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ambrosiagourmet · 2 months

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I've been thinking about Laios' succubus lately. Mulling it over a bit.

Because I've seen these pages brought up a fair bit, but almost entirely in the context of shipping (on all sides, really). And I really want to understand what they are doing for the story beyond that.

When I went back to reread the scene and section, a few things caught my interest: the way Laios responds to both forms of his succubus, the themes of the volume the chapter is found in, and the other events of the chapter itself.

So let's dive into those three things, and what I think they say about the succubus scene's purpose.

Laios is never fully frozen by the succubus

So. If you compare Marcille and Chilchuck's reactions...

to Laios':

There is a difference. Sure, the basics may look the same once it turns into Scylla Marcille, but even then, it functions differently.

Chilchuck and Marcille are completely frozen once they catch sight of their succubus. Izutsumi, as well, isn't able to look away, and completely freezes up once her 'mom' starts talking to her. As Chilchuck describes, "just looking at them makes you unable to move."

And yet, Scylla Marcille has to actively convince Laios to comply. He even looks away from her at one point!

Laios accepts this succubus, but he is never actually helpless to it in the same way. Taken in? Convinced? Sure, at least enough to let things happen that he probably should question more than he does. But magically compelled? Not really. Not the same way as everyone else is. So that's interesting. But let's move on for now.

2. Volume 9 is all about drive and desire

I don't often look at chapters within the context of the volume they are included in, but I think there's some really fun things to be found with that perspective in mind.

For one, volume 9 starts with an exploration of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

And ends with a question of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

It's also very concerned in general with questions of why people do what they do. Why they are in the dungeon, why they are with the people they are with, why they stay, what they fight for.

In addition to Laios, we see it with Marcille...

Izutsumi

Kabru

and Mithrun

Hell, we even get it for the demon!

It's certainly not the only volume concerned with desires and motives, but it is particularly focused on these ideas.

The succubus scene fits quite well into the ongoing question about desires, especially Laios' desires. It is even placed at an interesting spot within the volume. The volume is six chapters long, and the scene takes place at the start of the 4th chapter. It's almost smack-dab in the middle.

With all this in mind, it is interesting that, with both versions of the succubus Marcille, it's not totally clear which parts of her Laios is rejecting.

The first version of Marcille looks human, but Laios attacks when he identifies her as a monster. The second Marcille looks like a monster, but he seems to believe that she is the real (human)(ish) person that he knows. So is he rejecting the monster at first, and then accepting the person? Or is he rejecting humanity and only interested in the monstrous?

Something to consider as we look at the next point...

3. the rest of the chapter is a seduction, too

This is one of those things that might not be apparent on a first reading, but is crystal clear on a revisit. We see the succubus try and charm Laios over 7 pages, and then see the Winged Lion do the same thing for the next 19.

Much like the succubus, it offers the mingling of monsters and humans. Much like the succubus, it offers belonging.

(and this is the point where I absolutely must also link this post by fumifooms on the succubus, which has some great ideas on how the scene is informed by Laios' trauma and desire for acceptance!!!)

But, back to the point. The Winged Lion wants to feed on Laios just as much as the succubus did, and it uses similar strategies to try and make that happen. Though this chapter isn't really the turning point for the next Lord of the Dungeon (it is Marcille who will, eventually, become the Lion's next victim), it certainly behaves like it is.

Laios is convinced. The succubus gets its meal. By the end of the volume, the reader begins to understand how concerning his desires are. Together, it is all very good at building up that sense of dread and pending disaster, as we see exactly how and why Laios might just fall into the Lion's open arms and bring about the end of the world.

So that's the three things I noticed. But there's still something I want to touch on by looking at the way these observations overlap, and what they reveal, together.

As I said, by the end of the volume, you can feel the tension growing. Just as Kabru and Mithrun do, you look back for an answer to the questions that have been built, chapter by chapter: why is Laios here? Where will his loyalties fall? This chapter, and scene, seem to prove the inevitable truth: he will choose the monster, of course. He will choose the seductive, easy power of the Winged Lion.

But the details of what actually happens tell different story: one in which the Lion is wrong.

First, as a reminder - even in Scylla Marcille mode, the succubus never fully entrances Laios. It convinces him, but it doesn't have him completely under its thrall.

Similarly, in the dream, the Lion does convince Laios to embrace the world he is offering. But even within that dream, Laios continues to ask questions that will be vital to him later. It is because of those questions that Laios comes to a new understanding about Thistle.

And it's this realization that he cites later as part of his reason for refusing the Lion's offer.

He is thinking through things the entire time, just like he continues to question the succubus even after it turns into Scylla Marcille.

Laios also expresses an interesting reason for why he wants to see the future of this world. He's not just invested because it would mean people liking what he likes, or him getting to spend time with monsters. The thought that comes immediately before his acceptance is about what he wants for monsters and people.

I don't think it's a coincidence that this statement - "we're living beings that share the same world, but all we can do is keep killing each other" - can apply to the various humans races just as much as it does to humans and monsters. The thing he is thinking about here isn't just a matter of his personal daydreams. It's an idea that underpins every conflict in the story.

Laios caring about how people as well as monsters in this manner is something that the Lion gets wrong every time. Even at the end, he still frames Laios' desires entirely around hating people and loving monsters.

The Lion has heard him express an opinion about the future of the world! It happened right there in the dream, right in front of him! He just didn't take it seriously, and didn't view it through any lens other than "Laios likes monsters more".

He's convinced that he understands how to get to Laios. Maybe the Lion can't truly see everything, or maybe his vision into everyone's deepest desires has made it hard for him to realize how much choice still matters. That people can, and do, choose which desires to act on, and how to act on them.

Whatever the case, he's wrong about Laios, and the story shows us this over and over again.

After all, look at how the succubus interaction plays out:

A monster uses Marcille to appeal to Laios...

He realizes that something about the situation is wrong, and rejects her.

It changes strategies, and makes new offer: to turn him into a monster.

It also assures him that his friends are, or will be, taken care of.

He accepts. Or rather, allows the monster to have its way with him.

But Laios is not as helpless as he initially appears, and what the Lion thinks is a successful seduction also contains the seed of an idea that will allow Laios to later resist him.

We even get to see Izutsumi playing a similar role in both instances, as the one person fully able to take action in the face to the illusion.

The story lays out what is going happen, and then explicitly tells us that the demon and the succubus are thematically related.

The chapter performs a great sleight of hand here - everything about it seems to indicate that Laios is doomed give in to the option to have his deepest desires realized. But if you look closer, it also contains the evidence that he won't. There's a lot more going on for him.

Yes, he still falls for obvious tricks. He is still extremely into monsters, and he still doesn't feel like he fits in with other people. He may, deep down, crave to surrender to the monstrous - to let it absorb him. But he questions more than he seems to. He considers more than people realize. He cares so much more than anyone gives him credit for.

And I think this is part of why we see the succubus called back to so many times, especially with the wolf head addition to his Monster Form, which he specifically added due to his encounter with the Scylla Marcille.

This all stays with Laios. It doesn't just foreshadow the path of the story, it is fundamental to how and why he walks that path. It's not about him choosing monsters, and it's not about him choosing people. It's about how he considers both, and cares about both.

And it's about the forces that think they already know his answer. Mithrun and Kabru. The Winged Lion. The succubus.

It's about how they are wrong.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #laios touden #winged lion #dunmeshi analysis

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blueparadis · 1 year

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❝IF ONLY I COULD❞ + KAVEH

+. CWs —» f-reader, s!her pronouns, m-masturbation, implied accidental voyeurism, subtle undertones of perv!kaveh & bottom-dom!kaveh, wet dreams, mention of al-haitham; word count — 0.8kish.

+. PRECIS —» Kaveh can’t help it, you are just too much for him and hence he decides to keep you off his mind.

+. NOTES —» phew! The way he has me in a chokehold. . . also I'm trying a new style of writing so feel free to send me kaveh thoughts:> you can read my works via NAVIGATION LINKS.

In his memory, Kaveh has always found her engaging as well as entertaining even if he had bleak chances of talking to her. It is true that he is often teased about her, especially by al-haitham, whenever he catches those cherry eyes lurking over her, looking for her.

But lately, she has been frequenting his mind more than before, more than in one way and all because of a lucid dream. The first time when he saw her in his dreams, in a white nightgown laughing before extending her arms towards him , he gasped and woke up from his sleep thinking why it had to be her?

And since then, he has been attracted towards her, romantically perhaps and hence he stopped visiting the library during her work shifts. He wanted to stay away from her, now more than ever since he hated the feeling of loneliness that lingered underneath his skin every time he dreamt of her, thought of her.

Yet here he was, submerged in her thoughts and far away from this world. Kaveh should not, he really should not since he knew that if he did this once there is no coming back.

Moreover, chances are there that she will be more vivid than before in his dreams, in his mind and every time she passes by Kaveh at the workplace. But now, it is too late to think of what might be the consequences of his thoughts. The strain in his pants has already become unbearable.

Kaveh slides his right arm under his vest grazing his lower belly thinking for the last time, but eventually, his arm slipped into his pants, his fingers clamping around his length, and finally, a soft groan escaped from his mouth. The tip of his tongue kisses the corner of his lips as he takes out his cock that was coated with a warm white fluid, pre-cum.

For a moment, he is surprised, and then he is not. There is a crescent along his lips as he taps the tip of his cock, smearing the reddened end with its pre.

“Oh fuck. This feels so much better.”, he huffs looking over his shoulder to check if al-haitham is really asleep or not. Kaveh thinks he is sleeping, he better be otherwise the worst case that could happen is that she would not smile while looking at him but rather avoid him if there were any eye contact to happen henceforth.

He palms his member, a little harder this time trying to imagine how it would feel to be sheathed by her gummy walls. He starts to pump his cock as his pants were clustered at the bottom of the chair while his legs were trying to give space as much as possible by spreading them further.

He revisits his memories, memories where she and her beautiful body were in abundance: the first time you smiled at him, the accidental touch when she was handing him the papers he asked for, that late evening when he caught you bathing, naked and gleaming in the moonlight.

He picks the last one, where he watched you scrub yourself, your plush body, your boobs, and hardened nipples. He remembers how he felt his cock twitch at that moment and now he is pumping his cock rashly, the hem of his vest being buried in between his teeth, muffled moans escaping his mouth as the squelching noises become louder and louder.

His other hand gradually makes its way towards his nipples, pinching and circling around them thinking of her lips on his. “Oh fuck.”, he hisses as his toes curl, his hips buck up with a force as he thinks how euphoric would it be to have her soft calloused hands on his cock, to have her warm lips in his, to have her boobs pressed against his bare chest, pronounced nipples grazing against each other while Kaveh’s cock is hitting her sweet spot with precision and all he could hear is the blend of desperate moans, of his and her.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his hands move up and down his swollen cock, hitting his girth with calculated thrusts. He paces up as he feels his orgasm approaching, huffing and panting, not caring how vocal he has become until the coil at the core of his flat belly snaps making him dizzy, his hand movements sloppy, and his inner thighs closing in slowly.

Kaveh’s chest rises up and down frantically as he finally opens his eyes watching the spurs of milky white fluid all over the floor and his study desk. A heavy sigh leaves his body as his breathing normalizes.

“If only I could tell her . . .”, he mumbles before closing his eyes and thinking of you, again. He takes a few moments to relax before cleaning the mess.

—

@tokyometronetwork

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lostinforestbound · 1 month

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Absolutely no one asked for this but I really needed to get these out of my system, so today I present to all of you, my:

General Lia and Cal Headcannons

Please please please share if you have random headcannons about these two! I would love to hear them! I also may make a Part 2 to this because I think about them a lot.

Lia

Lia is a very sappy drunk. When she drinks too much she'll be very emotional and teary eyed. She'll actively tell Cal and Rolan how much she loves them. Cal is very used to it, but it throws Rolan off every time.

She absolutely loves animals! If Tav doesn't beat her to it, she would absolutely take every stray cat in Baldur's Gate and keep them, much to Rolan's dismay. If he put his foot down about them not staying in the tower, she would at least go out and feed them when she has time.

When she was very young, despite odds of her losing, she would've absolutely stood up for both Rolan and Cal when they got bullied. Not just standing up for them, she would genuinely beat the shit out of anyone who dared to hurt them.

Their mother would chastise her for it at first, but eventually, she would've taught little Lia how to properly defend herself in case it happened again. She would also tell her how proud she is.

In their dynamic, Lia usually is hunting or foraging food for them if they run out on the road. She's fantastic with a bow, so she successfully hunts down rabbits, squirrels, and pick up safe berries. She has a little booklet with her that tells her which are poisonous or not.

I think she would be genuinely fascinated by druids, but the Grove incident would've put a very sour taste in her mouth. She'll probably revisit the topic in the future, but definitely not soon.

She loves doing arts and crafts of sorts! It absolutely her favorite past time outside of training or shooting her bow, such as shaping clay or building small trinkets out of wood. She also really likes puzzles, and would spend some quiet time by herself solving them no matter how long it takes her.

Lia can be forgetful of dates. She often forgets Rolan's birthday, Cal's, and sometimes even her own. The only date she remembers clearly is the day of their mom's death. When it happened it destroyed her, same with Cal. Rolan helped picked up the pieces, and she didn't realize until much later he didn't even get the chance to grieve properly.

She doesn't like fighting with Rolan, she really doesn't, but sometimes she feels as though he lacks empathy. That he should care about other people more, not just themselves. This has caused the start of many fights, much to Cal's misery. Sometimes she would go as far as calling him selfish.

She won't admit it out loud except when drunk, but she's inspired by Rolan. Not as much as Cal maybe, but his ambition and seeing his determination left a huge impression on her. It's partially why she's still so headstrong.

Cal

Cal is a talented cook! When he was old enough to do so, he took over Rolan's kitchen role when they were still young. While many mishaps happened in the kitchen due to some clumsiness, he made fantastic dishes with what they had. They didn't look pretty, but tasted amazing.

Cal, without fail, always remembers Rolan's birthday. Rolan has mentioned the date once in passing, and he never forgot it. He always gets a gift for him, whether something he bought with his own money or something handmade.

Their mother was usually the one who got Rolan gifts, including a small cake. After she passed away, he was determined to still get Rolan something. Anything.

That is the first time Cal ever baked a cake. It was an absolute mess; flour everywhere, some batter on the ground, and some icing on his face. The cake, in all honesty, looked awful. But Rolan insists it was the best cake Cal has ever made for him. Rolan cried later that night because he's never felt so appreciated.

He had no money as he was too young, so this would also be the first time he's ever stolen something. There was an higher class noble talking down to a commoner one day, so he took the opportunity and snatched one of the books in their stack when they weren't looking. That was Rolan's first ever magic book; he still has it with him always.

As their mother was a seamstress, Cal also picked up sewing. His other job within their sibling dynamic is clothing repairs, but mostly for himself and Lia. Rolan insists he can fix his robe by himself with a simple mending spell.

Cal is a very giggly drunk, though I don't believe he drinks that often in the first place. Only on special occasions such as the Tiefling party. If he drinks a little too much, he'll get real sleepy and end up passing out somewhere quiet.

When he was younger, any time he would cry after having a nightmare, he would go straight to Rolan. His big brother always held him close and put on a light show, no matter the time of night. Sometimes he goes to him and lies about the nightmare, just to see the magic show. It helps him go to sleep.

Cal looks up to Rolan more than Lia, though he loves Lia just as much. He sees Rolan as an inspiration, even when he can't do magic himself. He never fails to remind him that he's family and that he'll always love him.

I don't believe Cal is a crybaby, but he's definitely more prone to crying than the other two. He feels his emotions very strongly and aggressively. He's not afraid of crying either, he thinks it's very healthy to let yourself weep once in a while, even if there's no good reason for it. He honestly wishes Lia and Rolan would cry more; maybe then they won't explode at each other so often.

#forest-writes #cal bg3 #lia bg3 #cal #lia #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #holy rolan empire

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Catch Me If You Can 3/3

Mob!Bucky x Single mom Police officer reader

Warnings:

I really like this AU so while this is the final part, BUT I will write stuff for these two here and there (like the proposal and so much more I have in my head for them)

Part 1

Part 2

Your heart stopped as you stood near the door, hearing the conversation between your son and Bucky. The rest of what they were saying was drowned out with a dull buzz filling your ears, all your emotions coursing through your body all at once.

Dad.

A word Jordan had resented all is life, only associating the term with a man who wanted nothing to do with him. Dad meant loneliness, fear, abandonment, abuse.

Dad was something he never had an interest in.

No one you had ever dated in the past was worthy of being in Jordan’s life, something you put first whenever you went out. Not one person had made it even close to meeting him let alone standing in as a father figure to him. You soon accepted that your life would be just you and him until he grew up and had his own family as well.

But now?

Dad.

And Bucky, of all people.

You didn’t even realize tears were streaming down your face until you felt a drop slip onto your collarbone, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth and rushing to your bedroom, shutting the door. You buried your face in your hands, your heart twisting at the thought of how safe your son must have felt around Bucky. How he loved spending time with the mob boss, never wanting to leave, feeling like he was at home more and more each day.

He wasn’t the only one.

It wasn’t shock that Bucky felt.

It was pain.

Pain that he saw Jordan as his own but couldn’t take on that role.

Pain where whenever he spent time with either of you, he’d never want it to end, finding any excuse under the sun to get you to stay.

