thing a lot (although I don't use terms like narcissistic abuse since abuse is just abuse to me) and I know exactly what you mean. I love hurt/comfort and you're well within my boundaries since the only thing I wouldn't write pertaining to this topic is intimate partner abuse (like with an s/o). so you're perfectly fine! I enjoyed writing this <3
summary: comforting a reader with an abusive parent
type of post: short fics
characters: jamil, ruggie, leona, floyd, rollo
additional info: reader is not specified to be yuu ("shrimpy" is used as a nickname during floyd's part tho), reader is gender neutral, food mention (ruggie's part), actual interaction w the parent happens during leona and rollo's parts, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, although reader is kinda vague about it
Jamil Viper
Jamil knows what it's like to feel stuck.
That's really all he has to know when he recognizes that look on your face.
Perhaps you usually wear your heart on your sleeves, or perhaps you're better at keeping your emotions to yourself, like him, but either way he can tell something is very wrong the second he sees you.
It's a bit strange, isn't it?
Surrounded by people in the cafeteria and yet no one seems to notice the shadow cast over you.
He tries to talk himself out of it for the rest of the day. He has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not his problem. He's Kalim's keeper, not yours.
But that sense of unease doesn't go away.
He drags himself out of bed and somehow finds himself at your door in the dead of night.
And even though it takes you a moment to answer, he can tell you were already awake.
"Here," he says, handing you a warm meal in a container. "I noticed you didn't eat today. We had leftovers."
You don't feel very much like eating, but you accept the gift, anyway. It smells amazing. His cooking always does.
"Thank you," you mumble.
You can't think of anything else to say.
"Are you... well, Kalim sent me to ask if you're feeling unwell," he lies through his teeth.
"I'm fine,"
Another lie, this time of your behalf, which annoys him ever-so-slightly.
"You're clearly not. Are you sick?" the question is vague enough, said in such a way that leaves you with the impression that he wasn't exactly referring to a physical illness.
"I've... had a rough day,"
Jamil is quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. And then: "Do you mind if I come in?"
He's always so careful with his words that such a direct (yet polite) request almost catches you off guard. You step to the side, letting him in your room.
"I don't mean to pry. I know it's not my place," he says, watching you close the door. "But... Kalim is worried. Yes."
You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll get over it,"
It.
What did "it" mean? Surely this couldn't just be a lousy day.
"Did something happen?"
You hesitate.
"Have you ever... ran into someone who made your life miserable? That you thought you moved on from... and it starts to feel like you're stuck in that place all over again?"
Of course. Of course he knows what that feels like.
He has to live through that exact experience every day, without even being able to move on.
But he can't just say that. And this is about you, after all.
"I'm familiar with the feeling. I suppose that's what's ruined your day, then?"
"That's one way to put it," you sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Sometimes it feels like all the progress I've made is just... null. Like I'll never really move on."
He hates how much he's relating to you. How much you're affecting him, now, too.
He follows you to the bed and sits beside you.
"Someday, though, you will. It may feel hopeless now, but... you won't stay stuck forever,"
Unlike me, he thinks.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I can't be. But you don't strike me as someone to give up after hardship,"
Like me.
You're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what he told you. And then you hug him.
A nice, soft hug. Not abrasive or sudden like the ones Kalim gives. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
"Thank you, Jamil,"
He hugs back. "Of course,"
Ruggie Bucchi
It was almost painful, watching you fumble with your wallet like that.
You couldn't seem to get the proper amount out, shaking like a leaf and apologizing profusely. Sam keeps telling you it's okay, but the line forming behind you is starting to grow restless.
Ruggie included.
He has places to be, after all, and he's got two whole crates of energy drinks to lug back to Savanaclaw.
He has half a mind to ask what the holdup is.
And so, he peers over your shoulder, ready to- oh, no. You're crying.
Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy for him?
He can't even chew someone out for taking up all his precious time without being thrown a curveball. And now he feels bad.
Sigh.
"Hey, I got this," he says, setting his heavy crates down on the counter and flashing a card.
Your eyes widen. "Oh, no, Ruggie, you don't have to-"
"Relax, it's Leona's money, not mine," he offers a grin, ignoring the tears trailing down your face. "He won't even notice it's missing."
The line behind you two breathes a collective sigh of relief (much to your embarrassment) and Ruggie shoots them a glare.
"I... I still can't accept this-" you start, before he quickly shushes you.
"Hey, if you wanna make it up to me, you can help me carry these things. I'll call it even,"
You're silent for a moment as Sam finishes ringing you both up, and then you take a crate. As quiet as ever. It's unnerving.
You're walking back to the Hall of Mirrors when Ruggie breaks that silence by bringing up your purchase. "So, what's up with the afternoon snack? Not that I'm judging- I'm jealous. I skipped lunch, shishishi,"
"Oh, it's nothing," you mutter. "Comfort food, I guess."
The concept of comfort food is extremely appealing to him. "Huh. Long day?"
"Something like that... Why'd you skip lunch?"
Trying to change the conversation topic? Clever. But he'll bite, anyway.
"Leona forgot some of his class stuff, so I had 'ta run and get it. Too bad he forgot where he left it... I was all over campus,"
"Did you find it?"
"Eventually. Or else I'd be busy getting my neck wrung instead of 'bein here with you,"
You nod, and the conversation swiftly dies.
After another awkward beat, he clears his throat. "So you... you wanna talk about it, or something?"
"What?"
"You know, your... your day," he mutters, shrugging. He's desperately trying to remember all of the things his grandma did for him when he was upset as a child. "Talking about it might... make 'ya feel better, y'know?"
You're quiet again, and for a moment Ruggie is worried he said something to offend you.
Then, much to his relief, your voice picks up. "I ran into someone today,"
"What? Like someone was giving you trouble?"
"No, not a student. Someone I don't see very much anymore. Um... I guess it just threw me off,"
He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"
"I don't... well, we don't get along very much. Something about them just makes me feel... very... small. Insignificant,"
You don't ask if he understands what you mean, but he does. Not that he'd ever admit that so openly to you at a time like this, but being small and insignificant is basically his job.
And as much as he likes the perks, he can imagine how rough it would be to deal with that and not get to use a bottomless credit card whenever the opportunity presented itself.
He struggles to respond for a moment.
"That's rough,"
Definitely not the sympathetic response he was going for. At least you don't seem to mind.
"I-I mean, sometimes we have to act small to survive. It's a part of life, 'ya know? But that doesn't mean you are small. Just surviving on its own is an accomplishment," he recovers from his earlier blunder, trying to smile. "You should be proud of yourself, if anything."
"That's..." you say. "That's one way of looking at it."
He sighs. "I'm not expressing myself very well, am I? What I'm trying to say is that you're not small or insignificant, and living life feeling like you are is a survival tactic at best,"
The both of you stop in front of Savanaclaw, and he offers another grin.
"And if you ever wanna talk about this stuff... well, I'm around... And you can come inside now, if you want. I could definitely find more stuff to carry!"
Leona Kingscholar
Leona Kingscholar is very, very much enjoying parent weekend alone, thank you.
Of course his folks don't want to attend a school event for their disappointment of a second son. Why would they care? And on Cheka's birthday weekend, no less...
But that didn't bother him. Not at all.
As long as he slept through the weekend without being bothered by any happy-go-lucky nuclear family units, he'd live.
That plan lasts about five hours.
"You'd be better off doing something more useful with your time. Sports, or science, or... something that might help your future. But if you're so sure... I suppose it's better to cut our losses now than put any more faith in you. You just can never decide, can you?"
That voice. Unfamiliar, but drawling, laced with poison. Aggravating enough to stir Leona from his nap in the botanical gardens.
And it's getting closer.
"I just don't understand. Why get accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the world just to spend your time goofing off?" a long sigh. "But as long as you're happy... we just want what's best for you."
Leona grumbles, turning over and trying to drift back to sleep.
"I'm trying,"
This voice is different. No- he recognizes it. It's yours.
"Are you? You know I know what's best for you, right?"
Sevens. This is your parent speaking to you? No wonder you've been acting all jittery lately.
He sits up, giving up on his nap, and continues listening in.
"I know," you say. "I really am trying, though."
"Did I say you weren't? Don't speak for me,"
This is getting ugly. Leona stands, stepping out of the shrubbery and clearing his throat behind the two of you.
You're the first to turn. "Oh- Leona! Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,"
"You're fine," he snaps, sharp eyes turning to your parent beside you. "Who's this, then?"
"This is-"
"Their parent," they go ahead and introduce themselves, cutting you off as if you weren't speaking at all. Like you're a piece of furniture hanging in the background. He's not a fan.
"Really? From the way you were talking, I would have guessed that you were their coach. Or boss,"
Your eyes dart between the two. "Leona-"
"You're fine," he reaffirms. "I was just looking for you, anyway. We really have to talk."
You pause, raising an eyebrow. He? Wants to talk to you? Now?
"Is it important?" your parent asks. The question is directed at you, although he answers.
"Very. I was just coming to ask you, very politely, I might add, to reconsider my offer,"
"Your... offer...?"
Your parent looks down at you. "What's he talking about?"
"Can't blame you for forgetting. I'm sure you're busy with all your... school... things. But I do have to ask you to rejoin the spelldrive club. We're in shambles without you,"
He gives you a certain look, one that clearly reads "Go along with it."
Leona Kingscholar offering an olive branch to someone is a rare occurrence. So you take it.
"Oh! Right, I have been busy with school. I've been meaning to get back to you..."
Your parent looks between the two of you with just the faintest hint of confusion, and then frustration. "You've been playing spelldrive? When was I going to hear about this?"
"They haven't been playing with us," Leona says, a small smirk already forming. "They're the team manager. They're way too smart to be out on the field- no, they're running the team, they're organizing everything, their strategy is like nothing we've ever seen. If only they were in Savanaclaw, we might have a chance at winning one of these years."
"Uhhh..." you start, looking between your parent and the oddly friendly and receptive clone that's replaced Leona. "...Yeah, right."
"Now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to discuss official club matters," he says, shooing away your parent until they eventually give in and leave.
As soon as they're out the door, you turn to him. "What w-"
"Are you alright?" he asks.
Stunned would be an understatement. "I'm fine,"
"Really? Cause you're looking at me like a gazelle caught in headlights,"
"I-I guess it's just been hard... having them here,"
Leona nods, closing his eyes as he thinks to himself. Then, he sighs.
"Yeah. I get that. Come on, then,"
You raise an eyebrow as he starts off in the opposite direction. "What? Where are we going?"
"Somewhere quiet and warm to nap. Being around that person sucked all the energy right out of me, I can't imagine how exhausted you feel,"
He turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. "With any luck, we'll avoid them for the rest of the weekend,"
Floyd Leech
Of course, he can tell something's up right away.
Well... maybe it takes him a little while to tune into the conversation, but once he does, he notices you've been... awfully quiet throughout it.
His favorite little shrimpy? All sad? Moping around like a kicked puppy?
Now this catches his attention.
"Bored?" he asks. It's his first guess.
"Hm?" you ask, looking back at him. "No, I'm fine."
"But you're not,"
"Okay, I'm a little distracted,"
Now that, he can understand. But there's still something very off about the whole thing that he can't quite put his finger on.
"You're not telling me something," he states, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.
You raise an eyebrow. "...And?"
"And I wanna know. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me,"
Your thought process is probably ranging somewhere between "oh, no," and "oh NO," by now.
"I sweaaar, it's nothing," you insist. "I just had a bad day, okay?"
"Why?"
There's no turning back now. He's invested, and until he loses interest, you're stuck here.
"It was... just... long. Can I go now? I have things to do,"
He frowns, and stands, and then puts you in a headlock. "Alright, where're we 'goin?"
"FLOYD!"
He drags you along with him, remembering not to be too rough as he takes you from place to place on his dailies. You begrudgingly learn to accept it.
When you walk back into the Mostro Lounge, Azul and Jade don't even bat an eye.
"You're thirty minutes late- ah, why do I bother?" Azul says, rifling through a stack of papers on his desk. He only looks up when he catches a glimpse of you. "Oh. Hello, there."
You wave half-heartedly. "Can I get some help?"
"Floyd. What is the meaning of this?" he asks.
Floyd pouts. "There's 'somethin wrong with them and they won't tell me what,"
"Are they ill?"
You lower your eyes at the two as they speak like you're not even there. "Hello?"
"Nah, they feel fine. They're all mopey, though,"
Azul hums to himself, lost in thought. And then: "Well, figure out what it is, and get to work, if you please,"
"Azul!" you shout. He ignores you.
Floyd drags you back outside the office and sits down with you at one of the tables, waving to concerned lounge-goers as they pass by.
"Now will you tell me?"
"Geez, alright, alright. I give up, you win," you sigh. "I... well, my parent was here earlier. At school. And we talked, and they... said some not-very-nice things to me. That's why I've been upset, okay?"
Floyd's smile immediately drops. "I win? But that's not a very good prize,"
"Tell me about it,"
"Why would anyone be mean to you, anyway? You're the best shrimpy I know!"
You avert your eyes. "It wasn't... mean... per se. Just... not nice,"
"Sounds mean to me," he mutters. "I don't get it."
"Well, sometimes these things just... don't make sense. It's my fault, anyway," you sigh.
His gaze sharpens at that. "'An who told you that? You didn't do anything! I'm starting to really dislike this parent of yours,"
His sudden mood swing doesn't phase you, but it does lift your spirits... just the tiniest bit. Even if you wouldn't admit that to yourself. "Hey, it's fine. I'm over it,"
"You sure you don't want me to squeeze 'em?"
"Heh. No, that's okay. I would like you to let me go, though,"
His eyes widen at the sudden realization he still has you in a headlock and he quickly releases you.
You sit up, stretching and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks,"
"My arm was starting to hurt, anyway..." he thinks for a moment, looking back to the office door. "Ya think I can use that to get out of working? I wanna spend more quality time with my favorite shrimpy. You could use it!"
You look to the door and shrug. "Hey, worth a try, right?"
Rollo Flamme
Out of all the things to ruin the day, of course it had to be your parent.