But how could he feel all that when you were both from two different worlds, one where the two couldn’t mix.

If only.

“I think you should ask mama bear how she’d feel about that” Bucky softly ruffled his hair while Jordan made a thinking face before nodding to himself. He was well aware that uncle Bucky wasn’t exactly in the all clear but he wasn’t blind either. You definitely used less no-no words when talking about Bucky. You’d mumble something occasionally, but he caught the little smile that graced your lips, often rolling his eyes when you’d try to wipe it off immediately after.

“I don’t think she wants to arrest you anymore but I can’t make any promises. Mommy takes her job very seriously” Jordan downed the rest of his juice while Bucky chuckled, nodding his head.

“Mama is very good at her job, she puts away the bad guys”

“But you’re a good guy” Jordan shrugged, continuing to work on his homework, hoping to revisit the topic later.

As soon as Jordan was ready for bed and tucked in, you went down to the kitchen for a late night snack, book in hand with your silk robe tied around your body. You figured everyone had gone to sleep, allowing yourself to lounge in something that made you feel good, the outfit on the racier side. You set your mug down on the marble counter top, popping a strawberry into your mouth and opening your book, too engrossed in the story to hear the footsteps that padded down the hall.

Bucky blinked as soon as he walked in the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on you. Wrapped in silk. Your lips stained with sweet berry juice. Your plush thighs on full display. In his kitchen. Where he could bend you over the counter-

He mentally flicked himself in the ear, letting out a cough to announce his presence, hoping some blood would flowback to his brain before you shot his dick off. Your eyes flicked up, your heart jolting at the sight of a very shirtless Bucky, his t-shirt slung over his shoulder, joggers riding low on his hips. Sweat glistened off his tan skin, the veins on his forearms prominent from the workout he just had.

“Thought everyone was asleep” You wrapped your roble a little tighter around yourself, ignoring the butterflies that rabidly bounced around your stomach, willing your eyes to look away from the dark trail of hair on his stomach that lead right down to his-

“Couldn’t sleep” Bucky broke you out of your filthy train of thoughts as he walked to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and debating on dumping it on his head to calm himself down. “I had an interesting conversation with the little one” He murmured, taking a swing from the water bottle, struggling to take his eyes off the way you fit so perfectly in his home, so pretty in silk, the type of thing he’d want to come home to everyday-

“I heard” You nodded, taking a long sip of tea, trying to calm your racing heart. Everything about him was perfect, except for the fact that his entire being was dedicated to a life of crime. While Jordan didn’t tell you about his request to call Bucky something different, he did talk your ear off about uncle Steve and Bucky’s motor bike collection. “Didn’t realize you’d all be so good with kids”

Bucky chuckled, equally surprised with himself over how easy it was for him to move with Jordan. It came naturally. He’d thought about having a family before but this was the first time he saw himself as a father-

Stop.

You’re not his dad.

“Again, I’m part of the mob sweets, not a monster. Family comes first”

You hummed, before continuing, “So how did that conversation go?”

“Asked him what his pretty mama would think” Bucky tossed you a charming smirk which you rolled your eyes to, biting down hard on your lip to keep from smiling.

“In those exact words Barnes?”

“It’s definitely what I was thinking” Bucky shrugged while you took another swing of tea to stifle a giggle. Neither of you said anything else, quietly continuing what you were doing unable to look each other in the eye. Jordan sat at the top of the stairs, smacking his forehead before trudging back to bed. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who adored his mommy.

Something about that night had changed things. You still maintained that the nature of your relationship was strictly because of Jordan's safety and nothing else. You’d even once jokingly cuffed Bucky, much to his surprise, his eyes growing wide when he found himself pinned against the wall, caught off guard with how swiftly you were able to hold him down.

He felt goosebumps erupt over his skin when you teasingly whispered his rights before uncuffing him and twirling the metal in your hands. Jordan found it hilarious, while Bucky was left a babbling mess, insisting he let you arrest him and that you’d never actually be able to disarm him so easily if he fought back.

In fact, he even insisted you try again.

And again.

Steve once had to slowly pull Jordan away, distracting him with another kinder egg, worrying your latest arrest would turn into something else, watching Bucky’s pupils dilate with the clink of the cuffs wrapping around his wrist. He also noticed the way you smirked, your hands lingering on him for longer than necessary for a lawful arrest.

“You like my mom”

Bucky’s eyes shot up, staring at the little thing that was sprawled out on the office floor, putting together Lego’s, the mop of dark hair popping up and staring directly at him.

“What?”

“You like mommy, your face does that pink thing whenever your near her, even when she tries to put you in jail. Have you no shame”

Steve cackled from the corner, while Bucky stood like a fish gaping out of water, his cheeks blushing heavily again.

“You’re doing it right now” Jordan narrowed his eyes while Bucky helplessly tried to make his face less pink, the color only getting worse. “You like her”

Well, the little devil spawn wasn’t wrong, there was no doubt Bucky was harboring a school boy crush on you, growing worse each day.

“And she likes you” Jordan stated, “so what are you going to do about it” He set down the Lego pieces and crossed his arms over his chest, making it clear he wasn’t going to let Bucky weasel his way out of this. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, realizing he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought while your son continued to stare at him.

“J, it’s complicated, it’s hard for your to understand- your mom- and me- she-”

“I’m sure it takes a real Sherlock to understand why mommy doesn’t want to date her sworn enemy” Jordan dead panned, giving Bucky another pointed look, not needing anyone to break down for him why there was so much unspoken tension between you two.

His mom was a police officer.

She followed the rules.

She respected the law.

Bucky didn’t follow the rules.

The law meant nothing to him.

You weren’t exactly a match made in heaven.

But Jordan wasn’t blind to the way you also got giggly around Bucky no matter how hard you tried not to. It wasn’t often he saw his mama looked so happy and relaxed. If his favorite new uncle made you swoon, who was he to stand in the way of true love and getting a new daddy.

“You like her. She likes you. Right?”

“Okay so it’s not complicated” Bucky huffed while Jordan nodded, expecting uncle Bucky to walk over to you right that instant and profess his feelings out in the open. “But I don’t think I fit into her life like that though kid” He tried but Jordan wasn’t having any of it.

“Ugh, but she has no life!" Jordan rolled his eyes while Steve wheezed, watching Bucky single handedly get taken down by someone that was a quarter of his size. “All she used to do is work and help me with homework and complain about you” He got up from his place on the floor and sat in the office chair opposite to Bucky. “And she still complains about you but now she giggles in between and she doesn’t call you that word that rhymes with mother tucker”

“What does she call me now” Bucky’s curiosity piqued while Jordan scrunched his nose.

“Welllll, why don’t’cha get yourself arrested again and see what she says” He kicked his feet innocently, looking at the mob boss in the eye, “Uncle Steve, he’s blushing again” Jordan shot out an accusatory finger while Steve howled, giving your son a high five.

“That’s my little man, you tell him”

“I’m trying to but he’s still sitting here drinking expensive spicy apple juice”

“You know too much for your age” Bucky rubbed his temples, torn between what his next steps would be and actually considering Jordan’s advice to have you cuff him.

What he wouldn’t do to have your hands on-

“You don’t know enough” Jordan countered, plucking the juice box he left on the table, taking a long sip, happy to have his uncle Steve as an ally.

All it took was a threatening phone call from your ex’s sister for Bucky to get you to stay even longer on his insistence. He didn’t care that she lived in an entirely different continent or that she was a delusional loon; he’d use any excuse possible to keep you near by.

“James, she lives in another country-

“Doesn’t matter”

“I’ve already stayed a month!”

“Stay another”

“But-

“No”

You didn’t like that your feelings were getting harder and harder to contain, your moral compass going haywire, trying to figure out what to do. Seeing Bucky with Jordan pained you the most. Your baby boys eyes would light up as soon as he’d hear the mob boss walk through the door, your heart swelling each time you saw Bucky parading around the house, carrying him on his shoulders. Steve, Sam and Peter didn’t help either, the three of them taking care of Jordan just as much as you did when they weren’t off on illegal shady antics, their line of work as wholesome and innocent as your son when he claimed he only had one kinder egg.

Bald faced liars, all of them.

You felt loved, safe and alone at the same time, conflicted over which direction to follow, your heart screaming to just look the other way at the wrong things he did. But that wasn’t the job. That wasn’t what you stood for. You took an oath to protect innocent lives and accepting full on gang activity didn’t align with that.

Did it?

Though Jordan wasn’t having any of it either, noticing more and more tension building between the both of you, more longing glances and lingering touches each time you were near one another.

If neither of you were going to do anything about it, he’d have to take matters into his own little hands.

Like tonight.

You found it strange that Jordan had insisted on only going out with Steve, Sam and Peter, your little one usually following Bucky around the most. He insisted he was perfectly fine with only going with these three, also throwing in that uncle Bucky was very very busy with lots of meetings, therefore couldn't join them for the movie they were going to see. You were hesitant at first but he gave you little room for argument.

“Jordan, the screen here is literally bigger than the movie theater anyway-

“But moooommy, pleeaaseeee?” He gave you his best puppy eyes and pout, something he seemed to perfect from his latest idol, jumping on you when you finally agreed, though not trusting why Sam, Steve and Peter looked equally giggly and guilty. They left for the day, giving you a night to relax in the quiet mansion.

You decided to pamper yourself, taking advantage of the large tub in the guest bathroom, filling it up with essential oils and bath salts, letting out a content sigh feeling the hot water ease your muscles. You stayed there till the water felt cold, rinsing off and toweling off. You moisturized and slipped on one of your nicer silk robes, figuring you could wear your pj’s later when you actually went to bed.

Not like anyone was home now anyway.

You went down to the kitchen to grab some tea before heading back to your room, curious to find the office door cracked open; typically closed when Bucky was working.

Was he working?

“I see you’re busy” You poked your head into Bucky’s dimly lit office to find him lounging with a book, sipping on dark amber liquid, wearing a soft tshirt and joggers, clearly the opposite of busy with lots and lots of meetings.

You’d have a word with your little one later.

“Where did everyone go” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the surprisingly silent house, mentally holding himself back as you stepped into his office in your robe again, desperately wanting to pounce on you. his eyes lingered on you, swallowing thickly noting he couldn’t see your sleep shorts from under the robe, were you wearing nothing underneath-

“My baby was an angel before he met you” You shook your head at your sons sneaky work of finding a way to get you and Bucky together alone. “He said you were busy today and then took off with your henchmen, they’ve been out for hours”

“Smart kid” Bucky snorted, secretly proud of the little mob boss in the making, though you’d probably serve his head on a platter if you heard his thoughts. “Want a drink?” He held up his glass, getting up to grab you one as well, dropping a few ice cubes in the crystal.

You bit your lip as you approached him, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell you felt like you had been doused in lava, your heart beating a mile a minute with the thick tension that hung in the air. A drink meant nothing; he offered it to you because he was polite. You’d have your drink and then your ass right back to your room because if you waited there a second longer, with him in those fitting sweats-

“You look very busy yourself, officer” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, nodding at your clothing, or lack thereof, shamelessly letting his eyes wander up and down your body while he handed you the glass, clinking it with yours before taking a long drag.

“Hmm, took advantage of the peace and quiet and clawfoot tub” You licked the drop of whiskey that clung to your lips, letting the burn distract your brain yelling at you to run while your heart wrapped bricks around your ankles, keeping you in place. “It was nice. I’ll miss it when we go back home”

You threw the last bit out there as a reminder for yourself; none of this was forever. All good things would have to come to and end at some point. Bucky felt his stomach drop at the thought; each day he’d find any excuse he could to have you stay just one extra day.

Just one extra day to bicker with you.

One extra day to spend with the little one.

One extra day to get on your nerves.

One extra day to spend with the family he’d always thought he’d have one day.

“You don’t have to go any time soon” Bucky whispered, unsure if he wanted you to hear those words, taking a step closer to you, “Stay...a little longer?”

“You say that a lot, I might just end up staying forever” You let out a breathless laugh, feeling the warmth of the alcohol relax your muscles, giving into the pull you felt towards him.

“Would that be so bad?” He smirked but the inside of him was on his knees, begging for a chance, just one.

“It-it would-” you couldn’t find the words, stumbling over them, getting lost in the baby blues gazing down at you, his eyes darting between yours and your lips. You didn’t realize you were leaning in, your body following what it needed, morals and ethics be damned.

“I know its not just me” Bucky whispered, hesitantly putting his hand on your waist to pull you closer, wanting to feel your soft lips on his, hug you and cuddle you, make you his. He didn’t want just one night, he wanted this for life. “Tell me you feel the same way”

You felt your throat tighten, your body tensing in his hold as he rested his forehead against yours, your nose bumping against his. He held you even closer to him, your hands gripping onto his shirt feeling his warm breath gently fan onto your face, his lips just brushing against yours, just as soft as you’d imagined they’d be. You nearly gave into him, pulling away at the last second, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, doll”

“We can’t-” You shook, hanging your head, overwhelmed over what all of this entailed, what this would mean to you, what you would do if this didn’t work, your baby boy came first-

“We can” Bucky cupped your cheeks, breaking you away from your spiral, swiping away the tears that fell, “We can baby, I promise we can”

“How- how do we make this work James, we come from two different worlds” You tried to reason with him but again this was more to yourself; how could you drop your entire life for this, risk everything for something so uncertain even though your heart yearned for it.

“Princess, I will show you everything, every damn thing under my name, I know it’s not perfect, but just let me show you. All of it. No secrets from you, not one. I promise, I won’t hurt you, not your baby, I care about you. I care about you both”

“James-”

“Just give me a chance” His grip around your waist tightened, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, bringing one hand to cradle your face, tilting it to look up at him. “C’mon sweets, you’ve been chasing after me for ages” He smirked against your lips, kissing them softly. “Now you got me”

“Then we take things slow” You stated firmly, pressing your finger into his chest, “and no funny business Barnes” You swatted his hand away when he trailed them to the hem of your robe, brushing your bare thigh making goosebumps erupt all over your skin. He chuckled at the pointed look you gave him, trying and failing at hiding how turned on you were. “And Jordan can’t know yet” His face softened, nodding in agreement, understanding where you were coming from.

“Just me and you” He kissed you again, gentle and sweet, a promise of taking things your way, baring his heart and soul to you in any way you asked. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to claim you in every way, make you his at the alter if you let him, be a daddy to your baby boy. He’d wait as long as you needed.

“Just me and you”

Steve and Sam had easily put two and two together as soon as they got back home, noting their boss was smiling like an idiot to himself most of the time, a stark contrast from his signature grumpy scowl. They never said anything, but they did pride themselves as being part o the reason this happened; after all they were the ones who conspired with your little one to get you two alone.

If Bucky was sweet before, he was tooth rottingly adorable now but only when it was just the two of you. You didn’t dare breathe a word to Jordan, not wanting to give him false hope if things didn’t work out. Truthful to his word, he came clean about everything. With each of his confessions, the world turned into different shades of grey instead of black and white.

Nothing he did was legal.

Nor was it hurting those who were innocent.

Your dead beat of an ex had a clean criminal record and was a standup citizen until it came to being a father and decent human being. Your son hardly thought twice about him. Bucky had killed more people than fingers on your hands but Jordan adored him.

When it was just the two of you, Bucky turned into a teddy bear, constantly kissing and hugging you, romantic as ever when he got the chance. He’d send the cooks away so he could make dinner, run you a bath when you had a long day, massage your feet while you sat on his desk in his office. He’d be on calls, the phone resting between his shoulder and ear while his calloused fingers would work at your toes, gently rubbing and pressing the aches out, before massaging up your calves. As soon as you heard the patter of little feet down the hall, you’d hop off and slink away, hiding the smile on your face when your son would take your place instead, plopping himself in Bucky’s office noting he was blushing again for some reason.

You still hadn’t been intimate with him yet. As much as he wanted you, Bucky didn’t let you feel an ounce of pressure, no matter how badly he wanted to love on you completely and show you exactly how much he adored you in the closest way possible. He relished in every second he got to spend with you, especially the select nights he got alone with you.

Like tonight.

“Promise you’ll try and be nice to Uncle Bucky?” Jordan cocked his head with hopeful eyes, still hoping his ship would sail of getting you both together. Thus far, nothing seemed to have changed and his hopes were starting to drop. “Please?”

“I’ll try” you giggled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before he slipped into the dark SUV with Bucky’s side pieces in tow, Sam, Steve and Peter all grinning widely for a boys trip over the weekend. “No promises though baby”

“Yeah officer, play nice with our boss” Steve winked while Sam cackled, closing the door and revving off, leaving the large mansion absolutely empty. The cleaning staff, gardeners s and cooks had been given the weekend off along with a generous bonus to keep them away for a few days. You slipped into one of Bucky’s t-shirts which hung loosely on you, not bothering to wear anything else underneath. You inhaled the soft scent of the fabric, his cologne and something distinctly him lingering on the fabric making you feel warm and fuzzy. The sound of keys hitting the keyboard carried through the hall; Bucky typing away at his computer but you couldn’t help wanting to be wrapped up in his arms, quietly peeking into his office and padding over to him.

“My pretty girl” He cooed, scooping you in his arms while you curled up on his lap, playing with his chains as he continued to work. “You miss me, baby?”

“You wish” You bit your lip, playfully rolling your eyes, knowing damn well you had missed him like crazy after he holed himself up with work business. “Don’t flatter yourself”

“You’re the one slinking around me, kitten” Bucky tilted your chin up pecking a tiny kiss on your nose, making you giggle. “C’mon, I wanna cuddle with my girl” He murmured in your ear making you shiver. He held you to his chest as he picked you up and carried you over to his room, setting you down on his bed before walking over to the closet and slipping on some sweats. He didn’t bother with a shirt, striding with his grey joggers riding low around his waist, giving you a pretty view of his Adonis belt, pointing straight to his-

“Angel” He crawled on top of you, humming at the feeling of your soft body under his, peppering kisses from your neck to your jaw, eventually pressing them against your lips. The kiss started soft and slowly, gradually getting more heated when you grazed his scalp with your nails, gasping at the feeling of his erection pressing against your clothed core. You instinctively moved your thighs further apart, granting him more access to rut against you, panting each time he groaned, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

He didn’t pull away until he needed air, his warm breath fanning against your face, hearts beating erratically. This had been the closest you’d ever been with each other, your thighs gently squeezing around his waist, making him thrust against you, drawing a out a moan. Bucky lost himself for a moment, gently caressing his thumb on your cheek, the other hand cradling your head, his large frame keeping you safely tucked underneath him, hidden from the rest of the world.

Exactly what he wanted.

Safe in his arms.

“Do you want this?” Bucky stopped what he was doing to check on you, his hand still softly stroking your skin. “We can stop, we don’t have to do this tonight-

“Don’t stop” you whispered, pulling him back, your arms clinging around his shoulders, eyes pleading for him to do something.

“I’ve wanted this for so long baby” He sat back on his heels, toying with the hem of your tshirt, his thick cock straining against painfully against his sweats. “Can I?” He waited for your permission before carefully removing your top off and ridding himself of his sweats and boxers, desperately just wanting to feel your bare skin against his. You felt too needy, too desperate for him, whining when he pulled away to settled between your legs, pressing a delicate kiss to your inner thigh.

“Just want you James, please?” You pouted, feeling empty when his leaky cock was right there, though his sinful mouth was tempting.

“Just one taste, angel?” He begged, inching down to your soaked pussy, spreading your folds apart before sealing his lips around your swollen clit, his eyes rolling back at the way your legs suffocated him.

“J-James” You moaned out, your hand going down to tug at his roots, grinding your pussy on his face, his groans adding vibrations to your sensitive nub. He felt greedy, burying his tongue deep in your cunt, lapping and drinking every drop your body was willing to give, his arms coming up to hold your legs apart, his head shaking side to side. He sucked and licked until you were a babbling mess, clawing at his shoulders to pull him back on top of you, bucking your hips up against his thick hard length.

“What do you need, pretty baby” Bucky cooed, soothing your whimpers with his cock rubbing through your folds, hushing you gently.

“Want you James, please?”

“I got you sweets, don’t worry, you ready?” He kept his eyes locked with yours, holding still until you nodded, the blunt tip of his cock pushing into your pulsating entrance.

“Oh fuck-” You cried at the way his girth started to fill you, your pussy tightly hugging his cock, a gentle delicious burn radiating through your lower half, stretching open for him. “Baby-”

“Shhhh” Bucky continued to slowly inch inside you, pressing soft kisses along your neck, his body weight resting on top of you, “It’s just me sweets, just your Bucky”

“Fuck, Bucky” Your nails dug into his shoulders, nearly breaking the skin, hissing at the way you could almost feel him in your belly.

“Breathe, Its just you and me baby, just you and me, yeah?” He kissed your temple, feeling just as desperate and needy as you, his cock throbbing at the way it felt to hold you, kiss you, feel all of you, be inside you.

“Just-just you and me” You whispered, clinging onto his body as he continued to press into you, groaning at the way your pussy fluttered around him, pulling him deeper.

“Thats my good girl” His large hand held your thigh up higher on his waist, fully sheathing himself inside you. Bucky panted against your neck in an attempt to calm himself down, feeing his balls already pulling towards his body, his cock thumping, ready to blow. He started with slow languid thrusts, savoring the pretty moans you made for him, your softness connected to him.

“Such a pretty mama” His lips brushed against yours, loving the soft touch of your skin, his hands feeling every inch of your body. He sat back on his heels, keeping his cock deep inside you, groaning at the sight of your body on full display just for him, your lip caught between your teeth, feeling hot under his intense gaze.

“Fuck- Fuck right there baby, please, right there!” You sobbed in pleasure as Bucky moved your thighs up, practically folding you in half, hitting an even deeper angle, rubbing perfectly at your gspopt. “Don’t-don’t stop-”

“I won’t stop, mama” He traced the delicate lines of stretch marks that were scattered across your lower belly and thighs, evidence of the sweet baby boy your body had given you, the boy he also now grew to love. “Wanted to make love to you for so long baby. wanted you to feel how much I care about you, make you feel so good” Bucky’s emotions were all over the place, feeling pleasure and love for you at an all time high.

His eyes were locked at there the two of you connected, snapping his hips forward, watching your tummy bulge with each thrust, cream covering the trimmed curls at his base. Your broken moans spurred him off, collapsing on top of you with your legs slung over his shoulders, his cock impossibly deep. His hands snaked up to pin your arms above your head, your fingers intertwined with his, keeping you completely surrendered to him.

“I love you” He whispered, voice thick with emotion, foreheads pressed together, not a single part of your body not touching his. “and everything you brought into this world”

“I-I love you” You half sobbed and stuttered out, eyes rolling back feeling him work his hips faster, pushing you against the pillows and pounding you into the mattress. “FUCK-JAMIE-THERE-R-RIGHT-TH-THERE”

“S’that your spot babygirl? Right there, huh angel, god you make me wanna blow, you sound so pretty with my cock in you” Bucky groaned, no longer able to hold back, moaning along with you, the sound of skin slapping on skin growing faster and louder. “Fuck-cum baby, cum on this dick, cum on my dick, s’all yours angel, give me that cream”

“YES-YES-OH-Jamiee!” Your back bowed, legs shaking and trembling as your orgasm started to pulse, waves of please growing more and more intense as he fucked you through your high. Your greedy pussy sucked him in deeper, pulling him closer and closer.

“Yeah, m’your Jamie baby” Bucky let out a soft chuckle at the new name you’d given him, one only you’d ever be able to use. It got him off more, his pace losing rhythm, his own climax just at the edge. “Just your Jamie angel, only for you, fuck baby, m’gonna cum for you, all this is for you” He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, moaning loudly and nipping against your skin as he started to pump you full of his cum, giving you sloppy thrusts, making sure you were filled with every drop.

You cooed and rubbed his body while he panted, his cock slowly beginning to soften, tucking himself further into your hold. You smiled at how soft and loving he was in that moment, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead, his blue eyes peering up at you at the feeling of your lips.

“Look at my pretty girl being all sweet on me” He grinned, yelping at the pinch you gave to his side.

“Don’t make me cuff you, Barnes” You huffed while pink dusted his cheeks at the thought, his mind now going other places.

“Threatening me with a good time, sweetheart?” He smirked, wrapping his arms around you and rolling over, pinning you back against the mattress again, this time his hands locking around your wrists. “S’that what you want pretty girl? To have my in cuffs? Do everything you ask? Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you have your way with me one day officer”

“Be a good girl for you?” You smirked, wrapping your legs around his waist, bucking your hips up against his sensitive cock, making him hiss, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper.

“Careful babygirl, don’t forget who you’re in bed with” His lips continued to brush against you, grazing your skin down to your collar bone. “Let me remind you, sweets”

As soon as the boys were back, Jordan ran full speed to you, jumping in your arms first, talking your ear off about all the ridiculous antics he had done with Steve, Sam and Peter. You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes while keeping him on your hip, before setting him down on his feet and instructing him to wash up so he could tell you everything properly over dinner. Jordan clung onto you for just a second longer, he could’ve sworn there was a faint scent of cologne that clung onto you, one just like-

While you were entranced with your little one, Bucky was entranced with you. Effortlessly swaying with your baby who was clearly not exactly a tiny baby anymore, the scrunch on of your nose when you smiled around him, the way your eyes sparkled. Jordan ran up two steps at a time to shower as fast as humanly possible while Bucky snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you to his chest, his sneaky hands pawing at your hips, slipping up your shirt.

“You’re such a milf” Bucky smirked while you gasped, smacking his chest, eyes darting around the room to see if anyone heard.

“Bucky” You hissed, squeaking, your face growing hot when he hugged you tighter, burying his face into your hair.

“It’s true though princess, God damn” He kissed up the side of your neck, “Such a pretty mama, can’t help it”

“Yeah, well your little side kick is going to want to tell you all about the weekend” You giggled, wiggling out of his hold and walking off to the kitchen to get dinner started while Bucky hummed, making his way to the office. Jordan scrubbed himself down within seconds before rushing back down to tell you everything, eyeing you curiously while you set his plate in front of him.

“Isn’t that Uncle Bucky’s shirt?” He pipped up, with owlish eyes, waiting for your asnwer.

“Oh-so it is” You looked down at the black tshirt you were wearing, one that went to the middle of your thighs. “Uh-Must’ve gotten mixed up in the laundry” You shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t ask anything else.

As if you’d ever get so lucky.

“But it’s so big on you-”

“Tell me about your weekend baby” You cut him off while Jordan narrowed his eyes at you accusingly, deciding he’d have better luck elsewhere instead of prying with you. He gave you his best summarized version before running back upstairs and taking his designated spot beside Bucky (going to the fridge first to grab himself some juice).

“Mommy was wearing your shirt” He stated, inching closer to Bucky, noting the way the Mob bosses’ eyes grew wide, his cheeks blushing deeply, crawling down his neck and up to his ears.

“I-Uh-Oh-”

Not once had Jordan ever see Bucky get flustered except when it involved you, his hopes growing high again, also why did Bucky smell like your shampoo-

“Maybe-maybe it got switched in the laundry?”

“You never do laundry, the cleaners do”

“They were away this weekend, J”

“So it was just you and mommy”

“Yup”

“Whatcha do”

“......work”

“What did mommy do”

“....laundry?”

“The whole weekend?”

“Yup”

“You smell like her”

*silence*

*Blushing intensifies*

*Little shy smile creeps on Bucky’s face*

“Did you finally tell mommy you like her? Oh God, you’re pink again” Jordan sat right up, eyes wide with anticipation while Bucky bit his lip before answering.

“I did”

“So...”

“So?”

“Can I call you dad, now?” Jordan’s voice was a whisper again, the confidence he had all this time turning into nervousness, playing with his fingers, avoiding Bucky’s eyes. Bucky felt his heart melt, pulling him onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss to his head, the little one curling himself up slightly, still looking at his hands. Bucky felt warmth all over, thinking back to a conversation he had with you a little while ago, just before Jordan had came home, one that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

“Are you sure this is what you want” You asked hesitantly, toying with the hem of your pj’s while Bucky tilted your face up to look at him, hearing the anxiety in your voice.

“What do you mean?” “It’s not just me Bucky, it’s both of us” You whispered, wondering if Bucky fully understood what he was signing up for. “I-I don’t want you to ever feel like-like he isn’t yours. I know he’s not and I know you care about him but I’m scared you’ll want us now and then later you won’t-” Bucky softly pressed his finger to your lips, silencing you, not willing to hear another word.

“Where is this coming from” He held you closer while you nervously chewed your lip.

“I’m a single mom. My job isn’t the most attractive. I’m not the first person people line up to date. I didn’t do any of this for so long because I’m terrified anyone that comes into my life will leave and I can’t do that to Jordan-”

“That’s my baby now too” His hands held your cheeks firmly, each of his words coming straight from his soul. “I want to be there for him sweetheart, if you’d let me. If you ever want me out, I won’t .Just say the word, I’m here”

“It’ll be a lot Bucky”

“What haven’t I seen yet, baby” Bucky shrugged while you began to list reasons. “Sometimes he’s moody”

“So is his mommy-OW”

“Sometimes he can have a temper-Don’t you dare say it”

“Occasional picky eater”

“He’s still learning how to multiply”

“He’ll be a teenager in a few years”

“He’ll want to drive the SUV”

“He’ll want to try the spicy apply juice”

“He thinks your a hero”

“You’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there”

“S’that what you want?” Bucky decided to ask Jordan one more time, giving your baby the choice to take it back if it wasn’t something he was sure about but your son eagerly nodded, his face splitting into a grin. He leapt off the sofa sprinting off down the hall, his voice echoing through the mansion.

“MOMMY, DADDY SAID I COULD CALL HIM DAD. UNCLE STEVE, OUR PLAN WORKED”

“You went from trying to stick him in prison to life to being stuck with him for life, how the turn tables”

You groaned, doing a terrible job and hiding the smile that crept on your face, your partner waving to the black SUV that was parked outside, waiting for you while you packed your things for the end of the day.

“Just to be clear, we’re no longer trying to arrest him right? You looooove him” You threw a pad of sticky notes at your partners head while she cackled, green eyes twinkling.

“Shut up, Romanoff”

“Set me up with his cute best friend, that blonde cutie sitting in the front seat” She cocked an eyebrow while you snorted, nodding to your boss as he walked by your desk.

“Took you long enough” Your boss playfully rolled his eyes, sending you a wink before making his way to his office. You smiled at the pretty blue eyes that watched you as you walked over, holding the door open and closing it for you, lips all over your face as soon as the locks clicked shut.

“Have a good day at work, officer?” He chuckled, pulling you to his lap, nuzzling into you while you sighed contently, tossing your gun and badge aside, melting into Bucky’s arms. You giggled at the glitter that was dusted into his hair after he spent the previous night helping Jordan with a school project, ruffling your hands through his soft locks, pulling him down for a long kiss. “Let’s go home”

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc @buckybarnessweetheart @pandaxnienke @manyfandomsfanvergent

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alllgator-blood · 18 days

Note

Have you ever wanted to draw something but you fought due to your skill level at the time you decide not to do it

OH ABSOLUTELY, I personally feel like the key to art improvement is trying new things and experimenting often. But the thing about trying new things is that they're typically out of your comfort zone, and often times you're left struggling because you've never had to move your hand in the configuration needed to depict the thing you want? So often times it feels easier to just not do that thing, but you might not improve if you give up when you fight against your own skill level.

I'm wrapping up on a comic and I almost gave up on it because for some reason, I decided "these two should be hunting while this conversation takes place" and I struggled on and off for two days because of my dedication to get this comic out. The payoff to them hunting doesn't even happen til the second page so I really didn't need to do this. I actually have experience with archery but for some reason, I just COULD NOT figure out where to put shamura's arms to make them hold that damn bow.....UNFINISHED COMIC PANELS INCOMING:

Is it perfect? HELL no I think it looks pretty awkward cause I've only been drawing these characters for a few weeks so I'm still getting used to them, and that in combination with drawing them doing action poses after years of drawing slice of life comics is..............not ideal. I'm more used to drawing furries hitting a bong on a garbage covered couch. But that's the thing! I wanna do more fanart for this Violent Video Game, so I need to learn how to draw people holding weapons. If I give up, like half my fanart ideas will never come to fruition, so I think making flawed art is better than making no art at all.

If you're struggling with your art, just absolutely barrel through whatever it is you're struggling with and come back another time in the future to revisit it. Attempt to draw you're struggling with (even if it's like the shittiest worst sketch ever, god knows I have tons of those), save it somewhere, and when you want to give that idea another go, compare the new art to what you did last time. Honestly I wish I tried and failed more than I didn't try at all, I'd have more to show for myself if I took my own advice.

#wip #river rambles #idk how to tag this I hope this is actually helpful to you #ALSO IT'S LIL HEKET SHE HAS A FROGLET TAIL YAYYY

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

Text

monster - haegeum, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi. Bodyguard Jeon Jungkook. And the weapon. The monster. The violent creation of the shadow king. You.

please, read the following.

As you can see, this is not the story. This is your warning. Only this post should be tagged / reblogged and not the actual post. This is intentional.

Some of you have read the 'monster' AU. The 'monster' AU is based off the world within the Daechwita MV. It was also written back then, in 2020. What many of you don't know is that the three parts on this blog (part i | part ii | part iii) are only some of the sex scenes of a much larger story. Mhm. I have never posted 'monster' in full anywhere. It would be misconstrued and misunderstood too easily. It is not for unprepared souls.

The gist of the story is that black-haired mafia boss Min Yoongi wants to kill the blond-haired Mad King, and he does.

I often get requests to revisit this AU.

My original intent was to not write anything more. I thought about taking the posts down at one point, as they are technically parts to an incomplete story I will never publish on here. Eventually, I decided to just let it be. People enjoy guilty pleasures. As long as you have your head straight and know this isn't real.

If there was any time to revisit these three, well, it would be after the release of Haegeum, wouldn't it?

Again, this is your warning. The following is not for the faint of heart. I am not holding back. If you click forward, that means you have read the following warnings below and you still wish to proceed. You know what you are getting yourself into. This is violence. This is insanity. This is 'monster' and there is no redeeming them.

Remember, everything is fiction. Read the disclaimer in my masterpost.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; premeditated killing and mass death with all three contributing; graphic descriptions of murder; blood; gun + knife violence; arson > explosion; thievery (money); mentions of reader placed in solitary confinement as punishment; physical abuse; sociopathic and manipulative behaviors; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected penetrative sex [reader is medically sterile], restrained [arms pinned down], choking with leather collar and with hand, heavy bite / scratching / bruising, stimulation to climax with the handle of a switchblade and said closed switchblade inserted into reader's vagina; reader being spit on and licked degradingly; cum-covered switchblade and later fingers in JK's mouth by Yoongi; standing sex, standing doggy, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, m-masturbation onto reader's face); non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (long black-haired Daechwita/Haegeum AU), longhaired!tattooed!bodyguard!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; m/m tension between them; JK has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

This is after the death of the Mad King.