The disappointment between the two of you was palpable. And even though it was only a brief encounter, it was enough to sour the rest of the afternoon for the both of you.
The first thing Rollo noticed, of course, was the manner in which they carried themselves. As an authoritative, important figure, puffing out their chest and towering over you. What gave them the right...?
They were not a leader, nor a public figure, nor anyone of interest, if your earlier mentions of them gave him any idea. Nothing but an adult who spoke to the both of you as if you were tiny children.
He loathed being talked down to.
Perhaps he should have said something sooner than he did, and perhaps he should have said something more than the interruption he used to excuse you from the conversation.
And now you're just quiet.
"Are you well?" he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.
You shrug.
"I apologize for not speaking on your behalf sooner. I did not want to be rude,"
No response at all.
Your silence was driving him mad. He couldn't get a good read on what you were feeling when you kept looking away like that.
"If you'd like to return home early, I would understand and escort you promptly,"
"No,"
A response. Not a good one, but a response nonetheless.
"May I ask you a question?" though he doesn't really wait for your permission to go on. "Why do they speak to you like that?"
That comment seems to jolt you, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes. "What? Speak to me like what?"
He struggles for the right words.
How could he describe it? It was so... odd. The words they spoke to you didn't sound cruel, but there was something sinister lurking beneath them. And not even in the typical "polite for the sake of it" sense.
Each response they gave was laced with a sort of venom that seemed to sting you. You had grown quiet, distant, as if you weren't really there at all.
Of course he was familiar with such tactics. He could weave his own words with ease. But you had done nothing wrong- you were guiltless. Why were you being punished?
He couldn't quite come up with an answer.
"You seemed uncomfortable," he finally says, looking away again. "I apologize for such an experience happening to you under my watch."
"It's not your fault,"
"It certainly isn't. And it's not yours, either,"
A blanket of silence falls over the two of you until he speaks again.
"You have nothing to feel bad about," he reaffirms.
Another pause.
"And I don't mean to intrude. But if you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me,"
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jamil viper x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#floyd leech x reader#rollo flamme x reader#can't believe this is the first time I've written for rollo on this blog... bby I've missed u
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THE CLAW MACHINE FULL OF SANRIO PLUSHIES
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pairing: seonghwa x f!reader
warnings: little bit of angst, jealousy, mentions of food
word count: 1.7k
now playing 🎧 love by wave to earth
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As you walk through the busy carnival with Seonghwa and the rest of ATEEZ, you can't help but feel excited. The bright, colorful lights, sounds of laughter, and the sweet smells of funnel cake, chocolate-covered fruits, and cotton candy fill the air, making it a perfect day for new memories. Seonghwa holds your hand tightly, a smile on his face as he guides you through the crowds. He had been looking forward to this for weeks, knowing that with their busy schedule, it's not always easy to find time for romantic dates like this one. But today, the stars aligned, and here you are, surrounded by the fun and magic of the carnival. Although you don't like being in crowded places, Seonghwa made a promise to be by your side at all times.
Originally, Seonghwa had planned it to be just the two of you, but the others overheard the plan while Seonghwa was making dinner for you one night. Now, even though it's a group outing, Seonghwa makes sure that you feel special and loved, stealing glances at you and squeezing your hand every chance he gets. Moments like these make you grateful for the love and happiness these boys bring into your life.
As you and the boys gather around the amusement park's most popular ride, Wooyoung suddenly screams, "I want to go on that first!" He eagerly grabs Hongjoong's hand and pulls him towards the ride, with the rest of the boys following suit. However, Seonghwa notices that you remain rooted to the spot, with a look of apprehension on your face as you gaze up at the towering ride.
Seonghwa gently releases your hand and steps closer to you, noticing your unease. "Should we go on a different ride?" he asks, his voice soft and reassuring.
"It's alright," Seonghwa says, giving you a reassuring smile. "I promised to stay by your side, and I always keep my promises."
You feel a sense of relief wash over you, and you are grateful for Seonghwa's kind words. His eyes sparkle like the stars above as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.
"Seonghwa, please come with me," Yeosang pleads, interrupting your thoughts. "San is too scared to ride with me, and we need an even number."
"I can't, I have to stay with y/n," Seonghwa replies, casting a reassuring glance in your direction.
"Hey, it's okay, Hwa," you said with a smile, comforted by his presence. "San and I will find another ride to go on. Thank you for wanting to stay with me."
Seonghwa looks into your eyes for reassurance, "Are you sure?" he asks. You nod and give him a smile.
"I won't leave her alone," San says, coming up next to you. "We'll go on the bumper cars and wait for you guys here," you nod along with him. Seonghwa feels a bit conflicted about leaving you with San, even though he is one of his closest friends. It's not that Seonghwa doesn't trust San, but he feels protective of you as any good boyfriend should. After some thought, Seonghwa decides to trust San.
"Thanks, San. I'll be back soon, baby," Seonghwa says. He looks from San to you and kisses your cheek before letting Yeosang drag him away from you.
You wave them goodbye and turn towards San, who is already giving you a dimpled smile. "Bumper cars?" you suggest excitedly. You and San both laugh and wait in line for your turn.
After a long thirty minutes, Seonghwa and the others come back from their ride and start searching for you and San. Seonghwa tries calling you, but you don't answer. He begins to feel a sense of panic rise within him, but he soon spots your adorable braids and everyday purse with San in the distance. His smile faded as he watched San expertly maneuver the claw machine to win you a Cinnamoroll Sanrio plushie. Your favorite Sanrio. Seonghwa felt a pang of jealousy rise within him. He wants to be the one winning you plushies and impressing you with his skills. He watches as you hug San with gratitude and thank him for the sweet gesture.
Before San could also wrap his arms around you, Seonghwa quickly comes over and gently touches your shoulder. You turn around, and your eyes light up when you realize it's your Seonghwa.
"Hwa, look what Sannie won for me! I gave up after three tries, but he did it in just one! Isn't it so cute?" you bring the plushie up to his face, and your giggles make Seonghwa's knees feel weak. He feels guilty for feeling jealous when he knows you would never do anything to upset him, but he can't help feeling like the plushie is mocking him. It's as if it's saying, You didn't win me. You didn't win me. Despite the childish urge to punch the plushie from your hands, Seonghwa resists and forces a smile.
"It is cute; it even matches your pretty nails," Seonghwa compliments, taking your hand and admiring the glitter to hide his feelings.
You gasp, "You're so right. Now I need to take a picture." You happily take out your phone and snap a picture of yourself holding Cinnamoroll.
Seonghwa lets out an exasperated sigh, trying to contain his frustration. "San, I think it's better if you head back to the others now. y/n and I are going somewhere else," he says, struggling to keep his tone even.
You and San exchange confused glances as you try to make sense of Seonghwa's sudden irritation. San, feeling uneasy, asks Seonghwa if everything is alright, sensing that Seonghwa's annoyance is directed at him. San is at a loss, not knowing what he may have done to upset Seonghwa.
"Yeah, I just want to spend time with my girlfriend," Seonghwa says, taking your hand and walking away.
You quickly turn your head over your shoulder. "We'll be back, San. Have fun with the others." You smile at him and turn towards Seonghwa again. You can tell that something is wrong with him by the annoyed look on his face and the way his grip tightens around your hand.
Concerned, you stop in front of a churro stand and a Ferris wheel and ask him if he's okay. You take both of his warm hands in yours and stand in front of him to get his attention. Seonghwa lets out a deep sigh as soon as he sees your worried gaze. It's not your fault he can't control his dumb jealousy. You can tell he's not okay, but you're unsure what's bothering him.
"I'm fine," Seonghwa tries to reassure you, but you know when Seonghwa is not being truthful.
"What's wrong?" you gently ask him again. Seonghwa sighs and reaches for the plushie that is sitting under your arm.
"This is my problem," Seonghwa faces the Sanrio plushie towards you with a very (adorable) annoyed expression. It only took you a few seconds to piece everything together. You then wrap your arms around Seonghwa's waist and let out muffled laughs.
"Why are you laughing?" Seonghwa tries to hide his smile as he attempts to make you look at him again.
You find yourself gazing up at Seonghwa, your eyes meeting his from his chest. A playful smile curves at the corner of your lips as you tease him, "You're cute when you're jealous."
Seonghwa looks away in guilt and quickly apologizes, "I'm sorry, beautiful. I guess I felt jealous seeing you spend time with San even though I'm the one who left. Both of you would never do anything to hurt me. I know that, but I was being stupid."
You smile and try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach from how much your boyfriend cares, "It's okay, Hwa. I forgive you. But you should apologize to Sannie, too. Poor boy just did not want to go on that horrifying ride."
You both laugh and go back to holding hands.
"It's adorable when they think no one is looking," Jongho remarks with a mouthful of popcorn as he and the boys share various carnival foods.
"It's us against the world," Mingi mocks Seonghwa, and the boys laugh loudly, feeling happy and content to be together, watching as you and Seonghwa go around playing different games together.
As the night wore on, Seonghwa's luck at the carnival games became increasingly impressive. With each toss and throw, he racked up a collection of ten more plushies for you to take home. Of all the fluffy toys he won, your favorite one is definitely the Toothless Dragon from the movie "How to Train Your Dragon." Its resemblance to your adorable boyfriend is uncanny, down to the little details of its big eyes and endearing smile. In appreciation for his efforts, you rewarded Seonghwa with multiple pecks on his lips, feeling grateful for his company. He even bought you many churros to snack on, knowing how much you adore them.
Seonghwa's attention is caught by the growing crowd of people in one area and the faint sound of explosions in the distance. "I think the fireworks are going to start soon," he remarks. You nod your head, and both of you follow the crowd with plushies in your hands. You quickly spot the towering figures of Yunho and Mingi in the crowd and head towards them. The excitement in the air is palpable as everyone waits for the magical display of lights and colors to begin.
As you approach the group, Hongjoong is the first to notice you. "There's our lovely couple," he exclaims, causing the rest of the boys to turn their heads and greet you with warm smiles.
San playfully pokes Seonghwa's cheek and asks, "You feeling better, pouty boy?" Seonghwa grins and apologizes for his earlier moodiness. San is quick to reassure him, shaking his head and telling him that it's okay.
"Can I have one?" Wooyoung asks, looking at all your plushies. You open your mouth, about to say yes, but Seonghwa blocks your view with one arm. "No, I won them for her," Seonghwa says. Wooyoung pouts and mutters a playful "meanie" before stepping closer to you to watch the fireworks. You can't help but smile at the playful banter between the two while secretly cherishing the plushies Seonghwa won for yourself.
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a/n 💌
I was so nervous to write this…but ateez at the carnival sounds so chaotic and fun 😭🫶🏼
#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa#seonghwa ateez#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez oneshot#ateez seonghwa#seonghwa x y/n#seonghwa x you
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"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar: Chapter 7"
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"'Cause all I see is the best of you and all you see is the best of me
And you bring out the best of me
And all I see is everything
Your goals, your glow, your inner being
And our bigger meaning
So, let's lose us in these sheets, yeah
And when I get up to walk, I wanna feel weak, yeah
Well, I ain't goin' far (ain't goin' far)
So, stay where you are (stay where you are)
Feel like you partied in Venus and we woke up in Mars (baby)
I been waitin' my whole life (I've been waiting)
My whole life
And I'm gonna give you the best years of your life (for you and I)
You and I"
Beyonce—"ll Hands ll Heaven"
N'Jadaka Udaku, the foreign born king of Wakanda was a large man.
Yani watched him stretch his muscled arms and strong neck as he powered the bulk of his big body onto the stern of the houseboat and joined her on the cushiony loveseat facing the water on the lower deck. She had been on the luxury ship before. In America and elsewhere it would be considered a yacht, but to the super rich Udakus, it was a family houseboat.
The king rolled his neck and snuggled next to her, enjoying the warm sunlight and letting the alcohol in the champagne they drank relax him into a slight buzzy stupor. For three hours they floated in a quiet bliss, watching the water become a foamy deluge in their wake slicing through the turquoise liquid. The shoreline view slowly changed from deluxe high rises and bustle of city life to the more tranquil and slower-paced suburbs that led to the rural beauty of outer Zana.
N'Jadaka's skin had turned browner than hers as they sunbathed in their swimsuits, and luxuriated in their togetherness. She kissed his hard bicep and started to cry.
"Yani…"
His concerned voice enveloped her in comfort. He hugged her into his side.
"I'm so happy," she sputtered, knowing the champagne had taken over her emotions. "You're my husband now, and it makes all of this seem so solid and real. I'm drunk…"
He laughed and the sound squeezed her heart.
"I'm not talking about the liquor," she said quickly wanting him to know her true feelings, "I'm drunk off of this love we have. I can't explain it well, but it makes me feel…safe. Finally."
He threaded his fingers with hers and kissed her hand.
"I know what you mean, Yani. I feel the same. I'm actually feeling so many things at once. Maybe that's why I've been so quiet for the last two hours. Taking it all in…knowing that I have a wife. That means everything to me. I didn't know I could possibly love you more, but going through the wedding ceremony, taking vows before gods and people. All of this takes on a deeper meaning."
He stared at their wedding rings.
"I should've married you after the first time we made love because I knew you were the one back then. I just didn't trust myself…I didn't know how to love you properly."
He cast his gaze toward the river water again.
"I have a queen, a family of my own…I have everything I've ever wanted. Maybe I'm scared I'll lose it all again…maybe that's why all of my senses and emotions are heightened. So many people in the world never get to have all of their dreams come true."
Yani leaned over and kissed his cheek. N'Jadaka turned his face to align their lips. He was larger up close, overwhelming her space the way he always did and she welcomed that sensation. It meant that he was her forever love. Her husband.
"Ohmigod, look…N'Jadaka…look," she gasped.
Their love boat passed a giant mountain waterfall that gushed whitewater into the once calm river. The automated boat moved away from the cascading flow that started three hundred feet above them. A cool mist from the water striking the river moistened their skin. Yani leaned her neck back to study how high the waterfall started. They stood and walked up to the top deck toward the bow. The boat switched directions on a pre-determined course and headed directly for the heavy curtain of water one hundred feet wide. She clutched his hand.