Now, Min Yoongi has all of South Korea within his clutches, puppeteering the dirty money that goes in and out of this country. The underground ruler of the inhumane ruthlessly takes out anyone that is stupid enough to step forward and challenge his rule. Oh, they will always come, their greed tempted by the prosperous forbidden fruit flourishing in the darkness. Foolishly thinking, ah, but who could stop me? After all, no one knows who the shadow king really is – not until they are already locked within the fangs of death.

by proceeding, you are verifying that you have read all warnings.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #yoonkook x reader #bts mafia au #yoonkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #yoonkook x you #jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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the---hermit · 1 year

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How to get out of a reading slump

A while back posted a list of ten books to help you get out of a reading slump, but I also wanted to post a more general list of tips I personally think are useful when you find yourself in a reading slump. (I have also talked about this topic in this ask). So here's some of my tips:

Take a break. Sometimes you can get in reading slumps because you are burned out, maybe not just because of reading, but that can be affected as well. You have no obligations when reading (unless of course if you have to do it for school/uni, in which case I would still recommend trying to get some time off or at least slow down a bit in order to get some energies back). Sometimes accepting that you are in a non-reading place in life it's the best solution.

If you feel like it's a book you are reading that is putting you in a reading slump dnf it, or at least try to switch between that and another book. I personally tend to get stuck when I have only one book in my currently reading pile, because I need to vary often, so I like to have at the very least two books that I am currently reading. Realizing this about myself made me read much more, because I have avoided a lot of reading slumps. I'd also like to add that there's no shame in dnf-ing a book, if you are not enjoying your time with it there's no reason you should keep forcing yourself to read that. Maybe it's not the right time, and you'll enjoy it more in the future, or simply the book is not made for you, which is totally fine.

Graphic novels are a great compromise to get some reading done when you are in a reading slump, but you still want to something to read. This is specifically my solution for when I am in a reading slump caused by being burned out. Graphic novels tend to require less brain energy, and the illustrations usually help a lot with the flow of the story. I think this is the safest option when you are in the worse reading slumps.

Audiobooks are your best friends, whether you want to listen to it while doing other activities, or you want the narrator to help you while you follow the page, I feel like this is another great option. I personally love audiobooks, and I like to always have one on the go. This is again a great option if you are feeling burned out, in those cases I really like to listen to the audiobook as I take a walk, or even as I play some mindless games online like tetris, and similar things. These are also a great option to help when the book you are reading is putting you in a reading slump but you really have to read it. I have used audiobooks a lot in high school to help when I had to read poems or big classics.

Short story collections can be one of the best options to get back into reading. These take off the pressure of being consistent in order to remember things, because you can pick them up and leave them as you like, since most stories won't be over 25 pages usually. There's also some great options of collections that include multiple genres, which can be very helpful when you are stuck and don't really know what you want to read.

Fairytales and kid's books might not come to mind as soon as you think of what to read, but they can be very helpful to get you out of reading slumps. They are short and lighthearted which are two fundamental characteristics of good books to get you back into reading. And rivisiting some childhood favourites is always a great choice in my opinion.

Reread an old favourite or a comfort book. I know some people don't love revisiting old favourites, but I personally love them. You always get something new out of the story, and rereading a plot you know already can take off a lot of the pressure of reading, because you don't have to pay the same attention as with a story you know nothing about. This can be very helpful when getting back into the habit of reading.

Set up a cozy place to read. I am all about romanticizing the small things in life, and this is a very effortless way to put you into a good mindset to read. I personally like to light a few candles, make myself a nice cup of tea, maybe get a little treat to eat, cuddle up under a blanket and just read. Of course your set up might change depending on your preferences, just have a little fun with it, you could even try to read a bit while you are taking a bath.

Try to read outside. Similarly to the last tip, changing your enviroiment can be helpful sometimes. Some people like to read in a cafè, but you could also go in your garden if you have one or in a park.

Consume bookish content. This might seem stupid at first but sometimes seeing other people be excited about reading and books is very motivating. It has personally helped me several times.

Start a buddy read with a friend you feel comfortable with. Sharing your thoughts with someone as you read a book can keep the motivation up and a buddy read can be a great option to help with motivation, but be sure that you are comfortable with this person so that you don't feel too pressure upon you. Be clear from the beginning set a small goal and have fun with your buddy.

At the moment these are all the tips that came to my mind when thinking about getting out of a reading slump. Of course different people might have different methods, but changing things up can always be helpful. As I said at the beginning you shouldn't feel pressure when reading, and if it's a no reading moment in your life there's not shame in it, but I have also been stuck in reading slumps where I actually did want to read but I couldn't bring myself to do so, and many of these things helped me.

original posts/tips masterlist

#this has been in my drafts for months but i finally edited it #idk why it took me so long #how to get out of a reading slump #reading slump #reading slump tips #tips #reading #studyblr #bookblr #booklr #bookish #reading tips #og post #study tips #original post #books #mine #the---hermit

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jayenator565 · 6 months

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My Tanthamore Comfort Fics

We were talking about comfort fics in the Tanthamore discord and I realized I have too many for a normal sized reply, so here's a tumblr post instead. In no particular order i've reread these fics...maybe too many times.

I'm just gonna list em by author cause that's easier. Keep in mind we may have different definitions of the word comfort.

@commanderbuffy

650 ft2 - Ok so like envision these girls have been best friends for forever and they've been secretly pining for ages, no sense of personal space, they can read eachother like books AND they were roommates!

The Tanthamore Affair - This fic has everything, one bed, fake dating, celeb au, the fic that changed the meaning of a certain emoji and all the tropes you could want really

@badlance

We've got to find other ways to make it together - this one line says all you need to know

"It is the greatest irony of Jade Claymore’s life to be a certified genius who is nevertheless in love with an idiot."

@spybrarian

More Than Just Survival - as far as 5+1 fics go this one has me in a CHOKEHOLD

I scream at your chest for as long as I must

one night at the start of the end of the world

@ilovemyships (i think you need an AO3 account to read these gems)

you won't believe it (they think we're lovers)

don't wanna pressure (but friends don't kiss friends)

@acre-of-wheat - Acre's way with words should be studied

Network Connectivity Issues - I have never related to a character more than I relate to this Jade

The Dark

The Bite

@jlmichigan

Out of the Cuirass - one of the first tanthamore fics I ever read actually and I still come back to it every so often

@stbot

lay down your armor (come lie bare with me) - saintbot has a catalogue lemme tell ya but this one for tanthamore is just so heartwarming

@overkill-max

Escaping Fate - the Kit runs away fic that everyone needs

Dil3mma (idk their tumblr right now sorry)

A Sword And A Shield (And Everything In Between)

Deja-Brew - the loveliest coffee shop one shot

Jad3dEt3rnal (idk if they have a tumblr either)

This Daydream is Dangerous - cuddly vampire Jade, need I say more?

ana_chronistic (idk if they have a tumblr either x3)

Oops. I proposed. - fake dating x 100, fake proposal it's like fake dating to the next level and I love the growth of communication and pacing in this.

@barmaid-anon

do what you feel now

you want a good girl that does bad things (to you)

fulfill (an obligation) or keep (an arrangement)

we simply don't have time to unpack why these are comfort fics, we're just going to accept it and keep going.

@thecsquirrel

Sword and Shield - I love this look at what post S1 life could have been like for the gang, revisiting Nockmaar, seeing Galladoorn, getting into the evil Elora storyline with Graydon, spending more time with the Nelwyn and in the Wildwood it's just everything

@wigster07

What a pleasant surprise - a fic of one of my other comfort fics, I know it's like fic-ception in the best way possible. If you liked Tanthamore Affair I have an inkling this will be right up your alley

@isabrella @jade-claymore @allthefakepeople @resurrecho

those rumors they have big teeth - BAND AU need I say more? I don't need to but i'm going to, this fic has everything Kit and Jade in a band, Kit's leather pants, gay-ifying songs, MAMA MIA, totally gay best friends who have basically been dating for years but won't admit to it, Jade gets to be a bit problematic as a treat, inner band fighting, what more can you want?

@swashbucklery

meet you where the spirit meets the bones (tanthamore 90s werewolf au) - its a SERIES of these repressed gay DORKS and they're werewolves, there's such a charming way to how this author writes them I legit can't even with these two gays

@onlyshestandsthere

these walls come tumbling down - look, we don't have time to unpack why there's so many were-related supernatural esque fics on my comfort list and I know this is only 2 chapters in but I can already feel the comfort in all the hurt ok I dont even have to wait I already know i'm gonna be rereading this like monthly

I'm gonna have to stop there even though I know i'm still missing some! If someone asked me what my favorites are we'd be here all day XD

#tanthamore #tanthamore fics #fic recs #jade claymore #kit tanthalos #willow #willow 2022

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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BJYX and Tennis 🎾🎾🎾🎾

this is a long overdue post related to a popular cpn among us and a shared interest for zz and wyb. it’s interesting that both of them have picked up this sport in a span of time that’s mostly close to each other. while you can argue that it’s a popular sport and anyone can pick it up, when it comes to them, it adds to the pattern of them liking something at the same time. why is it always them? 😂😂😂😂

i wanna say that there is really no “big evidence” out there that we know of yet, but i think it’s still an important one. maybe one day a piece will come up and we can revisit.

GG and Tennis

between them, gg picked it up first, or publicly showed off his love for it. As early as 9/2022 during the Loreal Pro live, he shared some recent stuff he’s been enjoying which were badminton, billiards and tennis.

11/2022 he became more partial of tennis when XZS shared photos and videos of him playing the sport. as soon as he did, even the china open weibo account invited him to come on over and play. tho ZZ is not known to be the most sporty person out there, it ties up with his desire to be more fit. during that time, we have seen ZZ who was working out often. so playing tennis seems to be a rational step, tho at the time, we didn’t know how it could contribute to CPN. he also had said in other interviews that he wants to try and do more things, which is so similar to how wyb approaches his life and why i believe they work so well together. 🤍

then in the next events that he attended and interviews, you can see him saying tennis more often.

Weibo TV Internet Video Summit Red Carpet:

“Exercise is a way to relax and relieve stress. If I had to say, tennis (is my favorite).”

Weibo night 2023 sina interview:

“If you ask about my favorite sport probably its tennis.”

he loves it so much, that when he shared a photo of his snowman last year, the heart he used is a tennis vibration dampener/ shock absorber. a silent nod to his love for the sport.

WYB and Tennis

what got me questioning the timeline of us saying that XZ started the whole tennis mania was yibo saying recently that he is playing tennis again. tho what i can only find is a 2015 video of him showing how he is playing tennis — which looks more like he was acting and doing it as a joke compared to now where he is obsessed with it. tho their hobbies should always be out there and spoken in public, knowing how quickly he picks things up, i don’t doubt he played the sport at one point before his other interests took over.

fast forward to now, starting the whole tennis story during chanel shenzhen where he was photographed playing and even the instructor posted about it. to being decked out in lacoste tennis gear. it was a quick switch cause we knew he has in his golf phase and then the love for tennis seemed to come from nowhere. we knew that the golf love was fueled by his co star from chang feng po lang. so who is the influence this time?

the evidence we see of him being in love with tennis started with bystander promos and then the recent post of ybo. i don’t know if we are gonna get more bits, unless he finds another hobby.

AND NOW IT’S CPN TIME. 🤍

the clowning immediately started as soon as wyb showed interest in the sport and we connected it to xz. which is usual for us cause we are cpfs! the speculation being, wyb played tennis before them dropped it. xz became a fan of the sport and most likely talked to wyb about it, hoping he would play with him. maybe they did play together at some point then wyb was lured into it lol. and now, it’s his new his favorite. i would honestly cackle if xzs somehow releases a clip of him playing tennis again. so/os are saying wyb is leeching or something but they don’t know it’s what boyfriends do! share each other’s likes!

recently, there were talks about a mystery photo of WYB going around that some are thinking is a time that they played together and that’s why WYB was cropped out. @rainbowsky talked about that here. but personally, i think this him with some friends or maybe an instructor + casual players. whoever posted that just wanted to share wyb’s photo. i’m not sure about the comments, but some are saying this place is close to where weibo night took place — an event they attended together. which makes people feel more 👀 about it.

their rackets are different but that doesn’t say much. they could use whatever they want. it’s weird tho that the recent ybo video posted had the brand of the racket blurred out when it wasn’t in the previous video. so why now?

ultimately, what attracts us to this cpn is the possibility that they play tennis together. also how they influence each other. whatever it is, i just hope they continue to go for the things they love and we will be here to support them. 💛

-END.

#bjyx #yizhan #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #i’m doing catch up with cpn posts cause the past days have been so busy

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cocogrrrl · 9 months

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HIIIIIII ugh ur writings are so freakin good and so fun to read it makes me AHHHH could I request kyle, stan, and kenny (separate) with a f!reader that can’t control her facial expressions at all so she’s pretty much an open book? Maybe have the reader be an artist so when she’s drawing she’s like 🤩😙🙁😋🤨😱😐 THANK UUUUU

expressions

(headcannons + drabbles!) the main three's separate reaction to their artist gf who is very expressive whenever they draw (requested!)

main three (separate) x female!reader no cws wc: 1007 overall

an: omg its my first time writing in an hc listed format also the drabbles are a lot more artist gf than the expressive thing sorry huhuuu (also i forgot to reply to the ask last time i took up a request LMAO)

🍀 k. broflovski (wc: 330)

He really wants to comment on it, but doesn’t wanna bother you

I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just think that he finds it entertaining to see your mood and facial expressions shift around a lot

Like okay imagine you two parallel playing, both of you off in your own worlds

Kyle looks up at you to see you go from happy to frustrated to upset to shocked all in the span of a few seconds

He definitely finds it adorable and just basks in it by the side

Completely forgets what he was doing cause you’re just so gosh darn cute awwww

You were lying face down, arms holding you up, on his bed. You were tasked to make landscapes of any place but from different perspectives and views. To be honest, you were struggling a little bit. Backgrounds and scenery aren’t quite your strong points, but that didn’t mean you weren’t trying! You were lying down there, tongue poking out as you focused really hard to get the drawing looking at least a little bit realistically correct. You were real deep into it that you didn’t even realize Kyle was watching you until you heard a soft giggle in the back, which immediately made your head whip up. “Hmmm?” You hummed, questioning what he was laughing about. “Ah, it’s nothing.” He smiled at your curiosity. The look of amusement on his face was still there, so you had a hint of what was going on. “You’re just really pretty." You felt your cheeks heat up, giddily smiling to yourself as you felt your legs kicking back and forth in happiness. “Thank you…” You hummed. He only laughed more in return. “Don’t thank me.” He said, lifting your head up by the chin with his fingers as he placed a little kiss on your nose.

🍁 k. mccormick (wc: 360)

FINDS IT SO CUTE

but definitely teases you about it like

“You should take up acting, YN. You’re really good at changing emotions.”

Do you know how some people make facial expressions and random body movements for reference while drawing?

When he sees it for the first time, with no context whatsoever, he thought you got possessed or something CAUSE YOU WERE JUST FLAILING YOUR ARMS AROUND WHILE LOOKING INTENTLY AT THEM

I can just imagine him lying down, watching you drawing, while he’s kicking his feet in the air HEPL

You and your boyfriend, Kenny, were sat slumped against a wall in the back of some alleyway, spending your time together in the quiet where only sounds of passing cars, footsteps and chatter of pedestrians, and the soft winds blowing every now and then. You were getting into your drawings on your little sketchbook, moving from one doodle to the other and leaving many unfinished. Every couple of minutes, you’d revisit the other, but that was only if you were still up to it. Other than that, you had new ideas pulling you away from your drawings every other second. Kenny was playing with the hair that fell by the side of your face as you were doing your own business—twirling, braiding, and unfurling it over and over again. You stretched out your hand and formed it in a reached-out, grabbing motion, shifting it every so often to get a better view of what it looked like. Kenny watched you observing yourself in intrigue as well, resting his chin on your shoulder. As soon as you were done and about to get back to drawing, he lifted himself back up and started to play with your hair once more. While you were drawing out the hand same hand you motioned earlier, you felt a soft kiss on your cheek, which caught you off guard. You turned your head in Kenny's direction, giving him a look that asked, ‘Why?’ Not in a bad way, just out of curiosity. He shrugged in return, cupping your face in one hand with his fingers resting on both cheeks as he squeezed them. “Cutie.”

🎸 s. marsh (wc: 317)

He doesn’t pay much mind to it honestly

He sees it for the first time and thinks it’s kinda silly, but not much after that

He brings it up sometimes though like

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s funny how you’re really expressive.”

But really its not something that bothers him

If anything, he finds it really adorable sometimes, especially when you get a little too into the zone and you’re just changing expressions every millisecond

Honestly, I think it’s a neat little dynamic since you’re probably really bubbly while Stan’s more aloof

You and Stan were in your favorite corner of the world—Stark’s Pond. Okay, technically, it’s one of the farthest things from a corner, given that it’s a whole landscape, but it was a special place unbeknownst to many, especially people who aren’t from the small town of South Park. You two were sat on a bench by the pond, Stan playing the guitar cross-legged, and you were leaning towards it while drawing on your tablet. You hummed along with the songs he was playing, familiar to you as it was your relationship’s self-declared theme song. Your face was twisted in a pout, trying to get a small detail, but important (to you), correct. You clicked your tongue, flipping your canvas every so often to make sure it looked right or physically possible. You sighed, resting your body weight on Stan as he paused to look at you and your art’s progress. “Frustrated?” He hummed, putting his arm down so that it was more comfortable for you to lean onto him. “No,” you clicked your tongue. “Just need to get around this little part. Like, I can’t draw feet for the life of me.” You sighed, tipping your head a little further as you ground into Stan's shoulder. He found himself giggling at you, patting your back, and giving you a little kiss on the cheek.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x you #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mcormick x reader #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x reader #stan x reader

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setsugekka · 11 months

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『atarashī 』 ; 02

❝ something brewing ❞ | mlist ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [4,5k wc] ch cws: talks of pregnancy, trying for a baby, and some of the deeply inherent societal misogyny that can come along with that for women of a certain age.

"When do you think you're coming home?"

With a glass of red wine in hand and winding down from a long week of work, you lean into the cabinet of your kitchen—a forkful of fried rice shoveled into your mouth after the sentence leaves it and your phone set atop the counter—the often missing husband on speaker from the other end.

"Hard to say, might be a few more days to get some paperwork settled, I have a couple more meetings I need to attend and then who knows what might pop up in the meantime, between all of that. You know I miss you, right?"

In theory, yes, you do.

But you don't want to fight, don't want to turn this evening into another one that ends up like so many others, like your birthday days ago. So, you fight back the disappointed sigh, force a chipperness to your voice that probably sounds fake even to the man on the other line, if he knows you as well as he should by now.

"I know you do, I miss you too. I love you."

"I love you too. Enough about my work, how is the new bunch of art hipsters?"

You take a hefty swig of your drink.

"Same as always, I'd say. There's a few that seem really promising already, a couple of the actors are incredibly impressive, one reminds me of my grandmother, actually. I hope she sticks with it, especially."

Yeosang huffs out a laugh on the other end, as if amused by the thought of it.

"Any problem children this year?"

Another mouthful of food down and a shrug that you know your conversation partner can't even see, you answer.

"I don't think so. There's one guy who can't seem to get it together enough to close it out, bombed out of a bunch of other schools in what would appear to be spectacular fashion, but I don't think he's going to be a problem to anyone except for himself. It's really no skin off of mine nor the Akademiya's back if he can't focus enough to graduate."

"Maybe he just needs some inspiration," Yeosang says, though there's a pointed mischievousness to his tone that makes his intent in saying such a thing evident before even going as far as to explicitly say as much. "Maybe he'll like to take you as his muse."

"And I'm sure you would find that just so amusing, wouldn't you?" you jokingly reply back. "Painfully cliché, isn't it? Besides being a happily married woman, I have no interest in fraternizing with the students of the Akademiya, I would imagine it to be largely frowned upon."

"I would imagine so, though equally as much desired by some as a result of that. Don't you silly, artsy types enjoy those sorts of clichés more often than not anyway?"

Yeosang says it in a way that's meant to be comically enjoyed by the both of you; a cute banter between husband and wife, though it always comes off as anything but to you. A point of contention in your relationship for as long as you can remember, your husband's unwillingness to relent as far as his perceived pointlessness of the arts as a whole—the irony embedded within then—when he decided upon marrying a woman so devout to them.

Something that over the years fell to the wayside, however, and you can't quite parse through how much of it has been on account of yourself, or on account of his disapproval of it. Never any outright condemnation of your enjoyment, but equally as much unwilling to ever make himself available to you in such a way.

Silly, artist types, as he would always call them. Not to be taken seriously, not to be regarded as anything more than children now existing well into adulthood but unwilling to cast aside the immaturity that still resides deep within them.

And so, cast it aside you have. Buried deep down, not to be revisited. To be ignored completely and forever.

"Yes, well," you start, pouring yourself another glass of wine, this one fuller than the last. "We do, but not when it results in undesired, real world consequences. I have no inkling of desire for a student five years my junior and with little to nothing going for him."

"You know, speaking of," Yeosang says then, a change of subject sitting at the tip of his tongue. "I've been thinking that maybe it's about time we start trying for a baby."

Your blood runs cold at the mere mention of it, frozen in place and almost certain that you've heard wrong. Surely not.

He must pick up on the hesitation despite the very few seconds of silence that pass through the line. You hear him sigh—like he's disappointed in the fact that you're not jumping at the potential opportunity—which dumbfounds you, because why on earth would you?

"It's been seven years now, I just thought—" he pauses, probably rethinking the course of his thoughts before picking back up again and deciding against the topic entirely. "You know what, forget it. We'll talk about it another time."

"Sorry, I was just...surprised. You brought it up so suddenly."

"It shouldn't be sudden given how long we've been married. We were meant to be on the same page about this. You're thirty now, I'm not saying that you're running out of time but—"

But he is.

You close your eyes, try to pretend that this isn't happening right now with another long sip of wine. Why on earth would you be jumping at the chance to have a baby, knowing perfectly well that in doing so you would effectively be rendered to paid-for-single-motherhood with the frequency in which your husband is not around.

The thought of it makes your skin crawl. You can't say that, however. There's a lot of things that you simply cannot say to him.

"I know, we should talk about it when you're home though. Over a nice dinner and a bottle of wine, perhaps?"

"Are either of those things likely to have you getting off of your birth control?"

You've been here before: the dead end of any particular conversation topic with Yeosang. Where further discussion on the matter nearly impossible to reach any sort of positive result. Best to back down now, nothing good will come of the rest of your evening over the phone together.

"I'm going to head into the office early tomorrow to get a little bit of extra paperwork done, still a lot of small things that need to be done around the theater hall," you say. It's not entirely a lie—fully intending to do just that—but more than anything and most importantly, it's an excuse for you to end the phone call. "I should probably get to bed."

"Yeah, me too. I'll call you tomorrow when I have some time. Get some rest, I love you."

You say you love him back, but in times like this, you aren't quite sure what the words are meant to feel like anymore.

Nine in the morning echoes through the narrow, ornate halls of the theater building—an otherwise quiet emptiness that emanates around you on account of the students' typical disinterest in being there on the weekends. You understand the feeling well, though often unable to turn yourself off in quite the same way.

Balancing a small stack of papers and folders in your arms, you make your way towards your office. Phone calls to make, contractors to meet, signatures to sign—another full day of mundane tasks ahead of you with little to no reprieve in sight.

Dull. A lifeless existence you've resigned yourself to over the years; tending to a building that most lack care for, little to discuss with anyone most nights, and especially not your husband.

Amid quick strides across vermillion carpet, as you pass one of the closed doors to a smaller theater room—a small noise heard within, like a conversation being held between people. Words spoken and muffled by the large, wooden doors; you can't make them out even when you pause and press your ear closer towards it, but more than that comes to shock at someone else being on the premises aside from yourself.

You inch closer yet, slowly, and just before your head makes contact with the obstruction, it opens.

A cuss escapes you on account of the impact—it's sudden and hard enough that it has you stumbling back and dropping the handful of things that you've been carrying—papers scattering, you hissing, and the sound of a man hurriedly rushing to your aid in the aftermath of the flurry.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

You rub your forehead with your palm, wince at the pain, crack your eyes open finally to see who it is that you have to wish only the worst things upon for having you end up like this.

He reaches out toward you, albeit awkwardly, unsure of what to do to help. While your vision focuses on him, he instead must decide on gathering your things—it's more helpful, surely.

"I didn't think anyone else was here, I was told no one else was here on the weekends."

"Yeah, well," you groan first, finally focusing on the sight of Hongjoong finishing his self-imposed task and then settling on his knees before you. "Typically there's no students here on the weekends. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Handing you the stacks of papers, Hongjoong smiles. As if knowing something that you do not.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

You glance up at him through your eyelashes, meet his eyes for a long moment and then bring yourself back up to your feet. He follows suit, watching you all the while.

"I would hardly call it eavesdropping when I'm the one tasked with making sure this place stays up and running. If I hear something suspicious, then I'm going to investigate it."

His smile widens.

"Was met with a sudden wave of inspiration for a garment, I don't have a dress form at home, and I was told that this space is available whenever to students. So, I came."

There's a few beats of silence that wash over the both of you—eyes glued to each other’s as if engaging in an unspoken game of chess. The first to relent unabashedly the loser, though you're not quite sure what winning might entail either.

You clear your throat, the weight of his gaze upon you feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second. Shuffle where you stand, dropping your eyes to the floor.

But you can feel that he is still watching you.

"Is that not true?" he asks, a hinting in his tone indicating that he knows the answer already.

"It is, you are welcomed to come and go as you please as a student of the Akademiya."

"Perfect," Hongjoong replies, airy, plain lips still painted with a slight smile. "Are you interested in costuming?"

The sudden tangent takes you by surprise, becoming painfully aware of the weight of the items still hanging in your arms as you give your brain a moment to play catch up with all of the bizarre things that seem to be unfolding around you. Frankly, if you didn't know any better—you might think the guy to be lightly flirting with you.

Hongjoong seems to notice as much, reaches out to take the stack once again and instead of holding onto it, sets the pile onto a stray chair that's hanging in the hallway just beside them.

"Lemmie show you something."

His hand reaches out behind himself—fingers brushing against your own in an effort to guide—you pull away just after, creating space between you even though you accept the invitation to follow him through the doorway and inside of the room. It's small, much smaller than the others that line the halls, and little more resides inside other than a dress form with fabrics draped over it, numerous swatches decorating a handful of chair-tops, and a large sketchbook sitting open in full display on the embarrassingly dirty floor.

Something that must have slipped past you in your attempt to tidy up the place for the school year ahead, you apologize to him for the inconvenience—tell him that you'll have it taken care of today—though he seems none bothered by the fact at hand.

Hongjoong's hair is cleaner today, more finely cared for and parted down the middle. Brushed, better put together than how he typically presents during the school week. Clean, fitted jeans and a nice blazer over his shirt. It's nothing fancy, but he looks nice.

"You didn't answer my question, by the way," he says suddenly, your attention snapping back to him and out of your thoughts about him. "About costuming."

"Oh, right," you acknowledge, though your attention is split between the conversation and any other tasks that may need taking care of. "A little bit. It's not something I've ever given a lot of attention to I suppose."

Hongjoong glances over his shoulder at that, seemingly amused by it. "Acting then?"

"Painting, actually."

"Ah," he sighs, bending down to the floor and picking up his sketchbook. He hands it to you. "Done anything in this place?"

Taking the large book of paper from him, you look up at him, then glance down towards it.

"A couple of things, though you'd never know it."

Hongjoong's attention to you falls away once again, hands reaching up to wind into the fabrics pinned onto the white dress form that stands in the middle of the room—back to work, as if you're not even there at all. In that time, you flip through a couple of pages of what he has given you; drawings and loose, messy sketches adorning the papers in numerous colors and outlines, but always beautifully connecting into something that shines against the bland background.

You blink a couple of times, in something of a bit of shock at what you're seeing. You glance up towards him once again—none of his attention given towards you or what you may think of his work—hands still busy winding, pinning and tying in front of him.

"These are good," you say, quietly, not wanting to interrupt his process. "Really good. How is it that—"

You catch yourself halfway through the thought, curse yourself for having even started to say it as you continue to look at him and the way his eyes sling to the side to meet yours.

"That I've not managed to graduate yet?"

"I'm sorry—"

Hongjoong laughs, takes a pause from his work and shakes his head. "It's okay, it's a fair enough question."

Waltzing across the path that separates the both of you and stepping over a small collection of fabric swatches, Hongjoong takes the sketchbook back from your hands, glances through a couple of the pages himself as if not having seen the things that rest inside for himself in quite some time. A trip down memory lane, as it would seem, and a small glimmer of what one might read as hope sparkling in his eyes as he looks at what he's done throughout the years.

"I wouldn't say that the issue is so much my talent; my raw, innate ability to create, to make something beautiful. Attention to detail, finding the divinity in something—or creating it—has never been the problem. Rather, there's probably a part of me that's absolutely terrified of the commitment of moving onto another chapter of my life."

You smile, let out a small laugh at it all. "That's a lot of words to say you're a commitmentphobe."

He shrugs. "Change is scary, unless it's temporary enough that the only thing that results from it is blowing up some major facet of my life."

"I'm sure your girlfriend loves that," you joke in response. Both of your eyes meet after, Hongjoong sets the sketchbook down onto the floor and slowly makes his way back to his work at the dress form as you continue to fumble over your words. "Or boyfriend, or whatever."

"Don't have one," Hongjoong says, sticking a pin between his teeth to hold onto. His eyes narrow then in a way that you've become bizarrely accustomed to in such a short amount of time spent with him—devilish, something lightheartedly coy and almost flirtatious in delivery. "What about you? Betrothed to anyone or just this place?"

"Married, actually," you reply, an uncomfortable tremble to your voice. Hongjoong's unrelenting stare remains steadfast on you all the while. Little time passing but feeling like far more. "Not to this place, to a man."

"That's good, I'd be worried for you if you weren't seeing anyone or anything but this building."

"Yeah, well, my husband spends most of the year traveling for business so—" you pause, close your eyes and re-center yourself. "Sorry, not really appropriate conversation to be having with students, is it?"

Hongjoong chuckles under his breath, still tending to his craft and seemingly wholly unbothered by the topic brought before him.

"Well, you're not my professor, you don't even work for the Akademiya, and thus I'm not your student," he pauses again, pulls a pin from between his teeth and sticks it into a fold of blue chiffon. "Besides, I'm twenty-five, you don't exactly have to shield my young, innocent eyes from the horrors of adult relationships. My parents are divorced, I've been through a fair share of my own in the meantime."

Silence takes the room then, and while you grant yourself some time to watch the man earnestly tend to his artistic craft, it's not long until you remember the fact that you have tasks that require your attention today as well.

"I've got to get going, I have work to do."

The man doesn't reply, another fold of blue chiffon pinned to the dress form as you bid him farewell.

Later that evening, the wind blows cold through the moistened streets of the city as you make your way through winding passages of parked vehicles and unpleasantly placed construction signs. The misplaced leaves blow violently around you, lodged in your hair and stuck to your coat before you're able to finally make your way to the destination that awaits you.

Seonghwa stands just out front of the dimly lit bar like a beacon of comfort, a soft smile greeting you once you bring yourself up the steps and inside of the building with the door held open by him.

Inside, the warmth of a fireplace and a small amount of other patrons welcomes you in much of the same way that your friend just had. Your first time here, though you're already pleased by the sights of a candlelit ambiance and intricate, decorative little knickknacks all lining the walls for as far as the eye can see. To some perhaps it is crowded, overbearing—but for you, it feels right at home.

"Weather is horrid," Seonghwa says as he slips ahead, motions for you to follow him towards one of the tables at the back of the room. "Hadn't planned for that when I asked you if you'd like to come out."

The two of you sit and a member of the staff is quick to come and take your orders, disappearing just as swiftly as they had come.

"It's okay, I needed the distraction anyway, I've been bogged down with work back at Aurelia. I'm still not quite sure how so many things break down in the small time between semesters."

"It's an old building," Seonghwa begins, cut off by the waitstaff returning with your drinks then carrying on with the thought again. "Things are going to break, unfortunately. Speaking of, how are the new underlings?"

You laugh at the nickname given to the students, as if they are your own and thus under your thumb. Coffee mug in hand, you take a sip and look carefully to Seonghwa across the table—studying his face as if in search of something. He notices it, features twisting into confusion and reels back slightly.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"We've been friends for a long time, right? I can...talk to you about things."

He glances around the both of you, still searching for something and nothing all at once. The answers to the question and what's going on at this table, presumably, he won't find them though. "Yes? Why?"

You set your mug down, lean forward across the table a little bit more to close the wide distance between both of you.

"There's one student, a costuming major—"

"A man?"

"Yes."

Seonghwa flinches visibly at the reply.

"I think he's taken some sort of...particular interest in me, for some reason." You take another sip from your mug and watch on, awaiting a response from the man across the way.

He takes a few seconds of silence, thinking over what you've said most likely. His eyes drop to look down into the liquid of his glass, and then flicker up to meet your expectant ones.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Sighing, you lean back into your chair lazily. "I don't know, I think it's intriguing. I don't know why he would, but he is fascinating."

A single eyebrow quirks up on Seonghwa's face. "Does he know that you're married?"

Part of you wonders if he's asking you, or reminding you of the fact.

"Yes, I told him as much."

"Did he seem to...care much for that?"

"In what way is he meant to care for it?"

To that, Seonghwa sighs heavily—pulls himself forward across the table much like you had only moments before and laces his fingers together like a man intent of delivering an important presentation of some sort. Or perhaps lecture is a better, more apt word.

"In much of the same way that you are. I know that with Yeosang gone much of the time it gets lonely and the prospect of new and exciting attention is likely nothing short of intoxicating, but the stakes are rather low for whoever this student is—" Seonghwa pauses, allowing the emphasis on that particular word to sink in even further before carrying on. "It's probably not a good idea to pay it much mind."