"What's happening? Why is the boat going toward the waterfall?" Yani said with a nervous tone.
"Wait and see," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder.
"Aren't we supposed to cruise around the Ibukan?"
"That's what I told everyone for our safety, but that's not what we're doing," he said with a mischievous grin.
They drifted closer and the roar of the waterfall frightened Yani.
"Keep your eyes open baby…watch," he said.
A vibranium shield shimmered a neon blue streak all around the boat. They cruised straight through the waterfall and Yani marveled at the tons of water washing across the protective barrier.
On the other side they entered an enormous cave. The shield powered down and Yani glanced behind them, listening to the thundering roar of water keeping them out of sight.
The river cave was balmy and lit with lanterns decked around the stone walls. They were inside a mountain that led to someplace she was never privy to.
"Where are we?" she whispered.
"You'll see soon enough," he said, squeezing her closer to him.
The lanterns flickered a yellow-orange glow that allowed her to make out cave drawings that didn't look like Wakandan script. Without the light, the blackness of the interior would've swallowed them. Up ahead, a glint of white beckoned them to an exit.
"Oh!"
Yani covered her mouth with her hand. They floated out into a tropical rainforest with an explosion of colors on vines and canopies she had never seen before. The air smelled different and the scent of the blossoming rainforest flowers lured her steps forward near a railing for a closer chance to sniff the tropical atmosphere. If Joba had been there, she would've believed that her fairy garden had sprouted into a giant real-life wonderland. That's how magical it felt floating along with her husband.
Yani looked around with more wonder and couldn't get over how different the world looked in that place. One would've believed they slipped into a fantasy land with colors that vivid and varied. The boat followed a lazy "s" curve until it stopped. N'Jadaka gathered up their thin, ankle-length aquamarine honeymoon tunics. Yani slipped hers on and he did the same.
"We'll ride a hover bike to the place I want to take you," he said.
Yani walked beside him to the lower deck where a canoe and a hover bike were attached for their use on the trip. She climbed behind her husband and held his waist.
Two elder women and a young man waited for them to float over the water and settle on the landing near the water's edge. One woman carried a woven grass basket covered with a satin blue cloth and the other woman held a full bouquet of magenta and blood-orange flowers. Both women wore heavy brocaded lavender robes with gold sandals. The young man escorting them stood silently watching the royal couple climb off the hover bike. He wore a long plain white shirt with gold crotch-drop pants.
The woman with the basket stepped forward first and handed N'Jadaka the basket.
"Welcome kumkani. We have been waiting for your arrival with the new kumkanikazi and prepared your quarters for the next three days."
"Thank you. May I introduce you to Kumkanikazi Yani?"
All three lowered their heads and waited for Yani to acknowledge them with an offering of her hand. The woman with the bouquet gave them to the queen and Yani sniffed the heavenly scent.
"Where are we?" Yani asked the first woman.
"This is Ekuqaleni. The Beginning. The place where the Udaku clan first came to be through Ugogo Udaku…Grandmother Udaku. She is the matrilineal beginning for the king. You carry her name as your own now, kumkanikazi. The Udaku family line runs through their women."
"Udaku was her surname?" Yani asked.
The elder woman who gave the flowers shook her head and spoke softly.
"No. Udaku was her first and only name. Udaku of the Panther Tribe. Mother of Bashenga Udaku, the first Black Panther and our first united tribal king."
"The women ran everything," Yani said.
The women nodded at her.
"Come, you have had a long day and long journey. Time to rest and get acquainted with the roots of your people."
The fruit basket woman snapped her fingers and the young man became more alert and stepped three feet in front of N'Jadaka as the others did. All citizens were only allowed to stand the requisite distance of three feet unless invited closer by a royal personally.
"What are your names?" Yani asked.
The first woman pointed to herself and then the woman with the flowers.
"I am Mama F'Neka and that is Mama Yiswa. Niso will take you to rest. Supper will be ready when you ask for it. We are here to serve and help you enjoy your stay. Your pleasure is our grace," F'Neka said.
Niso stepped lively and the royal couple carried their gifts and followed a winding path through a wealth of nature's beauty.
"We are on the other side of Umbono Lake," N'Jadaka said.
"By the cove?"
"Close to it," he said.
Yani smiled. She had a better picture of the geography knowing they were further south.
"Are you the only people here?" Yani asked Niso.
"No, kumkanikazi. Several of us work here to take care of Ekuqaleni," Niso said.
N'Jadaka took a hold of Yani's free hand and clasped it as they walked through the tropical paradise.
"No one is allowed to be here except for the royal family, and most times it's just for the newlywed ones," N'Jadaka said. "This place is a historical landmark and not even the public can come here except for certain times of the month annually for special tours."
"Ekuqaleni is a holy place my queen," Niso added. "Ugogo Udaku encouraged her young son King Bashenga to follow the ways of the shaman during the time of constant tribal wars. With her wisdom and Bast's guidance, our revered king found isipho…the gift."
"Vibranium," Yani said.
"Yes, kumkanikazi. Ugogo Udaku was born and lived here in the forest for one hundred and ten years. My family has taken care of Ekuqaleni for generations. Mama F'Neka and Mama Yiswa are my grand aunts. We are a mix of the Panther and River tribe."
The path they followed narrowed and N'Jadaka made Yani walk in the middle behind Niso. Giant multi-colored butterflies with wing-spans as wide as her hand fluttered in a ring high above them. The forest had a cloying sweet odor where they traveled. Niso pointed to the butterflies overhead.
"They are drunk with the fermented nectar of the fruit we gave you," Niso said.
Grayish-green fruit shaped like pregnant pears hung on branches slightly at Yani's eye level. Many had over-ripened and browned deeply in sections where butterflies crawled over them licking the fermentation. She giggled and touched the wing of one nearby butterfly. The soft powdery feel slid across her fingertips as they continued moving into a clearing.
"What about our clothes and things on the boat?" Yani asked.
N'Jadaka fondled her backside with a gentle pat and pinch.
"Don't worry about that stuff. I have it all taken care of. Just enjoy the trip, Ma," N'Jadaka said.
Niso stepped aside letting the royals move ahead of him and Yani's eyes widened.
A natural heated mineral pool faced a sunken fire pit surrounded by low stools and a lounging seat. The lush area was cultivated to blend in with the surroundings with enough touches to look cozy and quite comfortable.
"My king and queen, Ugogo Udaku's family dwelling," Niso said proudly.
Yani had imagined some small thatched covered hut made to survive a tropical environment. Instead, her neck arched back and her mouth fell open at the sight of giant trees as tall, wide, and grandiose as American redwoods, but cultivated over a millennia to take on the braided curved shapes like lucky bamboo. The canopies were also intertwined across the tree tops creating the foundation for pearly white-washed circular tree homes made of smooth stone and earth. The light coloring looked spectacular against the backdrop of twining leaves and branches of bright emerald green etched with faint traces of lemon yellow and vermilion streaks.
N'Jadaka grinned next to her.
"Beautiful huh?" he said, putting the basket of fruit on a low tree-trunk carved table.
Yani put the bouquet of flowers down next to the fruit basket and walked toward the closest tree. She noticed the carved steps inside the trunk that led up to the tree home.
"May I?" Yani asked Niso.
"My queen, this is your ancestral home. You may do as you wish," Niso said.
Yani hurried up the organic steps and squealed when she reached the top. Entering the first room she immediately looked out of the window. Holding her breath, she couldn't believe it all belonged to her. N'Jadaka's heavy footfalls echoed from behind and she glanced at him quickly before spinning around the cool interior.
"So much space! It's huge in here and…ohmigod, N'Jadaka…"
Yani took off through a long hall that led to other parts of the tree house. More living pods were made for bedrooms, a restroom, kitchen area, and then treetop bridges that led to hanging gardens that grew fruits and flowers above the forest floor.
N'Jadaka followed, enjoying the delight in her eyes. They stood together on an above ground pathway that gave them a view of a lazy tributary of milky blue water that flowed to the east of the tree house. More steps carved out of the tree led down directly to the water.
"My ancestors had to live above ground because there was a lot of seasonal flooding before they started damming up spots to control the waterways. I thought staying here a few days before going on the boat cruise would be…romantic?" N'Jadaka said.
Yani hugged him tight.
"I love it," she said.
"I'm glad. I know we could go anywhere in the world, or do anything we want in Wakanda, but I just wanted to be somewhere special for us. You're making roots here too, and your lineage is very important to our history on this patch of land."
Yani's eyes welled up and she blinked away tears by glancing down below and noticing Niso. He waved up to them. A loud growling sound startled Yani. Two black panthers lumbered out from behind twisty vines looping below the trees.
Niso didn't seem fazed at all and bent down to scratch the ear of one panther that rolled over onto its back.
"This is S'Bu and Unathi, your personal guards. Would you like to meet them?" Niso called up.
Yani bounded down the carved stairs of another giant tree dragging N'Jadaka with her by the hand.
"Are they safe? They don't know us," Yani asked.
She quickly became cautious once she stood before the gorgeous beasts, their blue-black coats of fur gleaming like polished midnight. N'Jadaka walked up to S'Bu and cuddled its chin with his big hand.
"They are bred for the royals and brought up to obey your commands and watch over you in the forest," Niso said.
Yani was still hesitant to touch either panther.
"No worries Queen Yani. I have gotten them accustomed to your scent. King N'Jadaka sent over clothing belonging to you so they are familiar with your natural skin odor. They know you are to be respected and protected."
"Tell them to sit in Wakandan baby," N'Jadaka encouraged.
"They're not dogs," Yani said with a small laugh in her voice.
"Try it."
Yani stepped closer to her husband just to be safe and looked both big cats in the eyes.
"Hlala phantsi," Yani commanded.
Both panthers squatted on their haunches and kept direct eye contact with her.
"Good job, Queen Yani," Niso said.
Yani reached out and scritched the ear of Unathi first. The animal purred under her fingers and S'Bu nudged her fingers to get some affection too.
"A jealous baby," Yani said.
"They are both three years old and will come and go frequently to trek around the pereimeter," Niso said.
"Aren't panthers normally solitary?" Yani asked.
"Wild ones, yes. They prefer to be alone until mating season. But these have been raised in a claw of humans and were trained to live together with some female panthers that roam here too. You won't see them as much. They are fed by our team so no need to do anything for these big boys. S'Bu loves belly rubs and Unathi prefers back rubs. When you want them to go away, just clap your hands and they will leave."
Niso lowered his head and kept his hands by his sides.
"I will leave you to begin your honeymoon. Tap your kimoyos when you would like your supper brought to you, or any other extra meals and snacks. Ugogo Udaku's home is equipped with all the latest amenities as the palace. Refreshments are in the home already. There are marked trails and kimoyo scans for landmarks and such throughout the forest. I hope you will enjoy your stay. We are so honored to have you."
"Thank you, Niso," Yani said.
Niso wandered off and the forest swallowed all traces of him. Both panthers flopped down on their sides relaxed and without a care in the world.
"What would you like to do first? Explore a little, or relax. Anything you want to get into is good with me, baby," N'Jadaka said.
"What about you?"
He surveyed the empty fire pit and a stack of freshly chopped wood at the base of the tree house steps.
"I'm thinkin' of making a fire so we can have our supper out here. Shouldn't take me long to get one going. We have a couple of hours left before the sun sets."
"How about you get the fire going and I'll walk around here for a few minutes to get acquainted with the forest," she said.
"Bet."
He strolled over to the wood stack and Yani pivoted the other way. The two panthers sat up. S'Bu padded forward to follow.
"Stay," she said in English.
The panther kept walking and she repeated her command in Wakandan and the big cat abruptly sat on its backside again.
She wandered into an area of hanging vines taking in the fresh air and dense foliage. Staring up, she looked upon the thick canopy that blocked out most of the sunlight and created a shady walk through the forest. Despite the dense covering, tiny slats of golden light filtered down like sundrops, making dustmotes look like sparkly glitter dancing in the bright spots. Yani walked into magic and wonder feeling childlike.
There were a few other tree houses high above, but many hadn't been cared for as well as Ugogo Udaku's home over the years. They had eroded away or been grown over by the trees and vines they were built into. The constant buzzing of cicadas rang in her ears. She welcomed the sound and listened for other tropical noises to alert the world of other life going on around her. Frogs croaked and a few green and blue birds bounced from branch to branch watching her closely. A black and white colobus monkey, with an old geriatric-looking face and a tail of long white fur that favored horsehair, spied on her from above.
A sensation of peace descended over the forest and Yani ventured carefully back to the treehouse. The smell of wood smoke greeted her. N'Jadaka sat on one of the low stools by the fire petting both of the panthers that stretched out in front of him. Yani paused her steps and watched her husband interact with the animals. He looked regal and powerful handling S'Bu and Unathi like they were mere kittens. The fire crackled and so did a leaf under her sandal. N'Jadaka and the panthers glanced her way. His large physique reminded her of a human panther. Especially his eyes and how they could turn predatory against an enemy. He really was just a giant panther who would turn as docile as the big cats at his feet when she pointed him in the direction she wanted. Umama whispered in her ear before they flew away on their honeymoon that the queen of Wakanda was the true power behind the throne, and the best queens kept the king on point. Yani clapped her hands and both cats ambled away following her commands immediately. They retreated in the direction Niso disappeared.
"How was your walk?" he asked.
Yani went to him and touched his pulled back locs. She lifted his chin with two fingers and kissed his full lush lips in the firelight.
"This is perfect," she said after releasing his mouth.
"Hungry?"
"Yeah, I could do with a good meal and then a nice early rest."
"We can go canoeing tomorrow and barbecue in the afternoon. We can also hike to see the top of the waterfall."
"So much to see and do… and all the time we need to do it. A whole month off," Yani sighed into his hair.