"Are you done?" you ask. Pointed, annoyed but not wanting to let it show in a way that may sour the mood of the evening any more than Seonghwa has already allowed for. "I said that I found it intriguing, not that I was considering slipping between the sheets with him, my God."

It feels as though the entire room quiets once the two of you finish with those words shared. Seonghwa leans back in his chair again, takes his glass into his hands and brings it up to his lips before muttering his apologies through it and towards you.

"I'm sorry, it's just that as your friend I know how difficult the past few years have been for you—with your job, with your marriage—it's easy to let things slip through the cracks once they're there at all. I wasn't saying it as a judgement upon you."

You blink slowly, frown at him and reach a hand across the table in request for his own. He's fast to take it, curling your lips pleasantly the other way.

"I know. Truthfully, I look at the guy more as a little excitement in my life; like visiting the pet store and watching the bunnies hop around knowing full well that you have no intention of taking one home."

Seonghwa laughs at the comparison. "Does he know that he's a bunny in your life?"

"I don't think he thinks he's anything in my life, and he would be right about that."

Nodding in acceptance of the answer, the waitstaff come with a small loaf of cut, buttered garlic bread in a wicker basket for snacking. You're quick to take one into hand, Seonghwa a bit slower, still with more on his mind to question you with.

"How is Yeosang, anyway? Still gone I presume?"

You nod much in the same way. "He doesn't know when he's going to be able to come home, nothing unusual there, I suppose. Actually, he recently brought up something..."

Words trailing off into nothingness at the end, it piques Seonghwa's curiosity just that much more than it normally might. He takes a bite into the bread, mumbles through a full mouth. "Brought up what?"

"That he wants to start trying for a baby soon."

Seonghwa reels—lip turning upwards into an ugly sight as if the very thought of it disgusts him.

"A baby? He's never even here, what's he want to have a baby for?"

Your demeanor gives off a silent understanding of I know, right? but you offer him a verbal reply along with it.

"That's sort of how I feel about it."

"That's the most insane thing I've ever heard," he says, taking another bite of the snack food in hand. "Guy spends maybe a quarter of the year at most in the city and he wants to get you pregnant. For what?"

The question isn't intended for you, not exactly. It's intended for a man who is not there to answer it—expelled into the ether with no hopes of a response—not that you nor Seonghwa think you will be sated by any possible reply that you could come by.

"Well, you didn't ask, but don't do that. I'm not really up for playing husband like I know I'd get stuck doing in the event of you getting pregnant."

You roll your eyes. "But playing husband comes with so many perks."

"College was a long time ago," Seonghwa replies, knowingly perfectly well the implications of your past together with him that you are alluding to. "I had my fill of you then, you're of far more use to me not on your back."

Feigning an offended gasp, you halfheartedly toss a napkin across the table at him—the both of you laughing.

"Seriously though, Yeosang needs to spend more time home and fucking you. If you're coming onto me again, and being woo'd by a young twenty-something student from the Akademiya then there's a lot of problems going on within the marital residence."

"I wouldn't sleep with you again if I was injected with poison through my cunt and the only antidote was kept in your dick," you insist plainly enough, and now he is the one drowning in pretend-hurt from across the way.

Leaning over the table again, Seonghwa smirks at you—looking positively evil over the flickering of candlelight that resides beneath him and in the middle of the table.

"Ah, but if it's in an Akademiya student’s dick, well then—"

Fingers dipped in your water glass and quickly flicked into the face of your best friend, he flinches with shock at what you've done to him—how could you—he hatefully whispers through a laugh that you both carry between yourselves.

Unlikely that you're to live this one down, that much is for certain.

a/n: ah geez the trouble is brewing! enjoy the calm before the storm yall because it’s gonna get crazy and fast. if you have stuff to discuss, my ask box is the best way and i’m always happy to talk about the stories and characters! other than that, hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading, and see you next time!

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ihaveatheoryonthat · 11 months

Text

No Mer is An Island

I didn't go out intending to revisit @monsoon-of-art's Mer AU this month, but seeing this piece in full really hit on something, and I had to get the words down. Happy MerMay, guys!

---

When they’d first met, the girl had stopped him to say that he looked kind of like someone she knew.

Given that Emmet had come all this way trying to find his brother, it sounded promising on its face, but looking past the initial wording, revealed itself to be a shallow hope. If she’d been talking about Ingo, she would have been more decisive. He wouldn’t look kind of like this person, but exactly. He’d been through the cycle of leads surfacing and then sinking often enough to know that the odds weren’t good, but it was the best he’d heard since arriving in Hisui and he couldn’t afford not to give it some cursory exploration.

As they moved away from the shaky hope of a rebuilding village, her story became more and more outlandish, but… somehow not less believable; unprompted, she’d mentioned the torn remnants of a subway car, and in a land that lacked rail transport, it lent her version of events a great deal of credence. Something much more worrisome was the claim that his twin had been found pinned beneath the wreck, trapped and slowly wasting away, before being discovered.

It was strange. When, inevitably, Emmet’s questions about a missing person failed, his next strategy was always the train car. People could move on and be forgotten, but an effigy of twisted metal should have been noteworthy.

The matter of physical resemblances had been both explained and complicated as Dawn led them to a rocky outcropping by the sea.

“Well, that’s… why I wasn’t totally sure at first.” She said, scouring the horizon. Eventually, her attention settled in one specific direction, and Emmet idly followed it to a dark little island in the distance. “The thing is, the parts of you that look the same totally look the same. It’s just that Ingo’s… not really human?”

...what.

She held her hands up in placation, grimacing at her own words. “I know, I know. Just hear me out. So the Pearl Clan found him under that big wreck and took him home to heal, only he… kind of sucks at being a merperson? The same ways I suck at it. We both keep getting hung up when we swim, and neither of us distrusted humans the way the other mers did, and you couldn’t pay us to eat raw fish or seagulls or anything like that. I've been wondering about it for a long time, but maybe Ingo was human, too?”

There was a ringing in Emmet’s ears. It took him a moment to realize that it was an actual sound coming from somewhere over the water. Something in the back of his head told him he should recognize it, but it seemed unimportant compared to the information Dawn had just dumped over his head.

“That is my brother’s name.” He eventually choked out, to the exclusion of the rest of it.

Dawn’s expression cracked into a smile. “Worth a shot! I’ll go grab him and come back-- just don’t worry, okay? Most people think he’s kind of scary.”

Despite the amount of time it had been since he’d had to field that particular criticism, Emmet felt himself bristle. “He cannot help it. His face is just like that.”

The girl paused in the middle of digging through her bag and tilted her head, “I thought it was just because he always seems kind of down, but that makes sense, too.”

Unsure what to say to that, Emmet remained silent as she took something out, unlashed the satchel from around her waist, and then brought a vibrant shell to her lips.

The notes resonated, briefly, with whatever it was coming from across the waves.

“What is that?”

“It’s a special flute,” Dawn said, adjusting her grip on it now that she was no longer playing, “I’ve had it since I got here, but I can’t remember why.”

“Not the instrument. The sound. What is causing it?”

“The… flute?” She asked, baffled, and slapped her tail against the rocks.

It took a second for Emmet to rewind and process that fact.

She had implied that before, hadn’t she? Back when she’d confirmed Ingo’s name. Strange how one piece of information could be so much more pertinent than the rest and simultaneously so much less important.

Emmet consciously had to rein himself in. If humans could turn into merpeople, this could be it. He might be about to see his twin for the first time in years.

Dawn departed shortly thereafter, handing him the flute as a gesture of goodwill, and took off in the direction she’d originally scouted. Emmet pocketed the strange shell for safekeeping and then moved her satchel to somewhere the waves couldn’t sweep it away.

The sound continued that entire time, carried from somewhere far away. When several minutes passed without interruption, he finally figured out what it was: whale song. He didn’t profess to be an expert in the matter, but now that he was listening properly, he was relatively certain of that.

After some time, it stopped, and he immediately found that he missed it.

In its absence, he returned to the water’s edge, wondering if the dark island in the distance wasn’t where Dawn was headed, where his brother lingered. It seemed too much to think that he might catch a glimpse of either when it was so far away, but the reassurance would be welcome. He had little doubt that Dawn would return, particularly given that he held the key to her humanity, but the low crooning over the water proved that there were predators about, and he wouldn’t want haste to lead her into danger.

When he scanned the ocean, however, he found that the island, too, had vanished.

---

Ingo spent a great deal of his time alone.

It was by choice, but at times, it also felt involuntary.

The Pearl clan was more gracious than he could have asked for, worried that his continued stints on his own might reignite the loneliness that had left him so fragile upon their first meeting; while he was happy for their company, it wasn’t what he was missing. That was the problem, though: he didn’t know what would fill the void in his heart. Their camaraderie was close-- had been rejuvenating when he’d first been ushered into the fold-- but only to a point. He felt that it was the right track, just veering ever so slightly off course; if he could figure out where his destination lay, he could course correct to reach it.

It had been years, though, and while he was no longer soul-sick, the ache of it refused to leave him.

When it became too much to bear, he would leave for the surface, to float on his back and close his eyes. The ocean air had become familiar, but it went deeper than that, the churning sea so close to making a connection somewhere in the recesses of his being. He was put in the mind of the artificial reef he’d awoken in-- pinned, scared and without a trace of memory-- but had no idea how they could be related. More than anyone, he knew how heavy the construct was; it seemed wholly antithetical to the gentle rocking that only occurred above the waterline.

Frustrated with his lack of progress, but not surprised, he let out a heavy sigh and pitched it halfway through, low in his throat. He didn’t know what purpose this ability served, as none of the other merfolk could hear when he dipped into this range, but it was cathartic; he could cry for the fact that the clan had been so kind, so welcoming, and he still didn’t belong. He could lament that there was something wrong with him, that he still felt sickness in between the beating of his heart, and he feared he would never escape it.

He could admit, in tones no one would ever hear, that he didn’t know how much longer he could bear the solitude before it consumed him whole.

Though he knew perfectly well that she was unable to parse his voice like this, it died in his throat as Dawn poked her head up from the waves. Unwilling to have a conversation with her in such an undignified position, he turned over and dipped back below the water so they could speak properly.

“Is rebuilding going well?” He asked, following up from the last topic they’d touched upon, “Has there been any recovering from the salt water?”

The humans weren’t bad, he knew-- and had known for as long as he could recall-- they were just scared. For as disastrous as the region’s flooding had been, the one silver lining was that it had given the clans cause to cooperate with the villagers and, slowly, the merfolk were beginning to make progress. He couldn’t be certain how the humans looked upon the situation, but they accepted aid, at least, and that was something.

“It’s...” There was a conspicuous pause. “Going. That’s not why I came to talk, actually.”

“No?” He asked, unable to find it in himself to be surprised. Dawn was like the sea itself at times, ever shifting, just shy of capricious.

“No. I don’t want to jump the gun or anything, but I think I met someone who knew you before! He’s waiting for us at the bluff.”

He blinked at her, the words sitting at the surface of his thoughts for several seconds before sinking in, “What makes you believe that this individual and I share any sort of connection? I don’t mean to cast doubt, but if even I’m unable to say with any certainty...”

“He was looking for someone called Ingo.” She said, and while there was a twitch of her tail that suggested it wasn’t the whole truth, Ingo was too caught up in that declaration to catch it. “He looks like you, too. A scary amount.”

“He’s also an orca?” It might be nice, he thought, to physically be on the same level as someone for a change-- unmarked as the odd man out in this regard, on top of everything else that made him feel so detached from the clan.

“Well… no, it’s mostly in the face. But your coats are basically the same!”

Interesting. That, more than anything else, lent credence to her theory. As strongly as he felt about his name, his complete lack of any other personal details meant that he couldn’t be entirely sure it was what he’d used prior to waking up beneath the ruins. The fact that this person was seeking someone of the same name was noteworthy, but not conclusive. The resemblance was also compelling, but could be explained by a mimic octopus or the like.

His clothes, however, had been a subject of bewilderment among the clan for some time. Drag caused his coat to hinder his movement and speed, and it was constantly becoming caught on bits of rock or other hazards. His hat was somewhat more practical, helping him see above the water on bright days, but beneath the waves, all it did was threaten to fly away if caught in the mildest of currents. Even if this was a misunderstanding and Dawn’s contact didn’t know of him, perhaps he could ask what the utility was.

“I see.” He narrowly refrained from breathing it out as a sigh; there was little use in speculating if confirmation or denial really was so near, “If he’s waiting, we ought not to leave him at the station. Are you ready to depart for the Clamberclaw Bluffs?”

Dawn took him by the forefinger and smiled at him-- and where he occasionally saw a flash of pity in it, there was nothing but anticipation.

“Let’s go!” She said, tugging him forward, a current all her own.

Ingo allowed it to happen, allowed her to be the force driving his tired cab onward. Maybe, when they reached their destination, there would be someone there to meet it.

---

The first indication that Emmet was no longer alone on the rocky outcropping was Dawn hefting herself up onto the edge with the grace of someone still adjusting to that specific workout. He refrained from commenting on that fact both because he liked to think himself polite and because something else stole his attention away shortly thereafter.

Offset from where she’d appeared, the water warped unnaturally, and it took a second for him to realize that it was because it was something else was surfacing, something massive enough to distort the water as it rose.

“Oh,” Said his brother’s voice, loud as one of his directing calls whilst somehow maintaining a sort of gentle surprise, “You’re human.”

Even though he’d been warned as much, as he blinked upwards, trying to process the reality he’d found himself living, he said, “You’re… not.”

“Was… was I supposed to be?” Ingo turned his head as he said it, a hand curling to rest against his lips-- and it was so achingly familiar that, for just a second, it was possible to overlook the fact that his forearm had to be longer than Emmet’s full height.

“Yes?” He half-asked, trying to keep his expression from dipping into anything too ridiculous in his incredulity, “To my knowledge, identical siblings are usually the same species.”

The animate half of Ingo’s face scrunched, puzzled, and he leaned over on his arms to put them on the same level. He spent several seconds silently assessing Emmet, before returning with, “We do look quite similar, don’t we?”

“Identical.” Emmet repeated, insistent, and he couldn’t keep his voice from crackling on it, “We are-- we’re supposed to be identical twins.”

“And I take it from your response that you were never an orca?” His brother said, a little helplessly.

“No.” At that, however, he stepped forward, emboldened both by the certainty that this was somehow his missing twin-- all but confirming that he had never been in any danger-- and a suddenly-consuming curiosity.

Ingo watched his approach, but did nothing to stop him. The only movement was that of one enormous, clawed hand tucking itself into the tattered remains of the opposite sleeve and, abruptly, Emmet realized he was still wearing his uniform’s hat and coat. The hat and coat that had been commissioned in tandem with the ones Emmet wore right now. Emmet, who was notably human-sized.

How?

The nearer he drew, the more clearly he could make out the black mass in the water beyond, a shadow that stretched and curved into an undeniably fish-shaped tail, floating just high enough for a dorsal fin to cut through the surface.

With a new clarity, he looked up, taking in the black patches that both camouflaged the actual lines under his brother’s eyes and made his weariness look orders worse, and asked, “Was the whale song your doing?”

The too-pale skin of Ingo’s face went faintly pink. “You were able to hear that?”

Emmet felt his face crack into a grin, “You are not quiet.”

“No, no, you misunderstand,” He tried, though the flush only intensified at the comment, “The frequency is inaudible to the other merfolk. I didn’t think anyone else was physically able to hear it.”

“Wait,” Said a mildly-familiar voice and, with a start, Emmet remembered they weren’t alone, “Is that what you’re doing when you float on the surface like a dead fish? You’re just screaming into the sky?”

“That is-- no. Not in the slightest!”

“If he yelled, you would know. Even as a human.” The commentary earned him a downward glance through narrowed eyes.

“Regardless,” Ingo said, transparently trying to get them back on a track that didn’t lead to further teasing, “I’m surprised that you were able to discern it without being a mer yourself.”

Emmet hummed, considering that, and then turned his head. “I’m not. Other people cannot read your face, but I can. It makes sense that I can understand you now, too.”

“Because you’re… my twin brother.” Ingo said haltingly, testing the words for himself as if to see if they were any more convincing in his own voice.

Emmet smiled, though not without an edge of melancholy, letting him reach a conclusion in his own time. That wasn’t disbelief, he knew, but it was plain to see how lost his brother was, and hurrying him wouldn’t help.

He wouldn’t push, but… but maybe it would be okay to make sure this was real, that he hadn’t hit his head upon arriving in Hisui and managed to fool himself into thinking this might finally be it.

Holding one hand up to indicate a lack of aggression-- as if something so small could do anything to hurt someone with the proportions of a killer whale-- he took a tentative, questioning step forward and asked, “Can I touch?”

Ingo blinked at him, focused momentarily on his palm, and then back on his face. In lieu of an answer, he rested his head on his arms in full, putting himself in range to reach more comfortably. His bright, bright eyes tracked the motion until he couldn’t any longer, and he breathed out, slow and impossibly long.

The skin beneath Emmet’s hand was dark, the stripe of it trailing up to a floppy ear and down below the line of a collar, but still warm and still undeniably human. He’d half expected it to feel rubbery under his touch, but the biggest difference was the subtle grit of drying salt. He was reminded intensely of the summer their family visited the Decolore Islands and specifically of when, as a joke, he’d tried to push his brother into the water, only for Ingo to clutch his hand that much more tightly and send the both of them tumbling in. Having to go on in wet clothes had been bad enough until they began to dry, contrasting outfits stiff with the residual salt on their persons. As children, it had been unbearable. He could only hope it didn’t itch the same way, now.