N'Jadaka pulled her onto his lap and they enjoyed the fire for a time. He tapped his kimoyo beads and Niso returned with two other attendants pushing a floating double food cart filled with delicacies and more than enough food for two hungry royals. The low dining table was just at the right level of the ancient seats. They sat across from one another and were served the first course of broth and flat bread with wine and fresh cheese bites. N'Jadaka dismissed their attendants after giving instructions to bring a late breakfast in the morning.
"I guess walking out here made us hungrier than we thought," Yani said.
She pulled out several platters filled with yellow rice, grilled vegetables, stuffed flaky fish pastries, tender cuts of beef smothered in rich red wine gravy, and skewers of chicken glazed with peanut sauce. Helping themselves to full plates, they ate and reveled in the calm peacefulness as the sun set. Small solar lights sprinkled around the tree house twinkled to life.
"How pretty…oh…I wish the kids could see this," Yani said.
"They will. We'll come back through here on the way back home our last week. But I want us to have this to ourselves first," he said, winking.
"You really have thought of everything."
She stuffed a piece of the fruit that was already cut up for them in the basket.
"This tastes so good, like a peach and passion fruit mix…here, try some."
Yani passed a small squared off piece to N'Jadaka and he ate it right from her fingers, licking the tips free of juice.
"I like it," he said.
He watched her face then smiled.
"You're glowing," he said.
"What?"
"Your face…your demeanor. It's a glowing vibe."
"Hmmm…I feel like I'm glowing. This might sound funny but, I feel like I'm married. It's like a sensation in my bosom, like a weight or something. Nothing heavy, but…a solidness?"
Yani watched his face. N'Jadaka leaned in closer to the table and reached for her ring finger.
"I kinda feel that way too, Yani. Like how we were discussing on the boat. Ceremony is one thing, but saying those vows to you…I feel more connected to you than I ever have. Once those words came out…it's like you said…almost like the word became flesh and lodged inside of us."
Yani nodded, understanding completely.
"Are you excited about when we get back and you attend your first palace meeting with the Council of Elders?" he asked.
Yani rolled her eyes and nibbled on some bread.
"I don't want to think about the palace right now. I only want to focus on us and this amazing honeymoon trip."
"Want any more wine?"
N'Jadaka held out a wine carafe and Yani shook her head.
"I've had enough to drink today, no thank you."
He sipped the last drops in his own wine glass and checked out the dessert offerings. Lemon tarts and mini vanilla bean cakes with fresh berry glaze. They shared a cake and then covered up the rest of the food for the attendants to retrieve later.
Shucking off their caftans to frolic openly with swimsuits again, they investigated the mineral spring bubbling nearby. A trough made of smooth robin's egg blue stones allowed cool water from the river tributary to flow through. All they had to do was lift a partition made of yellow limestone and clay and the cooler water drained into the steamy mineral waters regulating the temperature.
The spring was about five feet deep in the center with seat impressions carved into the sides that could accommodate up to six adults.
"Nature's Jacuzzi," N'Jadaka said as he helped Yani into the bubbling froth that smelled faintly of sulfur.
Yani lifted the partition and the milky blue river water rushed in and helped neutralize the strong odor from the spring. The frothy mix became soapy on their skin making it tingle.
"Feels like heaven," Yani said after the final adjustment of the partition to a perfect temperature.
Seated shoulder to shoulder, they soaked in heated bliss and held hands under the water. They spoke of the children and their education, and Yani fretted about the possibility of sending Sydette to the best science academy in Wakanda. Their eldest had taken her first Level 1 aptitude exam that all nine-year-olds took to determine their academic journey. Unlike most educational systems, Wakandans let the children's intelligence place them with their natural interests and not just a typical general core curriculum that everyone had to abide by for decades. They allowed children to specialize in their talents early encouraging self-motivation that would hopefully carry on into a lifetime of autodidactism.
Sydette tested high in the hard sciences and mathematics and her primary teacher was pleased to inform Yani and N'Jadaka that S'Yan University had the proper seed school within the institution that all the best young science minds went to early. In a year, Sydette would have to attend a new school for her grade level and Yani wanted her near the palace. Attending the Level 2 in S'Yan would mean boarding school for Sydette. Traveling back and forth to school hundreds of miles away was too much for a little girl. It was tough while she was living away from her father in the countryside under duress, but S'Yan was even further away near the sea.
Boarding school was what rich people did to have their children rub shoulders with the elite and to get high paying, high status jobs after graduation. Sydette was a princess and the daughter of the richest and most brilliant man in the world. She didn't need a boarding school to get ahead in life, she was already at the front of the line. Yani toyed with the idea of asking N'Jadaka to create a school in Zana just as heralded as the one in S'Yan just to keep Sydette at home. All the schools in Wakanda were better than anything outside of the country, but S'Yan University had three particular teachers there that created giants in their field. Shuri and T'Challa had gone there as children before attending the Royal Academy of Wakanda in Zana.
Her mind wandered to their "twins" Joba and Riki. In two years, all of their children could possibly be away from the golden city and boarding on the other side of the country. The thought bothered her to no end. She was supposed to see her babies every day to ask how their day went and help them with their class work. There were already rumblings from Joba and Riki's teachers about skipping them a few grades like N'Jadaka had been. That meant they could leave the palace sooner. Brilliant children meant losing parts of childhood sometimes. Her husband didn't talk about it much, but Dante told Yani that it was tough for the king to be the smartest and youngest child in the room when he was little.
Joba had an aptitude for linguistics and art. Riki…well…Riki was…Yani chuckled.
"What's so funny?" N'Jadaka asked.
"Thinking of Riki. What do you think he'll do with his life? We know he loves animals."
N'Jadaka pressed his lips together suppressing a smirk.
"Why are you looking like that?" Yani asked.
"He told me he wants to start a band."
"Ooh Lord, God…"
"Well, the boy can sing. My Baba could and so can you, which means he has the genetics."
"So Sydette becomes an astrobiologist, Joba the master linguist/art historian, and our son becomes a rock star?"
"Why not?"
"I know the music business first hand remember? It's not a nice industry. He's too smart for that."
"Wakanda is all about letting their young people develop their potential. Maybe it's time for an Udaku to be a famous musician. Give him a few more years with his piano and guitar lessons. He could be the next King of Pop. But a real one!"
"My baby is too sweet to become a raunchy musician."
"Stop projecting."
Yani curled her lip in a pout and N'Jadaka squeezed her kneecap.
"You have to let him have the same opportunity your parents gave you when you were allowed to try your hand at music," he said.
"That wasn't my dream and you know it. Chez wanted to be a star, not me."
"Kendall is doing well though."
"Kendall is a famous music producer now…all behind the scenes work."
"He would be a good mentor for Riki—"
"Are you seriously thinking of letting our son become a performer? You wahn me vex on this honeymoon?"
"You are the queen of Wakanda. Lil Man will never fall victim to the seamier side of the music business because who would want to fuck with his mama? Or his daddy? One word from your mouth and you already know I'm tearing up cities for our kids."
Yani relaxed more and rubbed her hand up and down his arm.
"Promise?" she said in his ear.
"Anything for my wife, ya heard me?"
She nodded. He stood abruptly and pulled at the elastic on his trunks.
"Too hot for me. Let's use the outdoor shower and head up," he said.
She stepped out of the mineral pool and slipped on her sandals. They rinsed off with cool water from an overhead shower nozzle connected to one of the trees facing the treehouse. Stripping off their suits, they wrung them out and strung them along a branch to dry. A second more thorough shower had them fully refreshed and energized.
"Let's stay outside a little longer," Yani suggested.
Even with the sun gone, the spring weather carried the whispers of summer on a slow breeze that followed them back over to the double lounger. N'Jadaka moved it to face the tributary where they could gaze at the bright stars in the evening sky. He tilted the back support so they could sprawl together at an angle. Yani waited for him to settle in the lounger first before she crawled to sit between his legs with the back of her head resting on his chest.
"Do you think Adam and Eve had it like this in the Garden of Eden?" Yani asked.
"Without attendants…maybe."
"Nude in nature and happy like this every day of their lives…"
"Until that whole apple situation," he joked.
"Shooting stars!" she blurted, pointing at the streak of burning dust overhead.
Yani closed her eyes when she spotted a new cluster of vaporized debris masquerading as shooting stars. She made a wish for her husband and herself to live long happy lives without any falls from grace.
N'Jadaka was pleased.
His new wife loved the surprise excursion to Ekuqaleni. Before his paternal grandfather vanished in the Thanos war, he gave N'Jadaka the suggestion to visit the place of his Wakandan roots where it all began for the Panther tribe. He made meticulous arrangements in secrecy and felt grateful that he listened to Baba Z.
Yani was in awe of the place and more than anything, she loved the seclusion and quiet from other people. She spoke to him with that soft tone he adored in her voice, and touched him constantly. She knew his love language was physical contact and catered to those needs just as he catered to hers by showering her with gifts that showed her that she was worthy of all the good things in life she struggled for. Yani wasn't materialistic by any means, but his constant presents for no special reasons brought her gratitude and acceptance that she was worthy of being spoiled by him. N'Jadaka puffed up ten feet whenever she expressed elation over a new surprise he bestowed upon her simply because he loved her so much.
Naked and tangled together on the lounger, they watched shooting stars and listened to the settling down of the majestic forest. An owl hooted and flew low past their seat right across the tributary. They were surrounded by mountains and away from the constant eyes in the palace. Being butt naked in a serene wilderness calmed his mind and body. He curled his arms around Yani's chest, feeling the soft globes of her breasts push into his warm skin. True Eden was holding her close and never letting her go.
He slid his fingers onto her nipples and played with them. They perked up, still tender from the soak in the mineral pool. She stayed quiet, watching his fingers roll across the firm tips, fat like plump grapes. Her sighs pleased his ears as he plucked and pinched them gently. He cupped each breast and looked down at her chest, slowly pushing them together. Staring at big tits always got him started in the arousal department. Yani's thighs fell open wider and he knew her inner labia were becoming engorged just by the way her backside squirmed against him. She turned her head and he lowered his so they could kiss, their tongues sliding into moist, ready caverns. His mouth watered kissing her, and he kept his tongue at the entrance of her mouth, forcing Yani to beg for more with her prodding tongue. He delved deeper into her throat forcing her to submit that wanton mouth. She matched his pace. His fuller lips took over hers and she moaned deep in her throat.
"Love me?" he whispered between kisses.
She nodded and arched her neck to capture more of his lips, her teeth grazing his bottom lip playfully. He slowed her down with softer kisses that tested the limits of her desire for him. Licking on her neck, he bit into her skin and nibbled on the spot just under the right side of her jaw. He sucked a small hicky there, marking her flesh with his teeth too. She shifted her body onto her side, and the heat from her heavy breasts seared warmth into him. He lowered his hand and touched her down there in that special place.
That pussy was wetter and hotter than the water they crawled out of.
The slickness coated his fingertips and he painted her wide labia with all the stickiness she spewed out.
"I've been waiting to play all in this pussy…"
He prevented her from responding by stuffing his fingers in her mouth, making her taste the sweet tasting nectar she released. She'd spent a week eating large amounts of pineapples and mangoes to make sure her pussy tasted delicious for them.
Good girl.
He gently smacked her vulva. The slap from his hand activated the pleasure of her labia piercings.
"Yesss," she hissed, and he slapped her vulva again, the frothy wetness between her legs making his entire hand wet.
"…playing with my wife's pretty pussy outside in the open. Anybody could walk past and see the queen's wet pussy lips…"
Yani huffed out an aroused breath into his right side. The exhibitionist in her was wound up tight. He drew lazy figure eights all around her jeweled clit. Her legs trembled as he rubbed slow circles on it directly.
"You can't cum on my fingers baby. The king has to eat your pussy first before he can get deep inside you. Would you like that now? My lips on your pussy? Licking all over that juicy clit?"
"Yes…please…Daddy…eat my pussy."
"You about to get some husband dick tonight, Yani. I already told you that shit was going to be different from what you're used to. Daddy gotta put in real work tonight to stretch you out good. I might make several big messes all inside you."
She trembled all over, the tension in her body palpable against his nerve endings. He inserted two fingers partially inside her pussy and they both heard the sound it made when he wiggled his fingers around to test how wet she was. He adjusted her position on his torso so he could reach down and finger fuck her. She spread her legs along the sides of his and savored his digits twirling pleasure inside of her. Her walls squeezed around his fingers. The deeper he sank his fingers the more moans tumbled from her lips. Her eyes were glassy and faraway. She was ready to be piped down good and hard.
N'Jadaka moved her body away from his and slid down to his knees on the soft grass. It was time for him to face the nation between her thighs. Pushing Yani's legs back on the lounger he smashed his lips into her vulva and commenced to pleasuring the queen with a thick wide tongue. She tasted sweeter and her slick offering soaked his lips and most of his lower face.
Tongue fucking her made Yani shoot her legs up to the dark heavens. Her toes pointed to the north star toward freedom in her pussy. A powerful orgasm rippled all across her lush form. He loved the way her entire vulva throbbed in his mouth. Her orgasmic contractions exploded again while he groaned into her soft center making it vibrate with delirious pulses. It forced her to let out a rapturous shout to God and anyone else who would listen to her praises of his tongue.
He slurped up all the stickiness she produced and swallowed it full of greed for more. Standing, he let her witness the growth of his erection. It stood saluting her. Her eyes glossed over his heavy nutsack before admiring his thick arousal. He lifted his balls and squeezed their heft, letting her see what was in store to flood her pussy.
Yani lifted one of the large fluffy pillows from the lounger and placed it on the grass in front of the seat. She dropped onto all fours facing away from him. Head down, ass up. N'Jadaka scooted into a comfortable position at the edge of the lounger and spread his legs. He gripped his dick with a firm hand and stroked himself, watching his wife wiggle her big, wide ass. Her fat vulva gleamed from her piercings and the fresh lubricant her body produced. The inner labia wings were spread out and all of her precious pink winked at him. She played with her pussy and he groaned stroking his dick. Her pretty rose-gold nails pulled her ass cheeks apart providing a gorgeous picture for him. When they got back to the palace he was going to commission a discreet artist to paint his wife in that position. That body was art, especially when it was aroused and that pink pussy throbbed like that.
"Fuck Yani, that pussy looks so juicy…so does that ass baby…"
She slowly rubbed her labia and it was torture staring at wet pussy teasing him to fuck. Women from all over the world had been in that position before trying to seduce him. Only Yani made him pant the way he did watching her tease him. She pushed three of her fingers inside her pussy and the squelching sounds had his fat lips twisted up in agony.
"You like your wife's pussy?" Yani said.
"I do baby…"
"Do you like how it sounds Daddy?"
His hand pounded his dick down to his balls. Precum drizzled down the shaft and all over his right hand. So much came out that he was losing the feeling of friction. He was going to need her tight pussy soon. Sweat poured down his face.
"Yani…damn…Yani…got this dick hard as fuck…shit…"
She started making her ass cheeks jump in a syncopated rhythm and he jumped down on his knees. He jammed his left hand down on the arch of her back and pressed the tip of his dick against her right ass cheek, rubbing it hard against the pillowy soft bubble.
"You like that big ass Daddy?"
"Fuck!"
N'Jadaka groaned and slapped his dick against her ass. His precum coated her skin and his dick slid all around feeling hot and dangerous in his hand. He slapped the other ass cheek several times leaving dark red-brown markings on her toasted brown skin. Yani liked that stinging pain and cried out for more. He was losing control. His vision became blurry from the sweat falling into his eyes.
"Get on your knees! Aw fuck, Yani! Hurry…get on your knees…'bout to bust a fat one. Wanna cum on your face…you know what I want…you know what I want!" he shouted.
Yani took her sweet time rising from her position. But she didn't stay on her knees. She sauntered over to the lounger and got cozy on her back, spreading her big thighs open.
"I want my husband…I want my husband right now," she said.
N'Jadaka stared at her earnest face and the beauty it contained. His entire body hummed with the thrilling sensation of lust and love and deepening desire. His dick was a heavy sword between his legs ready to be sheathed by a queen he loved with his entire heart, mind, body, and soul. He lowered his head and kissed her feet and made a trail with his lips all the way up her body. When he reached her lips, he gave her a small peck and lined his erection up with her receptive labia.
"I want my wife. I want my wife right now," he said to her with strong conviction.
The firelight revealed a shine in Yani's eyes that glowed like the stars above.
Everything slowed down.
His breathing.
His heart beat.
His mind.
All there was in that moment of exquisite time was her.
Yani.
The woman who brought him back from the land of the living dead.
The woman who loved him whole and free.
His wife.
His.
He entered her body slowly, burning into his memory the sensation of her vagina closing around his girth, holding him like no other woman could. Resting his forehead against hers, their eyes connected and locked together. He placed his hands into fists at her sides and grunted his satisfaction with a slow lovemaking that had him enthralled.
God she took that dick!
He closed his eyes and gasped at how tight and deep she was. When he was able to open his eyes again while savoring the sweet thrusts he gave her, he knew in his spirit he would be lost to her love forever. The thought of how easily he could've lost her on that island swarmed over him like a tsunami of watery heat in his bones, and he wept, fearful of how close his life could've gone down the drain if he hadn't found her and built a connection.
Yani cradled his face with her hands and wiped away his tears that threatened to fall on her. He shifted his weight and she wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him room to thrust harder into her.
His queen. His wife.
Yani.
She made love to him like no other and he reciprocated. His mind wandered for a second at a memory. Who was the lover he once chastised for trying to fuck him like that when it was better suited for a man who deserved her? He was at M.I.T. at the time…early twenties. Cocksure and slanging dick like a fiend. The woman had been much older than him and fell in love with him so fast that he felt bad for leaving her with unrequited feelings. Shaun knew her…a big fine…
Renata.
Yeah, that was her. He had been right to warn Renata about fucking men like that. That was husband territory and the woman that rightfully deserved his tender loving care would have it for as long as he lived. The wisdom of his youth flooded his limbs and he kissed Yani while thrusting his soul into her depths. He needed her to feel his love and devotion. She hugged him tight.
"N'Jadaka…my love…my everything," she said.
"Yes," he said, rocking into her in a steady love tempo. "Yes…yes…baby…yes."
Husband things.
Her mouth parted but no sound came out. Her eyes never wavered from his. Her pussy swallowed his dick with artful decadence. Every thrust he gave ripped a groan from him as well as her, and after awhile, it became a steady metronome of sound. Even the forest quieted down to listen to their lovemaking.
Yani's pussy was a gushy fortress of primal delight. He glanced down to watch his dick move in and out, stuffing her full of thick dick, stretching her with divine care. Giving him pussy like that, he definitely knew he would have her pregnant in a few months. She made the idea of pulling out a sin before Bast and Ogum. He had fought aliens from other galaxies, had Gods speak to him directly and ride his body within his own flesh, but none of those experiences were as profound as making love to Yani.
He gestured for her to turn around so he could take her from behind and waited for her to get into a comfortable position. He sank back into her with a hearty shout of her name and gripped her waist. She clutched the back of the lounger for stability. Slowly gyrating his hips, he gave Yani the backshots she needed as her man. With reckless abandon, she threw her ass back on him causing loud thunderous claps of her ass cheeks. He held back from plunging into her again and let Yani do all the fucking while he watched with half closed eyelids. Her grip on his dick made his balls ache to release. She twisted her hips and pushed into him at a new angle that tugged on his length with a new sensation.
"Dassit, fall back on that dick. Good girl…show me how you own this dick…show me…dassit. That's all yours, Yani... right there…right there…yank on this dick with that tight pussy baby."
She looked back at him while she bounced on his dick. It was that daring look in her eyes that made her lethal during sex. The look clarified that no one else could fuck him like she did. She was the big dick assassin and she snapped that fat ass against his groin to remind him that she was not to be toyed with. Flexing her back muscles, she started really cooking on his dick, twisting her waist from side to side the way she did when she danced seductively on a dance floor. Her ass moved like water with such fluidity that he squeezed his eyes shut again to keep himself from nutting before he was ready. He grit his teeth and huffed agitated air, suppressing the yell that built up in his throat and threatened to bellow out like a raging elephant.
Yani pushed the lounge chair's back support until it was flat. She lowered her face and kept her eyes locked on his as she arched her back into a more visually pleasing display that tooted her ass higher for his pleasure.
She knew what she was doing.
Setting him up for the kill-strike on his dick. Her pussy was already doing stunts on his shaft with all the concentrated squeezing. Using his large hands, he pulled her cheeks apart to admire the visual of tight pink pussy throbbing all around his pulsing erection. Locked on her target, her eyes narrowed watching him. He had something for her ass though that would mess up her goal to end him.
N'Jadaka lifted onto his feet and fucked her froggy style. That position gave his fat sack the ammunition angle to continually smack into her swollen clit harder. His switch up worked, and Yani's face transformed from a look of deadly accuracy into one of submissive bliss.
"Oh…oh…oh…oh…" she panted softly and repeatedly.
His balls and the thickness of his dick stretching her caused the right amount of friction to render her lost in the sauce. She had that faraway look in her glassy stare.
"MmmHmmm…thought you had me gone. Now I gotta teach you how to behave," he barked at her.
Yani whimpered and chewed on her bottom lip. Her shiny eyes looked more watery and ready to spill tears. He rubbed on her booty, smacking it on both sides, luxuriating in the recoil as it bounced in his hands.
"Not here," he said glancing up at the treehouse.
Reluctantly, he pulled out from her tightness and lifted her gently in his arms. She rested her head against his neck and circled her arms around his wide shoulders.
"I will cum inside you way up there…where my ugogo lived high above the ground…among these magnificent trees. I want the old ones who passed on to hear us and know that we're building a new nation," he whispered in her ear.
He strode across the peaceful landscape carrying Yani past the dying fire and the gurgling of the mineral spring. S'Bu and Unathi returned from prowling their territory and watched the king with his queen.
"You two stay here and watch this place. Stay," he commanded.
Unathi gave a subdued growl as if responding to N'Jadaka. Both panthers slinked gracefully near the fire pit and hunkered down like two giant loaves of black bread.
N'Jadaka walked up the treehouse stairway and carried Yani into the largest bedroom pod that was decorated like a honeymoon suite for the royal couple. Tropical flowers were placed around the bedroom in natural grass woven baskets. Heavily scented green candles burned inside copper wall sconces with protective glass coverings. Two royal purple robes transported from their palace home hung up on wall hooks. With the whitewashing of the walls and the flickering candles, the bedroom glowed with a subdued golden light.
Their bedding was a soft ancient pallet covered in a hand woven plum-colored quilt that had been lovingly repaired and refabricated over centuries, but still held the stitches of his greatest grandfather's mother.
Above them was a skylight where the ancient ones had trimmed away the canopy to let in starlight and sunshine. He made out the Wakandan zodiac sign of the baobab tree among the stars twinkling their light into the room. Placing Yani on her feet, he pulled back the quilt and soft sheets.
"Give me your hand," he said.
Yani placed her left hand in his and helped lower her onto the unbelievably soft and supportive pallet. It must've been made from some special material that deceived the eye into thinking it was too thin to handle two grown bodies that were about to get busy. He pushed two large pillows against the wall creating back support.
N'Jadaka held Yani in his arms and kissed her. Their tongues played a gentle game of hide and seek in their mouths. He fondled her breasts and whispered her name over and over, praising her touches all over his body. He nibbled her earlobe, licked the shell of her ear, and groaned while listening to her needy moans. The wide open wings of her labia beckoned him to plunge back inside her pussy. The stickiness between her thighs became molten lava on his hand. She crawled on top of him and guided his twitching erection inside her sugary walls.
"Oh…Killmonger," she sighed.
"Fuck!"
Yani leaned forward and her breasts smothered his face. She rode him hard and fast. He sucked on her nipples and tried stuffing as much of her breasts into his mouth as possible. She started bucking and he cried out with enough passion to make his throat raw. He gripped her big titties and held on to them while she fucked the shit out of him.
"Dammit! Fuck me Yani…keep going like that…oh shiitttttt!"
She leaned back and her breasts bounced like an earthquake rumbled their treehouse. His nutsack reacted to the vision, the hot semen held there on the brink of shooting out from his dick if he let her ride like she was on a mechanical bull much longer.
His lips bunched up and he started begging for mercy.
"Don't make me cum yet baby…please…I'm not ready for you to pull this nut out yet…Yani…Yani…please…"
She laughed and pushed her tits together, extending his torture. Her pussy made splashing noise all over his dick. A creamy stickiness covered his erection and more coated it as her arousal danced into a tipping point. The way his dick stretched her pussy lips as she went up and down paralyzed him into inaction and he took the pounding of her ass on his thighs like a champ. A lesser man would've tapped out a long time ago. He was on the verge and she knew it, and that knowledge turned her into a dick riding tyrant.
"Oh my God…Oh my God….shit, shit, shit, Yani you fucking bitch! Ahhhhh!"
There was no shame in a man screaming because his wife rocked his world. No shame in his voice going up two octaves either. He lifted his body and hugged her tight, slowing down her plans to kill him with pussy. The king planted kisses all over her throat and face before taking her lips. Distracted, Yani went limp in his arms and he flipped her over onto her back.
He plunged in deep, shocking her system. She clawed his back with those rose-gold nails and the pain of breaking skin seeped into his body as pleasure. He pressed his weight down into her and gave her what she wanted. The righteous pounding from a king.
Grunting and cursing, he looked at Yani directly, their warm moaning breath co-mingling
"Fuck me Killmonger! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
No noise came out of his mouth. Eventually it stopped coming out of her mouth too. The eroticism of silence shrouded them. Only their overstimulated bodies keened and shrieked the ecstasy drowning their pores.
He hit that sweet spot inside her walls and Yani's mouth opened wider and the tears finally fell. A seismic orgasm rocked her into a silent writhing. Her pussy tightened and quickly rippled a barrage of contractions up and down his dick.
He let go.
His hefty dick swelled within her walls and the first tsunami of cum spilled into her. He hunched his back so tight that he couldn't even focus his eyesight anymore. He became caught in a twilight world of physical euphoria and never needing to live again because he shot his entire life through his dick.
The second wave of his release helped him find his voice and he hollered into the wall the praise songs of his father's gods. Yani stroked the nape of his neck and he groaned out to Ogum to save him before he passed out.
Ogum answered and a soothing sensation trickled along his spine and helped him gather the strength to separate himself from his wife. The sensation rooted itself at the top of his head and he shifted to his knees and gripped his dick that remained erect. Yani squirmed seductively underneath him and kept her gaze on the wide head of his shaft.
"Suck my dick," he demanded.
Yani acquiesced with a smirk on her face. She knew what was coming.
She gave his dick little kisses first, allowing it to recover from his first orgasm of the night. When he glared down at her, she placed the head into her mouth and suckled the ridge and slipped the tip of her tongue into his slit. He groaned and stood up, widening his stance and jerking on his pipe.
Yani worked his dick with a good little slut mouth. She made it sloppy and spit on the tip several times letting saliva fall on her breasts.
"Open that mouth wider…dassit…you know how to handle all that…I know you well girl…made you my wife so I can have you whenever I want…"
She moaned all over his dick, and the vibration curled his toes. His balls throbbed and he didn't warn her verbally at all that he was cumming again. He aimed for the front of her face and she knew from experience what was up. She tilted her head back and he painted steamy white streaks all over the left side of her cheek and neck.
Yani gazed at his cement-hard dick and knew the night was going to be vigorous and long. Glory to Bast and that heart-shaped herb! He would give her pussy a little respite though. Lowering his big body back down on the pallet, he pulled her down in front of him and asked her to lie on her back, keeping her knees up and her thighs open. He wanted to watch his cum drizzle out of her pussy. She obliged as he expected. Situating the pillows in a comfortable position behind his back, N'Jadaka stroked his dick and watched his wife hold open her pussy lips.
"Push it out if you can," he asked.
She didn't have to do too much because a heavy flow came out and slowly became clear as the air hit it.
"Can I try to get you pregnant?" he asked.