He only realized he’d spaced out at the renewed rumble as his twin began to speak again, “--not sure. Are you still with us, Emmet?”

For a second, he froze in place, and then drew his hand back, breaking out into an unburdened smile. Beaming up at his brother, he said, “Ingoooooo, I never told you my name.”

Ingo’s brow furrowed as he mentally played the conversation back, and then he glanced to Dawn, who held her hands up and shook her head. When that failed to yield any plausible explanation, his gaze flitted back over to Emmet, uncertain, as if he’d done something wrong.

“It’s good!” Emmet said before his twin could start to reverse down the tracks, “I do not know what happened, but you’re still you. That is all that matters to me.”

As quietly as he was physically capable of with such robust lungs, Ingo repeated “My brother,” to himself, already coming to terms with the idea, and Emmet stepped forward again.

He leaned into his twin’s shoulder, heedless of the water that immediately soaked through his coat, and, as best he could, pressed the side of his face to Ingo’s. Against his own side, he felt a pulse speed up, powered by a heart that was finally large enough to match the outpouring of love its owner had always put into the world.

A hand moved to cradle his back, painstaking in the care behind it, and within two beats of that massive heart, the whale song began anew.

#submas #fanfic #mermay #ihaveatheoryonthat pkmn

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revvethasmythh · 1 year

Text

Caleb and Nott get a bad rap for being very deeply and unhealthily codependent which, for the most part, is a decent observation of their early game dynamic. But, in revisiting the early game, I do wonder at the fact that this label is almost universally applied to them but rarely comes up in conversation with Imogen and Laudna, in my experience. There are contrasting interactions that happen in early c2 and early c3 that I think are a really interesting look into the reality of these dynamics.

In c2e2, Caleb and Nott have this interaction:

Nott: Well it's just that-- listen, there's no offense, I enjoy our talks and your schooling and everything, but I haven't talked this openly and freely with other people in months. It's amazing.

Caleb: It really is pretty nice, isn't it?

Nott: Yes!

And in c3e2, there is this interaction about Imogen and Laudna's relationship:

Laudna: Imogen and I don't talk to anyone. (laughs)

Imogen: No, not really.

Ashton: You guys seem like you have a really good deal going on. Should keep that up, it seems nice.

I just think there's something interesting here that may show an inconsistency in the way fandom remembers certain things vs the way that they actually were. Nott and Caleb were certainly codependent, but they were also actively hoping to fall in with a group for protection and, well, because they (primarily Nott, but I’ll use a general they) wanted to expand their social circles. Laudna and Imogen, frankly, might have just stayed the two of them if they didn't happen upon the rest of the Hells and honestly didn't seem outwardly bothered by that at all. Imogen never seems to have wanted to expand her social circle for fear of what her own powers would make her hear and feel, and Laudna, though a lover of people, seems like she would have been content to follow Imogen into whatever isolation worked best for her.

I just find this a very interesting contrast to Caleb and Nott's fumbling, often poorly received attempts to reach outside of their friendship toward others, the intentionality of which I feel is rarely emphasized. Their distrustful natures (and the traumas they had suffered) made them skittish and likely to flee. But they did want more than what their relationship could sustain and subsequently sought it out.

#critical role #the mighty nein #bells hells #cr2e2 #cr3e2 #yes another c2 rewatch #of course laudna and imogen DO have a history of intense isolation separately so it makes sense they would basically isolate together #but still i find the duration of their isolation together interesting as well as how unbothered they both seem abou never talking to others

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threadbaresweater · 1 year

Text

a temporary reprieve

You knew that a relationship with Aki Hayakawa was a risk. You vowed to take it as it comes, to take care when it came to your heart and your future, but when you fall pregnant with his child, you realize that the best laid plans often go awry...

The details: 6.9k words. Heavy angst, little to no comfort. Not a happy (but a quietly hopeful) ending. Major character death. Pregnancy and childbirth. Very brief consideration of abortion. Mentions of vomit and nausea. Canon divergence. Shower sex, vaginal fingering. Mentions of bruising and blood. LARGELY UNEDITED, probably rushed because it really got away from me fast and I was terrified if I didn't end it here I'd write forever. Please read at your own risk. (Repost)

Aki is angry when you tell him.

You knew he wouldn't be happy; to be frank, you weren't exactly thrilled. You'd been together long enough that it had certainly come up in conversations about your future, but it was never a discussion. You both agreed that it wasn't what you wanted out of life. Aki had his own reasons, you had yours, and that was that. There was never any need to revisit the matter because you'd made your choice together. It should have been cut and dry.

The universe apparently has other plans, however, and the longer you stare at those two little pink lines, the more you realize you are only delaying the inevitable. You have to tell him.

"You okay in there?" His voice is muffled from the other side of the bathroom door, but it still makes your head spin with panic. You turn on the water and flush the toilet, hands trembling.

"Fine!" you lie. "Be out in a sec."

Not tonight, you think. You need time to process it yourself. Maybe there are other options you could consider. Maybe it's a false positive. Maybe this is a bad, bad dream and you'd wake up in a few hours and nothing would be any different than it was before you went to bed. Maybe…

"Hey, we're gonna be late. Not trying to be a dick, but–"

You open the door and smile brightly at him– too brightly, you fear– and your boyfriend raises a brow in a look you know so well, the one that tells you he knows you're hiding something from him and he thinks you're stubborn for even trying. "Ready!" You say, clapping your hands and brushing past him to grab your shawl off the back of the couch. "Sorry for taking so long. I just wanted to look nice tonight."

Aki softens and leans forward to kiss your temple as you bend to strap on your shoes. "You always look nice." He's so sincere that it makes you feel bad for lying to him. You keep your head lowered a few seconds longer than you need, makkng sure the buckle is secure.

"Let's go," you say, threading your arm through his. "I'm sure everyone's waiting for us."

The restaurant is one of Makima's favorites: upscale, swanky, suit and tie required. Bone china, polished silver, crystal and linen as far as the eye can see. You feel Aki stiffen at your side when you enter and you squeeze his hand to quietly reassure him. His thin, strained smile says it all when he looks at you– let's make this quick. You nod in understanding just as Makima comes to greet you.

She's dressed to the nines in an outfit that must be worth a year of your salary, hair in a perfectly coiffed updo that accentuates her long neck and diamond teardrop earrings. Her smile is syrupy and almost too sweet when she bids you good evening and offers her hand to Aki. He hesitates, then lifts her knuckles to kiss them lightly.

"Good boy," she says, looking directly at you; for some reason, it makes your face feel hot and you duck your head. "Our table is in the back. Come with me, won't you?"

The entirety of Division Four is present. You hear Denji and Power before you see them, half expecting them to be throwing food across the table at each other. You feel like a proud aunt when you see them sitting next to each other, chatting excitedly about their latest kill. When they see you, Aki, and Makima, they straighten up in their chairs and smile. You can't help but wave and smile back.

A waiter comes to ask what you'd like to drink. Aki orders himself a whisky, then nudges you gently when he sees your nose buried in the menu.

"Hm?"

"What do you want to drink?"

"Oh– oh! Um, water's fine."

You lift the menu back up to your face and pretend to be deeply engrossed in the selections.

"Babe? You're sure you don't want something else?" Aki asks quietly. It's not like you to endure these outings without an alcoholic beverage.

You nod. "Mm-hm! Water's fine, thanks," you confirm, hoping that no one is watching too closely. You have a terrible poker face.

At your side, Aki shrugs and lifts his eyes to Makima, who sits directly across from him. She's been watching the entire exchange with scrutinizing eyes, but decides that now isn't the time to bring up your strange behavior. First, she'd like to have a pleasant dinner.

Division Four is smaller these days; devil hunters with balls and brains are hard to come by, and Makima seems to keep those who have stayed with her even closer now. Tonight is a celebration of a month of work without casualties. It's a bittersweet get-together, and almost everyone ends up eating their fill and probably drinking more than they should. You're uncharacteristically quiet; so much so that Aki keeps a reassuring hand on your thigh and gives you a squeeze now and then. He's worried about you, but he engages in conversation with others just the same.

Makima says your name, and you look her directly in the eye, your lips quivering into an uncertain smile. "Are you feeling alright?" she asks. To the naked eye and unwavering ear, it’s an innocent question. But the way she studies you creates a bubbling sense of unease in the pit of your stomach. You take a long sip of your water while maintaining uncomfortable eye contact with her, then use the linen napkin from your lap to wipe your mouth.

“Just fine,” you lie. You know she sees right through it. Makima isn’t someone you normally want to be dishonest with, but this is not the time nor the place to reveal what’s really going on.You swallow again and rub your cheek, the intensity of her gaze making you the one who looks away first. “A little tired tonight, that’s all.”

She rests her chin in her hand and narrows her eyes a little, her painted lips turning down into a deep frown. “Mmm. Maybe you and Aki should call it a night. I’d hate for you to feel worse if you stayed out too late.”

Aki hears his name and is suddenly a part of your conversation with Makima. “What’s that? I didn’t catch it.”

“It’s nothing, Aki, I–”

“I was just telling her that maybe you ought to leave a little early if she isn’t feeling well. You should take her home, Aki. She looks a little pale.” She looks smug, and you reach under the table to squeeze Aki’s hand that’s still resting on your leg.

If the situation gets any more awkward, you’ll crack and just blurt it out. You have a brief, lucid daydream where you stand up and shout I’M PREGNANT WITH AKI’S CHILD! And everyone in the entire restaurant turns to stare at you and you give birth right there on the expensive, white tablecloth. You shake your head to shatter the image and find Aki’s face close to yours, a crooked finger lifting your chin so that he can get a better look at you.

“Makima’s right. You okay? We can go, if you want.”

You look around the table to find that it's fallen silent, and everyone watches you with bated breath. Power has even paused mid-bite with her jaw open, waiting on your answer. So you nod and push your chair out, standing a little too quickly. Your fork chatters to the floor and shatters the deafening silence. "You're probably right," you concede. "Thank you for dinner, Makima. It's been a pleasure."

The drive home is just as awkward. You insist on driving, as Aki took advantage of the free drinks, and you spend most of the drive biting your tongue and contemplating the best way to tell him the news.

Aki isn't an idiot. Your silence speaks volumes; he lights a cigarette and rolls his window halfway down to ease the tension. The smell– which normally doesn't bother you– makes your nose itch and your stomach lurch. You roll your own window down to let the cool night air refresh you.

"What's going on?" he asks, his eyes trained on you under the glow of a stoplight. Fat drops of rain start to fall on the windshield of your car, distorting your view. You watch them streak across the glass instead of looking at Aki. "Did I do something to make you mad?"

He's holding back his anger, his confusion, but it spills over in the tone of his voice. There's a quiet strain, as if there are more words caught in his tongue and he doesn't quite know how to form them in a way that won't upset you further, if indeed you are angry at him. He's painstakingly combing over details of the last few days in his mind, trying to pinpoint the moment when you might have been offended, but he genuinely can't recall anything.

The light turns green and you make a turn toward home. "You didn't do anything, Aki. I swear."

He's quiet for a few seconds, dragging on the last of his cigarette. "Then what is it? Did something upset your stomach at dinner? Are you in pain?"

His concern brings tears to your eyes and you shake your head, focusing on your grip on the steering wheel. You shift in your seat and fidget with your seat belt. "I'm a little sick, yeah. Started before dinner though."

"Why didn't you say something then? We could have stayed home if I'd known." He sounds annoyed. "This wasn't a required thing, you know? Makima would understand–"

"No, Aki, I don't think she would have," you retort, snapping at him far more angrily than you meant to. Both of you know you're right, and you let it sink in for a few seconds. You snap your lips shut and turn them into a deep frown, the shame washing over you in a cold, uncomfortable wave. "Sorry- I didn't mean to snap at you."

When you arrive home, he reaches over to grab your hand just as you unfasten your seat belt. His grip is strong, but not forceful. "Please," he says in the darkness. "Please tell me what it is."

"Upstairs," you say, pulling your hand away. "I'll tell you upstairs."

The walk to your shared apartment is too short. Aki walks behind you, step by step, and your keys jingle in your hand. Your heels feel too tight, the pins you put in your hair pressing too hard against your scalp. When you reach the door, you take a deep breath and turn to face Aki, meeting his hardened gaze for the first time in at least a couple of hours.

"Promise me something."

He squints, his mouth open just enough that you see the lick of his tongue behind his teeth as he tilts his head. "Promise what, exactly?"

"Please don't be mad at me."

He huffs a short laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Depends on what you're going to tell me."

You start to protest, but decide that he's right. You have no business telling him how he's supposed to feel, so you open the door and immediately unbuckle your shoes upon entry. Aki sheds his jacket and follows you to the kitchen, where you brace yourself against the counter to gather courage. The clock above the sink ticks away the seconds, and Aki stands before you, an arm's length away, but doesn't touch you.

"It's not good news," you whisper.

Aki’s lip curls a little and he crosses his arms. "Yeah. I figured it wasn't."

"I, um." You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I was late. And I took a test, and…uh…" You look at him with a mixture of hope and fear. You don't want to have to say the word– somehow it feels less scary if you don't.

Aki's eyes haven't left your face, but as he mulls over your clumsy confession, his breathing grows more labored and his cheeks flush bright pink. He steps back and lifts a trembling finger. "No…no no no no." His voice raises in volume and intensity. "We said that wasn't going to happen. You were supposed to be on the pill. We've been careful. You– I…" He shakes his head in disbelief and backs up further as if it will soften the blow.

You reach for him, but your hand falls lifeless to your side when he takes another step back. "Can we talk about it?"

He laughs, incredulous, pushing his hand through his bangs. "Talk about what? What's there to talk about? You wanna talk about how fucked up this is? About how we agreed to fucking be careful and prevent something like this from happening in the first place?" He opens the sliding glass door to the balcony and steps outside. You follow, tentative and quiet, watching as he lights another cigarette. "What the fuck are we going to do? This- this isn't…"

Now Aki is the one who won't look at you.

It pains you to even consider, but you know there are options. You lean against the open door, pushing away tears with the heel of your hand. "I mean, I don't have to…" You trail off, looking down at your toes. "I haven't been to the doctor yet, so I don't even know how far along I am, but I could find out, and we can talk about what to do then."

He doesn't say a word. You can feel the ire boiling, rolling off the stiffness of his shoulders and the way he exhales the smoke with impatient force. You don't prod him for a response. With Aki, you've learned that he likes to choose his words carefully and not speak from a place of impulsive emotion. Instead, you step back inside with a deep, wavering sigh.

By the time he comes back inside, you've changed into your pajamas, removed your makeup and jewelry, and crawled under the covers. You're lucid enough to sense when he comes into the bedroom and quietly shuts the door, but you don't make a sound. Instead, you lie still and pretend to be asleep as he goes to shower. When he finally climbs into bed with you, he lies awake for hours, staring at the ceiling.

When you wake up in the morning, he’s gone.

You don’t panic at first, though morning sickness hits you like a freight train as soon as you sit up. The room spins and you break out in a cold sweat, the wave of nausea washing over you and making your skin crawl. Thankfully it’s only a few steps to the bathroom, where you fall on your knees in front of the toilet and heave until there's nothing left but bile. You stand and brush your teeth, but gag on the bristles of your toothbrush on your tongue and end up vomiting again. It takes you several minutes to feel capable of standing without feeling too wobbly, but once you're okay, you go to the kitchen to heat up the kettle.

You're used to occasional mornings alone when Aki works. You try to tell yourself that he got called out on a mission, but this feels different. Usually, there's an air of expectation when he's at work and you know he'll be home, almost always by the time it gets dark. This morning, there's a finality to his departure. You don't recall if he kissed you goodbye like he usually does, or if he told you he loves you in the dark stillness of the early morning. He hasn't taken any additional belongings that you can see, and you try to reassure yourself that he'll be back this evening, but your gut tells you otherwise. Most of the day is spent dozing on the couch, nibbling on saltines and sipping peppermint tea to keep your nausea at bay. It's mundane and routine, but it comforts you to do a load of laundry, to sweep the rug, to add a little birdseed to the feeder on the balcony. The life you've built with Aki– despite the imminent danger he's in every time he goes to work– is, by contrast, quietly domestic. It's almost picturesque what you've built together.

Now, there's another life to consider.

Somehow you muster up the courage to call your doctor's office to schedule an appointment. They tell you at first that the only available time won't be for another three weeks, and you panic. If you're to consider termination, you need to find out exactly how far along you are now so that you can decide how to proceed. Without explicitly saying as much, you tell the receptionist that you've been having a terrible time with morning sickness (it's not a total bluff) and you'd like to have a sooner consultation. She sighs heavily and miraculously finds an appointment for you two days from now.

Two days. You hope Aki comes home to go with you. The thought of him leaving for good is one you just can't shake. It's so out of character for him, but considering the way he reacted when you told him the news last night, it’s not totally impossible to fathom.

It turns out your gut wasn’t wrong, after all. You don’t sleep a wink the first night.

You’re due at work the following morning, but you’re so nauseous and exhausted that you call in sick. Your boss is understanding and tells you to take it easy, but she doesn’t know the extent of what’s happening. Next, you try Aki’s cell. He usually only carries it for work, and since the charger is still plugged into the kitchen counter outlet, you don’t figure you’ll have any luck. When it goes straight to voicemail without even one ring, your fears are confirmed. Though Makima is the last person on earth you want to talk to right now, you know she’s also the first person who might be able to give you a clue as to Aki’s whereabouts.