Yani grinned knowing that thought got him off the most and she played into it by gently rubbing on her clit and touching all of her delicate piercings one by one for his entertainment.
"You want to cum deep inside of me and put a baby in here?" she cooed.
He heard her angelic voice but only saw the drenched wet pink she caressed.
"I wanna fuck you and put a new baby in your pussy so bad, Yani!"
"Will you fuck me good, Killmonger?"
"Fuck yes…"
She had him gritting his teeth again as she rubbed that pretty vulva slowly.
"I might be pregnant now. You put a lot in me," she teased.
He groaned and his dick jumped hot and ready in his hand.
"Maybe we should put the special lubricant inside me so I can get ready for that big dick again…huh?" she moaned softly.
He groaned louder knowing good and well that special lubricant helped her deal with long continual fucking from him. She was ready to play Lets Make A Baby. But only to amuse him.
He came hard in his hand. With her legs open, he rejoiced in the satisfaction of having an orgasm by watching her masturbate. The quivering in her pussy pushed more of his cum out into a pool of wetness on the sheets. He milked his dick thinking about how many times he was going to fuck her before the sun rose again.
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#King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar#Killmonger Fanfiction#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First#Black Panther Fanfiction#Wakanda Forever Fanfiction#Uzumaki Rebellion Writes#Uzumaki Rebellion#Namor#Youtube
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Second part of my translation comments (and half meta) for Gray Shelter [Episode 5], you can find the first post here!
"You gave the choice/decision to me, didn't you? (reference to the earlier scene)" "So your decision is to give me some money and tell me to get out of your sight?"
꺼져 is quite a rude word, like 'get the hell away from me', Yoondae is clearly pissed rephrasing/interpreting Soohyuk's intentions, he's using informal tone too
"Because I live like this? Because I idle/fool around here and there without doing anything, not able to get myself together (cannot get a grip on myself and my life)? Because you still see me as a child?!"
"Yes. That's why I'm confused. Because it doesn't matter who is by your side (anyone will do), right?"
"And (what's the problem)? You can be by my side. Why is everything so complicated for you? Just... (in softest pleading voice) ...Watch me. I will live like all the other people. Then it'll all be good (it's solved), no? You can watch over me while being by my side. Mmhm? Don't care about the situation, once again I'm telling you, just look only right at me."
I actually really like the usage of 'focus on me' in all the sentences because the translator keeps the leitmotif and it works in all contexts, the entire conversation was translated nicely. Even "- What's the most difficult thing about me and this situation for you? - That I'm your home (the place you return to now)."
I just gave you more literal translation... idk, for fun xD Maybe you'll catch more nuances that I tried to put in here. It's just devastating. Soohyuk sees and feels that Yoondae is clinging to him like to a lifeline, and he doesn't want to be one, he's got enough of people burdening him, his life is hard enough.
He tried to think simply like Yoondae and just live in the moment, give in to his impulses as well, but he just can't. He's sinking on his own and he can't chain himself to another person because even if he's a safe place for Yoondae, he won't be able to save him in this situation, it means they'll both drown. Yoondae has to find his own ground to stand on, he has to get a grip and find a new home on his own so he won't circle his entire life and attention on Soohyuk. Only then it'll work.
"If I find another home, can I call you? You won't avoid me then?"
They don't kiss here – they can't. It won't work. But such short distance is a promise, it's a possible future happy ending hanging between them both like a life vest and a heavy rock.
I'm not sure he means it as 'we get together again'. More like
"If we meet again, will we become okay?"
Like, they agreed it won't work out now, they need some time, and Yoondae now will be holding onto that hope that Soohyuk might accept him and his feelings once Yoondae finds his own home, his own meaning in life. But he's still afraid it won't happen, that's why he needs to hear some affirmation. Will things between them become alright (and the fact that he doesn't really say 'better' or 'good', he uses 괜찮다 - fine, alright, okay and asks if they will be able to even reach that). Which means they both know their relationship is less than 'okay' now.
And in a very Gray Shelter melancholic satisfying-unsatisfying way, Soohyuk only replies: "It'd at least be better than now."
That's the only thing Yoondae is left with. This, and a daring request to pretend he didn't steal that goodbye kiss.
And we're getting a time skip which starts on a sound of a ringing telephone. ("If I find another home, can I call you? ) And surprisingly, it doesn't seem that Yoondae is the one calling this time, as he wanted to. It seems like Yoondae accepted the call but he wasn't holding it or answering, yet Soohyuk called him and invited him for a dinner and is waiting for the answer. Now, the decision is up to Yoondae.
There is a calendar on the wall but I honestly didn't track if there were any other calendars in the show so we can tell how long was the time skip.
"Alright. I'll be waiting."
To be honest, in the ending I wished they showed at least one scene of Yoongdae coming home in a work-like uniform or doing something to indicate he started sorting his life out before that call came through. Because even though the ending is hopeful – they lived separately for some time, Yoondae has his own place, Soohyuk is reaching out to spend time with him now and they both agreed their next meeting will be more hopeful – but will it be enough? Was the problem actually solved?
We all should think that yes, but I wish the ending supported it a little bit more confidently. After such a rollercoaster of emotions and complicated situation, I want to see them heading towards the truly happy ending Т_т (give me the second season!)
In any case, the acting is great and the melancholic atmosphere for a BL was so unusual, I loved the edgy dialogues and emotionally raw writing. For such a short story, Gray Shelter certainly will go under many people's radar but it still touched my soul.
And, well, now I understand the title. Soohyuk is a shelter, he shouldn't be a home. Shelter is a place they seek temporarily comfort in when they have nowhere else to go. And it's not a bright happy couple place, and it's not an abusive family house either, gray is neither black nor white. It's something in between, and it's up to Soohyuk and Yoondae to try and build an actual equal bond, have a place to return to and person to eat dinner with.
#gray shelter#gray current#gray shelter comments#dropthemeta#korean bl#kbl#soohyuk x yoondae#kdrama#bl series
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Do you think Tommy is here to stay for a while? How do you think is going to evolve his relationship with Buck? Will we get another kiss next episode?
I would love for him to stay forever!! Love him!!
Hey, Anon! Thanks for stopping by! I love talking about anything related to bucktommy, so you've basically made my day with your ask!
This turned into a long ass post, so I'm putting the rest under the cut.
Yes, I really do think Tommy is here to stay for a while because, honestly, he's the perfect LI to become Buck's endgame.
And I know that that thought is the biggest issue with certain stans right now, but like, he can easily have little storylines weaved throughout the series with the main and guest stars. And, if you actually read the interviews that the actors and Tim are doing, it's clear that's the goal. In fact, I was actually going to make a post for that idea, but I'll just add it here:
Hen, Chim, Bobby
Tommy clearly has a connection to Hen, Chim, and Bobby from his days at the 118. We've seen it in S2, so it's a canon fact. Chim saved his life, so that's a strong fucking bond right there. Not to mention they clearly enjoy quoting movies and probably discussing the plot of movies together. (Thank you, Bobby begins for the bar scene) Tommy was there when Kevin died, too, so he understands the loss that Chim has experienced through the job. And let's not forget that he had the opportunity to watch Chim become an amazing paramedic.
When it comes to Hen, he helped get rid of Captian Gerrard when Hen was being put through hell. (And yes, I do believe he said something to the higher ups. He is a military guy, and following the chain of command is very important to them, so I'm not surprised he never voiced his opinions outloud. Add that with the idea that he was very deep in the closet, he was probably terrified of that man.) And he knows that when it comes to Hen, she will never give up to do what's right and I like to think Tommy took a page from her book and applied that to his life on his journey to accept himself.
Then Bobby. Probably the first man in a leadership position that treated him with kindness and respect. When Bobby comes to the 118, there's some resistance, mostly from Sal, but even through all that, Tommy sees that Bobby is fair (transferring Sal to another station instead of fully firing him) and welcoming (by incorporating family dinners).
Athena
I was struggling with how he'd be connected to Athena, but then I remembered: trivia night!
Athena and Bobby used to have game night with Michael and David. Can you IMAGINE Bobby and Athena inviting Buck and Tommy over for dinner and game night??? I can. And I am so here for it!
Teams would absolutely be: Bobby and Buck. Athena and Tommy.
And let's face it. Athena sees Buck as Bobby's un-adopted son, so if Tommy makes Buck happy, Athena is good.
Karen
This one is interesting and maybe a tiny bit of a stretch, but I really believe that Tommy and Karen could connect through their interest for aviation/aerospace. She's a rocket scientist for crying out loud. He'd be like a little kid at the place where she works.
I also like to think that maybe, due to his childhood and being constantly between homes, he can help discuss the trauma that Mara might feel.
Maddie
I mean, the most important thing to her is that Tommy obviously makes her little brother happy and giddy. She wants to meet him, which is something I can't recall Buck or Maddie ever saying before about one of Buck's LI. Maybe Abby, but Buck was living in her apartment soooo... yeah.
I know Lou has revealed the backstory he has set up in his mind for Tommy and after saying his father was an alcoholic, I can't stop thinking that maybe little Tommy unfortunately experienced abuse from his father or witnessed it happening to his mom. Tommy, having a childhood connected to domestic violence, while not in the exact same way that Maddie experienced it, gives them something in common on a deeper level. An understanding of how important it is to accept love and open yourself up to the possibility.
Eddie
Eddie's friendship with Tommy is actually so interesting to me too because I have this crazy "invisible string" theory that includes him.(Platonically) But, moving on...
Clearly, they share a love of the same things. Muay Thai, watching fights, cars, Buck, basketball, the military.
For me, the military is their real connection because of Eddie's breakdown. No one else in Eddie's life can really understand what he's gone through and how it feels to maybe be the only one of your unit to survive. I'm pretty sure Tommy has already gone through therapy, and since Eddie had no one to reach out to with shared trauma like Frank suggested, he found that second chance in Tommy.
Buck
I mean... they connected lips and soon hearts. 🥺 Sooo....
Next question...
I really hope their relationship evolves in the cutest, sweetest, sometimes naughty, way!
I want to see nervousness. I want to see them learning things about each other. I want them to cuddle and laugh and go on double dates.
I want them to worry about the other one during a dangerous call or rush to each other at a moments notice.
I want to see them fall so in love with each other that I can sue ABC for giving me cavities from all the sweetness.
Having said that... I also want to see disagreements. Arguments and vulnerability and then the process of apologizing and making up.
So, basically, I want them to evolve into a healthy, stable, loving relationship.
And hell yeah! There will be a kiss on Thursday. I'd like to believe we'll see more than one just because of Oliver's interview, but for sure, we're getting one initiated by Buck and honestly I cannot fucking wait!!!!
I want him to stay forever, too. You're not alone 🩵
#911 spoilers#911 abc#911 fandom#evan buckley#bucktommy#tommy kinard#911 speculation#tevan#kinley#buck x tommy#tommy x buck#anon 🩵
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TICK // 1.1 - gimme danger
Rating: mature (language, sexual content)
Word Count: 640
☾
There's nothing in my dreams
Just some ugly memories
Kiss me like the ocean breeze
Now, if you will be my lover
I will shiver and sing
But if you can't be my master
I will do anything
☾
September 1983 - junior year
"Who does your tattoos, Edward Munson?"
The blunt voice behind him took him off guard, appearing out of nowhere. It didn't even sound like a question. More like a matter-of-fact demand.
Your voice was thick and dripping like honey. Deeper than the voices of other girls in your school. Eddie was so used to the high-pitched, bubblegum-popping, giggling tones of the artificial female species that wandered the halls of Hawkins High.
The cafeteria around him was bustling with all the usual assholes, but suddenly all he could focus on was the figure of you standing behind him.
Finally turning around to lay eyes on the culprit, Eddie was shocked to see you.
He knew you, of course. Or at least knew of you.
In the back of his mind, he tried to remember if he had ever even spoken to you before. But he would have remembered your unique voice. Eddie's whole life revolved around sounds, melodies, vibrations.
You were a year younger than him, being a junior while he was a senior. He recalled seeing you in the crowded hallways. Plain hair. A face that said leave me the fuck alone. Weren’t you a part of the French Club or some shit?
His mind was racing, but still responded to you without any sign of hesitation. There were too many witnesses around for him to let his guard down. Bako and Donny, seated at the table with him, openly stared in awe.
Eddie found his vocal cords. "I do some of them. My uncle has a friend that does some of them."
Your disarming gaze bore into him, squinting for a moment. Eddie took a second to glance down at your clothes. Blue jeans. Gray fitted t-shirt. You were plain. No other word for it.
"How much for one?"
"What?"
"A tattoo. How much do you charge for a tattoo."
Again, you didn’t really ask it as a question. It was less of an innocent query and more of a personal space invasion, a solicitation. Your face gave away not a single emotion or even a hint of a personality.
Eddie scratched his head, acting like he was thinking deeply. He glanced at Donny, who looked at him like well, say something, idiot!
"Well, sunshine, that depends."
That's all he could think of. Why were you suddenly speaking to him? You had successfully ignored each other for the last however many years.
Your shoulders dropped in annoyance, but you still held onto the lunch tray in your hands.
"Okay, depends on what?"
A wicked grin painted his lips. At the motion of your shoulders falling, he could easily tell that you definitely weren’t wearing a bra. Your tits were smaller than average, basically nonexistent, but Eddie had x-ray vision at the short distance between you and him.
"Hmm… size, the design… location." Leaning over in the plastic chair, he purposely fixed his eyes on your ample behind.
You scoffed at him, "Cool, you're a real Don Juan. Let's get to the point, yeah? I want a quarter sized half moon on my hip. Just the outline, nothing fancy. Need more info?"
Taking his time to answer, mainly because he suddenly found himself entertained by your impatience, he shrugged.
"Nah. I'll do it for fifteen bucks."
"Deal. How soon can you do it?"
You were all business and no play. Eddie was enticed by your no-bullshit confidence.
A shocking flash of pink passed behind you: a popular girl chatting excitedly with a football player. Neon pink windbreaker, bleach blonde hair in perfect curls. Eddie observed her.
And then he looked back at you. So ordinary yet so different.
"How does this weekend sound?"
You held your hand out in front of him to shake. Your skin was smooth and warm on his callouses.
"Don't fuck this up, Munson. I'll see you Friday."
☾
There's nothing left alive
But a pair of glassy eyes
Raise my feelings one more time
☾
(song lyrics credit: "Gimme Danger" by The Stooges)
TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddiemunson#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#eddie munson slow burn#eddie x you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x buckley!reader
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not easy to please ⋆⭒˚｡⋆
alternatives to popular tropes
⇴ siblings's worst enemy
they're your sibling's enemy, so of course they're yours too. they're despicable and you seriously want them dead. luckily for you, the feeling's mutual.
⇴ struggling ceo and their know-it-all office worker
how did this mf become the ceo of one of the most progressive countries in the world?? they're clueless and you're the one that has to fix all their mistakes. you seriously don't get paid enough for this (unless they can come up with another way to pay you).
⇴ marriage of inconvenience
what happens in vegas stays in vegas. except when you've signed an official marriage contract, and everything is so much more complicated before. now this person is stuck with you until you can divorce! (or will you?)
⇴ forbidden hate
your parents absolutely adore the idea of the two of you together. they have wedding pinterest boards, future plans, and baby names for the two of you. only one thing: you two kinda hate each other, and hell would have to freeze over before you'd ever get with them.
⇴ no more second chances
sorry dude! f'ed up really bad the first time, and now you're not giving anymore chances, and your ex has to deal with the consequences. one problem: they can't deal with the consequences bc they're literally in love with you. hm. just what will this person do to get you back?
⇴ not so secret identity
everyone knows who they are. not even the old mask and hat trick could prevent people from identifying them. and it's fine–they absolutely bask in the fame. one problem though: they're a constant target to the entire world. perfect!
⇴ separated from each other
they never get any alone time. alone together in an elevator? too bad, a party of ten just showed up, pushing the two of you on the opposite side of the elevator. finally alone at home? nope! unfortunately, your friends make a surprise visit! oh how will you two ever get past this?
⇴ "you deserved it."
a normal person would've asked "who did this to you?" except your bond is not normal. not in the slightest. i mean seriously, what does this person want from you?
⇴ "i can't have you, so i'll let someone else take my place."
they know that they're not good enough for you, and that you deserve someone better than them. so, they choose to let you go, and hope that someone else can make your world light up like they used to
⇴ the one that is still here
everywhere you go, this person is there. whether it's physically, mentally, or spiritually, everything ties back to them. everything reminds you of them. you couldn't even escape if you tried.
⇴ playboy but he's actually a nerd that cannot get play
he's gorgeous–he's the most attractive man you think you've ever seen in your life. you think he's probably got it all–girls or boys coming up to him nonstop. only, that's not true in the slightest. somehow, he's managed to fumble every single time.
⇴ nobody wants the bad boy
he's troubled. there are rumors of him starting fights 24/7, and he lives in a bad area. he could really fuck someone up. nobody wants him.
⇴ "you must be delusional"
lovers that know that they're in love with each other, but when admitting it to their friends, they shut down their feelings.
⇴ loving someone to save them
none of that breaking up nonsense. love is power. their love and support causes you to be stronger than ever. knowing that there's love out there gives you a reason to keep on going. love saves you.
⇴ too smart to live
you've outdone yourself this time. bypassed every guard, rule, and law without anyone catching you. so, of course, there's only one solution here: to eliminate you.
⇴ different worlds (revised)
you grew up poor while they grew up rich. now, in the present, you are the more successful one, while they are struggling to get their life together. now, you must help the one who used to be in your current position, and fix things together.
⇴ one-sided blind date
rule one of having a blind date: you should not know who you're meeting. well, too late! you sneaked a peek at your friend's phone and found out who you'll be seeing soon. now, you're scrambling to get out of this date because you know exactly who it is.
#keyotosprompts#fluff prompts ⋆˚✿˖°#writeblr#writing#writing prompts#otp prompts#otp writing#imagine your otp#creative writing#writing inspiration#writers on tumblr#writing prompt#writerscommunity#creative inspiration#writer stuff#tropes#character dynamics#about writing
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way back in 2014, probably a few weeks or months after you posted that picture of boone with the stick on his head, i checked your blog out and so dearly enjoyed all the dogposting that i followed. i think you were the first dogblr blog i actually followed at the time, but it's been ages and my memory is bad, so i'm not fully sure. it wasn't long before then--2012 i think?--that i had gotten a new dog of my own, a border collie. iirc he and boone were just about the same age.
in 2018 i lost that blog i'd followed you with, and a lot of connections with it. i didn't return until 2021, and when i did, i didn't refollow most of the old blogs; i don't think i even really went looking for them. it took me a while to get back into the swing of using tumblr.
last september, my border collie had a sharp health decline, and i had to say goodbye. it's not the first time i've had to put a pet down, but i think it was the hardest. i'm still not over it. even just typing this now, i feel raw.
then in march or so, i made a new fandom friend who knows you, and i enthusiastically recalled following you before and how much i enjoyed it. i didn't even know about stellina, and now there's kep too! but... i also didn't know you'd lost boone. i followed because i still really enjoy your blog, and i love your collies too. and butters!!! so glad she's still here!
idk what made me look tonight... maybe because i talked about my old border collie with someone today. i went looking for the posts immediately around when you lost boone, because i guess some part of me wanted to know what happened. i spent the better part of an hour (maybe longer?) reading posts from the weeks before the decline, and then the loss, and then the deluge of old boone pictures after, and i've been crying pretty much the whole time just reading your posts and tags about him.
and this is a long and windy way to get to saying thank you. i'm glad you shared your grief, though that seems like a weird thing to say. there's something cathartic about crying over someone else's dog when you still hurt about your own, and knowing you're not alone in that kind of sorrow. boone was such a beautiful boy. i'll never forget that silly post that made me check your blog out in the first place, or the years of posts i stuck around for after. i wish i'd remembered to follow sooner, but the archive is still there, and it's so fun looking through all those old posts about him and his quirks and antics. he was amazing.
sorry for the length of this, i just... really wanted you to know that he touched yet another life, i guess. and i've been so deeply enjoying your posts about stellina and kep. i know it'll be a year soon... i hope there's some peace in how things have gone since he passed, and i hope the anniversary isn't too hard on you. thank you for sharing him with us.
i've been on tumblr for 14 years and this is, genuinely, the nicest ask i think i've ever been sent.
thank you - sincerely. there's been a lot of times over the course of this blog that i've felt like i was oversharing, or talking about pointless things only i cared about. i still so frequently start typing out a post only to stop mid-sentence and delete it because i can't help but think "no one cares about this." possibly it's why i like to talk about my pets so much - they're not me, but i'm the one who knows them best, so i get to say "hey look at this" and ramble and have people say "i'm looking" back. when boone passed, i lost that filter and i poured my grief out into this blog because it was the closest outlet i had. and to have hundreds of people not only acknowledge this but to commiserate, to reassure, to share their own stories - that helped healed me more than i can put into words. it's exactly as you said: there's a catharsis in grieving together.
i am sorry you also had to say goodbye. i wish i could say it gets easier, but i think that would be defeating the point of grief. your grief is your love and damn it if there isn't any act more loving in the world than choosing to say goodbye to an old, loyal dog. you think of how dogs were domesticated tens of thousands of years ago, of how human society and dogs have developed intertwined, of how we have records of ancient greeks and romans carving loving epitaths on their dog's graves, of how a prehistoric dog's skull was found with a bone placed in it's mouth after death, and you wonder if grieving a dog isn't one of the most consistent experiences in the whole of human history that there is.
i'm glad to know that this could bring you some comfort, in some way. it's incredibly touching to know that you kept me and boone in your thoughts for all this time. i am doing ok - i've been reflecting a lot as we approach the one-year mark. i'm not sure if i'll be able to condense those thoughts down into coherent words, but i'll do my best. i hope that my silly little pets continue to bring you some happiness, and that you've found peace with your own grief.
thank you, again - this is extremely touching and means a hell of a lot to me.
#i know exactly what you mean about reading posts about other peoples loss and grieving in camaraderie with them. i do that too#also mayhaps i am nosy sometimes and want to intrude. i cant help my nature to be a looky-loo#which is to say: you should never feel like you are intruding for doing so back to me.
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Favourite Underrated Ship? Simple answer:
Every single Pete rarepair!
-> PorschePete? Iconic! Brilliant! Phenomenal! Most people love "best friends who kiss", I love "secret third thing". However one enjoys them, though, they're delicious to consume😌
(You might think it's not an underrated ship, but I'd like to inform you that it has, in fact, less than 100 fics on Ao3, so it very much is in my book. I'm happy to have contributed to it by posting two of them, but I'd love it if there were more. Hopefully, I'll get inspired anew one day.)
-> KinnPete? Oh please, the power dynamics make me giggle like a 10 year old girl playing with Barbie dolls. Such glorious toxicity, such perfect ways Kinn could use and abuse Pete to his benefit, either with or without knowing he's doing it. You can do so much with them, either pre, during or post canon and I get so excited thinking about it.
(This one has less than 50(!) fics posted, so I'm super thankful to the few authors who have gifted me some amazing works. Sharing my personal favourite because it deserves to be cherished 🥹)
-> ArmPete? Do I even need to sell this one? It can do fluff, it can do angst, it can do smut, it can do it all. My personal favourite flavour of it is Arm having unrequited feelings for Pete because it's just so deliciously angsty 😇 I love me some pain, I can't help it.
(This one doesn't have any fics to its name, besides one in Chinese. I'm devastated. I did personally have an idea for a multi-chaptered fic with 3k words already written, but if I manage to focus on it properly one day, it'll end up being a simple one-shot.)
-> KimPete? Oh, you mean the ship I got so obsessed over I wrote 25k words of them platonically bonding, while having Kim think to himself more than once how pretty Pete is? You mean the ship that shares so many similarities with VegasPete, while still having its own identity based on the differences between Kim and Vegas? You mean the love of my life?
(Again, fics for this one are almost non-existent, which is a shame, but understandable. One day, I'll manage to enrich the tag. One day.)
-> TankhunPete? Take KinnPete's fucked up power imbalance and twist it in a more peculiar direction. What you get is this ship, which makes me so uncomfortable but so, so intrigued.
(Incredibly underrated with how few fics it has, but a special thanks to this one for altering my brain chemistry when I first read it.)
-> BigPete? Rivals who might engage in hate sex from time to time? Pals who share the same fate and understand it and bond over it? Pick your poison and roll with it, because it's delicious either way. I'm personally team "They hate each other" because it's more fun that way 😉
(Almost nothing here again, which is a shame, but again understandable. I had forgotten they shared 2 lines of dialogue together in the show, I deadass thought they never talked to each other, which was great for me lol. Here's one fic written by the same person who wrote the KinnPete one, in case you'd like something cool to read.)
-> TayPete? This one's for pure aesthetic reasons because have you seen Tay, have you seen Tay at the auction, have you imagined Pete and Tay fucking at the auction, because I surely have 🙂 It's such a gorgeous image, I lose focus for a hot minute when it comes to me.
(This one's tricky, because most people write Vegas/Pete/Tay, which is a glorious choice and I support it, and my talented friend is writing a very good VPT fic, but I'd love it if there were more fics that focus on these two only. They're too powerful, I can't get enough.)
I think those are all the ones I'm personally obsessed with. All I have to say is, Pete deserves all the beautiful men and what they'd like to do with him ❤️
#kpanniversary2024#underrated ships#I have *opinions* about this#this is just a summary#give Pete all the gorgeous men pls#he deserves it#*I* deserve it#do let me know if I've forgotten any ship#it's important to remember them all#for science#pete saengtham#kinnporsche the series
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[Send in more of your thoughts :3]
Well, for the most part, unless they want to cause cardiac arrests, not much could be done.
Depending on the SWK, of course. Maybe blackmail in exchange for something. Or just causing as many gray hairs as possible.
Erleng Shen finding out that by Celestial Law, SWK is his cousin could be worth a laugh, depending on the twos relationship, or lack there of.
But I am partial to them finding a way to use the parentage info to help get Cherry some more immortalities in him, to help with the egg situation.
[The Reincarnation of a *certain* Primordial Demon who has just died? And may need to be raised in tandem with it's Qi Energy counterpart in order to grow into a (mostly) balanced monkey? >:3]
Oh, that would be brilliant. If Xiao Qi remembers his previous life, would the Reborn!Luzhen also remember it or just completely fresh baby?
And if the former, then could Xiao Qi tell who Luzhen was? Cus...that could be interesting, like, that could cause some sibling fights, you know?
Point is, things could get chaotic for the Reborn monkeys. I like it.
hehehe Celestial law issues. referencing.
Depending on whether or not the Songzi-Stone Matriarch-Guanyin reincarnation cycle even applies to the other universes, I could def see a few monkeys sneaking into the Underworld just to make sure.
[Depending on the SWK, of course. Maybe blackmail in exchange for something. Or just causing as many gray hairs as possible.]
Definitively more of the latter. I feel almost any Wukong has a "I don't get no f--king sleep 'cause of y'all! Ya'll not gonna get no sleep 'cause of me"-relationship with Heaven/Celestial Realm. Dawn/Peach and Ace are more likely to blackmail this connection because of how long they've been around + having already completed their Journey. The others either keep quiet about their connection, or (most likely Cherry) no one would believe them anyway.
[But I am partial to them finding a way to use the parentage info to help get Cherry some more immortalities in him, to help with the egg situation.]
Cherry rolls up to Wangmu and/or Lao Tzu's place during his Journey and it goes like;
Cherry: Hey can I have some more immortalities?"
Wangmu: "How in Buddha's name did you get here? And why should I?"
Cherry: "I'm going to have a baby and I'm really scared I might die and leave them all alone. I need the immortalities so I can survive and make sure they have a parent to love them." :'(
Wangmu, mother-goddess mode activated: "Oh sweetheart... You should have really just asked. Come! I can't spare you any more pills, but I'll take you you to my peach orchard instead!"