“Public Safety, Makima speaking.” Her voice is crystal clear and cuts through your courage like a hot knife, splitting you in two. You stammer into the speaker, and her laugh lilts down the line. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak up. I can’t understand you.”

You take a deep breath and tell her who’s calling. “Have you seen Aki?” you ask– hopeful, tearful, palm clasped over your mouth to quiet your sobs.

“He’s out on a mission right now. May I leave him a message for you?” She’s cold and detached, just as you knew she’d be. You’ve never been able to crack her, and you’re not sure you even want to. There’s something about her that leaves you feeling unsettled and exposed every time you’re around her, as if she knows all of your secrets but won’t tell you which ones she’s thinking about the most.

“Do you know when he’ll be back? Like, even an estimate? Or where he is?”

“I’m sorry, that information is classified. As soon as he’s back in the office, I’ll have him call you.”

“Wait, Makima, I–!”

She sighs softly. “What is it?”

You hesitate, lowering your head in defeat. “It’s nothing. Thanks anyway.”

“Give him time,” she says.

“I’m sorry?”

The line goes dead before she responds, and you’re left to wonder if she knows. And if she does…is it because Aki told her, or because she figured it out at dinner the other night? Or perhaps she has another way of knowing, and that’s why you felt so uncomfortable in her presence that night.

When Aki doesn’t return home for the second night in a row, you worry more about his safety than what lies between you. If he was injured or killed on the job, surely someone would have reached out to you by now. Although you’re not married, you’re the closest thing to family that he has. It’s tempting to call the Public Safety office again, but you know who will answer and what she’ll say. So you shower, you dress in Aki’s pajamas, and you crawl to his side of the bed where you try to catch a little bit of sleep.

You've been sleeping so lightly that any small sound is apt to rouse you, so it's no surprise that you'd be keenly aware of the front door opening. The clock at your bedside indicates that it's past three in the morning, and you sit up just as Aki's shadow appears in the doorway to your bedroom.

You hold your breath, waiting to hear him say something– anything. But he's quiet and still, hands pushed into the pockets of his pants, shoulder leaning into the doorframe. Moments pass between you, and he sighs.

"Hi," you whisper, tentative and unsure.

It's his signal to move. He sits down on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on your knee, studying your face. He looks like he's falling apart. Angry, purple crescents beneath his eyes tell you he hasn't slept. He's dirty– old blood streaked across his cheek, under his fingernails. Now that he's closer, you smell the booze, the stale smoke, the acrid coppery scent of blood and sweat and struggle. Your stomach lurches and try to breathe through your mouth instead of your nose. You won't let it ruin this reunion.

"I'm sorry," he offers. "I got a call, and I had to go. There wasn't time to–" He chokes, inhaling sharply and pressing his hand to his mouth to hold back his sobs.

"Oh, Aki…" You sit up fully and wrap him in your arms, tucking your head between his neck and shoulder. He stiffens at first, confused and overwhelmed with your affection, but soon you feel the tension in his body melt away and he allows himself to be held.

He does lift his arms to fold them around you, eventually. There are a million and one things you could both say, but the silence speaks volumes. The fact that he's here with you, that he came back, that he hasn't made the decision to run is relief enough. You know him well enough to know that he wouldn't have the heart to abandon you, but the overwhelming fear of not knowing his whereabouts for the last two days had you thinking all sorts of horrible things. You know his past, you're living in his present right alongside him. But you can't read his mind.

There's a ritual when he comes home from missions, and though he doesn't expect you to help him this time, you do so anyway. You peel his jacket from his shoulders, you take out the knot in his tie and undo the buttons on his shirt, all while the shower runs and steam begins to waft toward the ceiling, creating a warm haze in the confines of your small bathroom. You carefully pull the elastic from his hair and run your fingers through the soft, black strands while he slips his thumbs into the waistband of your pants (his pants, he notes, and his heart swells with guilt) and helps you step out of them.

The water washes away his tension, but the resulting fatigue overwhelms both of you. He's not wounded this time apart from a few small scratches on his face and a larger one on his left shoulder, but the bruises you find tell you that this mission was no small struggle. Aki follows the path of your fingers with tired eyes as you gently circle each blemish on his tender skin.

"What's it like?" he asks, barely above a whisper.

You furrow your brow, wrinkling your nose to keep the tears at bay. "What's what like?" You think you know, but you ask anyway.

Aki places a trembling hand on your abdomen and looks at you meaningfully. "This."

Despite your best efforts, the tears fall anyway and mingle with the water that's misted over your cheeks. You cover his hand with yours. "I don't really know yet. I don't feel any different except for being sick to my stomach all the time."

He frowns a little, then trains his eyes down to where your hands meet. "Do you think the…" He pauses and swallows thickly. "The baby…will have my eyes?"

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but the hope that blooms warm in your chest is hard to deny. "Maybe. There's only one way to find out." You look at him expectantly. "I have an appointment today... Do you–"

"I'll come with you," he says. It's resolute and determined, and you know in your heart that he's already decided what the outcome will be.

Before you can say another word, he's kissing you. It tastes of melancholy, of longing, of long nights of missing you and worrying that you've already made up your mind. You wind your arms around his neck and he turns, pressing you against the shower wall with his body hard and slick against your own. His kisses take a desperate turn, and his hands knead and grab your flesh as if it's the first and last time he'll be able to touch you like this. You kiss him back with equal intensity, the taste of him mingling with the saltiness of tears– yours or his, you're not sure.

His kisses fall to your jaw, to your neck, tongue tracing over your skin as one hand falls between your legs. You grip him tight around the shoulders with one arm and brace yourself against the wall with your other as he works his fingers just inside, flicking them softly over your clit until your quiet moans fall on his ear.

"I'm sorry I disappeared," he says again, lips grazing the shell of your ear. You feel his hardness pressing just under your belly button and you widen your stance, eyes shut tight against the deluge of water and the desperate need for him to be inside you. You can't bring yourself to care much beyond this moment– past or future, it doesn't matter. He's here now, and he's all you need.

"It's okay," you say, earnestly, your voice climbing a few notes when he grips the back of your thighs to lift you. Back against the wall, arms still wrapped snug around his shoulders, your body welcomes him with practiced ease. Aki takes a moment to steady himself, to feel the warmth of your sex envelop him, before he begins rolling his hips up against yours. You gently scratch your nails through his hair and across the back of his neck and lick your way into his mouth in a deep and dirty kiss. He groans low and gritty, his breath hot and heavy on your tongue.

It isn't long before the intensity builds for both of you. Within minutes, he's moving at a near frantic pace, fucking into you as hard as he can manage without slipping from his position on the slick tub floor. Your legs are wrapped tight around him as he moves, each thrust making your back slide along the wall to create an angry sounding squeak of skin against vinyl. Neither of you are in any state to care or even notice. When Aki comes, he pushes hard up inside, staying there without moving to feel the way he pulses, the way your pussy flutters and spasms around him, accepting all that he's giving to you.

Panting, he helps you lower one leg as he slips out of you, then replaces his cock with gentle fingers. "Got carried away," he says with a quiet, breathless chuckle, kissing his way up from your collarbone to just under your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss again. He knows just where to touch and how to kiss you to bring you to the brink quickly, and you're soon falling apart around him, a quivering, wet mess at the hand of your very own devil hunter.

According to blood work and an ultrasound exam, you're seven weeks along. The doctor's report is positive, and you're given medicine to help with morning sickness, which they say should be manageable by the end of your first trimester. Aki listens carefully from the chair beside the examination table where you sit, absorbing all the information until his head spins. It's overwhelming for both of you, but there's no denying the little, flickering flame of excitement when it comes to imagining the future.

The months fly by. Your morning sickness is replaced by a voracious appetite for noodles and dumplings and almond tofu. Quiet moments are spent with Aki's hand on your swollen abdomen, your feet in his lap, and a tiny human who seems to enjoy practicing somersaults against the warmth of her father's palm. The quiet domesticity you've built together over the last couple of years has a new intensity to it now, and it's increasingly difficult for you to face the reality of Aki’s devil contracts. You don't want to think about it, because ultimately you know that he isn't going to see your child grow up.

Two years, the Curse Devil had proclaimed after Himeno had passed. You'd met him a few months prior, and at the time you were blissfully unaware of his occupation. He didn't want to have feelings for you, but the more he tried to deny them, the stronger they became. He was honest with you only when he realized how serious you were about pursuing a relationship with him, and he fully expected you to run.

You loved him, though. And you told him as much one evening after you'd drug him to your favorite hangout, drunk on cheap spirits and his warm hands under the hem of your shirt. And for the first time, Aki thought that maybe there was something in this world worth living for beyond revenge.

It wasn't until you told him you were pregnant that he even considered retiring from Devil hunting, though. Working for public safety had been what he thought was meant for him. Nothing else made sense. Though it could prove fatal for him to even consider abandoning his contracts, he did consider going private.

Makima's cold, hard gaze makes him feel small and insignificant, and he shifts uncomfortably from where he stands in front of her desk, hands clasped behind his back. His courage wanes the longer she stares, and he knows exactly what she's going to say before the words even leave her mouth.

"You can resign from Public Safety, Aki Hayakawa. But the devils you employ have nothing to do with your paycheck or your conscience."

He bows his head. "Yes, Miss Makima. I understand."

"Hm. Do you also understand that the life you've created will not have any bearing on the length of said contracts? That devils do not care for such trivial human matters?"

Aki grits his teeth, fingernails digging into the fat of his thumbs. "I do."

"And that doesn't change your mind about staying with Public Safety? Public or private, Aki Hayakawa, you'll still be required to call on them from time to time in order to keep fighting."

"I understand, ma'am. Respectfully, I'd like to think that going private might buy me a little more time."

She sits back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest, tilting her head. "Is that so?"

He nods. "If I can choose when I fight, and how much, I can preserve what's left of the time I still have."

"What about money? You won't be paid regularly, or fairly for that matter. Don't you want to be able to take care of this child responsibly in what little time you have remaining?"

"I've been saving. And I have an insurance policy. Even years after I'm gone, she'll be comfortable." There's a solid lump in his throat, and he swallows around it before he continues. "Ma'am, I appreciate your concern, but I've made my decision. I'd like to ask that you respect it, and accept my resignation, effective today."

Makima stands and walks from behind her desk, smooth fingertips trailing over the mahogany surface. She steps, inches away from Aki’s face, and turns her lips into a derisive grin. "Have it your way, then. Though it's sad to see you give up so easily on the one thing that's given you purpose for all these years."

Aki holds her gaze, determined and steadfast. "I'm not giving up. If anything? For the first time, I give a shit about something other than vengeance. There's someone who needs me for who I am, not what I can do for them. And it's restored a faith in humanity that I once thought was hopelessly lost. And if you can't understand that, then I'm not sure we ever understood each other at all, ma'am."

He knows that when he turns and leaves her office, it won't be the last time he sees her.

You go into labor on a late afternoon in March. The previous days you'd been filled with an inexplicable energy to organize the bedroom closet and get every bit of lint out of the dryer vent. Aki watched you with curious fascination, ready to chide you into resting when your breathing became labored and your face began to shine with sweat. The nurse at your doctor's office called it "nesting", and while the term seemed funny to you at first, you soon realized that it came with a primitive purpose.

You were preparing for the birth of your daughter.

Within hours upon your arrival at the hospital, your daughter makes her bloody, messy, screaming entrance into the world. Aki watches from your bedside– fascinated, disgusted, terrified, enchanted, enthralled– as you give life to her with firm coaching from the swarm of nurses and the doctor who guides her out of your womb and into your aching arms.

There's a flurry of activity around your bed, but you only see her. Still covered in blood and fluid, little patches of vernix behind her ears and on her shoulders, you think she's the most amazing person you've ever laid eyes on. Ten tiny fingers and ten little toes– you count them one by one while she curls against your chest and Aki kneels at your side with a trembling hand laid atop your head. You coo at her when she looks at you and swipe your finger across her cheek to wipe away the tear that had fallen from your chin.

She has his eyes.

"Mamma, mamma! Look at me!"

It's a sweltering summer afternoon in the middle of July. There's a playground near your house that's become one of your favorite spots. There's a slide that your daughter swears is as tall as the skyscrapers downtown, and she stands at the top now, waving her little arm in an attempt to garner your attention. You look up from your book and shield your eyes from the sun that burns hot over her shoulder and smile to acknowledge her bravery. No matter that she's done it twenty times this afternoon– each climb is worth celebrating to her.

"I see you, baby! Go ahead! Show me how fast you can go!"

Her giggle is infectious, and she sits down at the edge. "Three…two…one!" Her squeal on the way down makes you throw your head back and laugh, and she nails the landing with her arms thrown in the air.

"Ta-daa!"

You applaud her bravery and showmanship, and she runs over to reward you with a hug that knocks the wind out of you when she throws her tiny body against yours and climbs into your lap. You stroke her silky black hair and hold her tight, despite the oppressive heat of the humid summer air and try not to think about the fact that Aki’s been missing for the last three days. The last time you’d seen him, he kissed you and his daughter goodbye in the wee hours of the morning, and you felt the familiar– albeit bitter– sense of dread wash over you that you felt every time he left on a mission. He’d kept true to his promise and only went out on calls that were deemed low-risk, fighting only in the private sector.

Your daughter had just turned three years old that spring. You celebrated her birthday with a trip to the bowling alley and a cake far too big for the three of you, but it didn’t matter. It was cause for celebration for more than one reason, and you knew it as well as he.

There wasn’t much time left. But you hadn’t realized just how little until you see Denji approaching where you and your daughter embrace on the park bench. He lifts a hand in greeting, but he doesn’t smile. His eyes waver, unsure of where to focus, and he takes a deep breath in through his open mouth while slowing his step as he approaches.

“Been a long time,” he says, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk; your vision blurred with tears, you watch as it lands in a soft patch of grass.

You cover your daughter’s ear with your hand and keep her head pressed against your chest. “Is he dead?” you whisper, searching Denji’s face for the answers you so desperately need.

Denji looks at you, and your head spins, your heart lurches into a frantic rhythm. You kiss your daughter and send her off to play; she happily obliges, and Denji sits beside you, scratching at the back of his neck. “She looks a lot like him, doesn’t she?”

“Identical,” you agree.

“I’m real sorry.”

“I knew it was coming.” It doesn’t soften the blow, however. You’d known that his time was short since before your daughter was born. But no amount of prior knowledge could have prepared you for the way you felt in this moment. The day is too beautiful. The sun is too bright, your daughter is too bubbly. It was supposed to happen on a rainy afternoon when you had nowhere else to be but home, inside and warm and comforted by the quiet stillness of your living room. It wasn’t supposed to be Denji who had to deliver the news. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t–

“Miss Makima said to give you this,” Denji says. It quiets your thoughts when he speaks, and he lays a small yellow envelope in your hand. You know immediately what it is, and though in reality it weighs mere grams, it feels like the weight of the world in the palm of your hand. Suddenly, the world stops spinning, and you don’t hear anything beyond the thrum of your pulse inside your ears, steady and insistent and frustratingly loud; it demands to be heard, to serve as indisputable evidence that you’re alive and Aki is dead, that you’ve outlived him just as you and he both knew you would. You lift the flap of the envelope and dump the contents into your hand.

The ring has been cleaned and polished. A simple circle of plain gold; you’re immediately thrown back to the day you married him under the canopy of trees, just beyond the very playground where your daughter runs with her friends. He’d asked you not long after she was born, and you’d happily agreed. You didn’t want to think about how much time you had as Mrs. Hayakawa, you only wanted to enjoy knowing that you were his and he was yours. That was enough for you. Your vows were simple, your honeymoon modest. You hadn’t told anyone of your decision– you married quietly and happily, despite it all.

“Denji,” you say, tears streaking endlessly down your cheeks as you turn the ring over and over between your fingers. “Were you there?” Was he alone?

“I was called in at the last minute. I–” He hesitates, drumming his fingers on his knees. “He was gone before I got there. But I killed that devil! I tore his ass up, man! For you, for Aki, for your baby, for all of us!”

You smile through your grief, despite your pain. Denji’s energy is exuberant and exactly what you’d expect from him– it’s exactly what you need, and as you wipe your tears with the heel of your hands, you thank him. You thank him for being the one to deliver the news. You thank him for being Denji, for being such a frustratingly perfect coworker for Aki. You thank him and hug him until he’s tomato red and folded in your arms, unsure of whether or not he should touch you.

“Aw, man. I don’t even know what to say!” he says.

“Uncle Denji!” Your daughter runs over and you tuck the ring into your pocket and dry your tears. “Uncle Denji, did ya see me on the slide? Wanna watch?”

“Watch?!” he says, turning to give you a conspiratorial wink. “You’re looking at the slide master, little lady! Come with me!” He lifts her onto his shoulders and runs through the grass, her laughter ringing clear and pure.

You pull Aki’s ring from your pocket and fit it down over your thumb. It’s loose, but it’s warm and it’s comforting and it’s a piece of him that you can carry with you throughout the rest of your life.

You’ll break the news to your daughter tonight. You’ll figure out the rest later.

It’s all temporary, anyway.

#csm fanfic #aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki x you #chainsaw man x reader

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