Cherry, remembering the poisoned peach: "They aren't boozy ones right? Can't have those in my condition."
Wangmu, thinking he's joking: "Oh no dear! They're quiet fresh!"
Cherry: "Wow. I didn't even need to tell you that my boulder-mom is Guanyin's previous life."
Wangmu: (*face contorts in shock*) "Excuse me?"
Cherry: "Yeah I found this scroll in the Underworld that proves it. She also used to be a life goddess or something? I can't read the details so good."
Wangmu: (*realising that the current Jade Emperor (I hc her only son) is outranked by her eldest daughter's firstborn - aka the very monkey infront of her*)
Wangmu: "I... I may need one of those boozy peaches myself."
Don't tell the Netflix!JE. He will literally scream and hide if he found out that the Monkey King is the superior heir to the throne.
[Erleng Shen finding out that by Celestial Law, SWK is his cousin could be worth a laugh, depending on the twos relationship, or lack there of.]
Oh gosh the different Erlangs are going to have a fit, if not keel over laughing at the thought/knowledge of Sun Wukong, the Havoc of Heaven, being their legal blood cousin. XD
The ones with brotherly vibes are delighted, but the antagonistic ones are kinda sneering at the idea.
[Oh, that would be brilliant. If Xiao Qi remembers his previous life, would the Reborn!Luzhen also remember it or just completely fresh baby?
And if the former, then could Xiao Qi tell who Luzhen was? Cus...that could be interesting, like, that could cause some sibling fights, you know?]
Xiao Qi remembers being Fruitie/Qi Energy, and specifically reincarnated so he could have a chance at meeting Monkey once again + go on the Pilgrimage. Of course he miscalculated how small, underdeveloped, and Baby he'd be, so it's gonna be a while before he can verbalize to Smokey that "Fruitie" is ok.
Xiao Lu however is the first fresh slate Yuandi has ever had in it's endless existance. Nuwa would likely show the soul some kindness and pour Meng Po's broth onto the clay so that the resulting baby wouldn't remember the eons trapped beneath the earth. Xiao Lu does however, remember her counterpart Qi Energy, and that they were fighting over something involving "Baba" [Smokey].
Xiao Lu assumes it's because Baba is her Baba and no one elses, so she perches on the brown monkey's shoulder and hisses at her brother whenever he comes near him. It's very cute.
Xiao Qi and Xiao Lu spend so much time play-fighting it's adorable. At first the adults thought it was cute, now they're starting to wonder if the pair are actually training for a future showdown. Then again it's hard to tell since in the blurr of black and white fuzz.
I'm glad that you like these little ideas of mine! :3
#wukongverse#stone matriarch au#stone egg talk#pregnancy tw#the monkey king netflix#lmk#lego monkie kid#sun wukong#six eared macaque#liu er mihou#monkey king reborn#monkey king reborn au#qi energy
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Second Star to the left Pasithea Au??? 👀👀👀👀
okay there are actually three permutations that @munchiezxx and i discussed (listed in increasing order of my fondness for them!)--
scoutminder jane, scout sophie:
personalitywise, this one feels most obvious--sophie's got that intrepid explorer air, and jane WOULD be over-particular and stressed if she had to try to watch over sophie in a situation where she has almost no actual influence!
remember that part in pasithea season 1 where jane admits she doesn't mind hearing sophie's stories about other planets bc they're probably the closest she'll come to seeing new worlds herself? scout sophie lovingly describing her planet for the sake of jane, who they both assume will never see it, is born from that same wistfulness
like bell, scoutminder jane ONE HUNDRED PERCENT has a "criminal due to decisions of conscience" past that she drops no hints of and sophie is too self-absorbed to prod until something happens
a very funny situation made possible by this set up is that moreau is jane's on-station nemesis that she complains to sophie about and sophie's like "um are you're sure they're not flirting?? *i* think they're wildly attracted to you and it's pissing them off. you should flirt back" and jane's like "you're insane" and sophie, who finds the saga wildly entertaining, is like "jane pleeeease, im stuck on this nowhere planet, i can't start drama myself, you have to do it on my behalf, i'll literally coach you" except then one day jane gets on the radio and says "um. something very lgbt just happened between me and moreau" and sophie's like 👁👁 wait a minute (<- suddenly super jealous and BLINDSIDED by the feeling bc she literally spent weeks egging jane into this)
sometimes sophie crosses a line and jane gives her the cold shoulder, refusing to talk about anything non mission related, and sophie resorts to narrating stupid choices she's "going" to make until jane can't take any more and is like "i know you know that putting your fork in the outlet won't fix it, stop that" and sophie (who was bluffing about the fork AND the broken outlet) is like well okay fine :)
2. scoutminder sophie, scout jane:
my backstory thought here is maybe instead of jane getting thrown in prison for the ssttl-verse equivalent of the rowley conspiracy, she was "invited" to become a planetary scout
sophie would probably have an ideological faith in the institution of the scouting office (which she works for as scoutminder) that gets broken down over the course of the story
jane would freely rearrange mission priorities and modify equipment to suit her and sophie's like "for the love of god there is protocol to follow." and does jane listen? no <3
jane asks sophie to slip hieronymus cheng novels into her data download packages and sometimes she reads them out loud and sophie insists she's only half-listening and doesn't care about the plot. which is true she doesn't care about the plot!! but she loves to hear jane's voice :')
sophie also asks jane to describe her planet sometimes but she's trying so hard to picture jane, not the planet... she's like "what's the light like? is your hair up or down?"
my favorite aspect of THIS scenario is i think sophie would just wildly overshare abt her life to fill in gaps in conversation so she tells jane waaaay too much abt her love life on the station at first "for jane's entertainment" because "it's not like she's got much else going on", and then one day jane's like huh sophie hasn't told me about any of her hookups in excruciating detail recently, thank god (this is because sophie is pining horribly)
3. scoutminder jane (again), scouts sophie and george:
this one is notably different from scenario (1) bc in that one, scout sophie fills a gwen hartley-ish role; in this one she's mikhail
from sophie's pov: she finds out her planet is inhabited by a sentient species (the others!!!) and realizes that in order to protect them & humanity from each other, she has to fake her death and stay here alone. (i don't remember the name of mikhail's alien lover but THAT'S OMIKRON)
from jane's pov: sophie gets weirder and weirder over calls until jane hears another voice in the background and goes cold bc it sounds just like evelyn. and then sophie's like "yeah i need you to tell everyone i'm dead and leave me here alone with no company except my ghosts and the undead replica of the guy we both loved!!! and you have to be the only one who knows what happened to me while everyone else mourns me!!!"
meanwhile jane and moreau are having their whole haters-to-soulmates arc over the radio (remember how moreau names the egoran corpse in their closet and insists jane treat her with respect?? they would sooo anthropomorphize their bot and then condescendingly explain to it why jane is wrong during arguments)
also moreau's a xenobiologist and i just think they deserve to have a field day investigating the weird vines on their planet and jane listens to a thirty minute monologue abt the vines' growth behaviors and is like "wait why is this so endearing"
jane gets in trouble for insubordination on the station bc of course she does and moreau finally gets josephine to track down information abt jane's background, finds out abt [rowley conspiracy equivalent] and is like "oh shit. that actually makes me like her even better. shit she can't go to PRISON abt this"
i do think coordinating a long distance jailbreak by calling in favors from random ppl who are fond of jane (anders? david alegros?) is something moreau is capable of AND likely to do
so jane escapes to moreau's planet, they finally meet in person, and then sophie turns up out of fucking NOWHERE to find jane bc while moreau's been having their ssttl 'express your newly recognized feelings for your erstwhile scoutminder by breaking them out of jail and bringing them to your planet' plotline, sophie was having her pasithea s3 'i need to convince the aliens to give me a ride home' plotline
now all three of them are on a planet together and it's GOING to cause problems!! but the fun kind!!!
ANYWAY THANKS FOR ASKING!!!
#THE SCOUT/SCOUTMINDER SET UP IS JUST SOOOO FUN#like really how could a scout Not develop a really intense relationship w the ONE person they talk to??#second star to the left#ssttl#the pasithea powder
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Ah what the heck I'll post it through here
So in some discord servers, you've seen me specualte that Amane's uniform is inspired by the private Catholic Fukuoka Kaisei girl's school affiliated primary school (福岡海星女子学院附属小学校)
Now, because of the name, I assumed this was an all girls primary school
And that the picture above was of 4 girls and the school simply allowed children to wear either skirts or shorts (its uncommon for Japanese elementary schools to have uniform to begin with so I could see a laxer dress code when it comes to stuff like this)
However
After a bit more reading of their website
Turns out that the Fukuoka Kaisei girl's school affiliated primary school
Despite the name
Has in fact been a co-ed/mixed gender primary school for the last 50-so years
And while I can't find a dress code on their website
It does seem like all the students in pictures on their site who wear shorts are boys
Anyway to cut a long story short:
Amane's uniform actually resembles the boys one more than the girls (shorts instead of skirt + no ribbon + more central buttons)
And I know you like the trans girl Amane theory so I figured you'd enjoy this info
The only disclaimer I have to give is that the long haired child whose father tattles on Amane is in the same uniform (shorts and all)
So like if this is a girl then occam's razor is that girls at Amane's school just wear shorts (also it'd be strange for Amane's cult to follow gender rolls Except for hair?? idk maybe im overthinking)
TRANS AMANE BELIEVERS WE MIGHT STAY WINNING!!!! It would be weird if they did follow the entire dress code Except for the hair. Additionally those buttons are tripping me up since their Buttoned like the girls so this actually comes somewhere more in the middle of the Both of them...if it does turn out my insane "Amane perceives gender in the same way a cat does, it's just there" catthing Amane idea is real I'm going to explode.
Regarding the girl though...I can't believe I can unveil my insane Queer Infighting Amane idea- okay so in cults it's generally heavily encouraged to outright spy and tattle on people who misbehave:
(BITE)
Information Control:
Encourage spying on other members
a. Impose a buddy system to monitor and control member
b. Report deviant thoughts, feelings and actions to leadership
c. Ensure that individual behavior is monitored by group
I think, and this is pure speculation there's is very little supporting this I just like the idea. It be fun if they were BOTH trans.
My reasoning behind this is, first of all Amane doesn't seem to have many friends. Her T2 distorted voiceline has her say:
Father is a very praiseworthy person. Once his virtue increases, he'll come back home, right? It's a little lonely, but I'm fine!
Which, okay it's fair that her homelife is lonely, this doesn't necessarily inform her school life. But if we go to the Prison she's rather isolated overall.
Even in T1. Yuno and Mahiru are people she considers "close" but that's after mulling it over a bit due to being asked.
T1Q10: Is there any prisoner you're close with?
A: If I were to say,
I guess it would be Yuno and Mahiru.
It's not for a lack of Trying, she tries very hard actually. It's just that people tend to note the way she acts is weird and that gets exasperated in T2 where it's said she's pretty isolated.
But also, I was discussing with a mutual about her relation with this peer and they said that it's possible that this question:
T2Q11: Did you love the person you killed?
A: I loved them.
Is referring to a Second Victim (This child) and Not her mother because...well one Amane has shown Very Little Fondness for her mother, and two it's entirely possible she killed multiple people because her staff in Purge March has blood on it Before she gets to her house.
Second thing: Cat Symbolism, Cat Symbolism stay winning forever. There is substantial amount of subtext you can wring out of the Cat being representative of sin and impurity, and Amane taking care of it and also being the Cat. Same with having her be "found out" by a peer and then sold out to, to her Religious Fundamentalist parents.
So now we go into my insane, circumstantial evidence, idea of Queer Infighting. I love WKTD and a big thing in that game is that even if your a "bad kid" if there's someone "worse" than you, you can live another day. And this kid can be anyone, the devil can be Anyone.
Amane has stated an inability to be a good girl:
Only if, only if, only if I could be a good girl
And a lack of desire to exactly "be one" since it requires her not being...herself, and she's happy with who she is.
T2Q20: How do you feel about you not being like everyone else?
A: Nevertheless I was born as myself,
so I'm happy
So, I'm just saying on a purely speculatory "this would be fun" basis. If we got queer infighting 12 year olds who are trying their best to be "good." I would explode.
Also, she is paralleled with both Mukuhara Kazui and known Genderless Freak Es so, yknow.
#asks#other analysis#doctorbunny#sorry if this is all over the place I have a lot of disconnected thoughts on this
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It's really frustrating being trans sometimes with cis loved ones because other cis people will go, "oh but it's such a huge adjustment for them! They're grieving for your pre-transition self/they aren't used to the change yet/it's hard on them!"
It's just so frustrating that people forget that trans people's feelings on this matter, too. Cis people aren't the only ones who have adjustments to make. Frankly, as much as I sympathize with cis people in this position, I can't help but be really jaded about it because so often, cis people jump to the defense of other cis people and they will seemingly forget to or refuse to give the same grace to trans people.
#trans#transgender#lgbt#lgbtq#ftm#mtf#nonbinary#like at what point is it 'they aren't used to it yet!' and it morphs into 'that person is actively refusing to acknowledge you'#i'm at a point now where i have been out as trans for half my life. at what point is this willfully refusing to see *me*#it's just amazing that it doesn't matter what the trans person could do because it's their fault for bringing 'burden' onto cis people#i UNDERSTAND that it can be hard for family for instance to flip a switch with their trans loved one...#...but i can't help but notice that so often it's because they *refuse to try*#why is it that cis people can do almost anything to trans people but trans people must be perfectly understanding and perfectly...#...content with whatever cis people in our lives have to say about how hard it is on THEM...#...like that's insulting to me. imagine being so willfully incompassionate...#...i'm worried about if i'm safe in my own workplace or in my gym or in a medical setting...#...i feel like we need a sense of scale about who is most affected by transness in this scenario...#...because i would RATHER be grieving over somebody's transness than worrying if i'll be hatecrimed...#...there's a difference in the experience between a trans person and the cis people in that trans person's life learning to adjust to...#...that person's transness. which is why i don't think it's comparable to say that cis people have it just as hard in this case#transphobia#transphobia tw
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